I blog, therefore I am.....lame

So, you know what I noticed? Of the few people I have on MySpace as friends, I talk to maybe four of them on a semi-regular basis. Know what the sad thing is? Those people are the people that I actually met thru Myspace. The actual people that I actually met before this whole internet thing happened don't talk to me. How awesome is that? Apparently, I'm super cool as long as you don't really know me.

Know what else? Eat a bowl of fuck if you are in a relationship and feel the need to advertise it to the rest of the world. Okay, the first two weeks, fine. I understand. I would do the same thing. Hell, I'd hire a skywrite to spell it out in the... anyone wanna guess? That's right, in the sky. I'd even go as far as to mail out notices to everyone I know telling them that I finally found a blind girl. I would assume that she'd be blind if she were dating me. But, my point is, those first few weeks are the time to let everyone know that you are awesome and that you no longer need to talk to them because you found someone who's way more important.

But if you've been dating for more than two weeks and you feel the need to start every sentence with "Me and my girlfriend..." then seriously, eat a bowl of fuck. If you drop your boyfriend's name in a story more than religious freaks drop the name Jesus, then you can eat a bowl of fuck. If you have been dating more than two weeks and you have the nerve to tell me "you'll find someone" then you can eat a bowl of fuck.

Wow, I think I just found my comedy angle. Instead of "You might be a redneck if..." I'll be the "You can eat a bowl of fuck if..."

If you've ever called me on the phone to tell me you just had the fuck of a lifetime.... you can eat a bowl of fuck.

If you've ever told me that you can't talk because your boyfriend won't let you talk to other guys.... you can eat a bowl of fuck.

If you've ever emailed me a picture of you and if just happened to be the picture of you getting groped by your frat boy boyfriend... you can eat a bowl of fuck.

If you've ever told me that you just wanted to stay single and then two days later you started dating a douche bag... you can eat a bowl of fuck.

If you've ever told me we're too good of friends to start dating and then you started dating one of your other friends... you can eat a bowl of fuck.

If you've ever come up to me after a show and ask me to introduce you to the hot guy in the band... you can eat a bowl of fuck.

If you've ever dated some douche bag and told me I would make a much better boyfriend, but you kept on dating said douche bag... you can eat a bowl of fuck.

If you've ever been a woman... ever.... you can eat a bowl of fuck.

St. Valentine's Day

I have decided that I'm going to kill myself on Valentine's Day of next year. It seems like a very fitting end. Consider this my suicide note. I just can't stand the thought of having to go thru another Valentine's Day. It's god damn depressing. Unless my life is considerably better by then, when I wake up for work that morning I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. That gives the universe little over four months to give me a sign of hope. If not, I will all of my possessions to no one. Burn it all with me when I'm cremated. You assholes don't deserve a god damn thing.

Honest to a fault... Seriously, you might not want to read this.

Remember, I warned you
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Okay, I'll be the first, second, third, and so on to admit that myspace is lame. I'll also admit that blogging is even lamer. And I'll admit that taking all of this lameness seriously is more than just lame, it's quite pathetic. With that, I'm going to write the most embarassing thing ever.

My asshole feels like I just spent my first night in prison. Man, it hurts. It's not the normal "wow, that poo was a little too wide" type of pain. It's the "my god, I hope it's cancer because that's the only rational explanation for this" type of pain. I'm sure it's an incredible case of the 'roids, but christ, I've never had it this bad. Usually, the 'roids attack right after a huge poo and then after an hour or so, they go away. Now, I'm pretty sure they are just infected. It sucks. Really bad.

It does get better though. Not only is my asshole a pain magnet, but get this. I'm pooing blood, again. Friggin' hooray! This means I might get to go back to the doctor and found out once again that I'm definitely not gay. That's right. I might get to have a finger or two back in my asshole. I always look forward to that. This time, though, I'm going to make my doctor take me out to dinner. I mean, if he's going to get to second base, or is it third base, then I'm going to get a nice meal out of it.

Anyhow, for the negative three of you that read this, now you know way too much about me and I expect to see the friends on my list start dropping off one by one. And of those negative three people that I might actually see in person from time to time, now you know why I'm way crankier than normal.

Anyhow, just to make this blog seem like normal...

Girls are evil. Fuck the world. I hate my life. Blah, blah, blah. Fuck you!

All girls are attractive...

...when they're sucking my dick.

That is all.

Jerking Off Is Getting Old

So, here I am and it's almost 8PM and I hasn't once thought about jerking off. Either I'm getting old or jerking off is. Either way, it's a sad, sad day.

So, my birthday is coming up. I'm sure this year will be the same as every other birthday. Which means, I'll be sitting at home wishing I had something to do. At least last year I spent my birthday trying to sleep off the Bad Religion concert from the night before. I turn 26 this year. Hooray!

My birthday will also add another year to my record breaking girlfriendless streak. It will hit 9 years at the end of October. Hooray! That's right. My last official girlfriend was in October of 1996. Since then I've semi-dated four girls. One blew me and realized I had a small cock, so she stopped dating me. One was a girl that never broke up with her boyfriend so I never really got a chance to date her, but we fucked once. I'm sure that ruined any chance I ever had with her. One girl was my friend's girlfriend. Yes, I'm an asshole. And the last girl was the best of the four, but luckily for her, she decided to stop talking to me. It's probably for the best for her. I'm sure I would have just dragged her down with me.

I honestly don't know why I'm so obsessed about being single for so long. I mean, some people have had it way worse than me, but I'm not them so I don't care how bad they have it. I deserve to have someone. Christ, even though I'm a huge fucking loser, I'm still better than most guys out there. I think that's my problem. I'm too good for most girls. They want a guy who treats them like shit. Plow United said it best with "If I could treat you like shit then you'd love me forever!" Of course, I think the Mr. T Experience said it even better:


I still haven't found a girlfriend though I've tried a lot
so can you help me please it's tougher than I thought.
The odds are pretty good but the goods are pretty odd
still at this point I'd take anything you've got.

You see this all the time nice girls in love with jerks
what could they be thinking tell me how it works.
If I've got some problems well I wouldn't be the first
but the ones I have in mind are even worse

and even Hitler had a girlfriend
who he could always call
who'd always be there for him
in spite of all his faults.
He was the worst guy ever
reviled and despised
even Hitler had a girlfriend
so why can't I?

Life is full of contradictions hard to understand
and for every happy woman there's a lonely man.
Nixon had his puppy, Charles Manson had his clan
but God forbid that I get a girlfriend.

Even Hitler had a girlfriend
who he could call his own
to sweeten days of bitterness
and feeling all alone.
I'm not as bad as Hitler
but it doesn't mean a thing
since they'd rather be with Hitler more than me
I don't see
why they'd rather be with Hitler more than me.

I sometimes wish that I'd never been born at all

Man, Bohemian Rhapsody is a great song.  It's also depressing as hell.  Of course, when the Flaming Lips cover it, it makes it even more depressing.  At the same time, though, the Lips have a way of making depressing songs uplifting.  They've done just that with their last two albums.  I recommend the hell out of them.

Anyhow, that one line from Bohemian Rhapsody "I sometimes with that I'd never been born at all" always makes me feel more depressed than normal. Mostly because I agree with it. Wouldn't life be much easier if you didn't actually have to live thru it? No bills, no job, no broken hearts, no loneliness, no stupid rednecks, no drunken blackouts, no aching joints, no restless nights, no humid summers, no freezing winters... no more anything. It almost makes suicide look like a hell of an option.

Should I Be Concerned?

So, today's the fourth anniversary of the day before everyone went apeshit. I remember where I was exactly four years ago. I was sleeping in and spending my unemployment checks on liquor. It was a grand time. I could walk down the street without having to worry for my safety, as well as my sanity. Now I live in terror. It seems I'll never be able to escape the constant threat of terrorists.

Oh, not mid-eastern terrorists. I mean, christ, I live in the middle of nowhere. Jihadists don't care about my town. They aren't the terrorists that cause me to live in fear. I'm scared of terrorists of a different sort.

PatrioTerrorists.

I'm hoping to someday take the fight to them before they destroy this great country. As an homage to the days of old, I'm going to watch some football, eat some meat and remember the days when you could love your country and keep your mouth shut about it. Those were the days.

Now, onto something that's a lot funnier.

Lately, I've been having some mental problems. Granted, I've been having mental problems since I was ten, but those were depression based. The problems I'm having now might be schitzo based. For the past few months, I'll be standing around and I'll see and feel myself doing something only to wake up and realize that the last ten seconds hadn't happened. I daydream for seconds at a time and it feels real. For instance:

A few days ago while I was waiting in line to punch out of work, I was staring at this very attractive woman that I work with. Now, to start, she's not "work hot". She's actually hot. And, I was staring at her. I wasn't staring like a stalker or anything, but just staring at her because she was in between myself and the time clock. She had her back to me and I felt myself reach up and start rubbing her back like you would to someone you're dating. I felt myself doing it. I saw myself doing it. My brain reacted as if I was doing it. My penis reacted as well, but that's a whole different story.

So, there I was rubbing her back and then *poof* I'm just standing there holding my micrometers and book. Nothing I had just witnessed had happened. This is far from the first time this has happened. In fact, one day I "kissed" a girl at work only to snap out of it and realize I was just standing there staring at her. It was really creepy. Which brings me to my point.

Should I be concerned about this? Am I going crazy?

Whose to say that this hasn't been happening my whole life? Maybe I'm only now starting to notice these daydreams for what they are. Maybe half of my fondest memories are just daydreams that seem very, very real to me. Or, maybe most of my horrible memories are just daydreams. There's a chance that I never had a horrible time in school. Maybe I just imagined it all. It's kind of stupid, but with the things that have been going thru my mind lately I wouldn't doubt it if my entire life was just one huge fantasy.

A pretty shitty fantasy it would be. I'm not sure which would be more depressing. A crappy life or fantasizing about having a crappy life. Either way, I'm pretty sure I'm either going crazy or becoming sane. Both are pretty scary.

Trimming my ball sack

So, I got home from work today. I took my routine shit while I read a book and listened to Plow United. As I flushed the toilet, I noticed myself in the mirror. I realized that I need to shave. My horrible neck beard looked more horrible than normal. I trimmed it all up with my trimmer and go to work with the lather and blade. After I washed away the blood that was collecting on my neck from the horrible, horrible cuts I always get, I dried off and was about to hop in the shower. That's when I noticed that my ball sack was a huge poof ball. So, I pulled the trimmer out and finally, after months, trimmed my ball sack. I'm like a 14 year old down there.

I didn't shave it all off or anything like that. I'm not gay and I'm not a porn star. I just trimmed it very short. Now, if any of you want to suck my dick and lick my balls, you won't gag on my hair. So, feel free to schedule a blow job appointment. Tall, blonde dudes welcome.

¡JymSanity!

So, I just read a 1500 page book in two days. Is that cool or sad? I haven't fingered it out yet. If my spanish teacher was here, I'm sure she'd say that my accomplishment was:

Muy bueno!

Then she'd tell me to put my pants on because my hairy legs were creeping her out. Of course, I'd have to explain that if she's in my house then she's gotta expect me to not wear pants because I never wear pants when I'm inside my house. Never.

Of course, I wonder why my spanish teacher would be over here in the first place. She wasn't attractive enough to be a teacher who fucks her students. And even if she was, I'm not attractive enough for her to choose me as that lucky student.

My birthday's coming up soon. Another birthday, another waste of a year. On the bright side, or atleast the less dark side, the new Propagandhi drops on October 18th.

I know that saying it "drops" makes me sound like someone who's talking about the new Ludacris album and therefore I sound like someone who doesn't know anything about music, but fuck you, it's 2AM.