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.

***
MEET EMMA THE GREETER!

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.

Snuggles,
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.

Is it that I only blog on my days off now?

I wished I could tell you about all the drama that is going down at work. But I can't. There are things that even I feel warrant discretion about. So I am not going to blog about any of that. If I did you would so love the gossip, I promise.

I've worked the past 9 days in row. Even still I will only get half an hour of overtime this week. I picked time for 6 straight days on one pay period and 3 days straight on the next pay period. I will never do that again. I am just a little burned out on work right now. I did find out today that as of August 1st I am officially entitled to health care. Awesome! I can't wait to meet my doctor. I need a prostate exam.

I washed the truck today and it rained like an hour later. I was a little pissed about that, but I guess that is just god's way of showing he is still in charge and when you think about it that way it's kinda sad, so I hope he got his thrill on.

I am giving up soda again. I plan on having a gallon of decaf tea and a gallon of caffeinated tea in the fridge at all times so I won't be tempted to drink coke at home. The loophole is that I can drink a soda when I eat out or go to the movies.

It has been three days since I masturbated. I plan on not masturbating for at least two weeks. I hope to get some of the feeling back in my penis by then. It is time to stop masturbating when porn becomes boring. If you don't you can end up (deleted).**

I don't really have anything exciting to talk about on this blog today. I miss writing so I am just going to type and post and try and remember that nobody reads me anyway, so it doesn't matter that I am boring today because this blog is getting like 30 hits a day now and most of those are not even people looking to read anything I have written, so I think I will just stop writing like this is a destination for readers and more like a place for me to vent and collect my thoughts. If you enjoy it keep coming back.

Recently I've been talking to my ex girlfriend a lot for some strange reason. Thanks to the miracle of Google I was able to relive the last three years of our relationship. The past few years it has been all e-mail and phone calls. I think I saw her last in person 3 years ago. We had a discussion about how the last time we saw each other it was my birthday and we had a lot of fun that night.

I had a party at a local karaoke bar. We were all over each other that night. We made out in front of all my friends and we did not seem to care. She wondered aloud why after such a good time we did not see each other again. She blames some rather cold and mean e-mails that I sent to her. So I looked back at those e-mails (through the magic we call g-mail) and it turns out that for like 4 months I begged her to come see me and she promised she would and then she would flake on me.

My ex is not what you call monogamous. I knew that about her when we met. A few months after the birthday thing I finally got the e-mail that said she was seeing someone else and it had become "serious." I then sent her a few cold e-mails. I do kinda have a gift for them. I looked them over and man. I must say they were pretty awesomely detached and vicious without at all being accusing or directly insulting. I must say I have a gift there. I am pretty good at getting to understand a person emotionally. I can then really go after a persons weaknesses like a razor cutting into bar soap.

Her flailing responses I dodged effortlessly. She even mentioned in one e-mail that she thought that I was talking down to her. I was. I can't wait to talk to her so I can outline the timeline of events that let up to our break up. In our conversations we were mentioning the people we slept with after we broke up. She let it slip that she had sex with some guy from her work while she was going to math class. I did a little Google email search for school and discovered that was right around my birthday.

I will let the readers of this blog draw their own conclusions. I just know that for some reason it got me a little sad to read out old history and I am now drinking one of the the three beers I have in the fridge. Ice cold.

My Google ex girl friend is all wrong for me. But she fits the profile of women I fall for. The cool calculated distance of trashy white girls who never learned about emotions. They are abused by most of the men in their lives but sometimes find the nice guy to be a respite from the chaos and chain smoking in their lives. I am a sucker for women who don't want to give me what I need to feel secure because I guess I need to feel abandoned to feel loved and I guess I can blame my parents for that.

That a was a bit melodramatic and let me be the first to apologize. I hardly need to blame my parents for everything that goes wrong in my life. I don't like those bloggers or those people for that matter. I was just attempting a bit of self analysis in the classical Freudian tradition. I won't bother to edit any of this out.

I am not too sure why I get jealous anyway. I have all these cuckolding and pregnancy fetishes she could probably help me out with. She has two kids and she likes to have sex with men as long as they are not me.

FROM METAFILTER A RECENT POST

Cuckhold Pregnancy: the ultimate expression of a lifestyle. Being deceived into raising another man's child would be a nightmare for most men. For other's, it's the ultimate hot fantasy. Taking it to the extreme of having your wife bear another man's child is a suprising (to me) twist on the Cuckhold fantasy. Interestingly, it seems to dovetail with another sexual fetish previously discussed on Metafilter. Oh yeah, NSFW !!!!

