Technology! it’s a good thing!

Or… maybe not, it all depends on what you’re looking for. Really, look, I get it, you’re looking for quality, meme producing content, or you might be a blog snob, but fear not, for I give zero fucks, and you my friend, are in the right place after all! Sometimes i wonder if the things we think about are the things we should be focused on,. Lemme explain y’all something, right?
Okay, so the things we focus on aren’t exactly the things we need to focu on at the moment, because there are tons of other things going through our heads at any one point in time, it’s a combination of douche fuckery that’s both entertaining and dissuading at the same time, and I get it.
You have a set schedule and limited shit to do, but for me, something that might need to be focused on is suddenly and irrevocably distracted by some idiot wondering into my field of view or just a dumb ass random action which will invariably cause a mediocre avalanche or other things and…. well, nothing will get done.
I’m starting to think I might have ADHD, or maybe my blank mind is so zen that, well, I float like a butterfly and fuck like a bee…
Wait, that’s not how that saying goes, but fuck that, let’s move on to whatever random and mind fumblingly dumb bull shit we seem to have forgotten about or moved onto today, shall we?
Because that’s the law of averages, and sometimes, you just need  that fluff and filler to vacuum out the smarter shit in your life.
Those who know me and have had conversations with me while I’m in my unfiltered or unfocused state, kind of like a flashlight with courgettes, or however that words spelled, will no doubt have had one of those moments, where nothing makes senses, but at the same time, you’re like, well, this is different, let’s give it a go!

And that’s what I’m all about, the random ,the mystifying, the weirdly dumb and sometimes funny. Because while yes, I could do what the rest of the world likes, and follow one stream of thought or another on how many fucking selfies I need to take with various filters colors or stupid manufactured bull shit, that’s… not what I’m about. I can’t handle all that prep just for a single picture that will invariable be ignored by the majority of social Media addicted brain slugs that crawl among us, hidden in their own ethereal covens of giggles coffee, and tiny mustaches. I have a BEARD DAMN IT!

And that beard is like a sex magnet, if… that were only the case and I could stay focused long enough to actually try and be a sex magnet.

Let me tell you about the God of All Things, Randy. that was a weird as fuck segway, but I swear, everything will connect on a level you never saw coming, and this is why I continue to only get a few interaction on my blog at a time.

Randy is a magician at what he does, but lemme tell about something else entirely, why? Because I take a few weeks to finish blog posts for some reason, and my cats keep doing the thing, oh shit! I forgot to get the laundry started, annnnnd that’s now a thing.
but more then that is the concept of loving who you are or what you are.
Males?
We got the dick ball combo, nothing wrong with that, that’s just how we’re built.
The Ladies?
Y’all got boobs, vagina, and the uterus, which, in all honesty, put y’all one step ahead of us… I think.
Okay i’m going to talk about this, because I’m kind of tired of the whole mentality that guys are taking a step back in media, cause we’re riding the same wave as you girls, and y’a know what? it goes around the sun, and no matter what, Furbies are still fucked.

They truly are fucked in the head, little adorable creatures that for no real reason will start yapping their plastic asses off because that’s EXACTLY what I want to hear in the middle of the morning, that sweet sweet release of, “ME LOVE YOUR SOUL!”

Yeah, that’s kind of fucking priceless right there. THIS IS QUALITY CONTENT PEOPLE! Like and subscribe if you feel the need to validate my existence, which I know you don’t!
Because free will is willingly free, or we’d all be paying a subscription fee, which I think we already kind of do, since you know, Amazon Prime and all of that, but that’s neither here nor there, I use a lot of the same sayings from time to time don’t I?
Shit, now i’m a bit self conscious, but there’s smoke and fire, sometimes you’ll find a hobo whacking it with lighter while smoking a soggy cigar.
Why?
Cause that’s how this shit sometimes rolls y’all!
We got to keep it real, or virtual, because sometimes what’s being read or written isn’t really what’s being said. Because then we’d all be taken way the fuck too literally and there’s nothing wrong with that, if you can call that living.
Actually, on the topic of living, is there such a thing as too much living? I think there is, like, really living. Cells multiplying more than they should, but relatively speaking, I think that’s just called cancer.
But why is cancer called cancer?
doesn’t that feel a bit ironic for peeps who are Cancers via the astrological sign, who get cancer, and they’re like, “Well, HA!?” And that just sets up the whole domino effect of what ifs by comparing similar words to similar situations, all though I could be wrong about that.

