He leans in close to me. It's loud and he thinks he has to get this close to me so I can hear him. But he is just drunk close.

"We should go pick up our friend Houseman.*"

"I just need to warn you. If we do pick Houseman up he will be wearing a bathrobe. We will have to interrupt his all night video game session and his dogs will lick at you. Constantly."

I can say with pride that the description I gave to my friend about Houseman was 100% accurate. I was only too happy to see the dogs lick somebody besides me.Let it be known that I hate dogs and I hate dogs that lick even more.

"Ass smell there is nothing better than ass smell is there?"

My friend did not seem to mind the dogs as much as I do. Maybe he enjoys cold noses near his rear. I will speak no more of this.

Then we are off to visit a club. Heavy Metal will be played loud. And the lead singer will be wearing a tight leather shirt. It will make some of my friends uncomfortable how tight that leather shirt is. I will pretend that their comments are not homophobic. Mostly because I am sure that my friend is just gay for heavy metal singers.

"They often have long hair and sing in high voices. So it can get confusing."

"You're right. Maybe they shouldn't wear such tight tops." But it is also never a good thing to drink so much after major surgery either.

"I was just wondering, if you guys wanted you could drop me off at home so I could just shit on the bathroom rug. Like normally. Unless you guys want to hang out with all the hot strippers I know."

The music is near deafening and he is in close to me. He thinks he needs to get this close so I can hear him. But he's not just close, he's drunk close. When he speaks, he leaves saliva on my chin and cheek. I react and turn my head in time, so all of the spray is on parts that I can live with.

"I need to start working out. So I don't have to spend so much money on them (the strippers)."

It's the best reason I can come up with to workout.

*No real name is ever used here at The Self Help Center.

35 years ago Susan Polk was Jail Bait this Week

At the age of 14 Susan Polk was in psychotherapy treatment. I am not sure why she was there. I am sure it had nothing to do with her psychic abilities to predict 9/11. Psychic abilities aren't illegal that I know of.

Stabbing your husband probably is. Even if you met him at the age of 14. And even if he was the guy giving you treatment for your crazy problems.

Here's a bit of advice:

If you are going to marry your 14 year old patient make sure you cure her ass of her delusions. Otherwise she just might stab you to death.

Here's another bit of advice:

If your wife can predict future events like 9/11 the government may send radio waves into her head telling her to kill you and set her up for life in prison.

"Susan Polk received the maximum sentence after acting as her own lawyer in a trial permeated with theatrics, including discussion of her psychic powers and cross-examination of her own sons. An attorney representing her Friday said she planned to appeal."

Susan Polk you are here by inducted into the Jail Bait Hall of Fame. Sorry it had to be 35 years too late.

Tyra Banks enemy of promiscuous women everywhere

"We don't carry an inseam of 30 inches at the waist size you request sir."

I see. Fat people aren't allowed to have nice jeans? Why is it that I can't find jeans in my size? I had one pair of jeans that fit nicely and I wore them everyday. I literally wore them out. Now the not quite even trying to deny it gay salesman at American Eagle is trying to let me down easy.

"Of course you could order it here and it would be shipped directly to your house."

But I was looking for a pair to wear today. So that will not do. I guess the JC Penney Outlet will just have to be visited once or twice a week until they get in a shipment of Arizona Brand Jeans (Boot Cut Style.)

50 bonus points to the person who can guess my waist size correctly. One guess per person. The rulings of the judges are final.

In a side note a read a story about how young women are not getting raped now as much as they were in the past. The story suggest that young people are not as brazen or open sexually to their impulses as generational critics point out.

I will only ask a question. So don't get offended. Do you use force if you are given what you want freely? On the other hand if Tyra Banks keeps doing all her shows on Promiscuity and how to stop it we will only see a rash of new rape cases. Thanks Tyra.

That's hardly the only reason Tyra is a bad influence on girls. When she asked a 14 year old on her show today what she learned from today's episode the girl responded "I learned not to sleep around because guys don't like that."

Empowerment indeed young lady.

P.S. some men will like that.

Hugs and Cuddles,

Romius T.

