Hopscotch Crotch

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:34:00

2009-10-26T15:34:09Z

Fever Pitch

Jan 24, 2007

First of all, I'm sick. But it's a weird kind of sick. There's a bit of a cough attached - with no more than three or four individual coughs an hour, all producing a delightfully mouth-sized gob of God's taffy - but that isn't the fun part. Rather, the enjoyable bit comes from the odd, closest-thing-to-being-on-acid, feeling of je ne seis ha-ha that makes everything oh so very comforting*. It's the kind of sickness where you lose that filter b/w brain and mouth and begin to spout some really weird shit - I, for one, have a tendency to exaggerate the "them against me" battle with my cats - presenting them with an assortment of challenges (such as man vs. cat foot races, etc.) and generally start acting like a bit of a raving (yet cranky) madman. Not having health insurance I refuse to take any kind of medicine - whether it be over the counter or not, as I feel the need to be immunicologically self-reliant - so as my temperature rises, I settle in for the long slog. I have the same dream over and over again. I'm not sure what it's about - but it involves counting and, oddly enough, an erection - and it repeats for the entire night, broken only by the briefest waking moments where I find myself realizing that I really have to pee - but I feel too weak to make it to the bathroom. Also, I tend to drool a lot, even though my breathing is unlabored and everything's otherwise peachy. When I wake up, I don't feel sick. Rather, I feel like sickness is caked around me in a hard, crusty, candy shell. I sleep in, call in sick, and lie on my sofa in the horrible sunlight. The last thing I remember before returning to the counting dream (or some variation) is Devon (deh-vahn) being told by M. Povich "you ARE the father".**

When I woke up an hour later (having done my counting for the morning), Guiding Light was on and I forced myself into a tub and, having removed the baked on, caked on sickness - actually felt okay-ish. I decided to go to work, out of some strange sense of duty and, undoubtedly, a desire to spread the illness around the MDE. At this point, I feel the need to sit down and drink some coffee or something since I'm in that weird, bloated, sick-and-hungry-but-not-starving state. I head to the coffee shop near my house, buy a newspaper, and grab a seat at the counter***. The counter is pretty much full, with only two seats open #1 & #2 (see diagram) and I sit at #2. I order juice; a bagel, toasted with grape jelly (multi-grain, and it tastes like shit); and a red-eye. I read the paper. I'm sick. Faux-hawk is there - fucking faux-hawk - and this puts me in an even worse mood****. When I'm about halfway done with my bagel, two guys come in and obviously want to sit at the coffee counter (probably because you can smoke at the counter - and therefore it's always full of people who have nowhere else to smoke and drink coffee since, I'm guessing, the AA meeting isn't for another hour) but, seeing it's full, decide that the best course of action is to stand in the one foot of space that exists between my back and the wall and wait for someone to leave. After a few minutes, realizing that their plan is the vulture-ish stand behind people until they leave, I turn around and say to the guy standing behind me***** "I'm kind of paranoid so I was thinking that if you're going to just stand there the entire time I'm eating, I'll just move [to seat #1] and you can have this stool". To this, his friend replies, entirely missing the fucking point, "Well, we'd still need another stool". "Well" I say, "I'll just move over anyway". And I do, and they stand there, and I kind of feel like an asshole, but that's the end of it - right? It should be the end of it.
No.

If I were an animal in the zoo, I don't think that I'd be one of the goats that get all excited when they hear someone drop a quarter in the bubblegum machine cum corn dispenser. I don't like conversations with strangers. I don't like spontaneous conversations with strangers. I don't like small talk (i.e. wow, it sure is cold), elevator chitchat, or what'stheholdup post-office line banter. In short, I'd be the animal in the small cage with the IR light, hiding under a rock, children looking suspiciously through the two inch thick Plexiglas with the posted "Do Not Tap on Glass" sign. Fuck man, it would be an EVENT when they fed me. This is how much I [believe] I exude the whole "Do not touch" thing in public. Apparently, a lot of people don't see it the same way - or they're too fucking friendly to let it get in their way.
No sooner have I moved from seat #2 to seat #1 and picked up my bagel and newspaper, do I hear the girl in #4 say, "Hey, do you know who you just reminded me of?"
Now, normally, I try - really try - to ignore these things. No different here. I mean, how often will someone repeat something to get someone's attention?
Again:
"Hey, do you know who you just reminded me of?"
I read the paper, even lift it up to cut off our sightline - the Supreme Court overturns a California sentencing law that. . .
"Hey, do you know who you just reminded me of?"
More ignoring. O'Malley appoints a new head of labor, currently president of Cal State Dominguez Hills
"Hey, do you know who you just reminded me of?"
But now a change of tact. This time a little louder, followed by an immediate query to the barista "do you think he can hear me?" punctuated by another "Hey, do you know who you just reminded me of?"
Why won't she go away? Not only is she talking over another patron, but I begin to sense that other people are beginning to take an interest. I mean, who did I remind her of that was so fucking important that she needed to be so insistent? I'll admit, even I'm just a bit curious. This could be that moment that people always talk about - with opportunity knocking ready to tell me how to escape my boring life as MDE staffer and actually be someone else. Except, unlike the saying, opportunity won't give up and go the fuck away.
"Hey, do you know who you just reminded me of?"
I can't ignore it any more. It's becoming absurd. Fucking retarded even. I imagine her following me as I pay my check and leave. I imagine her following me to my car, getting in the passenger seat, coming with me to work, coming home with me, standing next to me as I take a shit, as I masturbate, as I eat pretzels and watch the episode of 24 I missed last night, all the while saying "Hey, do you know who you just reminded me of?"
I lower the paper and begrudgingly make eye contact. I attempt to feign ignorance, as if I was so engrossed in the Baltimore Sun that I had no idea she was attempting to get my attention. I do it badly. Sickly. I pried my eyes upwards and met her eyes. She says it again, playing along.
"Hey, do you know who you just reminded me of?" As if I didn't hear her. All of those times. The thing is, it's clear that she expects some sort of acknowledgement. Something that says, I understand the importance of your question and I can't wait to know. Who do I remind you of? I manage a shrug - I'm waiting. A few people at the bar are waiting. This is it.

"Jimmy Fallon. You reminded me of Jimmy Fallon just then"

What!? Fuck!? All of that for Jimmy Fallon!? Fucking Jimmy Fallon!? Jimmy Fucking Fallon!? Jimmy Fallon Fucking!? I mean, at this point what can I do? I suppose that some kind of acknowledgement is in order. Something like "I've never gotten that before" or "Wow, that's flattering". Except it isn't flattering. It's fucking annoying. I get it. I have a nasally voice and I'm easily annoyed. I used to get David Spade before Jimmy Fallon came along. But are you really expecting me to say "Wow. I sure do appreciate that. I love Jimmy Fallon. I hope he makes more movies. He makes me laugh with his wacky insight and the way that he fucking stutters his way through dialogue like a brain damaged Hugh Grant. Thank you so much."
I suppose after that, we'd chat for a while. I'd make clever jokes and she'd just keep saying "wow - just like Fallon" and I'd buy her dinner and we'd talk about our favorite Jimmy Fallon movies and she'd like Taxi but I'd like Fever Pitch and she's be impressed by how that must mean I'm sensitive - right? And then we'd go back to her place because she'd have the "Best of Saturday Night Live - Jimmy Fallon" DVD and we'd hold hands and drink white wine and laugh at all of the same places and then, partway through some skit where Fallon is getting ready to say the catchphrase that made Mr. & Mrs. Midwest say on a weekly basis "Jimmy Fallon not ready for prime time? I think not!" she and I would start making out and things would get hot and heavy and finally, after the show has ended and DVD main menu has cycled through for the 541st time, I'd nut in her hair and leave. That's the only way that something like that could play out.
I've got too much to do today.

Fucking Jimmy Fallon.

*which, I believe, explains my ability to watch television that I would normally find uninteresting or unacceptable - television commercials included. In fact, this brings up an important point. Last night, while in the throes of this dreadfully delightful monkey illness, I was watching and one of those "Girls Gone Wild" commercials comes on and I'm struck now by a number of things. 1) "Girls Gone Wild" has finally reached the point where is has become a kind of "lexicological touchstone". Basically, if you and I were out and I saw some girls and I said "Whoa, did you see that?" and you, having missed it, would reply "No, what was it?" and I would say "Just some girls gone wild" - and you'd automatically know what I meant which leads to 2) Girls going wild apparently means girls from the ages of roughly 18-25 in semi-tropical locales, adorned in shitty plastic beads, lifting up their oft-wet tank top shirts and/or bikini tops and shaking their boobs - the series has, apparently endured not through the ease of finding co-eds willing to take it off, but in finding SLIGHTLY RELUCTANT co-eds willing to undergo clever coercion (and offers of cash) and agree, while quite possibly under the influence, to take it off for the camera. Whether or not this is real or faked, it's part of the proairetic code that make it so 3) Girls Gone Wild makes sense in such a way that the commercials no longer need to describe the complex system of narrative and negotiation that is necessary for GGW to exist. Imagine explaining GGW to someone 50 years ago - it's almost as if, like a word that is impossible to define without using some form of the word, GGW is indefinable as anything other than, well, GGW. Because the "universe of GGW" only exists because of GGW (DVD, VHS, and related websites). Which leads me to my point - the ads don't need to make any sense, and they don't. The ad I watched last night had the following series of shots:
Girl in a shower/camera crew getting into a helicopter/topless girl tandem skydiving/space shuttle launching(??) - accompanied by the voiceover "some men would go to the end of the earth to see real, naked girls".
What the fuck?
First of all, I was pretty sure that Marco Polo solved the whole end of the earth thing. Second, who really needs to travel to see naked girls? Especially if "real, naked girls" are those found within the DVD/VHS/BETA/Blu-ray/HD-DVD of GGW. Then, it stands to reason that traveling to the "end of the earth" would be a bit of a wasted trip, especially if you end up leaving the US and show up in one of those countries where women aren't allowed to go "as wild" as they do here in the US (or Mexico). Further, if you can't figure out how to find real, naked girls with a computer and a decent internet connection, then you should probably remove your own breathing tube as soon as possible.

**something that Chantel already knew, and reinforced by repeatedly shouting "I TOLD YOU!", punctuated by Devon's robotic bleeps of censory.

***Actually - the layout is kind of important, so it looks a bit like this. The numbers represent the stools:

___________________________________________
C O F F E E C O U N T E R
___________________________________________

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)
___________________________________________
W A L L & W I N D O W
___________________________________________

****Faux-hawk is too much for a footnote, or even an entry of his own. Suffice it to say, that there are those people that you dislike so much - that when asked to explain why you hate them, the best you can offer is a disgusted "fuck".

