Thursday, November 20, 2008

Sex and the Grocery store, or My creativity explodes whenever I am away from you

I felt dead at work yesterday. I went through the motions of scanning your groceries only because I need money and because this blog costs a fortune to run. I use all my spare income to make sure I have access to the internet so you can get your 13 seconds worth of entertainment out of this blog every day.

I was in the shower and I came up with a 15 minute rant about how I hate my life, but I can't remember a word of it.

I can't remember the idea I had for a new character for this blog either.

I came up with the character yesterday at work after I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself. I know it had something to do with customers walking up to me and whispering things to me like how they have fake tits, or how the itch cream they buy is not really for themselves, but I can't remember much of that either, so I guess you will just have to put up with what you are getting creatively from this blog which may not be that great, but it sure beats thinking about your life.


One of the greeters at my store got very excited yesterday. It is her job to open the pharmacy for all the sluts people who want to buy condoms when the pharmacy closes at 7 pm. After opening the sliding glass door she rushed over to tell me that the, "black guy who just bought condoms bought the LARGE condoms!"

I told her it was no surprise as black men have larger genitals than the Italian men she has known her whole life. Despite what Italian men say, most Italians are short, and any guy under 5 foot 9 has a small dick. That's why women love tall men. They are betting that what is below matches how high they are on top.

I also told her it was no use crying over spilled milk and the 60 years she spent bedding small dicked men probably made her incapable of taking a young black buck like the boy she brought the condoms to.

That's when she changed the subject and asked me about my penis and wondered if my readers knew about my size. She made a joke about me having a pencil dick and I told her I drew the line at 60 year old women using the term "pencil dick" in front of me. I also told her that I had a wide ribcage and that while I might be heavy, none of the fat collects around my ribs so she could trust that I was thick where it counted.

She wondered whether I chatted dirty online.  I told her I talked dirty all the time and she cracked a joke that she was actually my long time internet girl friend.

She also wanted to know if there were any laws against talking dirty online.  I told her that the only law against talking dirty online is talking to under aged girls, or the cops who pretend to be underage to get you arrested.   Which pretty much dries up all the possibilities of dirty talk on the Internet.

You can't talk to teen girls about sex because you will go to jail, even though teen girls are the your first choice, and the only girls confident enough in their sexuality to do so. And by confident in their sexuality, I mean they have low self esteem and enough daddy issues that you can take advantage of them.

Older women are super horny too, but they always want to send you pics of their saggy tits for you to jack off on. And the furious masturbation it takes for me to ejaculate on a printout of your saggy tits rips the skin off my dick.

All that furious masturbation, just so I can send you a still picture of the white goo that I have dribbled onto your face pic, so that you can post it (along with all the other ones) to your RedPorn profile. Which I guess somehow confirms for you that men still find you attractive, and I guess enables you to have your middle aged orgasm, which sounds a lot more like a dying mule than the sexy purr of a women with a functioning uterus.

My review of the Sex and the City Movie should be read by men too

I had no plans to talk about what I wrote today.

Today's post was supposed to be another "I feel sad and lonely because the world acts indifferent* to me."

I was depressed all day yesterday, but then I watched The Sex and the City movie and I felt better. Not because a good cry gets rid of bad hormones, but because I knew there were millions of women waiting around to see this movie, and I could feel sorry for them.

I don't know if a woman wrote Sex and the City, but I do know that the movie could only appeal to a woman.

Whenever I doubt my masculinity I watch movies like Sex and the City to reconnect with my manhood.

I don't understand women. 

I don't know how you connect to these lame fantasies of BIG romantic love. I just don't see exactly what Carrie Bradshaw sees in Mr. Big. Other than the obvious inference that is so subtly hinted at. He is rich, tall, and I guess "big" for a white guy.

Mr. Big is emotionally unavailable. He dumps Carrie at the alter (though in his defense he said it was 'his bad' and he would still go ahead with the ceremony where upon Carrie then proceeds to have a melt down and refuses to go walk down the aisle with Big which makes the whole thing her fault in my opinion.)

The best thing about the movie was how Big and Carrie decided to get married.

Carrie was trolling for security, or at least a part of ownership in the condo they just bought. Mr. Big wanted to keep his little sex toy, and the hundred pairs of shoes he bought her. They decide to get married rather than Big just offering to let Carrie live in the apartment if they break up. I though the offer was realistic, but stupid on Mr. Big's part.