Yesterday's Holiday is Named Fat Tuesday for a Reason

I am not sure what it is about Generation Y. All you fucking MySpacer's out there just love to expose yourself.

Back in the day exposing yourself was dirty. It made you a cheap slut. Even if you were "just playing office with your stepbrothers."

I'm not sure what part of office includes you getting finger banged by a semi related family member, but who am I to complain? I haven't fingered banged a girl since my step-sister, so I really wished I had remained in contact with her after my father left her Mom.

Sorry, I digressed. I digressed into sexually inappropriate memories of my former stepsister. But if your step-sister was as hot as my step-sister then you would too. Especially if you finger fucked her on more than one occasion.

I bring up how my step-sister used to molest me for a good reason. When you read about step-brother/sister fucking you generally get a bit sick to your stomach. You should, because it's dirty. And it was the dirty that was so exciting. At least for my step-sister.

If it wasn't for how disgusting my stepsister thought I was and how dirty it might be to have her step-brother finger bang in the back of her Mom's pickup bed on the way home from our Aunt Jean's house, I would have never been introduced to the velvety pleasures of the female genitalia until I was at least 20 years old.

Early sexual exposure is nothing new to this new generation. that's because for for them sex is not dirty. But public. Everything, including sex, has to be displayed and shared on You-Tube. For them somehow nothing is real unless someone else is watching it on a computer screen or TV. Because TV and computing and text messaging is the only way these kids know how to relate to the world.

I didn't want to expose myself today, I just wanted to hang out and party on Fat Tuesday because I support the Katrina victims. And because I like getting drunk in public. Not because I have some kind of sick voyeur fetish. Instead I payed a 10 dollar cover to stand in line. The celebration at Fat Tuesday's on Mill Avenue consisted of paying a cover and then waiting in line for an hour and a half to get inside the actual club for overpriced frozen girly drinks.

I've never felt comfortable in lines or around groups of people. There is something unnatural and bothersome to me in the gatherings of people. So many of them. Happy. My EX used to get pissed at me, because I would embarrass her in line at Safeway. But I only acted inappropriately in line in order to make all the other people in line feel as uncomfortable as I felt around them. And I think it works.

So while my friends and I were content to simply drink a beer and complain to each other about the slow moving line so many of the Y'ers were not. Instead they got their nasty on. That's Generation Y. Always positive. Gen Y has zero attention span and no desire to see the dark lining of any cloud. A few bored fat girls danced for us while we waited in line. And by dancing I mean mimicking things paid hookers are often too timid to try.

I think these girls fail to understand that the thrill men find from watching women lick each other or fake anally penetrate each other is the the thrill of dirty behavior. But wen you copy that "dirty" behavior so self-consciously it completely ruins it for the true pervert. You can't "own" degrading behavior. It ceases to be degrading at that point.

But the only thing that really makes dirty dancing unwatchable is fat chicks. Fat chicks have completely taken over the promiscuous displays of their generation. I realize most Americans are fat, but I thought we all were superficial enough to agree that only attractive people should be allowed to flaunt their stuff in public.

Last night at Fat Tuesday violated that agreement, and thereby lived up to it's name. Fat Tuesday with its massive veined breasts exposed. Fat chicks grinding away and hopping. Red lined bellies from too tight pants exposed by too short tops. Tops that wanted to be lifted at any excuse. Tempe is not New Orleans. Nobody should expect that the cheap beads they give out to everyone at the entrance of a corporate sponsored sex-o-rama would be able to entice any of our Tempe girls to uncover.

But I was wrong about that. I was totally wrong. Also wrong about things like how fat chicks are actually human beings. Mental Agents with desires. I had always assumed like most psychopaths that people so different from me have no human agency. They may jump like frogs when shocked with electricity, but not from an inner volition. To me fat humans had always seemed merely responsive to stimuli. See Big Mac. Insert Big Mac.

It's now all so disconcerting.

I just spent the entire night devoting myself to watching movies about Truman Capote's In Cold Blood

It was raining today so I thought about Perry and the gallows.
I know way too much about Truman Capote movies now. I've seen at least three In Cold Blood movies over the last 2 years. And I watched 2 of them tonight.

