Saturday, January 28, 2006
Well fuck that, man. I can get by on my rep. I can put Kurt on my resume as a reference. Who wouldn't hire me?? I was in the fucking Meat Puppets! I had a crew of roadies and at least 3 or 4 groupies at any show we played.
Why, then, was I kicked out of my apartment? Why can't a Meat Puppet pay half-price for a Grand Slam breakfast at Denny's?? High school kids these days are fucking clueless, man. They don't realize Creed or Burnt or Raver Boyz or whatever those fuckers are listening to is just a bad copycat of the Nirvana/Meat Puppets sound. I bet you could pick out some random little prick riding his bike and ask him, "Have you heard of the Meat Puppets?", and he'd be like "What? Is that some kind of circus act or something?" Seriously!!!!!!!
So what if I sleep on a bench and Courtney Love pretends she doesn't know me? All I own is a blue pillow and a stonewashed denim jacket, but I was in the Meat Puppets, and that's more important than material wealth.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
There is so much that I find attractive about this I find it difficult to put my feelings into words. It might be the stretchmarks that get my blood pumping. Possibly it's the double set of love handles that have helped me achieve the massive, straining tent pole threatening the integrity of my shorts. That much is certainly possible, but I think a more likely option is the ambiguous sexuality of this person. Who exactly would I be having sex with if I was lucky enough to tug those big fucking jeans down? Man? Woman? Mawoman? Thing? I think it's that wierd patch of hair on the back above the tattoo that I find so intriguing. Maybe intriguing isn't the correct word, maybe I should say...tantalizing? If it is a woman, and the pink underpants certainly lean in that direction, then why the patch of back hair and the mannish love handles? If it is a man, then why the feminine lower back tattoo and the big hips? I'm drawing a blank on the sexuality, though I do know that I find that tattoo pretty fucking sexy. Whoever, whatever that person is, if they were to bend over for me and yank down those saggy, unflattering pants I would have no choice but to make the sweetest, most gentle love to whatever hole I could find. Of course, finishing on that tattoo and the patch of hair would be a must. I like the word underpants so I will include it again. I would use the pink underpants to mop that fresh, sexy tat off and make sure nothing gets all crudded up in those back pubes. You know, like man chowder.
I want you to stare at it for a moment. The sweet spot I mean. Just let your eyes wander over that luscious, hairy little patch of heaven. It needs your tongue. I need your tongue. You want to use your tongue...right down THERE. It smells so sweet, like thick sliced bacon cooking slowly in a heavy skillet over a crackling early morning campfire. One of those things you savor. Burns a little place in your heart doesn't it? Will you let me give you everything I have to give? I thinks so. I hope so. You know where to find me. I'm waiting in this position until you get here so hurry because it's hard to hold my legs up like this!
Sunday, January 22, 2006
First off, fuck you for pretending that your girl doesn't use this shit too. You know you've found empty tube of Monistat or Vagisil in the bathroom trash. I bet my new Victoria Secret bra that she's got some Gyne-Lotrimin stashed away at the back of her underwear drawer. Sometimes a bitch just itches and stinks down there and there's nothing she can do but squirt some lotion in there to help out. My fav is Kolorex because the box says it's for Intimate AND Vaginal itch. So that means when my whole toilet area is are wrecked out I can just use some of that to fix me all up. You just never know when a girl's gonna catch a good case of vaginal thrush and needs something powerful to knock out that fungus. It's a good thing they have all those commercials on television that told me about that stuff because I would never have thought to look in that huge aisle at the grocery store that is completely dedicated to women's crotches and the shit that comes out of them. Those commercials that all the boys act all grossed out about help a bitch out. Only thing is that when I get the box of shit home they use all these words I don't know like 'vulva' and 'discharge.' I wish they'd tell us more on those commercials like how they keep the odor down and if it's cool for me to wear like two thongs to keep the smell in. I have to go because I'm in a school pep assembly and have to wear a pink costume for the Kiss A Pig raffle. Whatever the fuck that is.
