Dear short women.

As you know, being short or tall has it’s advantages and disadvantages.
Keeping the ass hats away with bad vision is one of them.
I would like to think smaller boobs meaning less back pain would be another one, but then again, it’s a matter of perspective. More importantly, I would like to believe that science has been lying to us all and their are actually two brain halves, one in each breast. this explains why women in general are considered smarter than men.
Because we too have a second brain, it’s just rather unfortunately placed, and we keep sitting on them from time to time.
that being said, as a tall man, or Stretchy Boi as one would phrase it, it’s come to my understanding that Short woman plus Tall man equals Relationship goals. mainly because I’d like to think, and I’m just being blunt here, and I’m quoting a friend here, “That tall man dick just fills more.”
If I am mistaken, please let me know.
Yes, I will talk about the sex organs, whatever’s on my mind, because even though there are things that need pictures of cupcakes, exotic locales, or trips to where ever the fuck, I’m not one of those types that randomly douches it up because “Clickbaiting” means having to lie to you about how awesome I am.
So sirs and Madame’s, I’m treating you, yes YOU, like the beautiful intelligent persons you are and not having bright colorful pictures every two words.
They are pretty, they are fun.
I am neither.
I’m much better than them.
Suck it http://www.travelbanana.org.
You ass.

Right, talking about short women, meh, I really don’t like staying on topic, Short women are the shit, all women are the shit, y’all keep humanity going, no matter the height, because love is love. And We all know what’s at the base end of love, right?
Oh yeah, a shit ton of fuckin’.

But hey, we’re all adults here, and everyone has their things.
Some people like to fall in love, other’s want to love a sad clown in an iron lung.
Because there are people with a void of darkness in their hearts.
OMG THE CUPCAKE TRUCK IS HERE!
Fucking love me some cupcakes.

I’m giving myself ten minutes…

Fuck, I thought I had a lot more time than just ten fucking minutes to get a god damned post out, but that’s what happens when you schedule pretty much consists of Eat, sleep, work, repeat, and trying to find time to get something enjoyable done is a fucking nightmare when it takes someone a long ass time to get their asses where it needs to be when it needs to be there, but that’s life, right? when life gives you lemons, you get lemon aid, or Lemo Naid. The worlds lamest spy, just stands there, watching you, like you did something wrong, occasional taking a puff out of a Sherlock Holmes looking ass pipe and just… staring.
but shit… gotta go, lot is happening, wish I had more time…

Let’s talk about our DREAMS!

What if I told you, that I had a Notebook style dream about a woman in love with a Sandman enlisted in the Armed forces and the dream ends with her declaring her love for him, arms wrapped around him tightly as he slowly disappears into the winds?
Your first thought would be, “Annnnnnd now I’m crying.”
Your second thought would be, “Sand between the boobs.”
And your third thought would be, “Wait, if he’s made of sand…. Did… Did they just have sex?”
And good sirs and madams, the answers to those thoughts, theories, and questions you never knew needed asking or answering would be yes.
I cried too.

More ridiculous than that is the FB group known only as “https://www.facebook.com/events/448435052621047/” Or 1.1 million people storm Area 51 to slap some alien cheeks. What the “Clapping” involves leaves little to the imagination, but I assume it involves ramming things into other alien things as revenge for all the constipated red necks claiming it’s them thar aliens done with what all that there probing!
That’s what I’m guessing anyways, people have weird kinks when it comes to sex, and yes, I do talk about penis in vagina, vagina on penis, or where ever you like to stick where ever into wherever because we’re human, sex is a thing, and I’m not about to be virtually brow beaten by some lonely chick I’ll never meet into not talking or writing about the very thing that’s kept our literally fucking species going on.

I’ll talk about whatever god damn it! Including the previously mentioned clapping of alien cheeks and questions about sand storm sex, BECAUSE THAT’S THE KIND OF PERSON I AM! And as erotic as both scenarios sound, there’s the after effects of those scenarios!

For instance, if she takes a shower later on, does losing those particulates hurt the sandman? Or does he just thwip those things back into his form? Will the produced baby not be able to enjoy swimming? Will the other kids start bullying him or her by throwing glasses of water at his or her crotch and start calling them Sandick or sandtits!? Instead of Sandisk.
Because my humor is working multiple levels here!
more importantly:
If after years of enduring torment, will the sand baby morph into a mass shooter like Sand man or Sand woman, using their own body to murder those who tormented him? Not by slowly grinding away at their screaming forms, but just by straight up launching his or her fist at super speeds from the top of their heads down out their ass?
Hey, darkest timeline here.

Or will the kid turn out alright and have to be REALLY careful during puberty?
These questions about human/Desert hybrid physiology are fucking important!
Continue laughing.
Seriously, it’s humor.

