Love, love, love

I’m going to unlock a stupid door.
Why’s it stupid?
Because for the longest time I’ve tried shutting it, and there’s no point in trying to resist holding the stupid door shut.
So, let’s talk about love, and just like that, we’re off to the races!

First off, I don’t believe in the societal boundary that love in the workplace won’t work, It’s kind of a dumb thing.
Maybe people just want to fuck and forget?
Maybe they don’t?
Maybe they want something, anything, really something that’ll keep them from losing their damned minds, and love’s pretty much the only thing that’ll do the trick.
Weird thing is, no matter what corporate Earth tries to dangle the sharp stabby stick of “This is my truth, not THE truth” in front of us, we can’t help but be human, and… want to fuck. I mean, c’mon, that’s just human, mammalian nature to want to meet someone that knocks it out of the park for you.
The reason why it’s so weird for me to talk about is because of my history with it. When I’m in love, I’m the happiest, greatest person in the world (Or  it seems that way to me.), when I’m out of it, it’s almost like there’s a part of me missing, almost like a secret shame that I’m not in a relationship.
Also, my self confidence because shit for some reason.
Love is one of those things that can either make or break a person, almost like the reason you’re doing those things, the reason you’re trying to accomplish those tasks, even if they originally were started of your own gumption, while in love, that other person because almost the sole motivating factor.
Is it because we’re trying to impress them?
Or is it just a matter of personal accomplishment, like, “I did this great thing, do you love me more for it?”
It’s kind of strange when you think about it.
Or, at least, it’s strange for me to think about it, almost like I recoil from it, almost.
Well! That’s enough bitching for one post.

There comes a point where coffee tastes bad.

This has nothing to do with that, but it has something to do with taste.
Let’s get something out of the way here, I’ve not had sex in nearly two years.
Yes, this might be the thing we’re talking about here, my lack of penis in vagina activity.
Nope, no regrets.
I’m not going to go off, fuck it, yes I am, because in my self love journey, I’ve been to some strange as fuck place, and… I dunno how I feel about the whole thing.
The sex part, when I was having it regularly, was amazing? I dunno. I only ever finished once, and that took an amazing amount of time, and a lot of focus.
Yes, I’m an easily distracted sex machine.
No, you can’t plug your phone in my ass to charge it.
Yes, I’m very well aware that’s a kind of fetish.
No, I do no want to receive “The Power of Zues” through my ass.
No, I’m not into that kind of thing.
Look, point being, I need to get laid, but in this day and age where any attempt to either get some or get love is a frightening ordeal, because, at any point point, either you or that one super bitchy girlfriend of yours can just up and claim I’m harassing you. The very moment I detect something off, that’s it, I’m cutting myself off from talking to you, and will only engage if absolutely needed.
Now, I know how to treat women with respect, I know how to behave myself, and would much rather things develop organically as opposed to, “Well, time to fuck and see what happens.” Being a guy now a days is… to be honest, a confusing experience in everyway possible.

The basis of the Metoo movement is to make sexual assaulters pay dearly for their crimes against whatever gender their creepy little mitts are wriggling towards. That’s it, and then for a long while, it seemed like every guy was fair game, and men bounded through the tall grass like majestic walruses, “OORPH”ing their way towards a better and brighter future, only to be stopped in t heir tracks by a false claim of grabbin’ some boob.
And trust me, I get it, I truly do, Y’all have put up with enough of guys weird bullshit from the dawn of time, and the damn finally burst, and men were like, “Oh…. Well fuck.”
Now that the tables have turned, so is the dating scene steps, where it’s usually the women who have to initiate Ye Ol’ Dating Ritual.

Which, hey, more power to you.
It’s just a terrifying, scary, nightmarish, and dick shriveling level of anxiety that gets built up into the core of men’s souls wondering whether or not they should go ahead and make a move on Susie Sunshine or be left in the cold icy grip of the Night King, otherwise known as whacking off.
And let’s talk about that for a second, really. Because now there’s a law in Texas, about to pass, that states that men are legally not allowed to whack off, on the premise that it’s killing unconceived children. So, our physiological need to expel built up waste is now under attack in Texas.
Because, really, that’s all that is if it’s not being used to make babies, waste.  Like, really?

I get it, the reproductive rights of women in terms of abortion has been a hotbed of WTF for a long time, with them main question of the debate being, “When does life begin? At the moment of conception, or the moment of birth?”

Well, my answer is this: Until the heart fully develops and starts pumping and the brain develops to the point where the growth stops being a growth and starts being a little human, that exact moment is when life begins. Of course, I have no authority over what women do with their bodies, I can only give my thoughts on the matter and leave it at that.