Sometimes I think about sending all three of my readers to the gallows. Because I am sure that some of your aren't reading my other terrific blog Bathos for the Misanthropic. Or maybe you read Bathos, but never read Selp Help. Either way you are screwing with me. And people who screw with me get the BIG YELLOW BIRD.

And I am not talking about Duckies.

Now understand if you are not familiar with The Show with Ze Frank, In Cold Blood, or Truman Capote then you will not get any of these inside jokes. But if you are a long time reader you should make an effort to discover these things on your own. Otherwise I have to do everything for you, just like your Mom did.

Because of my fascination tonight over Truman Capote I think some people are beginning to worry that I am a faggot. They say I seem to know a lot of things about fags and they wonder. Like "How do you know that Bear is a gay term?"

"Because I watch Sex in the City, that's how."

For some reason this fact never seems to dissuade people. They only mumble things like "I am pretty sure that show was for chicks."

But I've gotten lots of hand jobs from my step-sister and I have fucked more fat chicks more times than most guys have masturbated to pics of Britney Spears bald head. So now who's gay?

This post is dedicated to In Cold Blood. Which gets the Official Seal of Approval from me. Romius T.

I feel happy today even though last night I spotted 3 people with missing ear parts

And I am not going to let you guys get me down. Today I had pork tacos and rode my bike. The waitress from the restaurant looked at me with a sense of earnestness and ordered me to have a great day.

She wanted to make sure she connected with me, since when she asked "Do you need change?" I said "yes."

But on the ride home I did have a great time. I took a meandering path home and listened to Kelly Clarkson's Because of You. The wind was in my hair. And I thought, "Hey, at least you have more hair than Britney Spears for the wind to speed through."

Now this might not be a good place for a segue but I thought it odd that last night so many people with ears bitten off were out. Was it some kind of National Go out and Play Poker and Forget that You Have Had Your Ear Bitten Night? Because if so I would have totally been behind such an event. I could march for that kind of cause.

Al Queda gets a bad rap. I think they are a lot like the Puritains, only with more scarves.

I am sitting here at the Tempe Public Library. I can only talk about Al-Queda when I blog from public computers. My roommate is a little paranoid about me getting his computer linked to terrorism.

I don't really have a lot to say about them, but I missed being able to bring them up if I wanted. Nothing is more claustrophobic for a free speech advocate than censorship. And if there is anything I am about it's Free Speech. That and downloading pictures of the Olson Twins and pasting them on my shampoo bottles. Then it feels like we are taking a shower together. It's the only way I will ever get a threesome.

Speaking of threesomes, how come all the guys on public library computer work stations are always checking their personal ads out? Don't you want to do that at home? You can afford to buy a subscription to Match.com, but can't or won't spring for the money to get Internet access at home?

Believe me, if you bring home a girl from a date you got on the internet and she can't check her e-mail at your house it's over. Might as well tell her you still live with your Mom. But she probablly figured that out already. Nobody "pays" an old women to sit in the corner of your house and crotchet a sweater for you. Nobody.

Porn surfing at the library makes no sense to me. Guys are always getting caught for lewd behavior or downloading porn at the local library. I am sorry, but I have a little more decorum that that. In fact I don't even like surfing my blog at the library. I've noticed some of the pictures I post are a bit "racy."

You see how I got back to the "Puritanical" bit I opened with. In comedy that is considered a ...well...I am sure they have a name for it, but I don't know it.

I Got Hit On Last Night At A Bar. For the first time in a long time the girl was cute. Way cute. Cuter than you.

I just hope last night was a prelude of what god has in store for me. Maybe a little Valentine's Day Awesomeness!

I was at a local pub last night minding my own business. Mostly I just stood around waiting on my friends to bring back beer for me from the huge breasted bartender. We always go to wherever big boobed bartenders serve 25 cent beer. Even with a 5 dollar cover charge you can get drunk on the cheaps.

I must have been rubbing my nose absent mindingly, because a rather cute dark haired girl leans over to me and asks "Are you mocking me?"