god, I miss just being about to write whatever comes to mind, because then it’s such a freeing experience, you don’t have anyone tripping balls in your general direction and yes, I know!

this was such a promising blog post, and then the stinginess of the topic went away and I started being myself!

How fucking weird is that!?

Anyways, I’ve just reached 1030 words totals on this thing. Time to post for no reason.

 

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.

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.

Fun Fact: women like sex too!

For the uninformed, this will surprise and shock you to no end!
Worlds will be changed forever!
Societies will crumble and shift!
No, Butterscotch toffee won’t save your stupid man baby brain from shattering into a thousand pieces you fucking idiot.

for the informed:
Carry on as usual.
If you see men screaming in panic, they are the dumb ones.

Questions for women.

Some of these might trigger, some might not. Don’t know, but there’s your trigger warning.

1. Do you ever think about the fact that physiologically speaking, and if one were ever at WTF levels of kink, your urethra and your birth canal are separate?

2. As a mother to a daughter, do you ever think of offering advice in regards to materials to stuff ones bra with?
I actually had to think about that last one before moving on.

3. If y’all evolved an ability to shoot out clouds of PMS blood, like squids do ink to escape predators, would you use it?

4. Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror and worry that, while yes, your bust to butt ratio is perfect, getting in shape might reduce the fatty tissue in your breasts, therefore obliterating any chance that bottle of Cabernet is going to make you feel any better when the bitchy girl on The Bachelor gets voted off, yet again.

5. Remember, sex is only as good as long as you’re focused on it, so those women with ADHD, theoretically, only enjoy sex in minute amounts in mixture with how you feel about butterscotch candies.
I lost my thought process.

6. Yes, you can get literally married to Jesus, buuuuut your sex life will suffer, you’ll eat alone, arguments will be one sided, you won’t gain or lose anything in the divorce, and sleeping with anyone else besides a bible or wooden cross, while society will consider that perfectly normal, well… Jesus is always watching, and so is his father and the holy spirit. Kinky.

7. I get the appeal of dressing up as a Sexy anything and going to party, every other girl will have the same theme, so perfect camo for avoiding your Ex.

8. To me, if a woman I’m interested in says she’s not interested back, I’ll just accept it as that. Okay, I’ve simply run out of questions here. Conversely, if she tells me that she’s interested afterwards, I have a hard time accepting one evidence over the old and just leave it as is.

9. Why the fuck does ANYONE need to spend over 50 bucks on a dildo? No matter how much you spend on the thing, all dildos, in the end, will have the same effect. You use it, enjoy it, put it away, look at your bank account, and wonder why you’re going to late paying off your next cell phone bill… Not because of buy a $50 dollar dildo… Because of all those nights out with the girls. fuck it, can’t think of a good punchline.

Oh right, fat, thin, obese, normal, whatever shape you are? Whatever size bust you have?whatever level of education you’re achieving, always remember that we live in a society that will ultimately judge you based on your accomplishments, yeah, men kind of have a rip on things at the moment, but just know that eventually, those men in power will pass away, and leave in their absence the opportunity for you to take a spin in that big ol office.
You got this, the question is though, do you have the absolute beast mode to go after it?

Of course you do. Stop doubting yourself already.

Dear Women, yes… ALL of y’all.