Friday, January 20, 2006
I just bought this shirt and I have to say its been a big hit. I think the attention everyone has been heaping on me has to do with my highly visible nipples through this extremely small polo shirt. Of course, I probably should by a medium size shirt but I can't bring myself to purchase anything above a small. I hate shirts that could even accidentally be tucked in. There's something about the way my well tanned arms look as they jut proudly from teeny tiny sleeves barely covering my shoulders that drives the women wild. When the wind blows and I get a little chilly my nipples poke out through the flimsy material like a couple of heavenly beacons. My nipples attract women like moths to a buglight. Yeah, that's right, I stab that shit when they get in range. This girl here I met at a street vendor's cart where she was looking at some puka shell necklaces. I ever so gently brushed my nipple across her bare arm and she went rigid. I knew at that moment that her genitals were becoming moist and ready for sex. This is common. Dropping a complement about her slight 'gay belly' sticking out of her breezy cotton pants I knew from the look on her face that I would have her ankles crossed behind my neck before nightfall. I am a world traveler, a woman conqueror, a sancho if you will. This is my destiny. Are my nipples in your future?
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
I don’t know what the fucking story is but things got all fucked up last night over at Kellie’s place. We had just got down fucking all slow, you know, the kind of sex where you can feel the whole fucking rubber, and there comes this fucking knock at the door. I turn down the Nelly and someone keeps fucking banging on the door like a bastard. The whole fucking trailer was rattling and we had stopped fucking, if you know what I mean. I’m like ‘fuck this’ you know? And I pull out. The rubber’s going to be no good if I take it off so I just tug up my fucking shorts over it. I only had the one rubber, you know? I get up to go get the fucking door and Kellie’s tugging at my dick through my shorts but I got the dick tucked into the waistband so it’s not lancing out through the front so she can’t grip it. She’s still naked, all slicked up and sweaty but I can tell she’s horny so I’m like ‘hey motherfucker, I’ll be back in a fucking second.’ I get the fucking door and there’s these two fucking dudes like ‘who the fuck are you?’ One of the dudes hits my in the fucking neck before I can say fuck and I go down. The dick pops out of the waistband and the rubber is all gleaming and slicked up and this dude is like ‘oh no motherfucker’ and kicks me while I’m down like a bitch. I’m like, fuck this shit and try to hit this fucker with a lamp and his bro hits my fucking ass with a right cross in my motherfucking head. I woke up today with my neck all swole up and the fucking rubber still on. Kellie wasn’t fucking anywhere and the fucking bitch won't answer her fucking cell.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
This may come as a surprise to some guys but when someone says they got two fatties in the trunk doesn't mean they scored ass-sex off two thick bitches. They might actually have two healthy eaters in the trunk of their car for whatever reason. Say you're going to a party and trying to pick up some nice looking girls it's probably in your best interest to keep the big armed women out of sight. At those times a trunk is handy to stash those chunky asses out-of-sight for a while. If you strike out driving past Chevron and the skating rink you can bring those heavy women back up so you actually show up at the party with girls, fat fucks or not. I usually grab a bitches' arm before they get in my car and if I can't feel a bone under that meat I'll escort them to the trunk. It helps to tell the girl that the trunk is plush and carpeted and has good bass from the speakers in the back dash. This usually gets them cooled out enough that you can shut the trunk lid on their fat ass. Be careful you don't leave them in there too long or they'll eat the motherfucking jack.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
The late Baby-T, a former gangbanger with the Grape Street Crips in Compton, is generally credited with the signal's first use. Baby-T intended to display that his turf was west of the neighorhood Special K, but it's use quickly spread and new meanings formed. It hit the mainstream when popular rap artist Tupac Shakur intentionally broke both hands to disfigure them into a permanent "W" shape, thereby sending a signal that he lived on the West Coast of the United States.
So the next time you "throw up the W" as Ice Cube is wont to say, think of Baby-T's soul roasting in Hell, and what the symbol meant to him. Don't take it lightly.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Check it out, check it out! Brand new derby hat fresh out of the box and placed on my head at a nice rakish angle. Nothing on Earth to make a sporting man like myself stick out in a crowd. Only thing I need is a cigar to chomp on and a walking stick to make me look like a real dandy. Of course, no one else seems to think too much of this fine new hat but never you mind. Some people just have no taste that's all! I'm only hanging out over in the corner here at this party because I don't want the cigarette smoke to ruin the felt of this lovely hat. It cost a pretty penny and does dress me up nicely doesn't it? Doesn't make me look at all faggish does it? Nope, I thought not. Not a badge of homosexuality at all. Straight as an arrow, I am. This hat doesn't give away my interest in fucking men in the slightest. I just happen to wear this hat AND enjoy screwing guys. No connection whatsoever between the two.
