Romius T gets stalked: Welcome to the world of the bunny, the disappearing and reapearing VCR, and I teach you that internet dating beats jacking off

I remember the thing about this site used to be that I went around insulting cross eyed people, and mentioning cross eyed people on this blog would get me 10 hits a day which is more than usual, but not enough to make me write about them all the time.

Instead I am trying really hard to convince my "fake" internet girl person to become my real life internet g/f. After that I guess we can get married on the Internet, because I am 37 and I can't imagine anyone finding me as attractive in real life as they do on the Internet, and I know this just sounds like complaining , or like I am fishing for compliments, but I live in real life 23 hours a day and it has been almost three years since a girl has asked me for sex in real life, and not a day goes by on the Internet that some girl doesn't ask me for cyber sex in some random chat room, or one of my fangirls e-mails me to tell me how cute I look in the spandexless fruit of the loom white panties they just sent me.

I know I really am awesome when it comes to being on the web. I have seen my competition and I know I am in the top 1% of dudes who frequent it. I make most of those guys look like the fatman from Youtube. That's not to say I don't look fat in real life. I do. But I am sorta normal looking and acting in real life in comparison to all you interlosers.

At least I can stop acting dorky in real life if I need to and that is something that most World Of Warcraft pant shitters can't. I am not making fun of the little gay nerd boys. I am basically a dweeb too, only I am older than you and in my time we played D&D and we never heard of things like photoshop and how if you take a webcam pic from a top down angle you don't look as fat as you really are.

We had to live in the real world so we had to try and fit in a bit more than nerds today, because we did not have access to the Internet, which told us to stay at home and shit in our pants so we can play Wii all day without a bathroom break, because 10 million other fags are doing it too. We had to go outside "and play" because our parents only had alcohol and cocaine not ZanaX so they noticed when we were around.

I've been getting all these random notes at work signed by "bunny" asking me if I "have seen the VCR." I had no idea rabbits were into such outdated technology, as that VCR shit is pretty weak, but I guess animals aren't as up to date with current entertainment technology as you and I are with our fancy HD/DVD players. I bought mine on e-bay from a guy in Botswana for only 2000 dollars. I feel bad for ripping the guy off, but he said he had AIDS and needed the money for medicine.

Either way I have seen the VCR again after not seeing it for awhile. I think I need to tell the bunny I was not the customer service agent that first accepted the VCR, someone else must have so I had no idea what to do with it, and that is why I left it there for the next guy who turns out to be really a girl really (and potentially the rabbit, but I am still investigating that.)

I know the story of the bunny makes no sense to any of you reading it and the only person who might understand it is the bunny. I am sure rabbits don't read my blog, but then again I would have bet that rabbits can't read or write and that they don't leave behind cryptic letters for me to decipher, just eggs and chocolate on Easter.

What might have helped was if I posted the letters I found for you so you could see them for yourselves and get freaked out about them like I did, but I forgot to bring them all home, so I can't post them as some kind of scanned pdf file, but let's face it how many of you really thought I knew how to scan a letter and make it an attachable PDF file for blogger? Probably none of you thought I could.

You'd be right of course. But fuck you.

I fix batteries I move furniture, and I can beat up small infants, is there anything I can't do?

Man Day: Part 1 The most mantastic day ever

I woke up and watched the suns play the spurs and the suns won by 30 points and if you don't know that is some kind of good omen then you haven't recently rented the Mel Gibson classic Apocalypto. If you do rent it you will be happy to know that natives are a lot better off since the white man came. Now that I have watched it I no longer have any white man guilt over civilizing your race.

I fixed my battery finally after 2 full days of trying... spread over two weeks. Card Shark assisted if by 'assisting' you mean touching the battery with metal things to see if we were going to get electrocuted when we unscrewed the battery cable.

A quick Self Help Guide to taking out your car battery. Take your battery out during the day. It is a lot easier to see stuff in the light than at night. Also batteries are heavy so before you go to the auto store to purchase a side mount socket wrench extender make sure the battery is actually mounted into the car. If you use two hands and pull the battery up that means it is not side mounted and one handed you just have the arm strength of a girl.

Make sure you Internet g/f does not notice you struggling with lifting said battery out of place as this will only feed her belief that she can kick your ass if you got in a fight, and women don't respect men that lose fist fights to girls. I am not suggesting that you pick a fight with a girl just to show "how tuff you are" because women never give any credit to a guy who wins a fight between a woman and a man. No matter how tuff the girl is.

After replacing my battery I went with Card Shark to pick up a TV entertainment center. We lifted it in to the truck ok, but we had three guys to do the job. At home we had two guys to haul it out, and I was one of them, so it was really like one guy and one guy with 2 girl arms holding up wood cabinetry. At one point Card Shark asked me if I was "having a heart attack?" I told him I just turn a very attractive red color whenever I bend over or my head drops below my neck line. "It's white people thing" I told him and I think my answer satisfied him, because all he knows about white people he learned from me and Mel Gibson.