*****And I mean close behind me. I could have dropped my hand to my side and grabbed his junk. Which was probably the first thought to cross my mind in my sick, diseased state - luckily, however, my action screen is slowly re-establishing itself.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:32:00

2009-10-26T15:33:31Z

On ghosts and why I can't time travel

Feb 15, 2007

Last night I had a dream* which was kind of creepy and when I woke up I found that my cats had abandoned my bed which meant that I was probably twisting around in my sleep and making some kind of uncool ruckus that scared them off. This reminded me of something that I do in my sleep that I really can't comprehend and while it's not the weirdest thing** it certainly is strange in just how ridiculously stupid it is. It seems that when I dream about ghosts or, for that matter, have any sort of dream where a ghost just happens to show up I will, unbeknownst to me, begin making ghost noises in my sleep. Now, in case you've been in a coma every Halloween and have never seen an episode of Scooby Doo or, for that matter, Jabberjaw or Speed Buggy, ghosts typically make a spooky "oooooooooooo" sound that rises and falls in pitch. I mean, I don't know what started the whole "oooooo" thing as far as ghosts are concerned because, in my opinion, if you're going to end up wearing the same clothes that you died in for all of eternity it would stand to reason that you might remember a few key phrases as well - especially if you died in some ridiculous way. For instance, if I were to electrocute myself by reaching for the clock radio while in the shower, or get run over by a bus because I bent down in the street to pick up a nickel - I would probably spend a lot of time as a ghost saying things like "Well, that was pretty stupid" or "oh, come on!" If I were just a regular, non-stupid accident ghost, however, I'd say things like "baby back ribs" or "sit on it, Potsie", just to confuse and/or entertain people. That said, I guess when I'm sleeping I like to keep things normatively simple - not that you really need authenticity or believability when you're dreaming - so "ooooooooo" is probably just fine. So, whenever I spend the night with someone for the first time, I always have to hope that it won't be a ghost dream night which, given how one's brain works, pretty much guarantees that I'm going to have a ghost dream. Just like I've doomed myself to a ghost dream tonight. Not necessarily a scary ghost dream. It doesn't even have to be a scary ghost - it could be Topper and I'd make ghost noises. I could be having a dream where I was watching a performance of A Christmas Carol and I'd make the ghost noises the second Marley showed up. I can't explain it. It's like when someone says "plate" or "plate of shrimp". . .

I'd make a shitty time traveler, I realize, because I know nothing about sports. It seems that in any TV show or movie in which a person travels backwards in time, they always have to prove to someone that they are, in fact, from the future. Inevitably, there will be some kind of sporting event on television and, invariably, the time traveler will remember the sporting event and the exchange will go something like this:

Time Traveler: I can prove that I'm from the future! The Yankees win this game!
Skeptic: You're nuts, they're behind by 3 runs with two outs in the last inning.
Baseball game announcer: And it's a fly ball to center field. Going! Going! Gone! The Yankees win with an unbelievable grand slam home run.
Time Traveler: See, I told you so.
Skeptic: Huh, go figure. You really are from the future.

But since I know nothing about sports, I'd be pretty screwed. Plus, even if you did know something about sports, you'd have to wait for one of those "pulling it out at the last second" sports opportunities to prove it to someone. Basically there would be a lot of:

Time Traveler: I can prove that I'm from the future! The Yankees win this game!
Skeptic: I wouldn't be surprised, they're up by two.
Time Traveler: nuts!

Or, in my case:

Time Traveling Me: I can prove that I'm from the future! The Yankees win this game!
Skeptic: First of all, the Yankees aren't playing. Second of all, this is a basketball game.
Time Traveling Me: nuts!

Which is to say, I need to start paying attention to such things, just in case.

*Which I won't go into here, since there's nothing more aggravatingly boring (in my opinion) then when someone tells you about a dream they had. Especially if you weren't in it and double especially if you don't know the person. I mean, I understand that dreams are weird and get that there was probably some crazy shit going on and you'll try to explain it and, when I don't respond with "that's fucking crazy!!!", you'll attempt to explain it again until I get just how weird it was - but I'm not going to do that here. If you care about my dream, which I doubt, you'll just have to keep on caring.

**The "weirdest thing you do in your sleep" award would probably have to go to a girl I dated for a while in 1996 and 1999. While she slept, she would lie on her back and with her arms extended outward, take turns stroking the inside of each arm with the fingernails of the opposite hand. She never made any noise, was always dead asleep, and never remembered doing it. As creepy as it was (or as creepy as anything is when the other person is in that strange zombie-like Manchurian mode) I was kind of fascinated and would occasionally wake up in the middle of the night and just watch her do it for 15 minutes at a time.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:32:00

2009-10-26T15:32:38Z

(Untitled)

Feb 17, 2007

Personally, I think that people who say they're looking for a "partner in crime" should be pushed down a flight of cliche stairs. Unless they're really looking for someone to commit crimes with. In which case I guess it's okay.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:32:00

2009-10-26T15:32:26Z

Which type of neighborhood most appeals to...?

Feb 20, 2007

Which type of neighborhood most appeals to you?
Rural - Lots of land, not a neighbor to be seen.

Rural - But not too far from town.

Suburban - A descent yard and good neighbors.

Urban - An apartment or condo.

Yesterday, I was in a gas station bathroom somewhere in Virginia and scribbled/grafittied above the toilet was "Eastside Crips" which struck me as kind of odd. No disrespect to the Eastside Crips, but there needs to be a certain amount of specificity to your gang name so I know exactly which of the many Eastside Crips defaced that particular Exxon bathroom. East side of what, exactly? East side of Virginia? East side of 95? East side of the Exxon? Thing is, it wasn't even a tag, necessarily. Someone wrote it in ballpoint pen.

Written above the ESC tag, someone had written "For a good time call: 302-xxx-xxxx" (but with numbers rather than xs). I was almost won over by the quaintness of it. When you think about it, in our fast-moving, internet fueled existence, who actually stops to call a complete stranger and inquire about having a "good time". I'm not even sure how I'd go about it, or what I'd say.
Probably something like:

me: Hi, my name's David.
them: Um.
me: I was inquiring as to your ad on the exit 104 Exxon wall. You know, the one for the good time. Kind of vague, don't you think?
them: Excuse me?
me: Should I bring my ice skates?
them: . . .
me: okay, if this is your idea of "good times", then you should probably take down your ad.
*click*

Also, Mr. Pibb became Pibb Xtra - now it tastes like Mr. Pibb with just the slightest hint of extreme informality. Yum.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:32:00

2009-10-26T15:32:15Z

Would you feel uncomfortable if a pet saw you...?

Feb 20, 2007

Would you feel uncomfortable if a pet saw you masturbating?
Yes.

No.

First of all, I force my pets to watch me. Secondofly, someone just called me ma'am - but not on the phone. No, they were standing right in front of me and they said "can I help you, ma'am?"
It must've been the sideburns.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:31:00

2009-10-26T15:31:56Z

Is is important that your match be somewhat...?

Feb 23, 2007

Is is important that your match be somewhat internet savvy?
Yes.

No.

Today I get a letter at work. There are a number of problems with this letter that I feel need to be addressed. First, the letter writer decided that writing my name was too much of a hassle and he would save time by shortening "David" to "Dave". Now, I'm used to people getting familiar and calling me Dave - but I'm always clear that I hate "Dave" (I'm not a goddamn Dave. No No No. Dave's wear shirts with popped collars and have alcohol reddened faces and drink Coors Light). Still, it happens. But to address a business letter to a David and call him Dave is deserving of a special kind of contempt. Appropriately, I have decided not to fund their shitty water project. Also, they addressed me as Ms. Anderson - which continues the world's gender confusion when it comes to me. I need to stop wearing blouses to work.

Also, having the last name Anderson sucks because inevitably, at least once a day, someone will need to address me as Mr. Anderson. And when they do, you can see it - it's like a fucking light goes off in their eyes. You know, the glimmer of retarded genius that preceeds any ridiculous, sneer-inducing comment. Then they roll it around in their mouth for a second and, in their worst Hugo Weaving voice look me square in the face and say "Mr. Anderson" and then smile so proudly because, honestly, no one has ever put that together before. Oh yeah, just like the Matrix. French kiss my ass. Sigh.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:31:00

2009-10-26T15:31:42Z

In a confrontational situation, which would...?

Mar 5, 2007

In a confrontational situation, which would you rather be?
Underestimated.

Overestimated.

Neither of the above.

Recently, I went out on a date with someone. We had a semi-splendid time, had drinks, made-out briefly, and then made plans to see again. Those plans fell through, and so we attempted to make other plans - which didn't quite work. Now, I know this person's kind of flaky, and so I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt. Today, nearly a week since our last communication, I sent the following email:

Subject: Swallowed
Ms. _________:
I'm choking down a little bit of dignity here, so please bear with me if I seem a bit forward.
Should I assume from your recent unavailability that you are no longer interested in going out with me again? Normally, I would just cross you off of my "maybe" list and add you to the "nope" column, but I have a difficult time doing so when, as in your case, I actually like someone.
So if you would please take a moment to let me know where things stand, thus sparing me the embarrassment of contacting you further.
A simple "go away" will suffice.
My Best,
me

After I wrote the email, I sent a copy to a friend of mine who often finds herself in the same situation - people who vanish for whatever reason never to be heard from again. I figure that if enough people are going through this sort of thing there should be a standard communication that would allow the sender to retain as much diginity as possible in what is, clearly, the second most undignified position you could find yourself in (the first being when you die and shit yourself). Believing that there might be a market for that sort of thing she suggested it be called "pride-crushing form letters for the dating dead". This coming from a girl whose last date was with a guy in a sweatshirt with a giant butterfly on the front. I have yet to hit that low.

Just to provide anyone who happens to be reading with a bit of closure - I offer her timely response:

Mr. _________,

Apologies. When I saw your email I figured you either had a terrible incident with a toothpick, or you were writing what you wrote. I was unavailable because I was unavailable. You had mentioned a friday possibility. I was planning on doing a work thing that night, but ended up home sick.

Having said that, I have been seeing someone else, just quite recently and I want to see what happens with that. I think some people can be all cool and casual about multiple interests, but it does not work for me. So I am going to bow out and I apologize if I made you feel like you had to pry the story out of me. This is just a realization I came to last night.

________

Was that so difficult? Check and mate.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:31:00

2009-10-26T15:31:27Z

If you knew you wouldn't get caught, would...?

Mar 7, 2007

If you knew you wouldn't get caught, would you sell your vote in an important election?
Yes, for the right price.

Yes, for any price.

No.