I swear, with a pretty little mouth like mine you'd think they'd be lining up. I've always acted as vulnerable as possible but no one ever tries to shove me in their trunk or fuck me while I'm 'sleeping.' It's soooooo annoying to be the only kid around who totally wants a hot priest cock and can't fucking find one. I'll tell you this much too, all the stupid girls like me sooooo much. They're always saying how cute my curly, floppy hair is and how nice I'm always dressed. As if I do it for THEM! The janitor at school doesn't even seem to notice me when I keep dropping my binder near his closet and bend over with my totally cute J. Crew boxers peeking out. He might just be cautious though, which is cool, but I DO like to feel a little pursued you know? I swear, it's like a boy has to just THROW himself at a man before he'll try to fuck them. My lips are soooooo soft and pouting all the time. Why no balls on my cute little chin? I'm straight up waiting for it and no one gives it to me. I'm going to go lube up a carrot and get it stinky.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Two brothers stepped up to me
"Hey yo, Ice
We don't think you're down
What set ya claimin'?"
E drew the Glock, yo my set's aimin'!
Try to roll on me, please!
I'm protected by a thousand emcees
and hoodlums and hustlers
And bangers with Jeri curls
we won't even count the girls
Cause they got my back
And I got theirs too
Fight for the streets
When I'm on Oprah or Donahue
They try to sweat a nigga
But they just didn'T figure
What my wit's as quick as a hair trigger
Yeah, remember this fucker from Channel One News? He's that stupid Latin fucker that tried to sound serious and introspective about issue he clearly didn't even fucking understand. I remember thinking how unreal it was that someone who was only twenty or so could have been a reporter on that show. Turns out this dipshit was over thirty at the time. Having a baby face gets you cool gigs like that. Where's Channel One now? Who fucking knows. But Valverde is working for Current TV and dreams of one day becoming a staff writer for the Simpsons. That would be an interesting turn. I hate this fucker. Look at that stupid fucking grin. What does he have to grin about? 'Hey I was on some stupid fucking news show in 1995.' What a fucking hard-on.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Hello, I am Sayichi Yamaha Honda! My parents are both short. I lucked out though, I got really big gums and little tiny teeth. This is a blessing because when I smile you can see that I do not have gingivitis. I use floss and a child sized tooth brush which are much cheaper and come in many fun colors and designs. I’ll be honest though. I wish that I was a few inches taller too. I know, I know, I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. But couldn’t the gods have made me a little taller when they were sprinkling the gift of big gums on me? I have ways around being short though. I fluff my bangs up sooooo tall and that fools everyone and makes me look like a giant! I drive an Eclipse with blue neon underneath and I also have big gums. Oh yeah, small teeth too!
Any man out there who has 'been' with a woman can tell you this with unshakable certainty; the balls are ALL that counts! Big dick? Thick veiny shaft? Fist sized mushroom tip? Fuck that shit. Big, low hanging, suckable nuts are all that women want and/or need. You got balls the size of crab apples and you’ve got a woman with a smile on her face it would take a machete to remove. Who cares if the tip of your dick is smaller than your thumbnail! It simply does not matter! You put your penis AND balls into her and we’ll see a girl that’s satisfied. The most important thing is, if you have a small dick and big nuts, post pictures of that shit on the internet. There’s no telling how many people out there are turned on seeing a woman HUMILIATED by a man wielding two pomegranates and a fucking tube of Chapstick. Also, grow that bush in nice and thick. Makes your dick look even shorter and that will get her halfway there before you even stuff your yam sack in her face.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Herro! Perhap you want make sex? We rive in Tokyo, Japan and enjoy swim, bicycle, and discotheque. In school I enjoy mathematics but Hiroko enjoy Engrish and eating. HEHEHEHEHEHEHE! We have black jackets we wear most days. Perhaps you enjoy swim? We enjoy swim. Swim is fun but make sex more fun. Perhaps we visit you and swim sex? I rike swim sex. Perhaps we go to cinema? Make sex cinema perhaps? Herro?