We finished the day off at Walmart and Home depot loading up on man tools in the event that we ever need tools again. My feeling was that we will never need more man tools, but Card Shark insisted that he was so inspired by our man day that he was going to build a bird house.

The only acceptable way of ending such a mantastic day is by cooking meat on fire. And that is what we did. We cooked large steaks, steaks big enough to choke a horse, and we cooked them on fire on the grill I made with my two very own girl hands. My ex wife and I spent 10 hours one weekend putting together that grill and maybe that is why we had to use a lit paper plate rather than the auto starter to light the fire. A fire ball worthy of the Fourth of July poofed forward nearly engulfing us all in flames, but it was worth it as the steak was tasty, a proper testament and finale to a very mantastic day!

MAN DAY 2

Man day two finds me filling up my tank and getting an oil change. I washed my truck and bought a big gallon of Wild Turkey. Beware!!! homeless people if you see me gunning my engine for you. Make a run for it. I bet you won't get to the sidewalk in time.

Self Help Center Podcast # 17

First I want you to stop worrying about me so much. It turns out my brother has the same problem with black squiggly lines in his vision, and since he has health care he can answer questions about my sickness. He said the eye doctor told him is was just a natural part of aging like forgetfulness, and if the lines get bad enough they can go into your eyeball and scrape out all the mucus, and replace it with saline and then you can see again.

Though if you watch the video below you may just want to rip your eye balls out of their sockets and throw them away. That is unless you are into man-boy love like the host of this variety show in Holland. I guess what he does is legal there because he is doing it on national tv. Thanks to the Drunken Stepfather for pointing this out.

http://view.break.com/492378 - Watch more free videos

Here is Podcast # 17.

Also my brother has a podcast. It is haha funny, he has drunken observations as an aMErican abroad. He records his drunk driving observations on the go. And sometimes it is funny just to make fun of him because he is an ignorant red neck.

Http://www.switchpod.com/users/shadetree/feed.xml

The Self Help Guide to Internet Dating means Romius T wants a girlfriend

Nothing ever goes my way. I am trying to lose weight so I can get laid at work. I don't like to do the things "normal" people do to lose weight. I don't like working out or watching what I eat so I decided to go on a liquid diet since most of my calories come from the liquids I consume. I stopped drinking beer. I did that almost 4 months ago; furthermore, instead of drinking a twelve pack of coke a day I am drinking a gallon of unsugared iced tea. I still have not lost any of the weight that I gained after my divorce. I blame my wife for letting me get fat during our marriage, and I blame all the sluts I met right before our divorce for convincing me that getting laid would be easy.

Because of all the trial and error I went through with sluts I know a lot about modern courtship. For instance I was once censored for sexual harassment at work because I liked to read Cosmo out loud in the break room at a public library. I know getting counseled about my propensity to sexually harass my coworkers has nothing to do with how I use beer and the fact that I had a truck with big pipes to screw unwanted women at closing time at roadside karaoke bars, but I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to tell you that I nearly got fired for sexual harassment.

You might think I learned everything I know about chicks from trial and error. You'd be wrong. I have done extensive research on women in chat rooms and flirted with tons of girls on myspace. I get a Google news alert every time some random girl posts a personal ad on craigslist. In addition, I read the abstracts from evolutionary psychology science stories on female reproductive strategies.

I've been using all the tricks of the trade that I have developed over the years to get myself laid at work, but so far nothing has really come of it. You can't say I am not trying. I speak inappropriately to young women. I make sexually suggestive jokes to all the new hires. I even bought body spray from Old Spice to cover up all that nasty 'ass smell' I get from riding the bike to work. Still no takers.

The Self Help Guide to Internet Dating:

• try and meet chicks in chat rooms
• chicks in chat rooms are easy if you know how to chat (hint: think cheesy and use emoticons)
• my best line in chat rooms was to yell out "who wants to get drunk?" most often the girl who said "me" was willing to meet you that night if you had beer and a place to get high at
• don't be afraid of getting it on with fat chicks as fat chicks are often people pleasers and by people pleaser I mean anal sex on the first date
• did you get anal sex on the first date? do not take the second date unless you want it divulged to you that fattie is a prostitute and expects to get "paid" for "all this"
• read the reply below from d-cup from the comment section

From D-Cup!

Okay, maybe you need to give up on trying to get a young girlfriend. Get married, then dumbass middle-aged women like me will totally fall for your shit. Really. Try it.Here's my plan for you:

(1)Get a (mail order?) bride.