That's not an unusual question for me to get asked. I usually am mocking you. But I was just zoning out at that exact moment she looked over at me and was not at all copying her.

"Because I was touching my nose at the same time as you." After she finished her question I notice my interrogator is really cute. Petite and young. Half my age I'd guess. This puts me at a loss. I can't recall the last time a women made a move on me.

Normally I am quite quick witted, but last night I had no retort. In fact all I could stammer out was "No, no ..I wasn't mocking you."

I am so cool. That must have sounded totally bitchin' to her. I am just some little girl who dared not to offend. My friends cracked up laughing at me. They insisted that I "dropped the ball" and "fumbled at the five yard line." One of my asshole friends even brought up Tony Romo's choke of a hold on a place kick that cost the Cowboys a playoff victory.

Talk about kicking a brother when he's down. But don't worry sports fans. Old Romius T. still has a few tricks up his sleeve. I got the girl's attention a few minutes later and used an eye contact thing I know. You ladies understand what I am talking about. Some guys just know how to give good eye contact.

She walked back over to the bar where I stood. I started with a run up the middle for 4 yards. "How you doing?" But things got better when she leaned in to me in order to hear me better. "Actually," I tell her "I really did mean to mock you. Normally I don't try and hide it. I just do it straight to your face."

She seemed relieved that I wanted to insult her. I noticed she travelled with three hipster wannabe tough guys. She made a point of saying to me that "They were just friends." So I figured she must be into water sports or something freaky. "You should say it to my face." She mutters to me half drunk. Her eyes are shiny and giddy.

I am not going to tell you much about what happened next. But let's just say that I punted and put myself into some pretty good field position. I am sure we will meet again and I can't wait to try for a field goal.

Happy V-Day everybody.

Cuddles.

Romius T.

Have I finally settled on a name for this blog?

I was never very happy with the Romius Texis name. And the Self Help Center no longer applies. I think that this name kinda rocks. I know that Katie kinda like Self Help, but I figured i am the on in need of help. Of the Self kind. So I kinda like it.

What do you guys think? Do you care? I know the Drug Monkey gets annoyed at me anytime I change the name, so Sorry!!!

How about the colors? That red sure pops don't it. I am just trying to keep you guys from getting to used to anything and then bored by the look of this blog. Plus new blogger makes it so easy to change the template that it is seriously ridiculous to not do it.

If you want advice from me all I've got is don't let a movie about pimps and ho's bring you down, cuz you better than that man

"Whatchya gonna do with your life?"

If I got asked that question I would have the response as that gum smacking crack head prostitute in Hustle & Flow.

I don't know.

But there are plenty of questions I don't know the answer to. Like why the mustard in this house tastes funny. All of it. I mean even after I threw out the old mustard and bought a brand new bottle.

Do you think there is something in the house that causes mustard to taste funny? I hope not. I hope my taste buds are changing. I'd hate to start putting mayo on my corn dogs.

If you are reading this because I left a funny comment in some other blog, don't expect this blog to be as funny

No matter how funny my blogs are I am pretty sure they are going to keep me from getting hired. That and my two year work gap on my resume. I don't know why unemployed blogger/part time amateur poker player is not viewed as serious experience, but it ain't.

Most of you are reading this from work, so I don't think employed people are all that more "productive" than me. Otherwise you'd be the ones making funny as shit up and then typing into a computer.

Imagine all the money you'd be making. Not as much as winning all your money on the river in Splash Pots at Texas Hold'em. But serious money nonetheless.

I forgot to tell Jeramey Happy Birthday. But since he doesn't read this blog it won't help to say it here. He doesn't read the blog even though he has starred in like 6 or 7 blog posts. If anybody wrote about me that much I 'd make damn sure to read that blog. I just joke about being Ghetto. Because Jeramey never reads, I guess Jeramey really is ghetto.

Though there is no way of knowing if I just told the truth about that statement is there? Maybe I just sit at home all day listening to podcasts that feature a guy reading gay incest dick cheese and scat stories all day.

But you're kind of scared about the truth in that statement aren't you?

Remember when the Olsen Twins were Jail Bait you wanted?

