on a similar note

so, in the same vein as my last post, and semi inspired by the question posed by my Aussie heart throb Steph, i have a confession to make. This past week, I have become a complacent whacker. Every day this week I have had the urge to snap one off, but at the same time, just didn't feel like it. I have had to talk myself into jerking off only to suddenly have to urinate, or some other form of something or other that would make me lose the urge. I have never wanted to jerk off so bad, and yet not want to, in the same thought so bad in my life. Why does the thought of having so much fun with myself make me so... ... bored? Any ladies out there in blog land want to make a fat man happy for a night? dear god this is sad...

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and some links

Ahh, if only they'd have seen the inherent evil in pee wee. (trailer mash up)

chuck woolery loves your gay last name and he WILL call you out on it.

spank bank.

Sometimes I wonder what my exes/former lovers/hook ups would think if they knew that in times of need, when I dig into the spank bank, I think of them. earlier this week, I dug far into the spank bank I had to actually pat myself on the back when I successfully remembered everything in detail. I have to thank my genes for being blessed with a photographic memory. not the kind you see in movies, however, the real kind. the kind where your mind makes snapshots of every moment and you can examine every detail ad infinitum/ad nauseam. the curve of every girls ass, the slope of every girls breast, the angle of their jaw, their scent. all these things, are things I rely on lately. my porn has become stale, and i've found that a couple happy thoughts about bygone women can have an amazing effect. and this is what started me to thinking, "what if they knew I was slappin ham to their memory". I like to think that if they dated/liked/did me, they'd expect nothing less. thoughts?

I'm baaaaaack!

So I’ve been on hiatus for a while. It’s not my fault. I’ve had a lot of drinking and a lot of drinking to do. But this blog post hits close to home for me. I used to frequent a certain bar. And when I say frequent, I mean from the time I turned 21 in 2000, till sometime this past fall/late summer. This bar was my “home” bar when I was in Michigan. I loved the bar, and the employees and other patrons loved me. I stopped going for a couple of reasons; the main one being I had a DUI in November ’04 and most of my friends moved away so it was difficult to find a ride up to the bar which was out of the way for most people. The second reason being, there was too much drama being brought into the bar. I like my bars drama free. Which is why I love my new “home” bar, which has always been a “home” bar to me, I just didn’t go there as often. The drama is not there, unless you ask for it.

Anyhow, enough of the crap, I went back into the first bar tonight for the first time since Rev’s birthday, and I cannot figure out how we ever had so much fun in that place. On Rev’s birthday we all hated the place and swore it to damnation. The service was shit, the drinks were shit, the ambiance was shit. Tonight we went there for the simple fact my bar was closed. I have never, ever, in my life of bar hopping seen the atmosphere of a bar change so drastically in so short a time. It used to be a hole in the wall bar. Nice place, no real regulars except the flies at the bar. Then came us: Rev, Navy and I. We had a lot of fun, drank a lot, whatever. There was a lot of karaoke, A LOT OF KARAOKE. Used to be a solid mix of people in there too, not too much of one trash or another. Now, all trash, all country. There was some asshole hosting karaoke tonight that was trying to so hard to be Larry the Cable guy he actually had a SFX box with Larry drops on it. He was part Mexican which meant he got to tell recirculated Carlos Mencia hack lines all night. See, if charisma and personality were a fruit bearing tree, this guy would have been the low hanging loose stemmed fruit that blew off in a mild mid may gust and thus left to rot on the ground amongst the worms and shrews. He actually cleared most of the bar out, aside from his friends by 12:30. Which actually brings me to my next point: apparently you can no longer enjoy yourself there unless you’re in a clique with someone who works there. Otherwise you’re just a peon, not worthy of the shitty service and inattentiveness of the bar maids. Basically, I’m just done with the place. I wanted to go back to make sure my time in December was just a fluke, but I was assured, it was not. Besides, the girls at my new bar are much nicer, much younger, much hotter, and much more fat drunk guy friendly. So I really shouldn’t be mad, but I guess the old saying is right; you can never go home again. Fuck em. Here’s to me.

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and now, a link:

15 of the greatest "oh shit!" moments on film. while there are far more than 15, I do like this list.