(2)Wear a wedding ring, continue to write, maybe take up poetry and the guitar. You don't even have to sing all that well, women will tell you it's good because they want to be a singer's girlfriend

(3) Post some poetry on your blog, go out and make sensitive comments on other blogs, be charming (okay, try)

(4) Start an email relationship with some horny, intelligent, bored married chick who has some means to come visit you and not enough self-esteem to say "no."

(5) Get the best lay of your life because she'll be trying really hard to prove to you that middle-aged women can still be hot and the she still has "it."

(6) Dump her, stay with your wife who's spending you into debt oblivion but who keeps promising you butt sex every other Friday night, except you don't come home on Friday nights because now you really do think you're a singer and you go play music on Friday nights and get high and then spend the night at your fellow musician's apartment.

(7) Keep contacting the bored married, middle-aged chick in hopes that she'll continue to take stupid pills and lack self-esteem.

(8) Call it love.And no, I'm not volunteering.

Been there. Done that.But trust me, it works.

I am slowly going blind, but at least I applied for government health care

I applied for government health care yesterday. I know having poor health is no good reason for this blog to have seen no growth in its readership in the 4 or so years that I have been writing it. At least my friend Doctor Monkey Von Monkeystein over at the Monkey Muck is popular. I don't know how to be popular.

Nobody likes me. It was like that for me in high school and the real world is just like high school only now I don't want to sit at the cool table I just want bash the heads in of every person I see who hates thinking.

I know I never talk about it, but I am sure I am going blind from the undiagnosed diabetes that I have. Things go fuzzy when I stare at stuff too long. Sometimes I find it hard to concentrate my vision on things, and I see black squiggly lines everywhere (like I am watching some kind of old timey newsreel) even when I close my eyes. When the eye doctor asked me about seeing the squiggly lines I lied, because I was afraid I was going to be told exactly how time I have left to see. I don't want to know. I want it to come to me all of a sudden like a great tragic surprise.

The real tragedy will be when I run over your kids playing in the street. Personally I think they had it coming, and you should just watch your damn kids a little more carefully, or at least train them not to play in the road. I guess you won't find out how much you love your kids 'till you are planting flowers every week at a roadside grave for them.



I try and treat you all like my friends (like Bill in the video above), so if you get offended by anything you read, that means you don't want to be my friend, which would make me want to cry, but I already have too many friends when I think about it.

I have so many friends that I think it is about time that I lose some of them. For too long I have been trying to package this blog to get me famous. I wanted to get famous on my terms though, so for the most part I never sold out and I kept writing about the things I wanted the way I wanted. Well it turns out that I can't get famous that way either, so I am through with the public and finished writing for them. From now on all I am going to do is write what I want, when I want, and what I want to write about right now is the slutification of Miley Cyrus.

Actually I don't want to write about Miley's slutification. I just want to gaze on it. My guess is that whatever happens with Miley's slutification was meant to. God has a plan for us all, and I guess part of that plan was for Miley Cyrus to expose her giant neon green bra to the world. I don't think the bright neon green bra is a good choice is underwear for Miley though.

All I know is that the neon green bra distracts me from gazing at the natural beauty of her sparkling green eyes. But no matter, the shine may be gone from those emerald green eyes of Miley, but at least nothing is wrong with that raspy voice of hers. Miley is Generation Y's version of Stevie Nicks, and you just can't jettison that kind of talent away, even when it is wrapped in the arms of prepubescent boys.

I know that you are thinking: "that I am being particularly nasty to Miley Cyrus for no good reason." It might be that I am just out of caffeine free things to drink and it's 3 am. I went to the fridge anyway and got my soda and I am drinking caffeine even if it means I won't fall asleep tonight.

My allergies are also acting up and I am tired of blowing my nose into the newspaper. I can't afford tissue paper so I am stealing my neighbors newspaper again, only this time I am not stealing the paper to read, but to wipe my snot away. Since I am tired of wiping the snot from my nose I have just decided to let it run down my face until it falls and crusts on my t-shirt.

Maybe I am just bitter. Maybe what Romius T needs is a girlfriend.

I like cake because it is nicer to me than you

I can tell that none of you are interested in hearing my podcast. I get statistics mailed to me every day. Either way here is volume 16. It features a blog post reading from Bathos for the Misanthropic. My Sweet Pea refuses to listen to my podcast because she thinks I sound like a rapist. I have no idea what your excuse is. If you don't want to listen to it you could at least submit the podcast to Digg.com. That way you won't hinder all my new fans from joining the fun you are having by keeping this blog all to yourself.



I don't think it is very nice of you to be so selfish. Lots of listeners means lots of money for me and lots of money for me means I will devote myself full time to this blog. I would write everyday and start my book about the angel who has to face a giant headed baby he created by having sex with a red headed human. I know you can't wait for me to finish my novel, so get busy making me famous. Or you will regret it. I will find you when you are alone on some staircase and I will push you down the stairs. I will stand over you after you fall, and I will mock your new found paralysis by speaking to you from then on only in the computer generated voice of Doctor Steven Hawking. I don't think you want that.

