Thursday, June 04, 2009

Porn Buddies of the Fighting 405

I realized lately that I watch porn to keep me company while i jerk off. It's just too depressing to be having sexy alone all the time. So it's nice to have a woman there with me. Even if she is being made "air-tight" by 3 black guys dressed as African tribesmen.

Which reminds me of something. Have you ever heard of a "porn buddy?" This is not like a book club for porn (as I thought when I first heard the term. But maybe an idea for discussion because how AWESOME would that be?). A porn buddy is a guy who knows were all your porn is kept. He has usernames and passwords for all your computers that hold any porn and knows what secret folder keeps them all (mine is called Updater5 for the record). This guy has one job and one job only. In the event of your untimely demise, he will swoop in with the efficiency and precision of a Navy SEALS team and clean out your porn. Thus saving your family from the traumatic discovery of Asian Snuff films at a later date.

Your porn buddy is a critical part of your exit plan from this life. Make sure you choose wisely. Don't pick someone for their deep knowledge and appreciation of porn. Sometimes a connoisseur doesn't have the great tactical abilities to pull off a cleansing. He might get tripped up exploring the depths of your collection. No. Pick someone loyal, trustworthy, and with similar tastes in porn. His only payment will be yo inherit your collection, so he better like what he's getting, or he just might "accidentally" leave a copy of Barely Legal out on your family's bookshelf.

By it's very nature, this agreement cannot go both ways. You cannot be each others porn buddies. Think about it fellas. That's never gonna work out for the both of you. You're smarter than that.

Monday, May 28, 2007

to hell and back. or not.

I was Jonesing for some Arby's the other night. If you don't know what Arby's is, I feel sorry for you. Anyway, the nearest Arby's is about 15 minutes down the freeway from me. (It's in the same town my parents live in.) Calem wanted to come with me. Not that he was Jonesing for roast beef, but he likes a little late night adventure just as much as the rest of us.

So Calem and I pick up some Arby's and decide to stop by my parents house to eat it (it would get cold by the time we got home). So we settle in at my folks table and I realize I've forgotten to ask for ketchup for Calem’s chicken bites. Major screw up on my part. But in my defense I had delicious roast beef on the brain. No worries though, my mom pulled out a fresh bottle of the old Heinz 57. Of which Calem proceeds to almost completely empty onto his plate. This is nothing new to me. The boy loves his ketchup just like his mom.

My dad starts to laugh at the obscene amount of ketchup. "Boy you love your ketchup don't you?" "Yup!" says Calem with a mouthful of ketchup and a little bit of chicken. "Is there anything you won't put ketchup on?" my Dad asks. "Nope." says Calem without even looking up. "You better hope your mom never runs out of ketchup then." my Mom adds. My Dad laughs again, "That woman would go to hell and back to make sure she never ran out of ketchup!" Calem looks up, ketchup ring around the mouth, "No. She'd just go to the store and back." We're laughing. "And don't say the H word Papa. God will strangle you."

I'm not sure what they're teaching this kid in Sunday School, but apparently, God is some sort of hit man. When questioned about the strangling further, Calem admitted that it wasn't actually "strangling" it was more like being tied-up at the ankles and then hung upside down. Then God would tell you he was angry at you, but "he'd say it in a nice way." He occasionally dropped people on their heads but it was always an accident.

Monday, May 21, 2007

I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me

I have no excuse for my absence. I could blame it on being too busy. I could blame it on dealing with the death of my father-in-law. I could blame it on American Idol, or Lost, or Scrubs, or the Sapranos, or my new 42 inch plasma screen. But I'm not going to because you deserve better. You deserve the truth.

You wanna know the truth? You wanna know why I left you for so long? I left because I was too busy. My Father-in-law died (we had become really close). My wife got me hooked on American Idol. Lost has been really fucking good. JD might be hooking up with the blonde nurse even though she's getting married and he got his girldfriend prego. It's the last season of the Sapranos. I just got a 42 inch Plasma Screen TV and it RULES!

Anyway, I should have said something sooner. But I didn't. I'm sorry.

Don't expect me back on a regular basis. i just don't have time for it. I am bummed about this. I've met some really great people on here and if it weren't for the vast distances we might all hang out and drink beer. But we can't.