But the dream was pretty sad, but satisfying, it hit all the right notes, and would’ve made for a god damned awesome movie, the questions asked, the motives behind the actions taken, the morally ambiguous sex scenes which mainly involve her, him, or the Apache helicopter rolling around in a pile of sand, while Beach boys blasts in the background?
Tear jerking… In ways.

I wish to god I was in a relationship. To love, be loved, share moments of hot steamy passion and dumb debates over whether to get the regular spicy sushi or the super spicy sushi, the quiet moments in between the sporadic conversations where we’re both in our own little worlds, only to be snapped back to the present by a brush of the hand?
The point of this post is that time is fleeting, life is fleeting, memory of the truly important moments is what keeps us going, pressing for something more, something better than what we had previously, and to always push forward, even when the task in front of us seems daunting, confusing, or down right pants shittingly terrifying.

Let’s talk about women in the lead for the moment and the disconnect I feel… Not a bad thing mind you, just… a bit left field, and this has NOTHING to do with sex… That I can tell.
Okay, take your average action movie, you know the thing:
1. Bad ass male lead.
2. Damsel in distress.
3. Asshole trying to do a bad thing.
4. Comic relief that’s more or less ignored until a crucial part of the movie.
5. Guy get’s the girl, which one, meh, don’t care.

Now, reverse the PHYSICAL and MENTAL genders involved. I get that Trans is a thing, but we’re not talking about that right now.
How much more likely are you to see that movie? how less likely?
Interesting in either case.

Moving forward:
Let’s talk about the E-girl that was deleted from life by her creepy ass boyfriend.
Let’s talk about the fact that this asshole slit her throat then posted pictures of it on Instagram, where it took a total of 72 hours for the site itself to take the account AND the photo down?

What the fuck?
First, Le Unpacking of the many levels of bullshit.

I’m no fan of E-girls.
Let me repeat that, very clearly:
If you are an E-girl, or claim to be an E-girl: You have zero self confidence in yourself in face to face situations to the point where you have to exploit yourself to get attention.
You may say that you have self confidence, but really, all your actually doing to running with the grain on the stereotype that E-girls are just a low grade version of Cam-girls, and fuck them too, because of the same reasons.

That being said, when I was 14, I have had friends that were E-girls that have tried to push their BS on me, and I was like, “Why be my E-girlfriend when I’m right in front of you?” Then they looked at me dumb, like I just farted in their pudding or something.

If you are a man or woman 18 or over in a relationship with someone 18 or younger: Fuck you, you creepy mother fucker.
The moment I turned 18 was the moment my then girlfriend broke up with me for the logical reason of, “Well, you’re an adult, and I’m still 16, so goodbyes!” and I was totally fine with it.
Sad, but totally fine with it,BECAUSE i KNOW THE LAW YOU FUCKING IDIOTS.
The dude was 21, in a relationship with a 17 year old e-girl, and when they met up, he straight up murdered her and posted a picture of her corpse on Instagram.
What the flying utter fuck is up with people?
We up to some crazy fucking bullshit now a days, and we’re at the point where Mass Murder, Children living in cages, kids being shot, White supremacy being our Presidents go to move, and YouTubers being absolute shit to their kids are normal.
Now, we’re at the point where teen girls are being killed by their creepy ass 21 year old boyfriends.
Like, god damned, the cycle of crazy never fucking surprises me, but god fucking damn it! This is why y’all should be careful.
This is why parents always have more than one girl, because they KNOW there’s a chance of one of the darling little angels doing something incredibly stupid and ends up getting killed.
This is why boys are a slightly safer bet. Kind of, boys are pretty fucked up as well.

Now, for a latte cleanser. I present: A fucking potato.

Image result for fucking potato

So, yeah, last night had this dream…

We need to talk.

Alrighty folks, let’s talk a bit about not getting dicked over, or at the very least, putting up with it up until a certain point, yes?
So, I’m paying a friend 600 a month for rides to a from work, and before you say it, yes, I agree, it’s a completed fucked price.
But we’ve been friends for a long ass time, and I’m doing the right thing by helping him out.
That being said, let’s do the math.
Normally, I would’ve gotten paid between 2,200 and 2,500 a month, depending on Overtime.
that’s around 15/16 bucks an hour, pretty sizeable chunk of change right there, y’know?
My two main expenses:
Rent: 500
Rides: 600
————
1,100 a month for both.
we’re down to 1,100/1,300 a month.
That is a sizeable chunk.
That equates to about 1 and 300 a week total.
THAT is MEtroPCS money.
That is fucked.

Now, I’m down for the rent, that’s no biggy, it’s an evil fart cloud I can live with.
the 600 a month for rides that normally would’e run me around 120 a month?
Where’s this money going?
Gas, oil changes, and wear and tear.