You know, there's something about a girl from Iowa that ends up living in Nigeria that I find irresistable. I just had the most amazing IM session with just such a girl - I'll let you know how it works out. Here's how the magic happened:

lgdamm: hi

gooeygrappler: hello

lgdamm: how are you

gooeygrappler: I'm well thank you

lgdamm: wat ur name?

gooeygrappler: Rodney

lgdamm: my name is jenifer

gooeygrappler: a pleasure

lgdamm: I live in Usa in iowa. where r u

gooeygrappler: I live in East Wilkintabler.

lgdamm: where is that?

gooeygrappler: It's near West Shriblington

lgdamm: I work for a ceramics company

gooeygrappler: I see. I work for a company that
disposes of used ceramics - what a coincidence

lgdamm: but now i am not in the state i have been
transfer to the W/Africa

gooeygrappler: I've never been to prison. Or
arrested. Have you?

lgdamm: No why u say that?

gooeygrappler: Where is Wafrica?

gooeygrappler: Is that in Iowa?

lgdamm: Nigeria

gooeygrappler: Oh, is that near Iowa?

gooeygrappler: We should go on a date to see the
new Tim Allen movie. It has Martin Lawrence in it. I think
he's African

gooeygrappler: I'll buy you a small soda

gooeygrappler: a SMALL soda

gooeygrappler: okay?

lgdamm: Wat did u mean?

gooeygrappler: I mean not a medium

gooeygrappler: and not a large

gooeygrappler: a SMALL soda

lgdamm: So did u have any yahoo IM so we can talk
better there?

gooeygrappler: No, just this one. Does that mean
you won't talk to me anymore?

lgdamm: No

lgdamm: Oh did u have yahoomail?

gooeygrappler: No, I just have this one. My email
account is broken today. I have to use this email for
now.

gooeygrappler: But I can send you email. I just can't
receive it. until tomorrow

lgdamm: Will u like to mail me?

gooeygrappler: I would. I have to go to the post office
soon to send a wire transfer to my friend in England -
but I can email you when I get back

gooeygrappler: He needs money for an operation.
It's very sad

lgdamm: U mean u can mail me to my yahoomail
box

gooeygrappler: Apparently his colon separated from
his body and they need to reattach it.

lgdamm: Oh help greet him

gooeygrappler: Oh I can't do that. The judge says I'm
not supposed to email people unless I know they're
over 18.

gooeygrappler: How old are you?

lgdamm: Im 28

lgdamm: And u?

gooeygrappler: Jesus! That's fucking old!

gooeygrappler: I'm 34, but I'm a guy so it's okay

lgdamm: Why did u say that?

gooeygrappler: Sorry grandma, I didn't mean to
offend you

gooeygrappler: Do you have a younger sister? Put
her on.

lgdamm: No i dont

gooeygrappler: Oh. What about a younger brother. I
can swing both ways - but the age thing is an issue

lgdamm: Yes i have

gooeygrappler: How old is he?

lgdamm: 30

lgdamm: u can mail me at jenny-
babe_09@yahoo.com

gooeygrappler: Why would I be interested in a 30
year-old when a 28 year old disgusts me?

gooeygrappler: hey jenny - wait. I have a question

lgdamm: Ok

gooeygrappler: Over there, in Nigeria - do monkeys
drive the taxis?

*** lgdamm's IC window is closed

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:31:00

2009-10-26T15:31:08Z

Which method do you most often use to acquire...?

Mar 23, 2007

Which method do you most often use to acquire products from stores?
I usually pay with cash.

I usually pay with a check or debit card.

I usually pay with credit or a credit card.

I usually steal products rather than pay for them.

After much thought, I've decided that I hate the little ad in the sponsor area that tells me "Congratulations, you've been selected to receive a free Apple _____". Not that I don't appreciate the generosity (I've been selected about 50 times today - which is pretty sweet), but really, did they have to go with the most twee, annoying voice actress they could find? Granted, it isn't as bad as the talking smiley emoticons that say "hello" over and over again - but it's pretty close.
I used to like "Judy", the operator from Time Life books. She was actually an actress who just looked a lot like a phone operator. I know this because a) real phone operators never smile when they work or deal with the public and b) my stepfather was her husband's friend when they were at Yale, and he would know. She had a pleasant voice. I wouldn't mind being selected by "Judy" to receive a free Apple __________.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:30:00

2009-10-26T15:30:54Z

Have you ever had sex with someone you first...?

Mar 28, 2007

Have you ever had sex with someone you first met online?
Yes.

No.

I don't like the Decemberists.
My mom bought tickets a few months ago for the Decemberists show in Rockville (that actually happened on Monday) and asked me if I would attend. I don't like the Decemberists but it's my mom, so what could I say? I agree and weeks pass and I kind of forgot about the Decemberists show until last week. My mom said that she couldn't go to the Decemberists show (I guess being an accountant takes up a lot of her time) and gives me the tickets. So there I was, stuck with two tickets to see a band that I didn't want to see in the first place. I asked all of my friend and she couldn't attend, so I pretty much decided that I was off the hook. My mom decided that she could go at the last minute and so I was back on the hook for what ended up being one-and-a-half hours of cringe-inducing dull. The singer sounded like Michael Penn. They thought it would be clever to do an "impromptu" cover of REM's "Don't Go Back to Rockville". They made the audience sing along and participate (which isn't so bad if you're into that kind of thing - I fucking hate it). They had protracted bits of painfully unfunny stage banter.

All of that wasn't nearly as bad as the audience.

Please, please, please stop clapping along with the music.
I hate it when bands put hand claps in their songs. I hate it even more when audiences do it for them.

I mean, do you scream out extra lines when you go see a play? Do you bring your own mustard to a restaurant and put it on all of the food? Just shut the fuck up and listen. Going to see a band isn't meant to test your rythym or ability to keep the beat. If your hand claps were needed, your ticket would have been free and the band would take you on tour. It's that kind of shit that's encouraged in elementary school and never beaten out of kids and then, the next thing you know, you're at a show and there's someone standing next to you clapping like some retard on Romper Room. Compared to the hand clappers the Decemberists weren't half bad. Which is the only good thing I have to say about it. My mom liked it though - so I guess that's something.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:30:00

2009-10-26T15:30:40Z

Imagine that your significant other does not...?

Mar 29, 2007

Imagine that your significant other does not enjoy receiving oral sex and requests that you never perform it on them. How disappointed would you be?
Extremely disappointed.

Somewhat disappointed.

A little disappointed.

Not at all disappointed.

Womansavers.com, saving women one piece of misinformation at a time

Recently, I was directed to this website by a female friend of mine. In a discussion of bad divorces, she explained that a friend's ex had written a rather scathing (and wholly false) bit of blather about him. Ostensibly, the site is meant to help women prevent other women from dating unscrupulous, married, cheating, lying, scumbags. However, the system fails to take into account that there are two sides to every story and that, unfortunately, sometimes a spurned woman can just be an asshole. Faced with a page full of untrue accusations, my friend's friend contacted the site and was told that he couldn't remove the posting - no matter how slanderous. In fact, the only person who could remove it was the original poster and, if she decided to do so, she would have to first make a minimum donation of twenty dollars to the site.

Curiosity stirred, I went home and checked the site. Sure enough, my own ex-wife had - in the heat of our glorious divorce - decided to post a bit of non-sensical crazy talk under my full name. In order to protect my identity, I won't enclose a link - but the full, unedited version follows:

He has numerous restraining orders against him by multiple women. He even has been brought up on domestic violence charges from some woman in Pennsylvania! His parents have been supporting him his whole life and he has never been able to hold down a 'real' job. Instead, he is a career student at a private college. He has never had a successful relationship with anyone. He has been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder, OCD and manic depression. He hjas spent time in 'alternative' schools and mental hospitals. He refuses to take medication. Instead, he self medicates with any illegal drug he can find. At 31, he is now involved with a young student and they are hooked on Adderrall. He is a compulsive spender and hoarder. He has serious weight issues (when he's not using Adderrall) and went from 165 to 215 in only a couple of months. He has hair on his back and the most disgusting spare tire I have ever seen.

Now, I was kind of annoyed. Not because what she's saying is untrue (that's for others to judge) - but because the website posts it permanently using my full name and location - and refuses to take it down without the original poster forking over cash. So what does one do about such a completely fucked idea? Well, I've decided that the best way to deal with it is by writing as many false comments as possible for men I don't know. True, some may be scumbags and rapists and baby dealers - but I'm sure that, like me, there are plenty that aren't. So I now present, woman saving by David.
First up, my reply to my own profile:

3/29/2007 5:37:10 AM - Posted by: sadstains - I too dated this man. When we met, he told me that he managed a Taco Bell, as it turns out - he was only the evening shift key manager. His temper is out of control and he has wild mood swings. He punched my wheelchair-bound grandfather claiming that my grandfather's polio "needed to be knocked out". When I explained that he was cured by the polio vaccine, David became angry and started threatening that he was "gonna kick Jonas Salk's a**" if Salk didn't start staying out of his business. When I calmly explained that Salk had been dead for ten years, David pointed at me and said "now you and your Pop-Pop have something else in common: you both made my list". I was so scared. He also likes to noisily eat jello, wrestle endangered species for money, tossle children, sing out of tune, and drink monkey sauce. Stay far away!

Next up, a reply to Charles D. Kelly's profile. His spurned lover's accusation: "He has cheated on me with three other women and convised one to get an abortion all while married tome. Hes a selfish jerk who needs to be castrated." Which sounds perfectly honest and stable.
My added comment:

3/29/2007 5:53:51 AM - Posted by: sadstains - I too have dated this man. Once he took me out on a date to go to the bowling alley. When we got there, it wasn't a bowling alley at all. It was a roller skating rink - and I'm in a wheelchair!! He and his friends just pointed and laughed and threw popcorn in my hair. Later that evening, he took me to a non-handicapped accessible restaurant and left me to sit in the car while he went inside to eat. I cried as I watched him eat soup and point at me and laugh - the waitress, busboys, and kitchen staff even joined in. Then, to make matters worse, he brought me his leftovers. When he dropped me off, I opened the take out container and found a piece of poo inside. I was so humiliated. My children laughed at me and to this day that call me "dumb cripple" all because of Charles.

Next I found a guy named Paul Blevins of Florida. He was accused of being "a player thru and thru" and, according to the source "tells others that he is only looking for friends. Yeah, friends with benefits!" You go girl.
My added comments:

3/29/2007 6:02:06 AM - Posted by: sadstains - I dated Paul, and let me tell you - it was no picnic. He'll tell you that you're something special and then, in the next breath, ask you to have a foursome with his friends from NASA. Then, when you agree out of kindness, compassion, love, and the thought of all that astronaut pole - he'll drop the hammer by admitting that it's actually 5 guys from NASA, and not exactly guys - but experimental space chimps. Then he'll watch as you get ravaged by monkeys from the space program and they'll laugh and drink Tang. I was so humiliated. The next day Paul never called me again.

Finally, there's Jeffrey Sedlock. His ex writes, "This man is a complete fuckin piece of garbage. i cant tell you how many fuckin times he's lied and I've taken him back and tried to be everything he's ever wanted and you know what i got. LIES LIES LIES AND JUST ALOT OF FUCKIN PAIN! sO SINCE THIS IS THE LAST TIM EVER DECIDED TO WARN EVERYONE, =)" At least we know that she wrote this from a calm, honest, well thought out place. Look, she even included a smiley face. She'll be fine. I added a bit of truth, something people don't know about Jefferton Sedlock:

3/29/2007 6:16:51 AM - Posted by: sadstains - I too was burned by Jeff. We went on several dates, and they were okay - but they always seemed to end up at the mall inside of Spencer Gifts. I soon figured out that Jeffers is what is known in the biz as "a black light poster aficionado". His house is covered in black light pieces ranging from "gnomes smoking dope" to "unicorn tea party". He even has a black light poster that says "I've got some grass if you give up that ass!!" I fell for that one once, but he didn't actually have any grass, which proves that he's a liar. He will only have sex with his black lights on, and he'll tell you really nice things like "your vagina looks like a grape-stained teacup" or "your teeth look like orange crusted pearls" - but he doesn't mean it. Once he told me "I'd beat through a beach full of retards to get to you", but when he's confronted by real retard barriers - he just backs down and cries like the black light pussy that he is.