Anyways, getting back to what I was talking about, dating…. Actually, it’s around 2:27 and I’ve got to get ready for the day.

Fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve written a proper blog…

Although, what the hell is a proper blog post? Is it a collection of like minded thoughts?
Because, you know, if that’s the case, than I am properly fucked. I don’t think I’ve ever had a series of like minded thoughts, just a bunch of confused bullshit that people are like, “HA! Shweet.”
And you know what? I’m fine with that. I’m fine with being in a world in which my channel flippy brain gets confuzzled halfway through a thought and decides that buttercream screaming butterflies are the perfect valentines day gift, for the person you REALLY fucking hate.
And, you know, I’m not blind to my underuse of exclamation points, really!

Today I want to talk about love. And Workplaces.
And amazon.
And the holy shit storm of why either their a good thing or a bad thing, or maybe I’ll just continually switch topics, because I’m a rebellious bastard and you love me for that.
“Today, we’re talking puppies and the monster trucks who love them. Way too much.”
Yeah, so strap in for some enlightened as fuck shit, because this god damned thing is filled to the brim with swearing and clown beastiality referees. I meant to write that.

Yesterday, we got put in 5S, and me being me, I began to draw, something I do to pass the time. One of my friends then asked me a bunch of questions, some personal, others not, most I can’t remember, but she was cool.
Then my other friend, Karen, Who I think might have a crush on me? I don’t like to assume anything anymore, I just leave it up to the winds of chance and whatever seems to be going on that day to figure shit out, also talked to me about my drawing, and we got to talking for a while, and it was a pretty good conversation, filled with ups and downs, twists and turns, and you fucking hate the fact I’m not giving you the deets!
Well, I can’t remember the deets, so we’re pretty much in the same boat here.

Anyways, i leave to go to the bathroom, come back, and I get snagged into Water Spidering, which is indirect work, but still critical, for Prep… And for about 40% I would say, I knocked things out of the park, I kept tote lines going, swept, moved pallets and cages, just in general, was an amazing beast of burden. Or unburdening, that’s like an Anti-Donkeh, right?

There was this one woman, really tiny, like, ridiculously small, looks almost like a kid, but she isn’t. She doesn’t talk much, but she’s got an amazing smile, which, hey, bonus points for getting her to smile! Anyways, she’s a sweet person, much luck to her in whatever she chooses to do in life.

Meanwhile, i’m apartment hunting, I’ve got my eyes set on a place or two, as well as the bedding needed to make sure I conserve as much space as possible, and was kind of blown away by the fact there’s a triple bunk bed, like, holy shit people! A triple bunk bed! that’s like witnessing a majestic Unicorn horn fuck a leperchaun right through the face, while the little fuckers barfing gold bars! I mean, yeah, it’s a bunk bed, but a fucking triple!?

Jesus fucking christ.

Oh, I also made my first communion.
Every once in a while I’ll still upload a video or two, but I haven’t been as interested in it. Growing my channel has become annoying as fuck, and I just decided, fuck it, not going to bother. I are there people who’ll enjoy my stuff? Maybe, I’ll never know.. I get just a bit depressed thinking about it, too many trolls, or algorithms or whatever, or maybe I just upload bad content, fuck if I know or care anymore. While there are peeps out there, my hearts just not in it anymore. That’s the long and short of it now a days. My hearts not in making vids anymore, and it’s not making me any money, so why should I bother?

Yeah, there was for the enjoyment of it, but constant criticism about the whole thing has whittled away at my enthusiasm for it, and until I get my own place, I don’t think I’ll be able to really get back into it. Things change over time, needs change,