I've been talking to my ex for about an hour a night for the last few nights which is kinda weird. We have not talked this much in a while. She used to like calling me on the way to work because she can't figure out how to install an ipod in her car and she doesn't have the patience to discover the funniness that is this the self help podcast.

The podcast has finally been digged by another person. I just want to thank her. YOU Rock! I hope one day to get you some gravy for all your efforts. I know you don't want the gravy, but trust me once you get a little gravy you will love it.

Like I said I was reading through the old g-mail I write the ex and I wrote her a lot of funny ass shit. I wrote her a deleted scene from A Few Good Men after she asked me to go to a movie.

"I don't have any plans as of yet for the weekend, so a movie sounds nice. But it does suspiciously sound like a date, I have not been on one in years but..."

Deleted Scene from a A FEW GOOD MEN DVD

TOM CRUISE:

"I have been asked out on a date before and it sounds a lot like that..."

Demi Moore:

"You like seafood...I know a good seafood shop...Wait a minute, your a 5 foot 3 freaky, gay, Scientologist and your telling me you've been asked on a date before?"

TOM:

Don't tell me about the History of Psychiatry, you don't know the history...I have done the research..."



Wow. I should really be writing for the onion or something. Maybe I could at least find a way to not make 10 dollars an hour less than a woman with the IQ of a small squirrel. I must be intentionally doing this to myself. I can see no logical reason why the entire world is able to earn more money than me. If I at all subscribed to theories of self sabotage I would have to label my behavior as exactly that rather than simply slackerdom or underachievement. I mean I love the girl but she really is as close to a retarded person as I feel comfortable talking to.

We should really only talk for like half an hour. I run out of things to talk about pretty quickly with her. Then she repeats stories about her kids or her life. We have known each other for 5 years so I have heard most of the good stories by now.

Ok, I am running out of thing to say and I am done with my beer.

I should mention that I find Sydney Pollack to be one of the most underrated directors of our time. I am watching the Yakuza on the Netflix. A good flick.

** His royal highness King George the Third has deleted this section from this journal. If you require access to this material and hold a stage 7 pass please press ctrl alt del ...now....

1:21 am

I am drinking the second beer. I have had three solid bowel movements in a row. I attribute this to eating Rasin Bran for breakfast.

Watch the trailer for a few good men and you will never want to watch the movie. The trailer is cut straight out of 1953.

p.s.
If anyone knows where I can find the scene I am spoofing please email it to me.

You can't blog about nothing, or can you?

I am fucking up the linear nature of this blog by posting over old drafts. I don't care. I know none of you do either.

Another day off. I did nothing. If by nothing you mean I went to the bank to turn in my change so I could have enough money to cut my hair and get lunch at the whataburger. I then took the rest of my cash and splurged by eating dinner at some new Hawaiian Grill that opened down the street in a strip mall. Nothing says delicious like Hawaiian grilled breakfast skirt steak in Arizona. MMMmm.

It was tasty, shut up.

Today I have no celebrity news. I have no desire to write fat girl jokes or insinuate how much you masturbate. And since I did not got to work today that pretty much exhausts this blogs descriptive possibilities. For some reason I still felt the need to check in to day with you. (Today for me is the 22nd.)

I noticed the Drunken Stepfather found a video on youtube (nsfw) where a girl shakes her ass. I know that is not news as 45% of youtube is made up of women shaking their asses. But this time the woman was naked and doing a booty dance around her kid. I am sure that sounds like a crime. The kid is like a 3 or 4 and toddlers that age are miniature tornadoes. He is shirtless and running around like he is on the plains of Idaho or Kansas looking for Dorthy.



I can't get over how a mother would do that. She does a booty shake. She shows off her obscenely oblong tits. I have seen smaller utters on cows. The child makes a break for the camera. Webcam Mom stops the child from throwing around the camera much like a reformed Britney Spears paying just enough attention to notice that her kid loves cigarettes as much as she does.

It looks like I went ahead and gave you some celebrity news after all. I can't help myself, even knowing that Jesus Martinez gave you all this shit first. I still feel like I gave my own interpretation and spin on it.

I also sent a myspace message over to my new friend Eric Schaeffer. I told him my about my trouble with watching one of his videos over at NetFlix. I don't fuck around with these kind of things, I go straight to the top. I forgot to mention to him how I don't fuck around and go straight to celebrites when I need help solving my problems, because as we all know celebrity is the only way things get done in this country. I still hope he sends me a video from his collection so I can at least see the movie.