The writers have an obvious contempt for Mr. Big because he never gets any good lines. He has the 'smoothness' of a dull razor blade dragged across a hairy pimpled ass. He never says anything witty. He was not profound or deep like some of Carrie's other suitors. I don't see why Carrie would leave Aiden for this guy. I guess women like their men Cave man like. All action and no talky. That's probably because they get all the 'talky' they need from their friends.

The most annoying thing about this movie was the number of times the screen had to show the "fab 4" throwing up their hands and screaming at each other like a bunch of 12 year olds because it had been 3 days since they had last seen each other.

I suppose you could make a case for them screaming every time they saw "Samantha" because ostensibly she had moved to California. Despite the move, Samantha was in every scene of the movie and every scene of the movie began with her "surprise" visit and the girls throwing their hands in the air and screaming for the thousandth time, "aOH my gosh I can't believe you are back in New York!"

The movie ends with Big and Carrie getting married at a small justice of the peace ceremony and with more arm waving screaming by the girls and the silent puking of Carrie and Samantha after they noticed that the producers had them eating at a KFC in the final scene to show how "real" the girls are and how they are totally not stuck up fahionistas who only care about the "scene" of a wedding and want nothing to do with living up to the vows of making the coffee in the morning because it is cold and serving me beer when the game is on.

The other sound you heard was me puking on my t-shirt a little because I just gave 2 hours and 28 minutes of my life to this movie. I guess I was overcome with the knowledge that The Sex and the City movie was the number one movie on my NetFlix queue.

Romius T.

*Don't worry that post is coming. I call it The world as Will and Indifference. I think I might play off the whole The World as Will and Representation. You should probably read a little Schopenhauer to bone up.


Anonymous said...

Chicks go for the asshole so they can brag to their friends when they've reformed him. They just want to think they're special....but there is no such thing as a reformed asshole, and the whole while the guy is definitely just comparing her to every other conquest.

Or maybe it's those damn pheromones.

Fawkes said...

Haha, these are the blogs I enjoy xD
I read the first half, but when it got to the whole part about your movie review, I called it quits. It's not that I don't enjoy your fabulous skills of spending 2 hours to write a blog, but just that I believe that movie is pretty stupid. And WHO THE HELL at our work would question the size of your penis. I imagined pretty much every person talking to you about that and it entertained me quite a bit.

heh... pencil dick =P

KELSO'S NUTS said...

ROMIUS T: This post is MONSTAH!

Maybe your best work ever, except I have to agree with FAWKES. You lost me with a discussion of SEX AND THE CITY. A college friend is in that show and I'm happy for his success because he's a great guy. I know him as Willie Paszamant but he uses a stage name (Bill Garson?). He plays the gay confident. He has been out of the closet as long as I've known him, but he doesn't present as terribly effeminate in real life. He's from Elizabeth or Union, NJ and he's a real tough guy. His father was a bookmaker. Willie was an exceptional card counter at blackjack when we were 20 or so. Very good gin and cribbage player, too.

Other than that, the show bugged me because I grew up in a shitty part of New York in a time of economic depression and the New York that show represented to me was like the Giuliani-Disneyfied rich New York that real New Yorkers weren't a part of. I had made quite a bit of money overseas by the time the show debuted but I have a very non-materialistic style so that show kind of made me feel poor again. And lazy like about not going to the gym. And that the things that you needed to carve out your turf when I was a teenager and even a young adult after college in the gambling world were useless.

It wasn't that way, actually, but the show pissed me off and gave me a rare feeling -- insecurity.

I used to do very snarky and derisive impressions of the characters. Here's an example: "Meanwhile, across town...Miranda was getting some therapy of a DIFFERENT kind..." (ta-dum!)

[Oh fuck. My bad. I just read your Sex And The City shit and it was TIGHT. Totally on point and you got exactly where I was at with it.]

But let's go back to the old broad for a second. I was in Vegas maybe 5 years ago playing the 10-25 NHLHE at the Wynn. Some friends came in from LA and got up from the table cashed in my chips and went into the lounge with my friends. We were just standing around bullshitting, taking turns doing bumps of charlie in the bathrooms, telling all the old jokes, that sort of thing.

A pair of sisters arrived. They were from Daytona and on the old side of WKOB. Our group was about 5 dudes and 2 girls and the older ladies were alternately hitting on each of the 5 of us. We were polite about it and told the girl to cut the shit and stop snickering. That it wasn't polite. We weren't into the old broads but we felt an obligtion to be nice and gentlemanly.