See, I'm not against the idea of such a site. I think that it is, in theory, a good idea. But it's flawed. These women (or men) are able to post whatever truth, half-truth, or complete lie about someone and include their full name and, in many cases, a picture - for all to see - and they have the opportunity to do so anonymously. My ex-wife denies posting that drivel that was written about me - and I'll never know for sure if it was her or not (although I know it was) since that information is protected. Sure, it's legal - but I think womansavers compromises a noble mission through means that are suspect and, in many cases, just wrong. Fuck them.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:30:00

2009-10-26T15:30:10Z

My work for womansavers.com continues

Mar 29, 2007

Per my earlier entry regarding my battle with the disinformation floating around at womansavers.com, I have again posted another tale of woe. This time, the man in question is Ben - a young guy with issues as outlined here by his girlfriend:

Sexuality issues are huge; internet porn addict, can't be satisfied with a real woman's body, if you don't like sodomy, better sleep in a separate room with the door locked!

Clearly, he's a real piece of work. Especially given that he will undoubtedly ass-rape any woman unlucky enough to fall asleep in his presence. I, have another story to share about Ben - a warning to all women who might fall into his earthy, seductive grip.

3/29/2007 10:36:50 AM - Posted by: sadstains - I too, made the mistake of dating Ben � a mistake that ruined my life. Unfortunately, there is an even darker side to him that women need to be aware of. When I first met Ben he was sweet, caring, liked to buy me raisins and shiny things. He would take me to dinner (he loves veal and other delicacies) and to movies starring Rob Schneider. Or maybe it was Roy Scheider. I'm a bit fuzzy on those details. My children, Algeberry and Tim took to Ben immediately. Ben forged an especially close relationship with 5 year-old Algeberry. Ben would take Algeberry for iced creams at least five times a day. Ben would buy him candy and video games and all the Turkish delight he could eat. One day I noticed that, after gaining 50 pounds in less than a month, my son was looking unhealthy. He would pant, out of breath, when he lifted his head, moved his eyes, or said vowels. I begged Ben to stop feeding my child all of the tasties, as they were surely killing him. Then, one sad day, I came home to find that Ben had cooked dinner (one of his world-class meat pies) to make up for our fight. When I was halfway through my meal, I asked about my children. With a look I can only describe as pure evil, Ben began to laugh. It was then that I had the sickening realization that I was, in fact, eating my youngest child. Ben had cooked my child into one of the most delectable and satisfying dishes I had ever tasted. With tears streaming down my face, I shoveled forkful after forkful of my delicious child into my eager widehole. I was still crying the next day as I devoured two servings of leftovers. I froze the rest and ate it later in the week, as I was too upset to make it to the grocery store - but it was still just as heartbreakingly delicious as when it was fresh. Oh, my tasty, tasty baby!! I will never forgive Ben, and my story should serve as a warning to all single mothers.

I think this will be my new career. I will pay myself in Grape Nuts (flakes).

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:29:00

2009-10-26T15:29:55Z

I tire in my quest for truth

Mar 29, 2007

My last womansavers post of the day. Low blood sugar has me thinking about Mexican food. I had to respond to this one because the guy didn't really do anything wrong. Well, maybe he shouldn't have slept with a girl who was a virgin, or possibly crazy, or Canadian - but we all make mistakes. She wrote:

I met this guy on adultfriendfinder a few years ago. His profile said he was looking for a relationship. We actually did start dating, and eventually I lost my virginity to him. Shortly after that he dumped me. We remained friends for awhile. He came to visit on new years eve, never mentioning he had a girlfriend, that is, until I made an ass out of myself and tried to kiss him. Turns out they'd been dating for months. Great, and you it didn't occur to you to tell me this BEFORE you came to visit, OR the previous times when we talked on the phone??. He is still with his girlfriend. They are living together and are talking about getting engaged. He claims he is happy with her, yet he is on plentyoffish looking for friends with benefits, and I happen to know that he's met up with girls behind her back for sex. I emailed him telling him I knew about him on plentyoffish, and what would his girlfriend think if she knew? Lo and behold, his profile is no longer there.

My response, reflecting my dating history with Anthony:

3/29/2007 11:37:36 AM - Posted by: sadstains - Anthony too has dated me. He is a liar and will tell you things to get you to prepare taquitos for him. He says things like "Baby, I only want you in my life. You and those sweet, sweet, cheesy taquitos" or "I never could have asked for a sweeter lady. But I could ask for more cheesy taquitos. Baby, make me some taquitos." Once, Anthony told me that he was a robot and could lift my car over his head - but he couldn't show me unless I made him two-dozen taquitos because, apparently, robots run on taquitos (That part is true - he showed me on Wikipedia). I started to doubt his robot story when he started getting fat and would get angry when I put light sour cream on the side when I would bring him taquitos. He would eat a bite and scream, "What is this crap! Does not compute! Does not compute!" Stay away from him, I don't think he's a real robot and he isn�t strong like a robot and probably can�t weld things with his eyes, despite what he says.

Meanwhile, my ex-wife posted the following about me on a site called "The Dick List". Oddly enough, it was posted a day after I filed for divorce. She wrote:

"This adorable film geek has had me on cloud nine for many, many moons, but I just discovered he's sleeping with an alarmingly large percentage of Los Angeles. He's a smooth operator, awesome in bed and seems very old-fashioned and vulnerable... just remember that people are seldom what they seem and proceed with extreme caution. I'm gonna go ice my heart now. Ow."

It seems pretty accurate, with the exception of the awesome in bed thing (I'm not sure where that came from). Yet, she wonders why I left.

okay, I need to find something else to do. Enough.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:29:00

2009-10-26T15:29:40Z

Tiny Man Peener and a guy named Jeff

Apr 2, 2007

So I'm still mildly obsessed with the whole womansavers.com thing - since I really can't think of anything else to do while holding on to this desk. Last night I ate rainbow sherbet for dinner and drank Guinness and then passed out on my couch watching Dateline NBC. I woke up and the teevee was too loud, my cat was on my neck, and I felt like I had gotten drunk and swallowed a whole load of fruity cum. Or, at least what my mind's approximation of a gut-load of Guinness and fruit-flavored semen would be like. Which is why you never eat that stuff unless you're sick and can't manage to eat a sandwich.
I've started to look at the websites that women set up to expose, uncover, or humiliate the men who have broken up with them. See, there's nothing special about outing someone on a website for spurned women. But when a woman goes that extra mile to create a website around a guy - you know that either a) he's a world-class scumbag b) she might be that extra kind of crazy that happens when you have a lot of time to think about how some guy wasted your baby making years or c) some or none of a & b. So here's what I found so far:

penis & moustache features NSFW man peener and a blowjob pic - so look out! Also, it makes me wonder if the woman who posted this is the one in the picture blowing the guy. If not, that seems a bit unfair. If it is her - that's just weird. Okay, and the chopsticks thing is just strange.

herpes and church lady
is all about this woman exposing a guy that she calls Mr. X (apparently because he has so many identities) because he gave her herpes and lied about how much money he made. One or the other, boys. He threatens to file a conjunction if she doesn't take down the website. She explains to the reader the difference between a conjunction and an injunction - just in case you were confused.

Then there's Jeff, the car guy. I knew a lot of "Jeff the car guys" when I lived in Los Angeles. To tell you the truth, despite his personal problems he doesn't sound like a complete tool. As far as what she wrote, he wasn't cheating on her as far as she knew. Basically, if you're with a guy for 8 years and have to ask him if it's serious, I think you already know the answer. Plus the yellow webpage hurts my eyes. Jeff needs a new haircut.
I'm crabby, feeling ill, and I'm bored.

motioncapture @ 2009-10-26T11:29:00

2009-10-26T15:29:26Z

Would consider dating someone with a glass...?

Apr 11, 2007

Would consider dating someone with a glass eye?
Yes.

No.

I've worked at some video stores in my time. The most recent period of video store work was in 1998-1999. I was in the MFA program at the USC film school and needed a job that wasn't teaching and supplied me with free movie rentals. I think I worked mainly for the rentals. It wasn't the prestige.

Nobody wants to fuck the guy at the video store.

I worked at a place in Playa Del Rey (near LAX) called The Video Cafe. It was one of those small neighborhood places that are constantly looking over their shoulder for the Blockbuster that'll be opening around the corner, promptly ending their reign of retail dominance. It was a good store, a lot of movies that didn't completely suck - a good selection of foreign films, weird shit, and DVDs before most people knew what a DVD player was. It was also in a rich neighborhood, had a lot of industry clientele and, therefore, I dealt with my share of assholes.

One evening in 1999, I was helping a customer and a woman walks in. As she's waiting in line, another customer walks up to the counter holding "The Matrix" in his hand.

"This any good?" he asked - although it may have been directed at everyone, I figured he was asking me. The woman, a dirty blonde in her 30s with marketing assistant sprayed all over her face, jumped in before I had a chance to answer.

"It's fantastic. Rent it, you'll love it" she gushed. I rolled my eyes and for once almost managed to keep my mouth shut. Almost.

"It's okay," I opined "as long as you watch it with the sound turned off."

"Don't listen to him," the woman said - shooting me a shitty shitty glance that only irked me more.

"It just isn't a very good movie. It looks good, has some cool effects, but it's one of the most derivative, poorly written films I've ever seen. Without the effects, it's nothing." (Side note: If you want to champion the Matrix, I'll listen as long as you agree to watch it with your eyes closed and just listen to it. When Joe Pantaliano says "We're not in Kansas anymore Dorothy" or, when someone says, "It's our way, or the highway" without the slightest bit of irony - you'll want to cockpunch yourself for liking it).
"Well, it's just entertainment - it doesn't have to be Shakespeare" she countered. Now, in years past, I've kind of developed several comebacks to this comment; some witty, most forgotten. What I did say was "Well, I guess if you're looking for a mind-deadening gang-rape of the senses, she has a point".
Suddenly, everyone was quiet. The kind of quiet that comes after making a dead mom joke to the person whose mother is dying of cancer, after several people have been trying to get you to stop but you just plow ahead to the finish. It was one of those mint-flavored shoe moments.

Apparently, mentioning gang rape is a sure-fire conversation ender, doubly so if you happen to be a guy. The next day, she had complained and the owner told me that I had to call and apologize. I ended up getting her answering machine. I left an apologetic message - but made sure that I said "gang rape" at least three times in my apology. Maybe I said it more like five or six.