Remember how you installed that creepy countdown meter on your desktop that alerted you to the exact moment they would become legal?

Neither do I. All I know is that I would rather pull the umbilical cord from Tori Spelling's fat vagina than wake up next to one of those Ex-Tanner girls.

I am not sure why I this site continues to only draw 20 or so folks a day when the Drunken Stepfather pulls in hundreds of thousands. But I guess that's life.

I couldn't bring myself to induct Dakota Fanning as Jail Bait of the Week

I don't want to encourage a damaged young girl or her parents. Dakota, no matter how hideous your mouth/teeth you are not asking for rape just because you wear headgear to correct it.

And as to your need to have "it" filmed and viewed. Can I ask that you get some professional help for that? Such an inclination is unhealthy. I think you might have boundary issues. My advice is to keep this stuff buried. Deep down. Just try and not to think about it.

You are precocious. But you are not an adult. Someone has probably talked about the First Amendment. And an artists commitment to freedom of speech. But you are just a kid, you're not Picasso

Anyway that First Amendment business was repealed a while back. Just keep going to the dentist and I will see you in 6 years. Looking hot. And with a few too many "daddy" issues.

Just because I click on your personal ad that don't make us friends

I am not certain if it really is possible to earn between 100,000 and 150,00 dollars a year and be that into jean skirts.

I know I am breaking a cardinal rule of mine by insulting a non-famous person. But I guess if you are on the Internet you are setting yourself up to look a fool. If anyone ever found my personal ad they would be shocked to learn that I am 6 feet tall and that I make more than 250,000 bucks in a year.

I make movies. The dirty kind. That's what I tell the girls. Then they forgive me for not being so tall. They still think I am rich so they let me film them having sex. Not sex with me because no amount of money would be worth that.

I once had sex with a girl in Germany and I got charged with a hate crime, so I learned my lesson. I just get the girls to masturbate on camera and after that I can black mail them. That's how I make my money for real.

Certainly not off the donation button at the bottom of this page. Because my account balance is still zero. If you want me to stop taking advantage of women then you are going to have donate money to me. Where else do you get stories like this for free?

Golf Tournaments are fun if you don't watch any of the golf.

I am too hung over to be blogging for you guys. And since my liver is shot I am way too nervous to take any Tylenol for the headache. I have no idea why all we have is Tylenol in the house when I am practically jaundiced.

I've been staring into the mirror and I can't tell if my eyes are just bloodshot or if the Heppatitus is acting up again. I promised to stop drinking real soon. As soon as I get laid.

You may be wondering how I paid for all the booze. I didn't. I got it all for free just because I attended some golf tournament.

If a guy walked past you and muttered "You're looking mighty Golfy today!" in a Wolf-Man Jack voice then you know the real me. I was pretty cute today. I got 12 hello's back. And I made a bunch of old men happy, when I wasn't pissing off Pro Golfers.

If you missed birdy on hole 10 because of me I want to say sorry, but I am not. You need to learn to play through the taunting. I am not going to shut up just because all the white people whisper shhh at me.

I never understood the fun of class based societies until today. Because I have always been the RIF Raff. But today I was in a corporate booth. Today I was one of the upper class. People came and cleared my plate as soon as I was done eating. Today people gave me free drinks.

Today I watched as you suckas couldn't get past the rope line and security to sit in a sky box and talk to George W. Bush. And wonder aloud "why his son stayed in Iraq when his father didn't."

And don't lecture me. It's not inappropriate to psychoanalyze the President in front of his dad. My drink card may have been punched 10 times at that point, but I was a Psychology major for 2 years at Mesa Community College. I've read Freud and Eric Fromm. So I think I can say with some authority what you can only speculate about.

Harry Potter is all grown up

Harry Potter is all rip. And you have to wonder where that treasure trail would take us. I am guessing a magical journey that blows away any Harry Potter movie.

And I gave every Potter Movie 6 stars.

I am not quite certain that I understand the horse. Symbolism is beyond me. That's why I agreed to make Eddie and the Cruisers II.