I don’t understand breasts.
Let’s be frank here, and if you don’t like being Frank, there’s always Luanne. Which, I GUESS is kind of the female version of being frank, although, you COULD be Gina, or Gary!
Anyways, I’m not talking about breasts in the kinky way that might make one cringe when thinking about a gal rolling in a dogpile of porcupines…. Fuck it, the crazy train left the station and it’s building up steam, so why not keep going?
Anyways, breasts have always intrigued me, naturally, and in some cases, unnaturally.
I really don’t know where I’m going with this.
What mystifies me the most is how something on your upper torso can cause you to have lower back pain… Oh wait, the additional weight of both breasts, especially with larger chested women, causes slight spinal compression, which puts pressure on the nerves in that area, causes a risk for paralysis and the evolution of shooting nipple lasers.
Wait, no, that’s wrong.
But it sounds FUCKING AWESOME! The niplasers, not the paralysis…
I forget where i was going with this, parttly because my energy drink addled brain is twitchy as fuck, and my dog needed to go outside, so… Yup! something about the inherent natural beauty that women have, adding to the mystique about hte female mind from the male perspective.
Though really, y’all probably want the more assholish guys or gals to stop cat calling you, among other things, like I said, completely blanked on where I was going with this…. I want a bowl of doritos now.
Right, also, to my new followers, sometimes I write random posts, it ain’t always going to be thought provoking… well, it always provokes the thought of why I ever think any of these posts are a great idea.
But, fortune favors the bold… i guess.
Right, boobs serve a function, nutrition, signaling, and if large enough, the absolute destroyer of watermelons… but at what cost?

Howdy! I’ve got nothing but… love?

So, a big thing with me is trying to either figure out if I’m in love, out of love, or if someone’s smitten with me or not. Usually it’s not, but there are some weird exceptions to the rule, and this isn’t coming from some egotistical point of view where I constantly think, EVERYONE WANTS TO FUCK ME HARD AND BREAK MY BED SPRINGS!” God, as awesome as that would be, I still hold out hope that a bus full of cheerleaders wants me to…. well, fuck em… what else? A MAN CAN DREAM DAMN IT!

Anyways, at work, I’ve been trying to keep to myself and I’ve been failing at that with as much grace as a flame in a wind storm, you know? But, when you spend ten hours a day around the same people, day after day, eventually, something’s going to click, and so, that kind of thing has happened, maybe, I might be reading too much into the whole thing, and maybe I’ve stepped into it yet again, but hey, always hold out hope for love, you know?

Anyways, there are a couple of cute gals at work, and we get along pretty well, and I’m pretty much straight forward with the work type things, and so are they, because, you know, co-workers and all of that.  I need to clip my nails, drives me nuts when I’m writing and they keep popping against the thing, anyways, I finally got the gumption to be all casual like and suggest to one of the gals that we should exchange numbers when we get the chance, and she seems pretty down for the idea, which is cool.

Like i said, I’m trying to be as calm as possible here because you never know if something’s going to go sideways, down, or up, which is just me being cautious, because that kind of thing is always a bit terrifying, maybe it’s just my own hormones kicking the crap out of whatever doubt I’m currently facing down? Or maybe i’m finally becoming a bit more confident at work, since it’s a professional environment and not some college campus where shit is just crazy as fuck sometimes.

The stories I could tell you and probably already have. i’ll keep you guys and gals updated, maybe I’ve found a new gal pal, or maybe just another friend to chat with between bouts of work, who knows? I’m just excited to be on the market again, even though I think I always might’ve been from the moment I switched from being being in a relationship to being single… There is that bit of recovery time though, right? The resetting of the way how one thinks about things… It is an adjustment. Anyways, work awaits, and I’m pretty psyched about the the day, one more day till PERDER!!!! Or, you know…

Payday! Woot motherfuckers!

The take away from this is Voldemort chose a better career.

