Seeing that OCTOMOM almost ruined my fetish of TEEN PREGGO GIRLS

It's just like me to tell you that I am done blogging and done with this whole Internet thing and then start posting like a mad man. Like a manic. Like some kind of retarded monkey on Twitter and by retarded monkey I mean one of the offspring of Sarah Palin. The one with the extra Chromozone.

I don't have a reason for making fun of Sarah Palin's mongrel child, but I just didn't want her to think she was all in the clear for having some kind of beat up old womb giving life to mental midgets that the state or some poor Mexican nanny is going to have to take care of for the rest of the unnatural life span of something that should have caused her uterus to spontaneously abort.

But enough abut how I hate the retarded.

I am sure you have all seen those pictures of the OCTOMOM as the OCTOMOM is all the rage on the internets and I am sure all of you have been waiting for my response about having OCTUPPLETS.

I think the idea is crazy. I would have aborted at least 7 of those puppies. And seeing that OCTOMOM with her huge distorted baby bumps almost made me lose my preggo fetish.

Which is saying a lot as the only reason I go bowling is that two of the girl that go bowling with me are teen moms with awesome baby bumps which is ike two dark fantasies in one. I get to touch the baby bumps and then go masturbate in the restroom as long as no one notices that I run to the bathroom after groping the hard bellies because I am sure that the baby daddies would not go for that.

Then again who knows? Teen fathers usually hate seeing teen girls knocked up because all they see is dollars signs that they cannot afford. So maybe I am doing them a favor by taking all the sexual graticfication and desire all these teen moms have and putting it to good effect. At least I can wank my semi hard on for a few minutes and maybe get some blood flowing down there for a change.

I am reusing pics. I am on my third beer. No one cool has shown up. No single women. I want to be a married guy at the bar. Married ring. Getting drunk on Wendsday. That shit is bad ass. Why is this guy all shaved and showered like he is looking to get picked up? Bartender is pissed I ignore her for the internet. I am reading google reader. Everyone is so cool on google reader. Shout out to Frieda Bee! Live twittering sucks balls.

First beer gone. When the cops pull me over all I will have to do is say, "read the twitter blog I author if you want to know how many beers I drank."

That way the cops would know what waste of meat I think they are.

So far...no FARLEY...

So here is my truck. Smashed. Go to the Lucky Devil. We can get drunk. Everone here sucks. Young hipster night. Why do they follow me around? Christ. I just turned this blog into Twitter.

HERE is the picture I so stupidly forgot to post.

This is proof that I do not lie. I am live blogging my pathetic attempt at getting drunk or getting laid. Neither will happen as I have only 26 dollars in my account. Not enuff money to get drunk proper. And if you have no idea what I am talking about go back and read the comments from the last post. I am wearing my best jeans.

The whole thing is a mess

I can't see out of my glasses. I can't remember when I bought new ones but it was probably a while back. I've seen homeless people take better care of themselves and their appearance than me.

I ate bacon for dinner today. Bacon, eggs, two pieces of white bread, 2 Dr. Peppers, and a handful of green M&M's. Because I care about my health.

Last night I caught myself in the mirror while jacking off. The whole thing was disturbing. I was hand fisting myself--all intense like-- while watching some YouTube video that you would never consider sexual, but that's because you're into normal shit like horse and donkey porn.

The guy I looked at was me but I would have never guessed that. He looks just like the middle aged fat guys on YOVuTU.com. I mean I was scary and I know scary. The lights were off and it was dark and the mirror image of myself could only be seen because of the flickering lights of my computer monitor (down to 55% of the screen because the monitor is going out.)

I should go drinking again tonight. I have 30 dollars in my account. I think I could get drunk on $20. Drinking would leave me with 10 dollars but that is ok as I get paid Thursday.

My insurance company is pissed off at me. They want me to phone them and tell my side of the story of my accident. The story goes like this, "I sure hope it was that guys fault as I can not afford a 1000 deductible."

I need some new jeans. All my slacks touch the ground over my shoes because I never find my size on sale. I just buy whatever pair of jeans are on sale and fuck that I need a size 30 (or even 29 inch length--I have short legs.)

All my clothes don't fit and the ones that fit are starting to fray.

This is uncomfortable for me. The older I get the less it is possible for me to fake being middle class. Maybe I should just embrace my middle lower class status and stop fighting the slow path of entropy I am on. I am not middle class. I just need to stop pretending I am lower middle class.

The mp3 player I bought from a kid at work is dying on me. The battery has finally had it after a year and a half.

Aren't you glad I am posting again?

Maybe we should hear from Romius T. soon. I miss that guy. He seems to know what he is doing and what he is talking about. I for one have no clue.

I am too lazy to blog.

I am giving up on this whole blogging thing for a while. I might write and I might not. Just like "LIFE" it is all up to me. And just like my real life my fake online life is failing. That's because just like in my real life, my online life is wearing me out (and beating me down.)

Real life sucks for me and I just can't devote the energy or enthusiasm I would like to writing a blog that no one reads or cares about. I guess I should just make this blog private and that way I could write for me and I think we'd all be better off.