Larry King is mad as hell and he ain't gonna take it anymore

I've been telling you guys for years that K-Fed is a hell of player. I just can't see why Britney I-go-my-way Spears would leave such an incredible star.

Have you seen both of the magic movies? Illusionist and the other one? Well I have seen the illusionist and its the best movie about Illusionists I have seen all year.

Larry King blogs every Thursday night at 6 P.M., when he's not too drunk he posts.

Larry King wants you to join his myspace and be best friends forever. And I mean forever. Larry King is never going to die. I don't care how many heart attacks he has.

1,234 Laotian Mini-wives prey for Larry's death. And for rescue.

Jail Bait of the week should not be a 12 year old boy turned transsexual

But I don't make the rules here folks. I just report the news. And the news is a 12 year old boy was given permission by his doctors to become a girl.

That's hot. No matter what your political feelings are.

More good news. They finally killed that damn horse.

I don't need bling. I just want to be rich like a Kenyan. Rolling with my cell phone. Spending disaster relief aid money like its never gonna rain

Not every American is as rich as Angelina Jolie or as handsome as Brad Pitt. Take me for instance. I look more like the New Leave it to Beaver than a movie star.

I am not working much right now. But I still have to support my drinking habit. Good thing Circle K offers RC cola at 99 cents for a 2 liter. I don't mind RC cola. But I don't always think of RC as soda. Sometimes I just shut my eyes and pretend its dark acidic goodness is the foamy leftovers spilled out from Paris Hilton's yeasty vagina .

The clerk at the Circle K I buy my RC from wished me a nice night and "fun drinking." The clerk at the Circle K is fat. But not soft fat. Strong fat. She rises over her cash register like a tidal wave of kinetic energy.

She assumes since I walked here that I am taking both 2 liters of RC and 7lbs of ice home so I can get drunk. Because people without cars are usually drunks. But I can't get drunk, because I can't afford alcohol. That's why I stick to mixers only. Plus my liver is too tired to face Jack Daniels anyway. My liver faxed me a warning yesterday warning me if it had to form "anymore yellow bile or green turds" it would "go on strike."

My own liver. On Strike. My liver is such a bitch that it prefers to communicate with me via fax. You know, like some pissed off insurance agent. Rather than in person like a real man/liver should.

My cashier informs me that my purchase total comes to $3.63. Good thing. My payday from last nights poker haul was just 4 dollars. I dig in my pockets for 3 bills and 65 cents. I even had enough to "donate" my change to breast cancer or maybe some home for retards. I figured I owed the retards as much since I was gonna go ahead and make a joke at their expense.

"Did you know that a third of all Kenyans have cell phones?"

The cashier didn't. "And I bet a significant majority of them earn more than 4 dollars a day." My cashier did not appear to be at all interested in my white man's burden pity party. Instead she just kept clobbering away at the cash register with her fists.

"I need to do this." She says. She wants to reassure me. She'd like me to believe that the operation of the cash register required punching it with all her might. But her efforts at convincing me are in vain. I nearly ran out of the building after witnessing the shear power of her punches. "And don't rob me." She adds still punching away at the machine.

"You look too tuff!" I told her. "To rob."

"It wouldn't be tough to rob me." She insisted.

"Tuff's got nothing to do with. If I robbed you, it's just about biddness." My comment provoked laughter from the line of people behind me, so I repeated the word. "Biddness."

People who stand in line behind me at ghetto convenience stores love to hear white people use slum in their vernacular. Which gives me another good idea. I think I am going to take a digital recorder around and start recording my entire life. And all my sarcastic observations.

I can't tell the difference between the two.

I want to Marry this gal or at least interview her for this blog

Emmalee Bauer, 25, of Elkhart was fired by the Sheraton hotel company for being a "goof off."

She joins a long list of good folk who have been fired, just because they refuse to work. She ain't a blogger but instead kept a hand written journal about her frustrations with her job.

"At one point during her employment, Bauer was allegedly instructed to refrain from using company time to work on her personal, handwritten journal. Rather than stop writing at all, Bauer allegedly began using her work computer to keep the journal up to date."