I quit a few months later, a couple of days after a similar incident in which a customer was renting the Sharon Stone/Dustin Hoffman movie "Sphere". When I mentioned that the critical response had been universally bad and asked if they wanted to reconsider they calmly replied, "When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it". It was only much, much later that I came to the realization that they probably worked on it, or worked for the studio that did. That, in a nutshell, is what service work in Los Angeles is like - full of people who equate intelligence with what they earn, and taste equivalent to a cum-encrusted tube-sock.

She Was a Fool and So Are We. . .

2009-10-26T15:29:02Z

She was a fool, and so am I. . .

Apr 25, 2007

So I'm a lurker. I admit it. I do, at least once every few months, read my ex-wife's live journal waiting for the day when she eventually loses it and takes out a bus stop full of children. It'll happen, trust me. Generally, she just posts retarded memes and pictures of her dogs - but occasionally I get a nugget that just flips my schadenfreude switch and lets me pat myself on the back for a job well done or, as I like to think, a once possible future narrowly escaped.

Yeah, so I'm having relationship problems. What else is new...
My bf is having a whole lot of problems right now and is just feeling like everything in his life is not working - work/the shop, his living situation, our relationship... He said he would talk to me about it tonight or later. Great. Looking forward to that!
Because, you know what the 'relationship' part is going to be about. No surprise there. It's going to be about the fact that we haven't had sex in almost a month (which is 100% my fault because I'm the one having problems...) and that I've gained weight and he's not attracted to me. Fine then.
Look, I'm working hard to get my eating disorder and body image shit together. I go to fucking therapy. I'm medicated. I'm doing the best I can. While I can appreciate what he needs and what he wants, I just maybe can't give that to him right now. I'm not going to wake up tomorrow and be 130 pound. Or even 150 pounds. It's going to take a couple of months to get my weight back down.

I'm not sure why I even care at this point (even though I read it when I'm really bored), but there is a certain kind of me-telling-myself "I told you so" satisfaction in it. I mean, maybe it wasn't my fault that the sex thing wasn't happening. I mean, I did blame myself for that but it probably would have played out the same regardless of what I had done. You get it, most people have bad relationships - I just made the mistake of making mine a marriage.

And yet, I can't seem to fathom how, after a divorce, someone can be even worse off four years down the road and making the same mistakes. I did it for awhile, but after a few years - you get tired of apologizing to the people that you've hurt and care about and spinning your wheels. Now, I'm all about not doing things wrong, not making the same stupid mistakes (although they aren't really mistakes when you knowingly do them, right?)
Yet the one question that I'll never be able to properly answer, to myself or anyone else, is "why did you get married in the first place?"
All I can come up with is "because I tried everything else".

First Date Sex

2009-10-26T15:28:32Z

First Date Sex

Apr 27, 2007

According to today's Sun newspaper:
"SLEEPING with someone on a first date can INCREASE chances of a long-term relationship, a biologist claims.

Dr Barry Gibb rejects the belief it is best to wait before having sex.

His new book, The Rough Guide To The Brain, says love-making sparks chemical changes in the brain that lead to love and commitment.

Dr Gibb said yesterday: 'Behind all those romantic coy looks is a brain on chemical rampage.'"

It's always been true for me. But I don't think there's science behind it. No chemical changes. I'm less likely to go out with a woman on multiple dates if sex isn't involved simply because it's easier to break things off. I mean, if you haven't slept together you can even pull a disappearing act without being thought of as an asshole. Once you've slept with someone you lose that option and, since most people would rather stay in a shitty relationship (or any relationship) than break up with someone in that face-to-face way that having slept with someone kind of demands, coupling just happens.

Not to mention that I can't stand it when I've gone on several dates with someone, gotten to know them, met their pets, shared meals, and then, when we do end up having sex - it blows. Life's too short for several things: rice milk, hand-jobs, Rob Schneider movies, and bad sex. But in this case, you've already spent time getting to know the person and it's kind of difficult to tell someone that you liked enough to get to know that, as far as bed partners go, they suck. That's how you end up married to someone who doesn't swallow. . . even on your birthday.

Sexi Webcam

2009-10-26T15:28:10Z

Sexi webcam

Apr 30, 2007

So "she" started emailing me and one thing led to another and we chatted. She had a webcam she wanted me to check out and apparently it was so important that she have my $4.99 per day that she was willing to IM for the better part of an hour. I wasn't really planning on doing this, and I've been kind of stoned the past few days - so this probably isn't the most fun I've had in an IM - still, the thought of someone insisting that a cam girl dresses up like Abraham Lincoln is just irresistable. Seems like a waste if I were to just erase it.

sexyhotdriah: hi baby

gooeygrappler: yeah

sexyhotdriah: your actually awesome

gooeygrappler: typing gets me hot.

sexyhotdriah: yerah me too

sexyhotdriah: you have yahoo?

gooeygrappler: Or it's hot in here. I think I should
probably take my sweaters off. I'm wearing three.

gooeygrappler: yeah, I got a yahoo - it's huge.

gooeygrappler: Hold on, one sweater

gooeygrappler: shit, I just spilled my trough of Pepsi

sexyhotdriah: its okei

gooeygrappler: yeah, it'll be just fine

gooeygrappler: The maid will clean it up

sexyhotdriah: yeah that shoul be

sexyhotdriah: you have yahoo?

gooeygrappler: do you have a maid?

gooeygrappler: I make mine wear Jams shorts and
tell her it's her uniform.

gooeygrappler: We should meet up. Somewhere on
the NJ turnpike maybe

gooeygrappler: Near a marsh

gooeygrappler: You ever been to the Grover
Cleveland rest stop?

gooeygrappler: He's my favorite president

gooeygrappler: yeahhh. That gets me hard. Non-
consecutive terms get me sooooo hard.

gooeygrappler: So what's a Yahoo?

gooeygrappler: you ever fucked in a gift shop
before?

sexyhotdriah: not so

sexyhotdriah: a yahoo messenger baby

gooeygrappler: Yeah, I have one of those. I like this
messenger though - don't you?

sexyhotdriah: yeah i like it more

sexyhotdriah: add me up then

gooeygrappler: It bothers most women to discover
that I have only one leg

gooeygrappler: Is that a problem?

gooeygrappler: That's why I have so much money

sexyhotdriah: thats no problem babe

gooeygrappler: because god gave me money in
exchange for my leg

sexyhotdriah: thats great babe

gooeygrappler: oh god. my pretty pretty symmetry

sexyhotdriah: add me on yahoo

gooeygrappler: really? You think it's great?

sexyhotdriah: of course

sexyhotdriah: add me on your yahoo

gooeygrappler: You know what I think would be
great?

gooeygrappler: Okay, I added you to my yahoo.

gooeygrappler: I'm 1LeggerPegger6969

gooeygrappler: Because I only have one leg

sexyhotdriah: tahts not a problem babe

sexyhotdriah: il add you up

gooeygrappler: It's a problem if there's a fire. Then
what am I supposed to do?

gooeygrappler: When we get married, you'll have to
install some ramps around your house.

sexyhotdriah: lol

sexyhotdriah: add me up on yahoo sexydriah18

gooeygrappler: Why do you think Jesus doesn't
want me to walk?

gooeygrappler: I lost my leg in the war

sexyhotdriah: ur an army before

gooeygrappler: It got blowed off and some kids
stole it

sexyhotdriah: uhh...

gooeygrappler: Now all I have are the pictures of
when I had the leg

gooeygrappler: If I knew who stole my leg I'd give
them a piece of my mind

gooeygrappler: Thing is, I wasn't even in the army. I
was just there on vacation

sexyhotdriah: uhhh

sexyhotdriah: ahmm im doing a show baby

gooeygrappler: Oh, are you a magician?

sexyhotdriah: nope baby

gooeygrappler: You want to see a magic trick - you
should talk to the kids who made my goddamn leg
disappear

gooeygrappler: What kind of show?

sexyhotdriah: a live show baby

sexyhotdriah: im a cam girl

sexyhotdriah: is that okei?

gooeygrappler: I'm not sure I understand what that
is. You have your own tv show?

sexyhotdriah: i'm a cam girl and doing sexy shows
on cam

gooeygrappler: So you do have a television show.
What channel is it on?

sexyhotdriah: lol

sexyhotdriah: i said im doing a live show on cam

sexyhotdriah: and you can see me infront of your pc

gooeygrappler: I don't know. Does the FCC know
about this? I don't think you're allowed to just start
your own television show.

gooeygrappler: What's it about?

sexyhotdriah: its about registering on my link then
you can see me live on your monitor baby

sexyhotdriah: still intersted?

gooeygrappler: That doesn't sound interesting

gooeygrappler: Is it funny?

gooeygrappler: Does it have laughs?

gooeygrappler: I don't have a leg, so I like things that
guarantee laughs. Or at least offer the empty
promise of laughs and then fail to deliver.

sexyhotdriah: yeah

sexyhotdriah: it can make you laugh

sexyhotdriah: i can make you fantassy a reality babe

sexyhotdriah: busy babe?

gooeygrappler: no, I'm just scratching my stump. It
gets itchy. Well, at least I think it does. Then I itch
and there's nothing there. It's Ripley wierd, y'know.

gooeygrappler: Well, if it's funny - count me in.

sexyhotdriah: kk

sexyhotdriah: ready for my link?

gooeygrappler: you know what my fantasy is?

sexyhotdriah: what?

gooeygrappler: waking up one morning and
discovering that my leg grew back during the night
and then finding out that my maid isn't stealing
gasoline from my car.

sexyhotdriah: yeah

sexyhotdriah: thats a great fantsy baby

gooeygrappler: what does she do with all of that
gasoline? I think she's huffing it. Or selling it to kids
for their go carts. You know what I mean baby?

gooeygrappler: Do you dress up as Abraham
Lincoln in your television show?

sexyhotdriah: yeah

sexyhotdriah: babe wait

sexyhotdriah: ready for my show?

gooeygrappler: sure. I guess so. It had better have
resonance though. If it doesn't have resonance I'll be
disturbed.

sexyhotdriah: kk

sexyhotdriah: i will send my link and register babe

gooeygrappler: register? Wait, does this cost more
than 75 cents? If so, I need to call my accountant.

sexyhotdriah: it cocts $4.99 for a 24 hour access

gooeygrappler: Hold on, I'll need to call my
accountant. He's in the next room

gooeygrappler: Although, that sounds reasonable

sexyhotdriah: kk

sexyhotdriah: i will wait

sexyhotdriah: you must have credit card babe

gooeygrappler: I do. But I like to run these things by
my financial advisor to make sure they're not scams.

sexyhotdriah: kk

gooeygrappler: Can you talk to him for a minute?
He's a fast typist.

sexyhotdriah: i will wait for you baby

sexyhotdriah: kk

gooeygrappler: Okay, I'm putting him on. Talk to him.

gooeygrappler: Hello, ma'am?

sexyhotdriah: yes?