Self Help Center Podcast #15

I have a time machine and I have gone back in time to April 7th. All I did there was post Volume 15 of the Self Help Center Podcast. Also I fixed volume 14, and now it plays on the blog as well, just scroll down to find it!

In the future I see Jamie Lynn Spears' baby bump.

I am in a good mood

I am in a good mood, and that doesn't happen very often. I know I can count on the the black cloud disappearing for 2 0r three days a month, but I am still not in a good mood when it does just because I am not depressed. Melancholy has a way of sapping your strength like that, and when the bad moods disappear you can breathe and you are thankful for the rest. If you visit in the 'eye' for awhile you know that the storm always waits for you on the other side. I don't expect much out of those three day other than enough energy to do the dishes and take out the pile of collected mail and pizza boxes in the living room.

My good feels more like a chemical release from the grip of depression than actual happiness. I am chatty and I can taste medicine in the back of my throat. Maybe the government is slipping Effexor into my drinking water. I can't write when I am in a good mood because I have to catch up on Tivo'd episodes of Battlestar Galactica. That's one of the reasons I haven't blogged in a while. The other reason is I want you to notice me when I am gone.

On of my new readers asked me how they could sign up for the fan club. I think you just click on the donate button, and then I send you one of my "fan club" memberships. Membership includes your very own packet of gravy. You choose: country, brown or turkey/chicken/yellow.

I recommend country as it goes good with biscuits. Also I will throw in a membership certificate, a signed CD of the "lost" podcast episode, and all kinds of extras and goodies. Membership costs $13,000 dollars, but it's worth every cent. If you can't afford the "premium" fan membership you should just donate what's left in that pathetic bank account of yours, because your bank probably won't miss such a tiny amount.

Live Blogging my day off. I join the Kerry Howley fan club over at the Activity Pit

I'm working on me. Last night I bought a bunch of eye cream that will take away all the dark circles under my eyes. That way I can still stay up all night creating this awesome blog for you and I can still look beautiful for my new girl friend (you can call her the girl I am stalking) Kerry Howley.

I am not as lucky as Fredrick Schwartz. My girlfriend is not an ex-hooker. And I don't eat "lox and bagels for breakfast."

I eat Little Debbie 6 packs of mini donuts for breakfast. Each 6 pack is deliciously fortified with 35% of my daily intake of saturated fat. With Little Debbie mini-donuts there is no need to run around looking for ways to get all your daily saturated fat. Just scarf 3 packages down for breakfast and your done. I say fuck dieting. Let's get as fat as the fat man.

I imagine this is how Kerry would look over Sunday morning breakfast of Little Debbie Donuts and the Sunday morning paper. I am sorry for using this picture Kerry. Forgive me?

I suppose it is no wonder that I don't have a girl friend. All I have is my adopted actor Kerry Howley. Kerry Howley is my idea of one hot woman. I love to watch the Fox News TV show Red Eye and I knew as soon as I saw Kerry on the show I would have to join Kerry Howley's fan club.

I just hope Kerry Howley remembers me. We chatted twice by E-mail and here is my chance to pay her back. I will flood her fan club with my visitors.

Go visit the Kerry Howley Fan Club at the Activity Pit.

****
Sir Frieda Bee has posted a response to the Zombie Jesus teXt message I left her.

It's just plain silly to see an Angry Lesbian like Frieda Bee get pissed off at me for calling her, "sir." That's like Peppermint Patty getting pissed when that little lesbian Marcy called her "sir."

Speaking of being pissed off at me. I am a little pissed off at myself for skipping ahead of the Peanuts day-at-a-time calender we have at work.

I skipped ahead 20 days on the calendar reading a cute story about Charlie Brown winning a prize for a drawing that Snoopy actually drew. I just figured out in this blog I am Charlie Brown, and that means you can stop reading this thing, because I haven't invented a new type of hero, I am just borrowing badly from the best loser ever crafted .

Sir Frieda, like Peppermint Patty, loves her some Charlie Brown but is in no way an actual bull dike like Patty's pal Marcy. I don't get how nobody figues Marcy for a dyke in the cartoon, but everybody thinks Patty is Lesbian just because she doesn't like showering or shaving and she has a mean fast pitch softball arm.


6:00 pm

I got home and turned on the NetFlix. I watched a movie called Little Children.

8:00 pm

I get a phone call. My ears bleed for 3 hours. But the blood was worth it.

11 pm

Poker night. I am down 170 dollars at one point and buy in for another 100 dollars. I catch a straight flush holding 5 and 9 of clubs on the river and make a big score and I get awarded 50 bucks for getting a straight flush. I end up 16 dollars for the night!

4 am

Home to bed. I forget to create a podcast or write the rest of this post and I don't have a text message from zombie Jesus ready, my bad....