Source: DesMoines Register

Her diary reads just like my early blog the Self Help Center:

"It's noon already and I don't feel like I have accomplished a damn thing. Accomplishment is overrated, anyway."

"I just have to get through the next seven hours and forty-six minutes and then I will be free."

I hope this chick is hot. Cause I havea feeling we would so get along. Ema, if you are out there chat me up sometime.

Source: Obscure Store

Karaoke & Booze, Armed Robbery and Beef Jerky: The Life and Times of RomiusTexis or life in the little city of Tempe.

The longer my titles run on this blog the shorter my entries have to be. I've always liked that about my blogstyle. I'd ask you about your opinion if I cared, but I don't. Because you're not an artist like me. That's why you keep refreshing your browser to this URL. That and your pedophilia. I know you hope that I've got another JailBait entry waiting for you. You sure are a sick muthafucka. But I won't tell your Mom, or your babysitter.

What I do have for you is the story of the Armed Robbery that I failed to notice. Despite the fact that I was less than 3 feet away from the crime when it took place. That'll teach me to eat out at Mexican restaurants.

Actually that's the end of that story.

I'm hoping my new tag Tempe, Arizona finds it way into Google's rankings. My hope is to get all you people out of this city. Too much traffic. And I don't like people staring at me when I am waiting for a bus. I am what they call a "high self monitor." By "they" I mean my Psy. 101 textbook.

I was gonna hang out with Knows it all this weekend. But she's in bed by 9 P.M. My dead grandmother keeps later hours.

I hear talk that I might be turning pro again. As in Pro Poker Player. If my last trip to the casino is any indication of my skills. Let's just say that I'm pro just like an Arizona Cardinals offensive lineman is a pro.

Hugs from Tempe

Romius T.

Texas *Hold Up There* Canada You can stop installing location transmitters in your coins now

I play Texas Hold'em with a "friend." He works for a company that does some work in Canada. I never thought anything of it. That was until I read this:

"They say money talks, and a new report suggests Canadian currency is indeed chatting, at least electronically, on behalf of shadowy spies.

Canadian coins containing tiny transmitters have mysteriously turned up in the pockets of at least three American contractors who visited Canada, says a branch of the U.S. Department of Defence."

Now I get why "they" suck so bad at poker. Why on Earth is your wife calling unconnected unsuited cards to the river? Is it to ply my cupboards full of your spy chips? Me thinks so.

I just don't understand why Canada wants to know where I'll be at all times. I mean I've always like Canada. I dig socialized medicine and my brother likes hockey. So I don't see why they have it out for me.

Doesn't Canada know how much I hate Trey Parker? Libertarians are ready to celebrate the victory of our Surveillance Society Overlords.

Et Tu Canada?

World Head Quarters on the Move

Many of you know that I am in the process of moving World Headquarters from Palmetto, Florida to Tempe, Arizona.

Expect little to no posting for a while folks.

Sports Update III A Sports Tragedy

Sometimes the best team doesn't win. Like every Superbowl the 1970's Dallas Cowboys played in. Life is not fair.

But TEAM/USSR ends up short in it's attempt to claim awesomeness for itself.

But second place ain't to shabby, right Molly? Sure beats third place. Any day of the week.

I hate you Trey Parker. I hate you too Matt Stone. I am just not to sure what Matt Does. I think he got rich because his friend is funny.

My I-pod isn't working. I-Tunes can really suck like that sometimes. I think I am going to take out all my anger on Trey Parker. Even if that Trey Parker knows Ayn Rand writes a dull book.

Because all my songs are gone. All my podcasts are gone. You might think this presents me with an opportunity to really explore in specific terms what really bugs me about Parker. Maybe even point out some specific examples of his hypocrisy.

But Libertarians are Flat Earthers. Their philosophy is so full of bunk and oblivious to such obvious truths that it's embarrassing when they finally see the truth. So I don't want to be that guy. The guy that finally makes Stone and Parker see the light about Amway in the back row of some local Denny's.

"I hate conservatives, but I really fucking hate liberals.”