Women… Phhh

First off, y’all… are strange as fuck.
And, here’s why that’s a good thing.
you are innovators.
you are geniuses.
you are teachers.
You are muses.
you are inspiration.
You are literally the engine that keeps humanity going, and yes, talking about crotch stuff. Well, belly… you know what I’m talking about. TALKIN’ BOUT EJECTING A TINY HUMAN FROM CROTCH HOLE AFTER FUN FUN TIME!
Men are just as insecure about mating as women are about men being insecure about mating.
Here’s the thing, and fun with girl logic memes:
A gal, hanging around with some guy friends, in some cases, has to claim she has a boyfriend, (I said in SOME cases) so that any potential annoying flirts will be knocked away, like a fluffy cat, batting at a piece of string. The string of hope, it dangles. Like old man balls. Bat, fluffy cat, bat.
Getting off track, I honestly have no fucking clue where I was going with this, needless to say, it’s hard for me to transition from friend to boyfriend, because then I get caught up in what’s allowed versus not allowed because then it’s a whole new ballgame, and I’d rather meet someone new with the sole intention of getting with them, and while the friends first thing works out a ton, it just confuses the fuck out of me, because if things don’t work out, and I’m sending you the “go ahead” signal, but you don’t send it back, wtf does the mean?
Try harder?
Stop trying?
Eat at Joe’s?
Where the fuck is Joe’s?
What do they serve?
Are there annoying yelp reviews that I can make fun of?
Most importantly, with women, in this day and age, dating is fucking terrifying, because ya don’t know how the gal is going to react, what the hell is going through her head, and more importantly, what the percentage of success you’re going to have is, I’m not talking how often is it going to end up in sex, I’m simply talking getting to the next date and so on and so forth, especially with the ingrained perception that YOU MUST HAVE AT LEAST THIS MUCH TO EVEN QUALIFY FOR A DATE!
And even then, it’s a fucking mystery as to which women will reply to what messages in what style and that’s another set of SHERLOCK BOOKS THAT TAKES YEARS TO GET THROUGH and the whole time you’re thinking to yourself, ‘The fuck. Could be at home watching porn!’
But nooooooo!
That’s always the wrong answer, porn is never the right answer, unless the question being asked is “How many feathers can I get away with?”
But now you’re just focusing on the feathers instead of the date and that’s how you wind up ordering the Chicken when you REALLY just wanted the steak!

See!?
See what I mean!?
Now I want more chicken.
So, in short, dating is fucking terrifying, I want more chicken, and women are the perpetual motion machines of humanity, because you help slap the stupid out of men. Also, my cat has a furry monoboob… need to get that thing checked out.

Dear Amy, here’s all the things I want to say to you.

This is to a woman I’ve dated for around 7 months with no progress… And I’m not going to hold back.
Dear Amy,
You want to know the reason i’m not really talking to you?
It’s not because of your family.
It’s not because of you (Partially).
Actually, no, check that last ones… Every conversation we have online turns into you talking about how crappy your life is because you feel alone.
We all feel alone, that’s why we try to hang out with people we think have common interests.
Unfortunately, you tend to take everything and make it about you…. so, fun! This is conjunction with the fact you have a thing about long messages (which by far are more convieniant than short messages leaving me with a puzzled look on my face about what exactly it is I’m supposed to infer from the words, “Nope, I’m fine now.” apart from the following:
“I’m fucking with your head, because you wouldn’t talk to me when I wanted to talk to you but you were busy then, and now that you’re free to talk, I don’t want to talk to you.”
how is this supposed to get me to understand anything, it’s like you take every bit of advice from jokes and memes clearly not meant to be taken seriously, and while I do applaud your forwardness, calling me an asshole for just wanting to break away from my 20 year habit (I’m 34) of going from relationship to relationship, or straight on to dating, or saying something you don’t agree with, is just… .weird. And I’m not talking about anything major, it’s the littlest thing which can set you off on a tangent, and yay, great, lovely.
Whatever.
the fact of the matter is I don’t have the patience I used to.
More over, I told you I loved you annnnnd nothing, just straight on to the next clump of sadness you needed to unload. I get wanting to take your time, but my attraction to you has it’s limits, and if I’m not getting anything in return, nevermind the physical, ’cause outside of me giving you a back massage, there was nothing.
I got you nearly 150 bucks in christmas gifts, there wasn’t a thank you.
I was checking my account to see if I had enough for the rest of the week for expenses, gas money, rent, and you told me not to worry about it.
I asked straight up if you loved me back emotionally, and you basically said nope.
So, why then, should I bother continue to date someone if it’s just going to be a one way thing?
Why should I continue to bother wondering if there’s any possibility of ANYTHING happening when the closer I think We getting to that goal line, the harder you make it for there to even be an ‘Us’?
Shit happened, crappy relationships, douchebag friends, I got that, no need to go into detail,and most importantly:
You were going into nursing, studying the crap out of the subject, you showed me your workbook, and it was filled to the brim with notes, answers, references, and it showed you poured your heart into the subject, but when you got the opportunity to knock it out of the park, you let the words of some idiot teacher and a few bitchy women get in the way of you succeeding and decided instead to go for other jobs.
far be it from me to lambast you for choosing how to live your life, but at the same time, dear fucking god, woman, wtf?
So, I’m done, I’m taking a break, and this part has nothing to do with you, I’m finally taking a break for my own benefit, why, you ask?
Because for so long I’ve let my self confidence be determined by if I have a girlfriend or not, and that’s not a healthy way for ANYONE to live.
I need to have self confidence based on my own level of self esteem, nothing else.
Again, this part has nothing to do with you, even though you’ll think it definitely does, because yeah, that’s a thing.

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