sexyhotdriah: you are his adviser?

gooeygrappler: My name's Alan Weintraub. I'm Mr.
Miller's Accountant and Financial Advisor, yes.

sexyhotdriah: yeah nice to meet you then

gooeygrappler: He's interested in investing in your
television show - do I have that correct?

sexyhotdriah: its not actually a tv show

sexyhotdriah: its a show on webcam

gooeygrappler: Okay. I'm not sure what that is - but I
trust his judgment. Now, in order for this to proceed,
he'll need to send you five hundred dollars - or rather
$499 dollars. Is that correct?

sexyhotdriah: its not correct

sexyhotdriah: its only $4.99

gooeygrappler: Do you prefer having the money
wired via western union? Or would you prefer that we
overnight the cash via fed ex?

sexyhotdriah: noh

gooeygrappler: Oh, he's written a check for five
hundred. I guess you can just keep the extra dollar
and I'll take it out of the maid's pay

sexyhotdriah: al you need to do is to have a credit
card

gooeygrappler: What will my client get in return for
the five hundred dollars?

sexyhotdriah: wait i will explain to you

gooeygrappler: Are there guaranteed laughs? My
client stipulates that guaranteed laughs are part of
your agreement

sexyhotdriah: i will send the link to you and you will
click that and regiter him

sexyhotdriah: yeah he will surely laugh

gooeygrappler: He also claims that you dress as
Abraham Lincoln on your television program

gooeygrappler: for "historical interest"

sexyhotdriah: i didnt say that

gooeygrappler: I believe you did. If you would refer to
line 186 of your current chat:

sexyhotdriah: wait let me explain this to you

sexyhotdriah: will you?

gooeygrappler: gooeygrappler: Do you dress up as
Abraham
Lincoln in your television show?

sexyhotdriah: yeah

gooeygrappler: You see, you did make that claim

sexyhotdriah: kk

sexyhotdriah: but are you willing to register baby?

sexyhotdriah: baby

gooeygrappler: Mr. Miller says that he will send you
the five hundred dollars you are requesting, plus an
extra five hundred if you agree to perform as
Abraham Lincoln. Can we agree to these terms?

sexyhotdriah: kk

sexyhotdriah: wait he must register first on my link

sexyhotdriah: i will send the link and fill up the
informatioon needed

sexyhotdriah: information*

gooeygrappler: Okay, do you have a fax number? I'll
need to have you sign this contract before any
registration can take place.

gooeygrappler: My client wishes to know if you will
be at the registry office, or will you be meeting him
afterward

sexyhotdriah: i dont have fax number

sexyhotdriah: wait signed up first on my link before
we meet

gooeygrappler: Where is the office where he must
register? It has to be in the state. His parole says that
he can't leave the state. Not even to meet underage
girls. You did say you're under 18, correct?

sexyhotdriah: yeah i'm 21

sexyhotdriah: he dont have to leave the state

sexyhotdriah: the registartion will be made as soon
as i send my link

gooeygrappler: That could be a problem. He tends
to like women 16 or younger. 21 might be too old. Let
me ask my client if 21 is acceptable.

sexyhotdriah: kk

gooeygrappler: He says that as long as you look 14,
you can be 21. Also, I'm afraid that our contract has a
very strict "no fatties" clause. Will that be a problem?

sexyhotdriah: no its not

sexyhotdriah: but how can i signed that?

sexyhotdriah: i dont have fax machine here

gooeygrappler: Well, your verbal acceptance (or in
this case, electronic confirmation) is currently binding
in the state of Maryland - so this works as a contract. I
have logged this chat and it will become part of the court
record

gooeygrappler: That's okay, right?

sexyhotdriah: ryt?

gooeygrappler: It's all in accordance with the State
of Maryland Commerce and Agricultural code
141.19877

gooeygrappler: Nothing to worry about

gooeygrappler: So, where should my client send
this five-hundred dollar check?

Walk Away Renee

2009-10-26T15:27:46Z

Don't Walk Away Rene

May 16, 2007

So I got an IM from renesharon, who appeared to be from Alabama but was really from Ghana. Or someplace in Africa that has a drive-in theater. Returning from her brief vacation in the United States, she found me to be irresistable. I've come to discover that if I ever decide to visit Africa I'll never be without a date - at least if the attention I get on OkCupid is any indication. Apparently, I'm just the kind of guy those women are looking for.

Anyway, this is probably my weakest effort to date and, to be quite honest, probably the most offensive. I was trying to do a "racist meets girl from Africa and, despite an upbringing frought with ideological hurdles and poor social construction, manages to overcome his prejudices and win the love of a good Nigerian 419-scammer". Alas, I never was able to pull it together. Instead, it kind of fell apart into a mish-mash of Cleveland Steamers, sanitation issues, and child rape.

I'm ashamed. But it did pass an hour at my desk. Yup, I got paid for this.

renesharon: hi

gooeygrappler: hey stupid

renesharon: hw r u doing man

gooeygrappler: Cool like a fool in a swimming pool.
How about you?

renesharon: funny man

renesharon: like a fish in the sea am i nw

gooeygrappler: yeah. you're a hot little can of tuna -
for sure

gooeygrappler: You're really cute

renesharon: k nice abt that

gooeygrappler: I'd love to crap on your chest and call
it a Christmas present, if you know what I mean. . .

gooeygrappler: Do you like riddles?

renesharon: y i do bt dnt get u very well

gooeygrappler: What do you mean? Would you like
to buy a vowel?

gooeygrappler: Or a few well placed consonants?

renesharon: hw long have u bein on this OKcupid

gooeygrappler: A few hours. What about you?

renesharon: me?

renesharon: where r u nw

renesharon: location?

gooeygrappler: I'm in Crablingtonshire

gooeygrappler: It's kinda close to North Abliblingtine

gooeygrappler: Familiar?

renesharon: y

gooeygrappler: Have you ever been here? There's a
lot of things to do

renesharon: from GHANA west africa

gooeygrappler: Is that near Alabama? I knew a guy
who said that's what they should rename the south,
but I thought he was joking.

gooeygrappler: Here in South Applebreeper, we
have the world's largest collection of wafers. It's
housed in the National Cracker and Snack museum.

gooeygrappler: Do you like snacks?

renesharon: i was in alamaba 4 a holiday when i
registeresd with OKcupid bt as @ nw am back to
africa

gooeygrappler: Who the fuck goes to Alabama on
vacation? You need to get a new travel agent.

renesharon: why?

gooeygrappler: Why what? Do you speak French?
My English is not very well.

renesharon: ahahah i came to viste on a ngo work

renesharon: english

gooeygrappler: oh. So you don't speak French?

renesharon: y

renesharon: r u single am fallin in love with ur pics

gooeygrappler: Yeah, I made some finger babies
looking at yours.

gooeygrappler: I wiped them up with a sock.

renesharon: lol

gooeygrappler: I have a lot of socks. I'm practically a
sock thousandaire

renesharon: do u belive in long distance
relationship n that one day we can come together?

gooeygrappler: Do you have any brothers or
sisters?

renesharon: y i do have a sist a two brothers

gooeygrappler: I have a brother who needs a
girlfriend. Maybe your sister would be interested? We
could go on a double date. Do you have a drive-in
movie theater in Whereverthefuckyoulive, Africa?

renesharon: y

gooeygrappler: Yeah, that would be cool. How old is
your sister?

renesharon: why nt bt let me ask her if she will

gooeygrappler: Okay, I can wait. How old is she? My
brother wants to know

renesharon: 26

gooeygrappler: That means she'll be twenty-eight
when he gets out. Can she wait?

renesharon: ok 4 sure bt why nt now

gooeygrappler: Oh, he's in prison until 2009 for
grand theft.

gooeygrappler: He stole a nine year-old's virginity

gooeygrappler: hahahahahahahaha!

renesharon: sorry abt that

gooeygrappler: That's his joke, not mine

renesharon: ahahahaahah

gooeygrappler: I'll tell him you laughed at his joke

gooeygrappler: That should make him feel better.

gooeygrappler: He's been kind of depressed lately.
There's this Asian prison gang that's been gunning
for him

renesharon: sure

renesharon: what abt u n i dating

gooeygrappler: Okay, give me your address and I'll
come visit you tomorrow. I have my own plane.

gooeygrappler: I have a lot of money and I don't
work. I made a killing in sock futures.

renesharon: come on that fare from ur end hope u nt
kiddeen

gooeygrappler: no, I have a plane. Three of them, in
fact. But I'm selling one of them to a School for the
Dentally Impaired.

gooeygrappler: So what's your address. I'll talk to my
pilot and see if he's available

gooeygrappler: When I get there, I'll check your
sister out and see if she's fit for my brother.

renesharon: ok

gooeygrappler: I'll have to run her through the
course. My brother likes them tight and stupid.

renesharon: ghana

renesharon: bt why nt have my contact n call me
when u get thee 2330243350158

gooeygrappler: Okay, so I just tell my pilot Ghana
and then what? Which airport?

renesharon: kotoka int airport

gooeygrappler: However, before I fly all the way
there. I'm going to have to see a picture of your trim.

gooeygrappler: Just so I can identify you when I land

renesharon: ok what ur e-mail addes so that i send
it to u right away

renesharon: wiil u call me

gooeygrappler: I mean, I'm sure there are going to
be hundreds of people with spears riding lions so it
might be difficult to pick you out of the crowd.

renesharon: 2330243350158

renesharon: do u love gold?

gooeygrappler: No, I hate gold. The only gold I like is
Solid Gold, and that's because I think Madam is a
fucking hoot.

gooeygrappler: Where's that picture?

renesharon: yes solid golg

gooeygrappler: Are you going to send me the picture
of your minge?

gooeygrappler: For identification purposes?

renesharon: i said i will send the pic through ur pics
throught the mail so let me have ur mail addres n i
will send u nw

gooeygrappler: oh. Sorry. My email is:
ihatenegroes@yahoo.com

gooeygrappler: Will you send it now?

renesharon: yes

gooeygrappler: Okay, I'm waiting

renesharon: my is like_me_gold@yahoo.com

gooeygrappler: okay. Well send the picture now.
Jesus, don't you people have high-speed internet out
there? Where are you again? Europe?

renesharon: africa nw am sendin u the pics hold on

renesharon: ghana

gooeygrappler: I have no idea where that is. I'll have
to ask my pilot.

gooeygrappler: Hold on a sec.

gooeygrappler: My pilot wants to know if Africa is
near Niagra Falls. The Canada side, he means.

gooeygrappler: He thinks he knows where you are.

gooeygrappler: Still no pics

renesharon: hold on

gooeygrappler: Christ on a pogo stick! What's taking
so long? Did you have to get them developed or
something?

gooeygrappler: I'm losing my erection here.

renesharon: sorry bt hold on am working on it

renesharon: do u have it nw?

renesharon: hav sent it

gooeygrappler: no. I don't have it.

gooeygrappler: What kind of game are you playing
at?

gooeygrappler: Why don't you want me to see you
sweet sweet nanu?

gooeygrappler: Oh. I just got your pictures.