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
I thought I should mention that I worked up quite the appetite having sex with your daughter while you were at work today. I'm going to eat so much fucking food to replace all those lost calories. It's not that easy moving this much mass on top of a woman! Girls like me for my fucking girth. Yeah, that's right, my thighs aren't the only thing thats thick. WHOOOOOOOOOOEEEEEE! I've got so many notches on my reinforced headboard I get fucking splinters in my big sausagy fingers. Even the backs of my hands sweat I'm so thick and juicy. I'm on the prowl on the way to Dairy Queen and the good lord knows that after three Peanut Buster Parfaits I'm going to be in the mood to rut with a couple babes. It's just the power of the pounds that fuels my burning desire for well lubricated sex. Tonight I can feel it coming, I'm going to wreck some hoes fo' sho'!
As you might have noticed, I'm looking pretty fucking good right about now. Things may have been a bit sketchy in high school but I've got them dialed in... fucking dead on. We'll start at the bottom of my outfit with the leather sandals I bought at REI. They were $75 and scuffed to look worn in so no would could ever look at me and think 'hey, that guy is wearing brand new sandals.' My shorts are from Abercrombie, the new Ezra Fitch Cargos, which are 100% cotton with an embroidered leather Ezra Fitch logo on cell phone pocket. They cost $78 and compliment my well tanned calves. The shirt, which I'm sure caught your eye, is a vintage Polo complete with slight distressing at the mother-of-pearl two-button placket and a ribbed polo collar turned permanently up. I won't even tell you how much this shirt cost. Okay, I'll give a hint... a family of four could eat well for a week with the money this shirt went for. That's just not a problem for a man like me. What is a problem for me, however, is my eyes being so light sensitive. I must at all times wear sunglasses. Even at night! This is not by choice or design, it is simply how the stars aligned for this particular soul. I am doomed to look that much cooler at midnight than anyone around me. That's where we come to the wrist band. Yeah its a Lance Armstrong, but one step further...it's signed. That's right. Signed by Lance 'Fucking' Armstrong himself. I have no clue what the band represents but it sure is trendy. I bought it off Ebay for an easy fifty bucks. Not bad for a piece of plastic. But that's how I roll, every day, paving my own way. I'm good looking and rich. The only reason I'm letting this ugly bitch hold the beer bong is she's a friend of my buddy's wife (who is totally fucking scorching hot) and she had chemo and I was trying to look good by being nice to her. No way am I going to fuck her though. Don't worry about that! I'm going down to the Liquid later to laugh at poor, ugly, fat fuckers strike out. See you there lame-o!
Monday, January 02, 2006
Okay, so I'll be up front about it. All of my weight can be attributed to either slow digestion (the fault of my genetics) or my low impulse aversion levels (to be blamed on commercial advertising.) Either way, it is absolutely not my fault at all that I am a massive fucking pig. Do you really think I enjoy getting up in the morning and eating an entire restaurant-sized box of Eggo's, a stick of butter and a bottle of Golden Griddle? Is it fun to wash all that food down with a quart of chocolate milk? NO! Genetics has forced my hand in every situation that I can remember. Where a normal person takes one cookie from the plate in the break room, I take all but one. This is not my choice, this is fate. Fate is a cruel big brother that laughs at my misfortune while kicking Snickers bars down my slowly swelling throat. I get so hungry sometimes my ass actually starts to eat my pants as can be seen in this photo. That's right, my body becomes so starved for food that being close to any bodily opening is not safe. I lost the tip of one finger in my belly button last year. It only looks like I'm playing with my children in this photo, but I'm not. I ate my own kids years ago and I'm going to eat these kids too. I'm just biding my time until the prick with the camera gets bored and fucks off. Being fat is not a way of life I have chosen, it fell out of the sky and landed on my face when I was just an infant. Since then, I must eat. I will eat. I'll eat even if it means sitting on a pile of chicken so I can get it going in both ends to save time. Fuck restraint. I've got bad genes.
Yo! Here's a little Rhyme about all my CRIME:
Two dead bitches in da trunk cuz they earn no scratch,
I'm still sellin' crack rocks by the motherfuckin' batch.
I got the big lips and a stupid fucking hat,
The projects my home cuz my dick is so fat.
Big gold chains, blowin out brains, leavin mattress stains cuz my money fills a train.
I'm really fucking black and I don't read much,
grandma spanked my ass for leavin rubbers on the hutch.
Crip til I die, always fuckin high, no reason why, salad tossin' guy.
All my boys wear blue, just like I do, it matches with our shoes, we don't like jews.
Big balls hanging low, my car aint paid fo', no fucking insurance, gas is really fucking expensive and shit.
Next week I gets to get a job, some whites I'll try to rob, they daughters on my nob, black men have no options.