Why the fuck am I responsible for this?
Because, we’re friends, and I’m doing the right thing… And I need a consistent ride to work, and he’s very consistent and worth the expense, and we’re good friends.

That last thing? The friendship? That’s what’s holding this thing together, and despite what everyone, including myself thinks about the arrangement, which I was able to bring down from 800.

So, “I’m doing the right thing by helping out a friend.” has become my mantra.
I’m doing the right thing by helping out a friend.
I’m doing the right thing by helping.
I’m doing the right thing.
Friendshippudden.

I’ve got nothing except love.

For some reason I always get weird when talking about love, not in the sense that it becomes perverted self inflation of how ginormous my dick is, because… that would be a gross use of power, also, physiologically, every large dicked man has a constant fear of having a heart attack caused by getting aroused, look it up, straight up fact.
Speaking of big dicks, the dude with the largest dong measures in at two fucking feet.
My question:
Does he go to Hentai cons? because people would fucking love that shit.

Anyways, today is one of the random, “Meh, I knock one out” days, I’m not active enough to garner new followers, but just active enough to keep the ones I have, and honestly, I don’t check the numbers anymore. Why? I don’t care about them, if I continually check the numbers to see how I’m doing, then I fuck myself with anxiety, and I don’t need that shit in my life again.
I get it now, when people say they turn off social media and what not, they try not to focus too much on it, because that’s just how shit is, you live, you learn, you get excited about nothing in particular, and then you move the fuck on.
I wish for the love of god it were that easy with me.
I kind of hate all my socials with a average sized dick passion. Yes, we’re floating back to that shit, because why the fuck not?
Anyways, to make matters interesting, works been going good, this MET is kicking my ass something fierce, but I’m sticking with it, with the knowledge and passion knowing that sometime in October, I’ll get converted, and with any luck, won’t have a ride situation that’s not going to fuck me out of 600 fucking dollars a fucking month just to get two and from work.
Look, I get it, you got out before they got you out, and you’ve got bills and shit to take care of, but how the fuck come I’ve got to be the one to do that, when clearly, you’ve got the scratch to do that on your own. Fuck, if I’m paying you 600 a month for rides to work and back, that I might as well move in with you, because that right the fuck there is rent levels of money and Jesus fucking Christ.
But at the same time, they’re my friend, and “Do the right thing” is ringing in my head. But momma didn’t raise no sucker, and I know when I’m getting fucked over, friendship or not.
And even when they get back in, it’s still gonna cost me 200 a week to get a ride with them, even when they’ve got their own money coming back in? Citing, gas, oil change, tires, blah blah blah when the fuck did I become responsible for MORE then just gas? Yes, the wear and tear and all that, but at the same time, at the end of each month, after taxes, rent, and gas, I’m essentially getting paid HALF of what everyone else’s is getting to take home. And I’m back to 900 a month instead of 2200 a month, so this is my main fucking gripe right there.

Yeah, we’re friends through thick and thin, but the moment you’re back at work is the moment I’m finding a better ride situation.

Well, I’m annoyed. Maybe.

There’s something to be said about being annoyed.
Maybe it’s the fact I personally have no fucks to give?
Or maybe it’s because there are so many shit titles to great articles that everything’s either “OMG SO INSANE!” Or, “Donald Trump’s NOT going to like this!”
who give’s a fucking shit about that kind of thing, not to mention I got a auto generated spam email from a ‘Hacker’ AND… it’s STUPID, MILDLY INCONVENIENT, and I keep losing track of when I have the caps lock on… Kind weird how that whole thing plays out. But, rather then get into a whole idiotic rant about how the whole of the idiotic world can go fuck itself with ten cactus patches, I’m going to tell the world at large to go fuck off with this inane idiotic bullshit that simply pops up.

Okay, guess I know what I’m focused on today, this should be fun. I’m not that worried about things that annoy me as much anymore. After going through what I’ve been through, not much bothers me anymore. Do I sometimes get confused? Yes. Do I forget shit all the time?
Of course.
Do I give idiots the time of time simply because they’re idiots?
Not all the time, but everyone needs to feel special at one point.

Point being, cycle of stupid repeating itself, over and over, minor changes, blah fucking blah.
Or maybe I’m just irate over something that’s out of my control, and my writing this out is the only way I feel like I have some as-semblance of control?

I honestly don’t know. It’s almost like I forgotten how to be myself since meeting so many people, and maybe it’s a bit confusing because I haven’t had the opportunity to figure myself out yet?
I mean, I have, to a point, though not to the point where I can simply be myself. Well, I can be myself to a point, I’m kind of a people pleaser, but I need to step up the protesting bit…. I like pop-tarts, they’re pretty cool. Sometimes I’ll just snack on them, two at a time!

%d bloggers like this: