Guna Die Alone the last chapter

Mexico was gone, and I couldn’t keep up my façade. I had magically gone from 5 women 0 in a matter of days.

I felt like some wild beast roaming blind through the wilderness, looking for someone to maul, as I thrash about, and crash into trees. I was all alone.

At least twice during her stay in Fort Collins, I reminded mexico of what I told her before she came out to see me. I’m a mess, and it’s not going to happen. I fucking told her this, over and over, but she still didn’t quite understand. That’s women for you. Now at this point I won’t go off on some tangent about how crazy chicks are or that they don’t listen or whatever. I told her the truth, but she still didn’t get it. So all I really have to say is UGH!

To be honest I missed Sarah more than ever. I didn’t just miss her because I was lonely, and had pulled a relationship Titanic over the last few months.

I missed her, because I missed her. And I’m exhausted from trying to convince myself and everyone else that I don’t miss her. I’d be taking the easy way out if I blamed all of these events on Sarah. That just isn’t my style. Sure she had something to do with it, no doubt, but what it comes down to is my inability to handle these situations in a manner that regular people would consider “proper”. I was really upset when she left, and my usual routine of tearing everything around me to shreds, just seemed like the best option. None of those girls would have ever been as good as she was in my mind. I knew that then, and I know that now. I just didn’t know what else to do.

Anyway, as I said in the last entry, the story isn’t over yet. My anger gets one more shot.

So Mexico is gone, but despite my efforts, she just doesn’t fucking get it. She keeps calling me, and sending me messages so all I can think to do is ignore her. It’s a classic maneuver. Take sand, insert face, then hope for the best. Sadly, this usually never works, and of course it didn’t. Then she gets angry. She is convinced that I’m fucking other girls.

I hope you all appreciate the irony of this situation. At this point I’m not actually fucking anybody, and she’s accusing me of cheating. Cheating! I fucking told this stupid sack of estrogen that I didn’t want anything to do with her. Now I’m cheating! What the fuck!

This just goes on and on by the way. Not for days, but for weeks. More or less the entire month of December. Here are a few examples of the text messages she sent me, since I won’t answer my phone.

“When did it get to the point where you cringe every time I try and talk to you?” That’s fucking creepy. How the fuck can she see me doing that from fucking Arizona?

“…Oh and tell your new fuck friend I said hi…dick!” Yeah that’ll hurt my feelings. Good one. Moments later I get this next one.
“I’m not some stupid blonde you know. I’m a brunette with brains.” Now that’s funny. Considering that you are a brunette, you’re acting pretty fucking stupid.

“I’m driven, and I have goals. None of those other skanks you fuck will ever hold a candle to me.” That’s an epic fail if I’ve ever heard one.

I’m not making this shit up, in case you were curious. These are all actual messages that I received from her, after I told her that we couldn’t date. She fucking crazy isn’t she? Sometime after this my buddy Tim took my phone when we were drunk and sent her a text message, after I had been berated by her for a good hour. He thought it would be pretty funny, and I’ll agree it is fairly hilarious to think about it now, but at the time I was pretty pissed about it. He took my phone and told her, “You made my room smell like butterflies.”

He sent this because we had been joking about how she did make my room smell like butterflies, rainbows, unicorns and all that gay fucking shit I can’t stand. But it backfired terrible, because that crazy whore thought that it meant I missed her. Fucking disaster!

So more crazy messages, just like the examples I have shown you, until I can’t stand it anymore. So I call her and I say again that I’m a fucking train wreck, a sinking ship, I’m going down in flames, whatever fucking metaphor you prefer, and that we’re not going to happen. Do you get it lady? We are not going to happen.

Something strange came over me, and I even offered to help her out if she moved here. Which sadly, she is. I said I’d introduce her to some people and help her get settled or whatever since I’m the only person she knows here. Probably a mistake on my part, but at the time it seemed like an ok idea. But at the end I reiterated that we would never happen.

She still didn’t get it. So I say we can be friends or nothing, does that make sense? Then she asks me to define friends. To which I respond, what the fuck do you think it means? Friends! The classic definition of friends. As in no fucking! Then she went off about how I was talking to other girls, and sleeping with them and shit. So my patients have run out at this point. I tell that worthless pile of cunt slut that up to this point she was the last girl that I’d had sex with, and that even if I was fucking other girls I can do whatever the fuck I want because I’d already told her that we weren’t going to be together! FUCK!

Think of every scene from every movie where some guy’s head explodes. Scanners is a good one. Anyway, think of that, and that is me at that moment. I then hung up the phone. She still sends me messages from time to time, but I’m not interested in talking to her.

Alright, so all of this shit with mexico is going on all the while princess is still around. The next time I see princess after the bean spilling incident, she still comes up to me and gives me a big hug, and I talk to her about my interesting week. I inform her I had kind of a shitty week, to which she inquires, “Because of the Mexico girl?” Hilarious. I say yes, and tell her that I broke it off with crazy face.

Then it was odd. We carried on our relationship like the whole incident never happened. Still lots of flirting, touching, and stuff. She’ll come up to me give me a big delicious hug and say she “loves me to bits”, or something like that. And yes, it still turns me to mush every time. So then I start to thinking, maybe all is not lost on this one. Maybe I can still salvage some sort of relationship with this chick. It wouldn’t be Sarah, but no one is going to be Sarah. I need to move on, Sarah had already moved on.

So we keep hanging out somewhat regularly as we had done before. Then on one particular evening, when princess, a few of our mutual friends, and I were all pretty drunk, I had an interesting conversation with one of the crew. It was at the very end of the evening, and we were all about to part ways. As I said we were all pretty fucking wasted so I can’t really remember how we got to this point in the conversation, but I certainly remember what followed.

It more or less consisted of him telling me about how we all see princess as this sisterly figure we all want to look out for. The first thing that came to my mind was that this guy must not be very good at paying attention, since the last thing I wasn’t to do with princess is think of her as my sister. I also thought I was totally obvious about it. Regardless, I humor him. He then continues that line of thought with how we all like to look out for her and stuff as a result. Right drunky I get it, we’re all friends and we look out for one another, what the fuck is your point? Then he mentions how she’s made some bad choices. Ok, now I’m intrigued.

Before I reveal what he said, I would like to thank alcohol for making people gratuitously, and unnecessarily honest for no fucking reason.

He then informs me of some gentlemen that she had engaged in sexual intercourse with, that he felt was a poor choice, and how he wished she would make better choices. I’m all ears. He names off 2 specific examples of guys she’s slept with fairly recently, and my jaw detaches from my face and falls to the ground.

That had done it. My blue balls burst right there on the spot, as the cage door swung open. I was unleashed on the world again.

He named 2 men that were also regulars at the bar I work at. This didn’t surprise me. They were men that I had to see all the fucking time, and I fucking hated them. For the record I already hated them before I found out they’d had sex with princess. After that I just hated them more.

These 2 guys are probably some of the dirtiest, scummiest, stupidest, frat boy pieces of shit I’ve ever seen. Picture the typical college frat guy, which I’ve already described, and age him a decade, and that is how I would describe these two guys. Still acting exactly the fucking same when they were stuffing nerds in their lockers and slipping sorority sluts pills so a big group of them could all gang bang some chick’s poor unfortunate vagina. Then make them big condescending pricks, since they’re butt hurt they never amounted to anything, which is why they still mow lawns and scoop french fries. I could keep going about how much I hate them, but it comes down to this. Everything that I hate about people, and of course, everything I hate about myself are all crammed into these 2 guys.

Then add the image of them fucking the girl I have a crush. Just the thought of their sweaty nasty fucking asses hovering over her, pawing and gnawing at her skin, only to wriggle their disease ridden cocks up inside her, and huff and puff until they bust a nut…it just makes me want to…it just makes me want to…ugh!

Or the thought of her sucking on those same disease ridden cocks, and swallowing their cum, and actually liking it! The whole thing makes we want to vomit!

So people how angry did this make me? HOW FUCKING ANGRY DID THIS MAKE ME!
Well…

It made me so angry I immediately wanted to go out and murder a litter of puppies. Fuck it, make it a couple litters of puppies. While I’m at it, throw a couple litters of kittens in their too. Then I want to personally strangle each one to death, savoring each whimper, moan, and struggling motion those little fluff balls produce. Just picture those furry little faces and big cute eyes. Go ahead fucking picture it. Now imagine those same cute little eyes fucking exploding from the pressure as I scream and bash their little bodies into the wall. Once I’m done murdering all the puppies and kittens I’d like to cut open all of their tiny little corpses and hate fuck their entrails until I fill each one up with jizz, like a fucking éclair from Dunkin Donuts.

After that I’ll gather all the cute jizz filled bodies and stuff them in a big frilly basket. I will swiftly take that basket to the hospital, and waltz right in to the children’s cancer ward. I’ll stand in the middle of the room and then proceed to pelt all of those pathetic bald mother fuckers with my collection of adorable cadavers packed full with my hateful sperm. When I run out of puppies and kittens to throw I’ll run up to each individual dieing child and smear the cuddly carrion all over their stupid little faces, that are no doubt terrified and dripping with jizz, just to make sure their last moments on Earth are traumatized and full of pain.

Hopefully I’ll make such a scene the cops will show up and murder me in a hail of gunfire as I proclaim that I am The God Of Fuck! Once I’m dead, I’ll sprout those wings of black and ascend into the sky. I’ll tear it asunder and drown the world in my molten jizz before I fly into the sun and put an end to myself as well.

This is how angry I can get.

But for the record, I actually like puppies and kittens.

OK DEEP BREATHS!

So yes the news made me pretty fucking upset, which just added onto my already present frustrations with mexico and everything else. But at least my rage was out again, which meant I had a way of releasing my tension. The fact that I talk about doing these terrible things ensures that I won’t do them. That was the whole point of this blog, in case you forgot.

So I didn’t kill any puppies or kittens, but what I did do was go out the next night, and the next night, and so on and get annihilated, and hate fuck whoever I could find. I was the God of Fuck again, and it felt good.

After a week or two of this I took a moment for self reflection. It occurred to me that I was a giant angry whore, and I’ve had sex with a fair amount of unsavory ladies in my time. Therefore, I decided it would be unfair for me to hate princess for her sexual decisions, when I probably do worse things. Sure, my image of her had been slightly sullied, but fucking whatever. I think to myself, “I’m fucking Mandrew god damnit! And If I want this chick I’ll fucking get her!” Honestly, the things that go through my head sometimes.

So I decide to send her flowers on her birthday, which was at the beginning of January. Once the flowers arrive I’ll tell her what’s been going through my head about her, and see what happens. Now I never fucking send flowers. Like ever. It’s just not my style. I think it’s stupid. Still, I decide to try it since it’s something I never do. Maybe it’ll work out.

So I buy the flowers, and have them delivered to her house on her birthday. When she gets them she immediately calls me. I was asleep. She tells me how much she likes them, and how thoughtful it was, and blah blah blah. I was going to tell her how I was feeling right then but I choked. I don’t know why, but I choked. So that ended poorly, but she told me she’d be at the bar later while I was working to celebrate and stuff, so I figured I’d talk to her then.

Sure enough, while I’m working she comes in ready to party. She gives me a big hug and gets all goopy on me again over the flowers. I choked again. She even came up to me again after all her friends were distracted to talk to me, and I choked a third time. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I realize now that I choked because, princess isn’t Sarah. There’s not much else to say. I don’t figure this out till later of course. I decided after that to stop being a pussy and just go fucking tell her. Anyway, I get busy and don’t get the chance to until later. Right when I’m finally going to do, what is it that I see? Well, I see princess making googly eyes at, and making out with one of the 2 gentlemen I mentioned earlier. She apparently really does like him, despite all the things I’ve observed.

Well, that’s it. That’s fucking it! How angry am I now? Go ahead and guess. How FUCKING ANGRY am I now!

Actually, it didn’t make me angry at all. I just didn’t fucking care. Kind of makes me laugh. Maybe I’m growing as a person. If that’s the guy she likes, then good for her. I just don’t have the energy to keep this up. Good for them I guess.

So that’s it folks. That’s the end of my story. And in case you were wondering, yes, this is the kind of shit that happens to me all the time. Still, I can’t complain. I intend to update this blog regularly, but probably not as frequently as I have been during this story. But if you’ve enjoyed what I’ve said, then please keep reading.

After all that shit I’m alone again, and that’s probably where I should be. I’ve spoken to a few girls since this all went down, but I haven’t really gone out with or slept with anyone. I’m not sure I can adequately explain just how exhausted I am. There’s just one more thing.

Dear Sarah,

Part of me hopes you’ve read all of this, and part of me hopes you’ll just keep living your life happily without any thoughts of me to complicate your situation. If you have been reading, I wonder if you’re so disgusted with me that we’ll never speak again, or if you actually do understand me like I felt you did when we were together.
There’s nothing I can say to let you know how sorry I am. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been honest with you from the start, and that I ruined what we might have had. At this point I would never dream of asking you to uproot your life for me, given the state I find myself in. I just want you to know how important our time together was to me, and that you’ve affected my life for the better. I felt like a better person when you were around. Never lose sight of your goals, and stay true that wonderful person I know you to be.

Love Always,

Andrew


Not long ago Sarah got in touch with me. It came as a welcomed surprise. I felt that calm come over me again, and I was happy for a second. I mentioned to her how I had been trying to take my writing more seriously. She said she was interested in reading some of my stuff. I told her that if she was really interested I’d send her some poems I had written to get her started while I polished some of my longer pieces.

I’ll post those poems soon, for you all to read.

Not long after she got in touch with me again to talk to me about my writing. She said that after she read my poems, she felt there was a great sadness in me. I paused. I didn’t know what to say.

Guna Die Alone part 13

On mexico’s last day, I was granted a small reprieve from her extremely irritating presence. She had to go take care of the last of her school nonsense which was apparently going to take all day.

Thank you Jesus! Even if you are make-believe.

After she leaves I quickly decide to ditch all my classes and go have lunch with my best friend Tim instead. After we eat we decide it’s on our best interest to go have a few cocktails as well.

I remember that princess had taken my gear to the bar I work at, so I suggest we go have a drink over there so I can pick up my stuff. Seemed like a great idea, since mexico was off doing her own thing and I wouldn’t have to worry about being seen with her.

When we get to the bar, who is there? Well princess is there, just hanging out on her day off. This is where I must remind the audience that this is mexico’s last day in town. In less than 24 hours she’ll be gone and I’ll be off the hook.

At this point I turn back into that horny puppy figure and I plop myself down on a stool next to princess and we immediately start bonding over the metal music she had brought into the bar to play. Tim and I order some drinks, and nothing exciting happens at all. Then finally it’s all over.

The bartender who was working at the time just flat out asks me if my girlfriend was here. Now I knew all my co-workers knew about mexico, and they only sort of knew she was coming, since I was so shocked at first I couldn’t keep it all to myself. They just didn’t know when exactly.

So not only did this person ask me about mexico right in front of princess, but they start going off about all this shit like, “Did you pork her?”

I’m so furious all I can do is shake my head.

“Did you dump her?”

I shake my head.

“You porked her then dumped her?”

My hands are shaking. I shake my head.

“Or did you dump her then pork her? That’s terrible.”

There was a lot more in there too, but I’m fairly certain I blacked part of it out due to rage. I could feel the God of Fuck scratching around inside my eyeballs, just waiting for the opportunity to jump out and decapitate everyone with his penis.
Meanwhile princess is just sitting there listening. I didn’t even need to say anything. She knew exactly what had been going on. And it’s not like I broke a promise to this girl or anything. I never told her how I felt anyway, so it wasn’t like I lied, but she got a glimpse of what I really was, even though I was in the process of changing what that meant. Only days before I had slept with her in her bed, only to then go out and hate fuck some other bitch. That was it, my whole deal had just unraveled.

AND I WAS SO GOD DAMN CLOSE! It was the last fucking day. I should have fucking known better than to go anywhere near my place of business.

I thought about it some more after that, and I’m pretty sure princess knew the whole time anyway. The bartender that spilled the beans is pretty good friends with princess and I would imagine that they would have told princess while they were hanging out before hand.

Why can’t anyone mind they’re own fucking business! Is it that fucking hard not to open your big stupid fucking faces and talk about other people’s affairs? Talk about your own shit and leave mine out of it, fucking shit!

Though really I can’t get mad at them. I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell her how I was feeling, and this whole little game I was playing was ill-conceived from the get go.

Secretly, I knew I’d never get away with any of this nonsense. I just wanted to try it out, because well, fuck it. Fuck everything. Fuck everyone.

In all honesty I knew princess wouldn’t make me happy. I know myself well enough that as soon as I got this chick I wouldn’t fucking want her anymore, because that’s how I am. I’d be much happier being pissed off about fucking up the whole deal and never getting this chick, than I would if I had succeeded. It’s stupid, but it’s true. So in a strange way I’d actually won.

This still did not change the fact at that moment in the bar I was so fucking angry I almost couldn’t speak. My chance with princess was over, and all I wanted to do was unleash myself on the world.

I’d sprout wings of black and soar into the sky and tear it asunder. Then as I float there I’d drop my pants and rub one out, only to spray down an ocean of fiery jizz and smother the entire world with everything I can’t stand the sight of.

I am the God of Fuck.

Or so I would have liked to be. But at that moment sitting there, I could do none of those things. My beast was restrained, and my emotional blue balls persisted. Every once of anger I had dripped and oozed its way into my stomach, the way snot drips down the back of your throat when your sick. I felt like I was going to be sick.

All I could do was leave. I didn’t say goodbye, I just left. There was another girl waiting for me at home.