Peace be with you all.

Duckie

Monday, February 12, 2007

zeta male

Abandoned by my own kind. That's what I am. Living in a land of all hoes and no bros.

I don't understand it. I used to have at least 2 regular male readers - Kav and Eric (that's right fuckers. I'm calling you out) but they don't comment anymore. At least not in a week or so.

My last post was meant to drum up a little business. Get the boys back in my corner. I talked about poop, boobies, flashing and even had a picture of boobs. But nothing. Not a peep from either of my amigos. Plenty of amigas. But no amigos.

Not that I'm dissing you ladies at all. I appreciate each and every one of you. I grew up the only male in the household and I love and appreciate the female of our species. It's just that I enjoy and revel in that testosterone driven camaraderie that men have. It's kinda gay sounding, but I enjoy the company of men. I can tease, piss on and otherwise disrespect my male friends in ways that brings us closer and in ways that would drive any sane woman to kill.

So get your pansy asses back here fuckers. I promise more boobies. Not mine.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

blue man poop

I went to see the Blue Man Group last night. The tickets were free so don't give me any shit. That said, it was actually really cool. I liked how imaginative it was and the music was pretty solid.

But I'm not here to discuss the finer points of the Blue Man Group's musical prowess. I'm here to discuss the flashing of boobs.

At the concert last night, an overly ebullient female spectator lifted her top amongst a frenzy of male onlookers and emancipated her beautiful, bouncing boobies. She had nice boobs and it seem perfectly within rock concert etiquette to flash them. However, she was quickly removed from the audience by the event staff and, I imagine, forced to perform lesbian sex with a female prison guard in the bowls of the arena somewhere. Or maybe she was just escorted from the building. But that's not the point.

The point is, she was forced to leave for doing something that thousands of women, nay, millions of women have done before her. True, this was an all-ages show, and there were a smattering of younger viewers in the house last night, but it's just a pair of boobs. Right? What harm was really done?

I remember being at a Beach Boys concert with my Dad when I was about 8 where I saw a woman flash her boobs. She was on her boyfriend’s shoulders and she pulled her top off. She didn't just flash her boobs, she went topless. It lasted about 10 minutes or so. I took note of this and kept looking back to watch her shake and jiggle her tits. I thought it was cool. So did my Dad and every other male within viewing distance. It made the concert very special in my mind. It was the first time I saw boobs that weren’t attached to my mother.

I think we Americans need to loosen up about the boobs. Let's take more of a European viewpoint when it comes to mammaries.

Also, ladies, you need to start flashing your boobs on long road trips like you used to in those crazy college movies of the 80's. When I had to drive to LA and back 2 weeks ago I didn't see nary a tit. I was very disappointed. It would have made the trip so much more enjoyable for me if I had gotten flashed.

Just remember, you're doing a public service by flashing weary travelers on the nation's Interstate highways. So let's whip out those boobs ladies and show us whatcha got.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

TrimSpa baby!

Anna Nicole Smith died today. Can you believe it? I sure as hell can. It was all that "TrimSpa baby!"

All kidding aside, that woman had a very sad life. I mean, she was a Playboy model, and a Guess? model, but she had her son when she was 16. She worked as a stripper to support him. At 26 she married an 89-year-old billionaire. Conceivably, she fucked that skinny old bag of bones (Yuck!) 18 moths later, he dies. She spends the next several years in courts trying to get some of his money. She gets fat. She gets skinny. She gets fat again. She gets a reality TV Show. She gets TrimSpa and gets skinny again. Her only son dies days after the birth of her daughter (a daughter that 2 different men were claiming paternity over). She's named in a Class Action suit against TrimSpa. She appears on Pamela Anderson's Celebrity Roast. Then she dies.

What a sad fucking life. There are lots of little girls out there that wanna be just like her though. They wanna be famous. They wanna be models and make lots of money. They wanna be pop icons. But what a sad empty life they’re seeking.

I know not all famous models are as fucked up as Anna Nicole was. I'm generalizing a bit here to make a point.

You can have it all and really have nothing at all.

Monday, February 05, 2007

Untilted (not inclined towards a particular opinion)

you're thirsty
and
water quenches your thirst.

you're hungry
and
food fills your belly.

you dream
and
nothing will satisfy.