I had to e-mail a celebrity because Netflix sent me three copies of Gunshy and not one of them worked. I was supposed to save them and call back customer service at Netflix and they were going to look into the batch and what not, but I just gave up on the whole thing, because I am slacker loser like that, and the only thrill I get anymore is giving up on shit and while that "thrill" is really just the half-life feeling of hope dying at least that shocks me into remembering that whatever life I have left is being spent up by watching myself drown in a pool of resentment and pathetic ironic detachment better left for douche bags and hipster trash that love insulting the faux earnestness of teen angst bullshit. (see the video dipshits that's why it is included below.)

The other day after watching the Batman movie (and convincing a workmate that I enjoy wrapping my girlfriends in duct tape and garbage bags, locking them in closets for a few hours and then pouring ketchup on them in order to simulate blood because I have a strange fetish and some girls are really accommodating) I had my own idea for a comic book hero. I'd like to create a hero that really isn't a hero. I don't want him to have any super powers, but somehow he really saves people. Mostly by accident or by letting bad things happen to good people. Maybe part of him likes to hurt people. You won't be able to decide whether he is good or bad. Just that good things sometimes happen around him. He won't want to be a superhero. Unless you count him hoping this is going to get him laid or something. (Which it won't.)

I don't want the kind of anti-heroes we always see. The kind who eventually learn or the kind who deep down you know is really trying to be good. (batman) I don't want to root for the bad guy (sopranos) . I want to make it so that maybe you decide you don't want to root for the guy, but that maybe you have to. (Christian Bale?)

I ended the night by watching the movie the Bank Job. It was like the worst movie ever so don't go renting it. If you do go renting it you can't say did not warn you because I did, and yes I am the kind of guy who says I told you so as I already have told ya in advance because I know you are the kind of person who has to "see for themselves," but where did that ever get you? Instead may I suggest you get showtime and watch Eric Schaeffer's new tv reality series. It is seriously the best thing on TV right now as Mad Men does not air until the 24th of July I believe. I would Google that, but then you would have nothing to look forward to tonight but masturbating on a webcam in front of your children.

Live blogging my day off from work, which is productive, if by productive you mean I decide to become addicted to beer and write about it for you

I know I should be doing something on my day off that does not include watching the mail box for my Netflix, yelling at the subway guy for forgetting to include bell peppers on my Italian sub, but I don't.

What I actually do all day is watch TV on the computer and try and decide how early it would be OK to go out drinking. I know it takes money to drink and I just found some. I just looked online at my insurance policy and confirmed it does not expire until the 18th and since I get paid on the 17th that means I have an extra 60 dollars that I use on beer.

Now all I have to do is make sure I get up early on the 17th to collect my paycheck and deposit it time to get back home and pay my car insurance online and before I head off to work, because those are the kind of problems that I work on all day when you are feeding your children, or donating blood, or working at getting people to boycott unions, or whatever people like you think is a good way to spend your time, which I always assumed meant going to that cult you call a church that meets in the strip mall.

I watched a movie last night about cocaine and it make me appreciate the sullen, drug infested life style that I have chosen over the pink mini vans and pumpkin pie that is your life. In the movie the main character tries to come up with a reason to save the life of his girl friend who is dying from an overdose. He talks to himself and comes to the realization that his feelings for her do not include love. Since he is not in love with her he decides to pay for a cab to pick up her lifeless body and drop her off at the hospital. Well at least I assume it was the hospital, the movie does not make it very clear where the girl is being sent to.

The movie is set in Florida and I can tell you that it was really obvious that the writer, director understood white trash and addiction. Of course I am too silly of a person to become addicted to heroin and I have no idea how to get cocaine, unless you count me asking the cabbie who drives me to the local dive bar, "if he has any he'd like to sell me because I am working on a book idea." The book idea is me getting drunk and high and writing about whatever stuff happens. [Update: let's go ahead and add me trying to get laid all the time]

So far today all that has happened is I am waiting for the mail man to drop off my movies while I suffer through the occasional impulse to buy a few beers from the supermarket. Maybe I will and afterwards I will go to the local bar and have a few more beers because I don't have to work until 6 pm tomorrow.

I hope you can appreciate all the shit I am willing to go through just to give you something new to read about everyday. I am willing to become an alcoholic for you. I am willing to get mocked when I try to buy drugs just to have something to write about because trying to come up with fictional plot ideas is too hard and developing a narrative for my book is a waste of time.

***

I think going to buy that 18 pack of beer was a waste as well. I am getting hungry again. I need to finish off the second half of my foot long subway sandwich. Beer and subway do not mix though.

I DRIVE TO GET BEER AND THAT WOULD BE EXCITING IF TOLD BY A GOOD AUTHOR BUT YOU HAVE ME INSTEAD....
On the way to buy beer I let a fat girl pushing two kids in a stroller cross the street when I could have easily cut her off. In fact my act of generosity was not so kind to my intendee as it caused her to have to speed up a bit and maneuver around my truck to get to the sidewalk.

At the next stop light I checked out a girl in a blue Honda who smiled at me shyly, once she figured out that I was not blocking the sun out with my hand but giving her a come on.

At the dollar store I stopped for peanuts. (nothing says sad like drinking at home with the 99 cent bag of honey roasted peanuts from the dollar store you bought because you were too cheap to pay 3.00 dollars for peanuts at the pharmacy, which you drove to because the supermarket that you work for is too cheap to price match the beer special on the ad you brought in to convince your manager that you were serious about buying some beer and serious about getting beer from the competition if the price could not come down.)

Inside the dollar store a young woman walked up to me and said something like, "Dear young sir, you look like you are really strong do you think you could open this for me?" Then she held up a bottle of soda up to me for me to open, which I did without much effort, so she may be in fact be correct that I am strong.

I purchased a pair of scissors to clip my nose hair (long overdue some would say as both of my other pairs of nose hair clippers are dull and I have since been using the attachment to my beard clipper which I think we all know does not work as well as advertised) along with a pair of tweezers for plucking any extraneous hair around the body (not needed as badly, but what the hell for 99 cents I got both items shrink wrapped together.)

I still have a few hours before I go out drinking and I will blog about my fun night out on the town, so stop by throughout the night to check on my progress getting shit faced and having sex with a fat chick or an ugly chick or if you are the girl I brought home tonight and are reading this as part of some kind of seduction scam on my part-- the really lucky for me-- cute as hell chick-- who I hope won't remember where I live unless you actually are cute then you probably won't want to call me, but if you are into pity sex then so am I.
***
9:05 p.m.

The beer I bought is still warm even though I grabbed the 18 pack out of the cooler section. I stuck a couple of beers in the freezer and messaged a few friends about how I am going to get drunk without them. One (the ex who broke up with me on Google) replied that I should just stay home and date on the Internet.

So maybe I should. Go to a few chat rooms. For some reason I am dreading going out to a bar now and sitting alone and drinking beer. Not that I want to call any of my friends because I don't feel like hanging with them either. It is useless to drink at any of the bars near my house, ( I still don't drink and drive y'all) because single women are afraid to go to these bars alone. I am not sure I am interested in hooking up with a chick anyway, as right now I don't feel like seeming interesting to other people, or trying to convert them to communism either.

I am on the first beer. It is not exactly cold, but not warm either. I bought a cozy for beer bottles a while back and I am pumped about using it. I am listening to my MP3 player on my roommates karaoke player, because I bought an adapter that allows my mp3 player to play in just about any audio system/ I am so pumped about using it that I am not listening to my music through the computer speakers even though I have all the music on my Phillips MP3 player on my I-tunes. Because I am a dork like that. I know I am dork because my ex ends every text message she sends me with the phrase, "you are a dork." She is not wrong about these things.

* random* dork thought** random on my MP3 player means the same 3 songs. The same 3 bands. The machine picks 3 different songs and bands each time I use the random function like it gets tired of hearing the same thing, but isn't really committed to the hard work of really being random.

I found out a few days ago that my ex "thought of us" as dating when we were seeing each other which is news to me as I only remember her falling all over herself attempting to deny me as her boyfriend anytime anyone ever asked if he were dating.

One annoying little factor about having my stereo on in the living room is that I have to get up and manually change the song every time the random feature on my player selects a podcast or a shitty song. Like right now. BRB.

9:27

Update on Star Snacks version of Honey Roasted peanuts. They suck.
Update on 99 cent store scissors for nose hair clipping. They suck.

The peanuts are very salty. You can see the salt. The salt crystals are nearly as large as the peanuts themselves which is to say I am note sure if that means the salt is large or the peanuts are just small though my initial reaction was that the peanuts where small and tasted like cork that a bee shit in.