Okay, can someone please explain to me why game developers think that women need just a metal bikini to protect themselves, while guys get a full set of armor? What, do these tiny fleck of metal mysteriously have damage nullifying enhancements to protect their chest and torso? Do the think cleavage has metallic properties, can deflect bullets, and that it doesn’t have as much sensitivity!? It’s kinda pissing me off that that there isn’t a game where the male characters don’t sport mysteriously metal mankinis as well. Gender equality in games needs to happen as well.


Something like this. Maybe.

Though in retrospect, I DID just write a short story about a pre-dark wizard Tom Riddle as a birthday clown… Sooo… I guess take this with a grain of salt?


No, no you may not. AND WE DON’T WANT BALLOONS WITH THAT!

My brains on FIAH!

Okay… So the Oscars are coming up,m and like everyone else wwith a more fucked up pulse than that of either Charly Sheen, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards,, or even god forbid R, I despise the ego stroke fest that it has become. It’s a testament of time when you consider that all the big hitters of these years have been movies that take our favorite movie monsters, and turn them into simpering, whiny, emotionally damaged versions that only appeal to twelve year old girls, scenemo kids with more brightly colored hair than any one of the Beatles acid trips, lonely house wives, or Glenn Beck., Because honestly, most characters tearful cries for help arem ore real than one fat cell on that fuck nuts body.

but I’m getting behind myself, because myself is waiting for the big one. And by big one, I’m talking whatever hatred decides to spring up today. So What should spur my ranting more than ego stroking Oscar statues? Emozombies. Glampires. Wherethefuck wolves. And Snookie. I fucking Hate Snookie. Or is it snicker? I can’t tell the difference now and Day because I’ve been awesome at catching things that fucking annoy the hell out of me worse then a David Crosby reunion.

Because David Crosby isn’t a band. He’s a Quadruple Amputy with less forgiveness than a horde of midgets hanging out on the set of Wizard of Oz. And that shit just fucking rocks no matter who the shit you think you are. I’m not really sure if I’m trying to kill the old “Ripping hollywood A New One” Post, but apparently, It’s working.

Back to things that Anger me. Pageant mothers. Dance Mothers. Drama Parents who force their own broken dreams down their already emotionall deranged kids throats in an attempt to make them “Listen” and “Behave” in a way that makes them think that its normal to Falcon Paunch a fat kid and expect little ripples on his flab to form. 

Yes, I used “Paunch” Instead of “Punch”! Why!? WHY DO YOU QUESTION THAT WHICH YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT! FALCON….. PAAAAUUUUNCH! On a sidenote, I almost put Nipples instead of Rippkles. which, in hindsight, would’ve been fucking hysterical, because nipples forming on a fat mans flab from Falcon Paunching him in the side would be the MOST epic jump in evolution ever.

I just forcefully farted. No! *Dramatic Pose* I…. FALCON FAAAAAAUUUUGHTED! Doesn’t have the same effect. Seriously though. I find that all awards shows are based on the whole basis of “Ha! I have a shiny thing and you don’t!” Premise. 

Also, I will not fall into the “I’mma make myself look weak while exerting my power over you!” Thing because fuck you, that’s why. I’m not going top pull any punches today, I’m irritated because I was watching a bootleg of “Warm Bodies” And expected Zombinja fights out a giants ass that was both ON fire and shooting fire out of its nose! Instead, I got a negaverse version of Romeo and Juliet, once again tailored to the tweenaged girls of the world. WHY DO THEY RUIN OUR FAVORITE MONSTERS!?

Before I go any further, I’d like to vent my hidden frustration Nuke on a very personal subject. 

Crazy Women. More than that, Crazeh Single women in the high desert. There are a lot of these creatures out there. i love em to death, and hope to one day trap a speciment for experiments involving dinner, movies, and ravaging love making that’d make even Zeus, Toony Danza, and Spongebob shit out their manliness in the ever present trauma that, fuck yeah, I tore them apart.

I don’t know why, but my profile picture kinda looks like a mutated vagina. But… Yeah, Fuck the Oscars.

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