I hate how bloggers are always threatening to stop blogging, and I am not going to be one of those bloggers that holds a knife over your neck in order to fish for compliments. I just wanted the VERY FEW loyal readers to know that I will be posting infrequently until I decide I want to post more often.

Not that you missed me. I know the last month or two has been shitty on this blog. I haven't been able to meet even this blogs low expectations even with all kinds of stuff going on to blog about.

• NBA legend Otis Thorpe played poker with me and bought me a cap and signed it. Otis is a class act and a real gent.
• I've been stood up on 2 dates.
• I had a car accident. And since I have a 1,000 dollar deductible and you can bet I am going to be driving ghetto for a while.

Those are just some highlights from this last week. So you can see stuff has been happening.

I had this elaborate story about getting stood up- but now that I have finally sat down to type it out- I can't remember it.

I have started 3 or 4 posts this month, but they sucked so bad that I gave up on them and I haven't been able to write since.

My ingrown toenail is still not healed. I realize I am fucking ghetto. I need to go to the doctor, but I also need to pay my taxes, get my car fixed, buy a new computer, and go on a date this year.

I see roughly none of that getting done.

I want to thank the guys at Hell's leading newspaper for giving me a visual link. I know Pain said he is waiting for part 2. Part 2 sucked. I just waited in a bar. Then I got a text that cancelled. Then I never heard from her again.

I guess I am ugly. I am not sure when that happened. I mean I have never been good looking. But I was never as ugly as I am now. I am just getting old and fat.

Speaking of fat I was looking at some pictures of me that a few friends put up on the MySpace, and by friends I mean people I work with, and by people I work with I mean a bunch of 18 year old kids. I hang out with kids because that is exactly where my career is at. I have to hang with them because I am on the same peg as 18 year old kids with no education who are just starting out in life.

Like I said I was looking at the pictures and I noticed how fat I am. Jim Belushi fat. I must have some kind of disorder because my face looks fatter than the rest of me. I might have some kind of infection in my throat or nodes or whatever they call it, because I can feel how swollen my tonsils or nodes are when I press my thumbs under my jaw.

They puff out and make my face swollen. Its really disgusting to look at, even more disgusting than my fat belly which I can hide by sucking it in when I am standing up. But not when I am sitting down.

I think sugar has something to do with it. Whenever I drink soda my face puffs out like I am allergic or something. My face gets redder than normal (which is sickeningly red as it is.)

All I know is I feel useless, bloated, and disgusting so I guess I know what it is like for you ladies to be on your period.

Because I feel like shit I decided to get drunk.. I ended up at the Lucky Devil.

The guy [ FARLEY] who manages the local Applebee's was there. So was the bartender who works at the Lucky Devil and Baers' Bar. Near the end of the night they both left together (but separately) like somehow we weren't supposed to figure out they were leaving together. Like for some reason we are supposed to care about their secret relationship. Ok. I guess I care enough to spread rumors they are fucking.

The only reason I bring it up is that I was hoping to "hit" the bartender and I think we can say that shit ain't gonna happen now. Also FARLEY talks a lot and TALKS VERY LOUDLY. I mean he is a nice guy and all I even sat near him so we could talk, or just so I could hear his stories (which are Ok but not that great-- he needs to really to take it down a bit- as the stories are really pedestrian and in no way match the enthusiasm he usually tells them with.) Also, the man has no VOLUME control. I should mention that Applebee's prides itself on the coldness of its tap beer. Because if I did not mention it FARLEY would have.

Well this post sucked.

I am sorry. I really can't do better, which is why I suck. And why I will die alone. Just like CAPTAIN KIRK.

Only KIRK is a fucking GOD and I am a FUCKING loser.

And you read me.

Jesus.

I am too busy to blog for you, happy early romantic day to you

I am too busy to blog. I bowl every Monday. I bowl with 16 year old girls from work. They often rub their breasts on me. I let them do it because that way they get to work out whatever daddy fantasies they have safely. If they tried rubbing against daddy at home daddy's little pecker would get hard, and when daddy gets a hard on, daddy needs to be taken care of.

My way the girls get to feel the rush and excitement of pressing against a man old enough to be their father without all the baggage and psychological damage that having an incestuous relationship can give them. All because I have masturbated the feeling out of my penis during the last 5 years of gender enforced abstinence.

I blame that abstinence on women my age who have spurned me, all because they refuse to grow up and settle down with a man who earns half of what they earn, just because they think they deserve better, even though we both know that you will be staying home alone again on Valentine's Day, unless you count the cat you rescued from the kill shelter. The cat that never learned that it's ok to be loved, and he attacks you every time you go to place food down for him. Which I guess just goes to show you that love always hurts.

Which is why on Febuarary 14th you will be downing loads of Ben & Jerry's ice cream and watching reruns of old Katherine Hepburn movies, because even though she won 5 Oscars she died alone. She died alone all because the older a woman gets the more society hates them. Not that you didn't already know that, but the real reason you get depressed (even on made up romatic holidays) is because you are finally coming to terms with how your sexuality is reving up just in time for the all the men in your life to become disinterested by the sagging of your tits.

The good news is that I guess you now know what it's like to be me. Futile, huh? All that sexual energy and nothing to stick your penis sized clit into.