*currently listening to the "soul doctor" by foreigner.

An underrated tune I must say. I really liked the three bonus songs that came with the greatest hits album. I am only mildly ashamed by this admission. Did I mention I am drinking Bud Light rather than Bud Select because CVS does not have Select in 18 packs just 6 packs? The CVS girl asked me how many beers it takes for me to get drunk. I told her 15 which I think she mistook as me being unwilling to share my beer with her. Which is not true. She was cute enough for me to share my beer with. I was just trying to sound hard. Her reaction? She said, "I hope not that many." I tried to fix her distress by reinforcing the idea that I was joking about the drinking. "Oh, maybe 14." I tell her. I totally blew that one guys. Sorry. You may never get a blog about me having sex.

10:16

I am on my second beer. I have decided to choose an album to listen to rather than staying with the random function. I day dreamed that I went to the bar and met a girl who wanted me to read her my blog on her laptop. I imagined the whole crowd at the bar listening to me as I proof read what I have written. At the appropriate time I heard imaginary laughter in my head to all my jokes. I once read that people who day dream crowds of people cheering for them are people who crave attention and acceptance.

I am beginning to warm to the idea of going to the bar. That means I will have to leave you for a while. I think the beer is starting to work, but it is clear to me that it really is my imagination that is making me more comfortable with drinking at a bar tonight. Some part of me really believes that people can't wait see me now.

10:22

I just thought I would update you in live time.

I jam to $ign of the 4.

10:26 Live Blogging MySpace

I decide to live blog my attempts on MySpace Messenger inside their chat rooms. I message a 51 year old woman because she is from Phoenix. She does not respond.

Three of the people in the chat room are from Phoenix. This is rare.

Dr. Kristina claims to be a real doctor. I ask Dr. Kristina if, "pooping yellow is bad?" She refuses to reply.

10:35

Chatting is lame.

10:39

I copy and paste the blog for the chat room. Here is the reaction.

fany7892: kool

wildfire200734yahoocom: your cool

romius t: y thank u

romius t : u just got added to the live blog for thinking i am cool

wildfire200734yahoocom: your cool

rommie: u too wild fire!!!

wildfire200734yahoocom: thanks

rommie: yw

10:44

Chatting is still lame.

I am now listening to B.B. King. I am on beer number 4 as beer number 3 is full of ice and is now thawing on the kitchen counter.

11:21

I am the hit of chat rooms everywhere. I am beloved. The whole world should be chat. I am so fucking cool. All the chicks love me because I talk trash and I ask is they have big preggo bellies!

Self Help Podcast # 21

I was recording this podcast when I got interrupted by a phone call from work. They wanted me to pick my schedule for the upcoming week. I have to work 6 days next week. Not a big deal as I typically work 6 days a week so I can at least get near 35 hours.

When the phone call came I was watching Netflix online. I was watching a documentary, Stripped. The documentary is about a woman who goes undercover to work as a stripper and records her observations and those of her co-workers.

My co-worker wanted to know if I was jacking off while I was watching the movie. I told her that while the movie had a lot of nudity it was no an exploitation movie. The movie was directed by a woman, so it was not sexual it was informative.



What did I learn? Women who strip like money. Women who strip like the attention from men at first, it reminds them of daddy. They say so explicitly. But eventually women see the biological side of men. That we are erect penises. That we we are being sexual we don't need them emotionally. But then they get resentful of the men who want to connect emotionally with them. Because they have already given so much when they dance for men they are too tired to give anything more.

By the end of the movie most of the women are dead, or they are in comas. I assume that is why every time you go a strip club you see different women. They have a high mortality rate.

Go read Grace Undressed if you want to get into the mind of stripper. I suggest it even when she deleted my comment on her blog that indicated that if she publishes a book before me I would slit my wrists and it would be her fault. I guess ex-strippers don't have a sense of humor. Netflix thought I would rate this movie 2 stars out of 5. But I give it 3.75 stars.

And now here is a list of drinks in my fridge:

1. coke
2. dr. pepper
3. milk
4. bottled water
5. red bull
6. fresca
7. barq's root beer
8. big k cola
9. big k lime-lemon
10. bud select
11. miller lite
12. mich ultra
13. minute maid orange aid
14. mm fruit punch
15. mm lemanade
16. o'douls
17. diet dr pepper
18. light apple jiuce
19. power aid
20. fanta orange
21. diet orange
22. margarita mix
23. protien shakes
24. diet lemonade