Note: Here are the pictures that were attached. Yes, I did open a yahoo address just for this occasion. I'm that dedicated to the cause.

gooeygrappler: Um. . .are you. . .black?

gooeygrappler: A black woman?

renesharon: yes i am do u hav a problem with that

gooeygrappler: It's only that I thought the picture
was. . .I thought you were just tan. . .or the exposure.

gooeygrappler: I just masturbated to a picture of a
black woman

gooeygrappler: I think I'm going to be sick

gooeygrappler: Is your sister black too?

renesharon: y

gooeygrappler: Oh god. This is awful.

renesharon: guess u dnt like blacks so off i go

gooeygrappler: No, I mean, yes. I like it. It's
forbidden. And nauseating. But forbidden and
therefore. . .sexy.

gooeygrappler: I think I read about this. Bell Hooks
calls it "eating the other"

gooeygrappler: Your difference, in terms of your
gender and race, make you desirable in that, by
controlling you sexually - it provides me with a sense
of racial dominance

renesharon: that mean u nt ready to b loved

gooeygrappler: No I'm ready. I have a lot of money,
remember? A lot of women try to love me. But
something's been missing, until now

gooeygrappler: I mean, what's a relationship if it
isn't the absolute ownership of a woman?

gooeygrappler: I tell you what. I'll send you $5000
today, but you need to do something for me

renesharon: why did u put that u r from maryland in
ur profile there

gooeygrappler: Because that's where I was born

gooeygrappler: duh

renesharon: what is the zip code there

gooeygrappler: Where? In Maryland?

renesharon: and what do u want me to do for u

renesharon: yess

gooeygrappler: I want you to send me a picture with
you - naked - holding a sign that says "Bartleton
Shewsburry owns this ass". That's me by the way -
Bartleton. Pleased to meet you Ms. . . ?

gooeygrappler: My zip code is 21045

gooeygrappler: Got that? Send me that picture and
I'll send you $5000 by tomorrow morning.

renesharon: send it to u

gooeygrappler: Yes. Email me the picture

gooeygrappler: And then include your address so I
can send payment

renesharon: sorry is only my future name that can
do that for him

renesharon: but u no way

gooeygrappler: okay. Then I guess I'll have to find
another girl who needs $5000.

renesharon: yess

gooeygrappler: Do you like Kool-Aid?

gooeygrappler: Grape?

renesharon: i dont need ur money ok

gooeygrappler: okay. That's fine. Well, I have to go
beat my dog now.

gooeygrappler: God, I so wish you were white. I bet
you think that all the time, right?

renesharon: so wht

gooeygrappler: Yeah you said it - "so white".

renesharon: fuck u n
byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

gooeygrappler: Call me when you come back to the
US. You know what they say "Once you go white,
you'll cower in fright"

gooeygrappler: Which, actually, has more to do
with the statistical liklihood of white men being the
aggressors in instances of domestic violence, lest you
think it had anything to do with sexual prowess.

renesharon: fuck u n ur dog

gooeygrappler: Wait baby. Don't be angry.

gooeygrappler: You love me, right? Like when we met?

gooeygrappler: I don't like it when we leave things
unsettled. I don't want to spend the rest of the day
with you upset

renesharon: u make me sick

gooeygrappler: I make you sick? You live in a
country that doesn't have running water

gooeygrappler: or shoes

gooeygrappler: Look, let's just start over.

renesharon: who gave u that lie

gooeygrappler: I think we got off on the wrong foot

gooeygrappler: Can't we just be friends?

gooeygrappler: and then maybe, when I get over my
revulsion, lovers?

gooeygrappler: You know, here in America, we have
this thing called science. I could cure your diseases
better than any witch doctor

renesharon: bye bye u nt a real man any way greting
to ur brothe in prison hope he get out soon

gooeygrappler: Baby, I can make your malaria go
away

gooeygrappler: That's a golden promise

gooeygrappler: If you stay with me, I promise that
you'll lose no more than one of your children in
childbirth

gooeygrappler: Don't throw that away

gooeygrappler: Don't throw us away

renesharon: from u pic it tells that u nt correct in
mind

gooeygrappler: A few minutes ago, you said you
loved my pics

gooeygrappler: Now you say I look crazy?

gooeygrappler: Listen to yourself. Poor sanitation
and the lack of running water has made you
temporarily insane

gooeygrappler: I can help you, baby. I can make it
better

gooeygrappler: I made you a mix tape.

*** renesharon's IC window is closed

Angry Lass

2009-10-26T15:27:10Z

Heaven holds an angry lass

May 21, 2007

I get an email from Ok Cupid user PerfectParis10 today that had me flummoxed. The email, subject headed: "thank god you have pics" said:

i'm going to make sure every one can see you coming!

My confusion compounded by the fact that OkCupid was telling me that she lived approximately 17,012,739 miles away (which would probably be a bit of a drive were we to actually get along, despite our differences), I brushed it off. Then I noticed that she had posted a comment re: my journal from the 16th entitled "walk away rene". The post was a verbatim repost of an IM conversation I had with a Nigerian scammer (okay Ghana, same diff) who claimed to be a girl looking for love. PP10's comment on the journal was equally cryptic and incoherent. She wrote:

YOU SICK BITCH ! ITS PEOPLE LIKE YOU THE REASON WE NEED PENCILLIAN! I HAVE TO COMMENT ON THE BI'S THAT COMPLIMENTED YOU ,I'M ASSUMMING YOU;VE FUCKED ALREADY. LOOK A REAL LIVE RACISTS IN OUR MIST. I NEED TO GET THE WORD OUT!

Assuming that she misunderstood, I wrote to PP10 and explained satire, its uses in literature and the popular mobilization of the concept in the works of Catullus and J. Swift's work in the period between 1720-1740. In response, PP10 replied:

"Don't worry i'll make sure you lie the bictch you are!"

She followed up minutes later with a second email, also to the point, in which she wrote:

Clam chowder eating dick!

At this point, I was understandably upset. Not only had she taken my post the wrong way, but she was threatening to tell everyone within earshot of my imagined crimes (albeit in a fashion that will likely prove unintelligible to anyone familiar with basic syntax and grammar). I decided that the best course of action would be to instant message her - just to let her know how terribly I was feeling about her having absoloutely no basic reading comprehension skills or sense of humor. I also wanted to see if I could goad her into a lively IM session. You know, one where I could rub one out before the end of the workday. It didn't work out so well. The exchange - brief and one-sided - follows:

gooeygrappler: hi. do we have a problem? Did I upset you?

*** Waiting for perfectparis10 to connect
*** perfectparis10's IC window is open

gooeygrappler: I hate it when people are upset. It bothers me.
perfectparis10: I'm posting your picture and your journal to go with it!
perfectparis10: Now paste that!

*** perfectparis10's IC window is closed

gooeygrappler: okay. Where were you planning on posting it?

*** Waiting for perfectparis10 to connect
*** perfectparis10's IC window is open

gooeygrappler: Because it's already publicly posted here

*** perfectparis10's IC window is closed

gooeygrappler: I'm guessing that you were offended because of the racial overtones of said post. If so, I understand

*** Waiting for perfectparis10 to connect
*** perfectparis10's IC window is open

gooeygrappler: Can you at least post a good picture of me?
gooeygrappler: Or, I have others - if you'd prefer one that's more recent

*** perfectparis10's IC window is closed

gooeygrappler: Well, I guess I expected too much of you. Next time you feel the need to talk shit - be sure you can back it up - okay?

*** Waiting for perfectparis10 to connect
*** perfectparis10's IC window is open

gooeygrappler: I'm done with you. You can return to being an illiterate moron
gooeygrappler: bye bye
perfectparis10: oh i will!

*** perfectparis10's IC window is closed

gooeygrappler: do you know what illiterate means?

*** Waiting for perfectparis10 to connect

gooeygrappler: Did you do a finger snap when you said that?

*** Waiting for perfectparis10 to connect
*** perfectparis10's IC window is open

gooeygrappler: Do you like grape kool-aid?
perfectparis10: you wish
*** perfectparis10's IC window is closed

gooeygrappler: Look, what can I do to make this up to you. I feel awful.
gooeygrappler: You misunderstood the purpose of my post
gooeygrappler: The adult thing - no, the white thing to do would be for you and I to have a discussion regarding your discomfort.
gooeygrappler: That would allow me to have the chance to respond and you would be able to do the same, in kind.
gooeygrappler: Of course, you're a woman - so I know that might be difficult for you to understand

*** Waiting for perfectparis10 to connect
*** If perfectparis10 doesn't receive this message, they will be emailed when you close this window

Then she was gone. Now, if PP10 is really from Ohio like she claims, I'll gladly eat my own foot. However, I suspect that PerfectParis10 is really 43 year-old man named Akubueze Ekene Brown sitting in an internet cafe somewhere in Africa. I hear that they don't have much in the way of satire over there. Or, for that matter, paved roads or refrigeration.

The Douchebag

2009-10-26T15:26:22Z

The Douche Bag

May 29, 2007

I just had one of the worst weekends of my life. It was so horribly bad that I'm having a difficult time putting it into words. In fact, the best part of the weekend was getting a haircut that is too short, I don't like, and I keep referring to as "the douche bag". Here are some pics as evidence. I'm sweaty in them for some reason. I mean, I'm sweaty because I'm hot and I'm hot because the air conditioning in this building only kicks in in the event of the earth passing within 100 yards of the sun. Considering that this is the MDE - I wish the state could waste some money our way for once. Therefore, in the pics I'm sweaty. And my hair sucks. And basically, that was the best part of the weekend. Yep, it was that awful. No one dead, injured, or arrested - so it definitely could have been worse - but I've had a better time with mono.

Oh, and in this one I brushed it away from my face so you could see what I'd look like as a republican. Swank!

Clean Pants, Dirty Botty

2009-10-26T15:25:51Z

Clean pants, dirty botty

May 30, 2007

Lately, I'm turning into Robert John Burke in that movie "Thinner". I didn't kill a gypsy, and I'm sure it's not "curse" related - but I keep losing weight. I'm losing a lot of weight. Last month I bought a new pair of jeans since the ones I was wearing had been cinched to the point where I could fold them over and, in the legs, they looked kind of balloony. Also, all of my dress pants have the same problem - the legs are extremely puffy and when I wear them I think I look like a genie. Or maybe, hammertime. So with the jeans I bought a pair that had a waist of 34 and they fit well. Just the right amount of give. Unfortunately, a month later they have the same problem - the legs are too roomy and I can fold the waist over. Which means that I have to drop dow to a 32. Jeans are kind of expensive, and I don't like the idea of having to buy another pair. It isn't my diet (which consists of, mainly, cheese and Guinness) and I'm not exercising that much more (probably more walking because my car is in the shop - but nothing extreme) so I'm kind of perplexed. Maybe it's a tapeworm. Or maybe some kind of skinny disease. Whatever it is, I'm starting to get worried - and annoyed at the prospect of spending another 80 bucks on a new pair of pants.

Today I Crapped My Pants

2009-10-26T15:25:28Z

I shit my pants today

May 31, 2007

I probably shouldn't write about this on this site. I mean, if I ever intended to use this site to meet women this post would, likely, prove to be a major hurdle. I should probably save this for a discussion with a friend - but that would mean that it would have to wait until I get one. Somehow, McLean Stevenson and Donkey aren't interested in my stories even though I have to clean their litter box and give them food regularly (not to mention water on "Fresh Water Friday"). Still, I feel the need to mention it since I know I'm not alone. It's time for me and people like me to pull together and come out of the shadows.

Today, while walking to work, I shit my pants. I'm not ashamed. These things happen. Apparently, when you die you shit your pants. If you're wearing pants, that is. So yeah, I'm not so proud that I can't admit when I crap my pants. I'll say it again:

Today, I crapped my pants

I was walking to work (probably one-half of a mile from my building) when it happened. It happened mid-step when I was crossing the street - you know, one of those times when your body makes you think you're going to fart and then, like the worst fucking magic trick in the world, you feel it. Thanks gastrointestinal system - abracadabra indeed.
I stopped for a second, in the middle of the street, and assessed the situation. I mean, it wasn't so bad - it wasn't running down my leg or pooling in my shoe. I did, however, have to stop in this bar on the corner (which, by the way, was uncannily busy at 7:45 AM) and use the bathroom. I had to wait though, and I stood in this bar that reeked of week-old Natty Bo thinking that all of the dentally-impaired bar patrons had to know (I was kind of doing that same butt-clenching sidestep that Crispin Glover did in "Wild At Heart" when he put the cockroaches on his anus) which made the wait for the restroom painful. Fortunately, the damage was minimal and it wasn't one of those tear-enducing ball-up-your-soiled-underwear-and-bury-it-in-the-trash-can shit your pants moments. After some soap & water, some gentle scrubbing, and nearly dropping my iPod in the toilet - it was like it never happened. For the rest of the day I will keep my butt firmly clenched and hope for the best.

Pigtown Trips & Chemical Drips

2009-10-26T15:24:58Z

Pigtown trips and chemical drips

Jun 5, 2007

Not to be all fecal about my journal, but someone took a shit in the vestibule of my building today. They were as nice as they could be about the whole thing (or, I suppose, as nice as one could be when taking a dump on someone's front doorstep) and even covered it with a napkin and a brown paper bag - but at 7 AM, when I had to leave early to buy the stupid cats food (because, despite not working or doing anything useful while I'm out earning our keep, they need their goddamn food right goddamn now and who knows what'll happen to my stuff if I don't go along with their plan) the last thing on my mind was how terrifically polite it was of the doorstep pooper to cover his shit so I wouldn't have to look at it. Rather, it became a kind of "Seven" what's-in-the-box?! moment - with the possible exception being that Gwenyth Paltrow's head probably smells more like Pert shampoo and less like a freshly laid turd - and it didn't take me long to figure out what was under the napkin without looking; the flies told me all I needed to know.

I was late to work this morning. I walked half of the three miles before remembering my meds (prescribed to keep me on an even keel and able to concentrate which, given the events of the past week, is probably more important now than ever before) and having to turn around and walk back uphill to my place, past the turd for the fourth time this morning (five on the way out), and finally to work.

My walk to work takes me through Pigtown, which, for the uninitiated, is called Pigtown because of the quality of prostitutes that work the Washington Blvd. corridor. Imagine a street filled with the same people that you might see on an episode of cops filmed in St. Louis - guys who look like Kid Rock on a five dollar a day budget with kool-aid stained shirts stuffed in a back pocket when it should be covering up the sun-blotched tattoos that have become more of a lesion than a decoration; the women all seem to have left the house without their upper plate, their lips suck in to their mouths giving them a sinister pouty look. Their eyes sunken and lost, they look like they're sixty-three, yet they're probably younger than I am. At least once a day while I'm walking I'll see someone in the distance and, when they're a few blocks away recognize it as a woman - and a woman with a striking figure and uncharacteristically pleasant features, and dressed semi-conservatively (i.e. not in cut-offs). When I get close enough, however, I have one of those Droopy Dog moments - like in the cartoon in which, after a bullfight, Droopy loses out to his wolf nemesis who then gets the honor of a kiss from the princess and when she lifts her veil, it's one of the most disturbing sights anyone's ever seen and the wolf takes off, runs through a few fences, and then off into the distance trailing a cloud of dusty-smoke. Basically, my morning and afternoon pedimute contains at least one such encounter - and I've stopped being fooled by these "mirage women". I'm not even sure why they're prostitutes, to tell you the truth (and no, I do understand the economy of sex and drugs and how it works). Personally, I've never paid for sex (which has little to do with inhibitions and more to do with the fact that I like being able to honestly say "I have never paid for sex" since I know people can tell when I'm lying) but if I did, I'd probably want to pay for the illusion that I'm having sex with someone that, in other circumstances, wouldn't even register my presence. I kind of figured that most men would feel this way - otherwise, why bother? So, to me, these women making "a living" offering sex for a price is like a blind guy insisting on being a bus driver, or Diane Rhemes insisting on doing a radio show. However, taking a shit on a doorstep out in the open? That takes some talent.

Fat Ass is a Jaded Lover

2009-10-26T15:24:12Z

Fat Ass is Dying / Confessions of a Jaded Lover

Sep 20, 2007

I just discovered that Fat Ass a.k.a. Donkey A.K.A. Sneakey A.K.A. my idiot cat is likely suffering from diabetes. Okay, so I'm not the best pet owner, since I didn't even notice that there was a problem (he's always been fat and fond of food and I though that the serial peeing was more marking on his part). Now, if I'm lucky, I'll be responsible for giving him insulin shots twice a day for the rest of his life (or my life, since he'll likely live and live and live just to spite me). I guess I'm kind of feeling guilty about all of the yelling I did about the cat piss on the kitchen floor and the cat hair all over the place - yelling at a sick cat has a way of making you feel like a shitheel. I shouldn't own pets. Period.
The other night I had a dream that he died and in the dream I got really upset and cried. I never thought that I'd be one of those people who falls apart when their cat dies. I figured I'd have a party and get rid of the litter box and celebrate my cat free existence. Now I'm not so sure. I realize that, in my isolated existence, those furry morons have been the only constant in an inconsistent life. We've been through quite a bit and they've hung in there. I guess two shots a day isn't so bad. It'll end up costing about $40 a month, but I can always start drinking beer in cans and eating generic pretzels. It's the least I can do.

I found the following when I was reading the Craigslist Missed Connections. I'm not ashamed to admit that I read them on a regular basis hoping that someone noticed me somewhere. So far, it hasn't happened. Not that I'm desperate for stalkery attention - but it might be nice.
Entitled "Confessions of a Jaded Lover" and, supposedly, written by a 20 year-old young woman - it's hilariously naive and, at the same time, sad in that "you know where this is going" kind of way. Enjoy. Basically, I'm just posting it to keep it from disappearing. It's one of those things that should be preserved.

Confessions from a Jaded Lover

I used to be a fox. let me tell ya, I've done it all.some things i regret, some things i don't. some things still come around to bite me on the ass, whereas other things have made me stronger. i made the decision to eliminate all toxic people from my environment and i was left all alone. you came along some time after that, and i was not hesitant at all. you were so different and i embraced it. you promised to never do those terrible things to me that men in the past had done. in fact, your mother told me that you would never cheat on me or raise a hand to me.
thing were so great. long distance worked for us. you made your trips here every month or so and it could not have been better. for the first time in my life ( a whole 20 years!), someone made love to me and it was better than i had ever imagined or heard secondhand.our bodies meshed together in a universe or love first, and then lust. there were so many times during our interludes that i felt compelled to whisper that i loved you, but i kept it in, and waited until you returned home.
we waited until our bond was stronger and you eventually moved here. i was confident that we could not only make it, but exceed my expectations for our life together. you were ambitious and more than eager to work, and i was impressed.we spent your first week just like we spent your first visit here.entangled together until the wee hours of the morning, staring into each others eyes, and it was wonderful. you called me beautiful and you appreciated the fact that i spent half my paycheck on that naughty red getup just in time for Christmas. OoO.

But then things started to get real.i started to wonder when you would start looking for a job and more importantly, when you would get your own place and move out of your brothers' place. after all, he and his wife were 30 years old and living in someones' basement. i mean, my god, their house smelled like cigarettes and rats.yes,thats right, pet rats. thats why i never stayed the night with you.i just did not have a penchant for dirty rugs and week old dirty dishes.plus, i have a feeling that they heard me orgasm more than once.
Finally, i pushed you to take that mediocre retail job working nights because it did paid $2 extra an hour.we both agreed that this was temporary and the next step was to find an apartment.
you fought me tooth and nail about this and i didn't understand why. honestly, ho would you have found a place without me? you had already overstayed your welcome at slacker-brother's house and he told me that you had to be out by the first of the month.personally, i think his degenerate wife was jealous of our union, but she would be shocked to see it crumbling now.
so i dragged you out one morning to apply to every apartment complex within a 20 mile radius of your workplace because, of course, you didn't drive and would have to rely on me and Mr. MTA to get you around.
I wanted you out of your brother's house so my mother opened our home to you, which worked very well. you slept during the day while everyone was working, and worked at night while we all slept.
You were approved for the apartment in Section 8 city despite your backed taxes(which kept me worried at night). We went to pay the security deposit and lo and behold, your wallet had gone missing. thats right, your $400 was gone.not that the $400 was all it would cost, but it certainly made a difference. So of course, because we are decent people, my mother felt sorry for you and lent you $900. We moved you in the next day and got everything set up.
Things felt good those first couple days. We still made love in your new bed and watched Fox45 in the evenings because we both love "King of Queens". Eventually, you began paying my mom back and i started progressing in school and my job. I started to look into Universities and promotions. I was excited and you didn't really care. I had my photo application to SuicideGirls accepted and you really didn't care. I didn't feel like the fox i didn't when i met you. Now, sex became a rarity and i didn't care.
Fast forward to now. I am so fed up with you. A man who doesn't even want to lay next to me, let alone on top of me. Someone who is too tired for dinners, and parks but would love to blow all of his money seeing a deathmetal band in someones basement.you don't care about me. you don't care if i raised my GPA substantially, or had been given a new project at work, or even that my parents decided to separate after 31 years of marriage.
you don't care. point blank. it is such a struggle for you to be in public with me.
i just want to know why.it makes me sick.
sick to the point of where i cannot sleep at night because i am thinking about this situation i have gotten myself into. do i have the audacity to break this off now that you have moved here? do you have the strive to get off of your ass to make this work? i don't know. i am not sure of anything anymore.i want someone to love me, respect me and appreciate the fact that yes i am a fox, and the sexiest part of me is my mind. i'm trapped; trapped in a situation going nowhere and torn between doing something for myself and hurting your feelings. of course, you don't know any of this because you refuse to listen.