Nobody would have ever guessed that from the show, Mr. Parker. Just one thing. I am pretty sure Science agrees that Global Warming is real. But since you are from Colorado you probably want it warmer. I lived in Colorado Springs for almost a year. It really sucks there. Except for the nice Mormons.

My family wouldn't have eaten a few weeks out of that year if it weren't for church groups dropping off boxes of food. So I just wanna say thanks to the Mormons.

Don't be so pissed. Saddam's only doing what you would do if you could.

Just in case I ever get into a position of power I keep a list of people I will execute.

I just added some pathetic yahoo personal ad chick who says "I want to find someone who is patient and can understand that my children and my dog are my life and they come first."

What kind of psycho are you to put your human mate below the interests of a dog? And what kind of needy lowlife actually could actually hook up with a chick that plans on demeaning you like this?

Maybe that's why you are still single little girl.

I am only single because I am unemployed, fat, ugly, and a bit rude. So it's all by choice. But God's choice. I am the Job of single life.

Knock... Knock. "Who's there?" "It's the FBI and we're listening on all your phone calls, is that cool?"

No it is not Mr. FBI man. Please hang up or at least offer to pay for half of the cost of my phone sex conversations. Mistress Sally charges 19.99 for 20 minutes and that's a lot of dough for an unemployed blogger. If she finds out someone else is listening in on us she might double the charge.

I guess the FBI liked it when cellular phone providers updated their phones with GPS technology so they can find out that I tend to do my masturbating at the nearby Wendy's once a week. You can't Find Osama, but you can hear me jacking off.

I just want to alert my family that ABC news is reporting how the FBI listens to your cell phone even if you turn the power off. So maybe that whole blow up during Christmas dinner is looking pretty justified. And Bloomberg is reporting that all the CCTV's in England are going to start talking back to you.

I think I read about this in a book somewhere. Nah, that was fiction.

Sports Break II. Updating My Fantasy Football Team's quest for Awesomeness!

Not all my posts can rock as hard as my Fantasy Football team.

My team is in a double game elimination showdown for awesomeness. Right now my team's awesomeness is just 4 points down. Next week will be the key. The title is up for grabs.

But I am going to win. I just know it.

If you meet a Wangster and it's a 19 year old blonde girl. Trust me. She's as hard as she says she is.

Things are looking up again. If you had gotten used to my new posting pattern then you might be worried that I wasn't posting daily anymore. And wondered what I was up to.

Don't. I was just out of cola. When I am out of cola I can't function.

Speaking of people who barely fuction I "hung" out with Jeramey and his friends the other night. Which means I stayed at home and his friends got high on the reefer in my garage. I didn't mind it that much since my stepmom and dad were visiting and I needed help entertaining them.

One of those entertainers wanted to get a tattoo.

"I want to get a tattoo." She might have looked like the new Britney Spears, but she had been to Jail plenty. Enough that she wanted to get a tattoo that read "Fuck the Po-lice." Why?

"Because anytime you go to jail the cops ask if you have any tattoos."

Good one.

You are probably thinking that a girl like that needs to get a good plan together for her life. But I've got to admire anyone who has that much of a hold on their lives.

If you know you life is going to be spent answering assenine questions to the police in holding tanks it's good to have ready-made-answers like FUCK THE PO-LICE!

Woman has Two Vaginas

Holy Crap. I just don't know what to say about this. How can this be true?

I didn’t know anything was different about me until I was fifteen. I was having all sorts of pain—woman stuff—but I’d get it checked out, and they wouldn’t find anything wrong. I guess the eighth doctor was more thorough. I remember I was lying there, and I heard her say, “Oops.”

What I’ve got is a rare condition called didelphic uterus—two vaginas, two cervices, and two uteruses. I look completely normal from the outside, but there’s a septum inside where everything branches into two. My doctor says I’m one in a million.

For a while I thought I was a total freak. I lost my virginity twice. The first time was when I was eighteen. Then I lost the other side two weeks later. To the same guy. You’d think I could have saved one of them for marriage.

Just like a woman not to at least save one of them for a Rainy Day or something. Does that mean you get twice the menses?

Can you think of the mess that poor JEWKAT would leave behind if she came double loaded.