We ordered some bar food and I went back to the game and was winning decent maybe $5000 up for six hours of play. It's now around 3 am. The older of the two old broads...oldish like maybe 62 but with a nice body came and sat down next to me while I was playing, ordered (perfect, what else?) a CANADIAN CLUB ON THE ROCKS and asked if she could watch me play. I said sure cause the game was short handed, was about to break and I was playing tight. Just sitting on the egg and tossing trash hands.

She puts her hand on my cock beneath the table and says "why don't you stop playing poker and take me up to your room and (her words) HAVE SEX with me?"

At first, I thought the idea was ridiculous because well...just because. I was used to this primo hooker named Donna who was 25 and drop dead super gorgeous and usually kept at least an hour free for me when I was in town up until 6:30 am when she had to get her daughter to school.

Then I started actually getting aroused and started thinking about it. And I remember thinking "I'm probably never going to fuck an old broad as young man ever if I don't do it now." I played about four more no result hands and went for it.

Obviously, given the lead up, I assumed I'd have a tigress by the tail. Dude, nothing could have been further from how it went down. This woman was the single worst lay I'd ever had in my life. Just like in the Billie Holiday song "I would have rather played bridge with my old maid aunt." She was prudish. She was cranky. It sucked. I drank myself blind and I don't even remember if I came or not but I shoved her out the door around 6 am or something. I was furious with myself.

The best I can say is that she made no remark about the size or shape of my dick which is just bog standard normal maybe leaning to thicker than average I've been told but I'd get laughed off any porn set to be sure!

I'm still so irritated with myself for putting myself through that wretched waste of time that to read about an old broad insulting you on your prick size that I'm angry at HER in your story whom I don't know just because you're a bro and I had that shitty experience with the other old broad.

Romius T. said...


Your best comment ever and that has convinced me that you need to stop all the economics bloggin and start to writing them memoirs. We want, neh ...need to hear the stories of your exploits in gamling and fuckin while here on terra. Your comment was better than my best post so I its too bad people dont read the comments in this blog.

about my older gal though we were just "ragging" on each other so no harm was intended from what she daid, unlike you r poor story.

I love how you got conned into the shittiest sex of your life....

also gald to see you finally trusted me and went ahead and read the review. you guys should know now that none of my stuff is ever straight dope but an excuse to go off on something...

KELSO'S NUTS said...

ROMIUS: I used to weave more memoirs into my stuff but they never got a great response. People thought that I was making it up just to make them feel small, but none of the memoirs are fiction. All true.

I really did hustle gin dice and spades when I was little. I really did grow up in a shitty neighborhood and spoke Spanish in the neighborhood and at home with my dad. My mom can't speak it.

I really did get a scholarship to a super top flight prep school. I went to a great college. I bet and owned thoroughbreds for a livign until I went to business schoo. I founded two off-shore hedge funds. I've lived in NYC, LA, New England, Vegas, London, Madrid two separate times, Oviedo, Moscow and now Panama.

I did and do all the quant stuff for a sports betting crew in LV. And all kinds of shit.

So, nobody has had those kinds of experiences so they think I'm making the shit up. Or if they believed me they'd be snide and call me an "exploiter" or a Republican or someshit. And I'd lose my shit and tell them that they're a bunch of suburban cunts and they didn't know what it was like to have dinner be sardines on toast and grape soda and have a grandfather die in prison and a father and mother all fucked up on dope and booze but still bright and ambitious and always pushing me to be like the PRINCE of the family and my dad was in the communist party and my great-great uncles were bolsheviks who fought the Tsar and so they could all fuck themselves and if they were jealous they should work instead of complain and it wasn't very pleasant.

So, I prefer economics and public affairs. Although, I get fuck all for comments. Our blogtalkradio show is going great guns but my compadres are Black and most of the listenership is Black and the few Whites you and I know with a handful of exceptions find the show's content offensive. Or can't understand my accent(very strong NYC accent) or Torrance's (very strong Memphis) but are ashamed to admit it. Or can't understand the material because we do A LOT of economics. Big fuckin deal. I like doing it.

I've found a real cultural gulf between urban and suburban people of my age range.

What do you figure? I come to drink in your bar because I'm a pretty friendly misanthrope but people do bore me or piss me off a lot of the time. That's why before I joined HELL on my old blog on the profile I put down "Kelso has no friends and no interests" and my quotation below the header was from a Coolies song: "Schlitz malt liquor is my favorite food/and pissed-off is my favorite mood"

Romius T. said...


I think you may have a point about chicks wanting to feel special and getting vidicated by domesticating a wild one...

Kelso you are making me think that I should get back to podcasting too