Of course mexico wanted to go out on the town the last night she was here. As I’m sure you can guess I was not in the mood. She wouldn’t stop fucking badgering me about it, however, so I finally agreed. It’s important for you to understand that at this point there is nothing I can do to make myself not be a big bucket of inconsolable rage. What made it worse was that all this inconsolable rage was just marinating in my stomach making me feel like death. The only thing I could think to do was get drunk.

It doesn’t take a genius to imagine that I was terrible company that evening. I barely uttered a word to her the entire time. Anytime I would have normally contributed to the conversation I drank from my glass, or filled my mouth with a shot of whiskey. I don’t even remember where I took her that night, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore. Every time she got up to use the bathroom I did a shot or pounded my drink. While she was there I drank as fast as my body would allow me to do so I’d feel as little as possible. But getting that drunk just made me meaner.

Granted I couldn’t express the full extent of my rage at this point, but I could still be mean. If I’d been able to I would have raged all over until I was finished, then I would have felt better, and maybe we wouldn’t have had such a terrible time. Anytime I did say something to her, because she’s a girl and is incapable of just sitting in silence, it was cold and cruel.

She pestered me the whole night to tell her what the fuck was bothering me, and of course I wouldn’t because why the fuck would I tell her anything? I didn’t even like her, I didn’t want her to be here. I didn’t want to be here. I just didn’t know what else to do with myself. I could have left I suppose, but as I said from the start, I am a professional when it comes to self destruction.

Finally, as we were walking to another bar, she starts pestering me again. I finally say something along the lines of how I don’t really like her, but it doesn’t matter because I can be as mean as I want to her and she’ll still come home with me and let me fuck her.

I was really drunk, but that’s more or less what I said. She didn’t like that one bit. She was pretty offended actually, as she should have been. I just shrugged at her and put out my hand. She looked at it for a moment, but finally took it and held my arm the whole way to the next bar. And yes folks, she let me fuck her when we got home.

And this ladies and gentlemen, is why men will always rule the Earth.

All you female readers at home are probably outraged right now at these things that I have said. You’re probably making claims about what a horrible person I am, and how mistaken I am, or at least that this does not apply to you. But deep down you know I’m right.

Men haven’t been oppressing women since the dawn of time, simply because we have more upper body strength, or that we’re smarter or any of that stupid petty bullshit. If anything, you ladies are smarter than men, and you have a better pain tolerance than we do. You’re also better at multi-tasking. Men are a barely organized group of animals.
Do you really think because we’re better athletes than women that we could have successfully kept the patriarchy going as long as we have?

If you do think so then please just kill yourself so you don’t give birth to equally stupid children. Nothing elaborate, nothing fancy, just please go kill yourself in any manner you prefer.

Men will always be in charge because we’ve realized that women are our flaw. What I mean is that all men know we don’t need women. We want women. But women, no matter what they think need men. And again if you’re being closed minded and thinking I’m just being needlessly sexists then I’ll remind you that poison is cheap, and there are plenty of cars just waiting to run you over.

Women don’t need men because they’re weaker or stupider than men. Men are weaker and stupider than women. Women need men because without us they would have no purpose. They would have nothing to fight against, nothing to band together against, no one to serve, no one to take care of, no one to love, no one to hate, no one to have love them, and of course no one to have hate them. This is how we define our lives.

If somehow all the women mysteriously died, and men discovered a way to reproduce without them life would go on like nothing had ever happened. We’d keep fighting, working, and fucking. Nothing would change.

But ladies it doesn’t have to be this way. As I said women are our flaw, because we don’t need you we want you. For women men are willing to kill, rape, and murder. We’ll rage wars and commit atrocities. We’ll create art and invent things that were once thought to be impossible just to impress you. We’ll climb unscalable mountains, dive deep into an uncharted abyss, and traverse impossible landscapes. We’ll fight monsters, we’ll become monsters, we’ll settle down and devote ourselves to you. We’ll be kind and gentle. We’ll love you. We will betray each other, just because we desire you so much. This is the flaw of man.

There’s infinite power in this flaw ladies, and you control the heart of it. Even though men may always run the world, women will always run us.

When I got back to my house with mexico I wasted no time in hate fucking her. I imagined that I was the incarnation of death, and that my penis was the scythe that death carries. I imagined I was reaping her soul.

Think of that scene from the movie Seven, when Kevin Spacey makes that guy have sex with the prostitute while wearing the jagged metal penis spear contraption. For a moment my entire body became this phallic instrument of death, and it had only one place to go.

I hate fucked this girl until I passed out. I have vague memories of her trying to shake me awake, but I’m not sure. All I could do was fall asleep.

Now I could end the story here, but I’d be lying to you if I said it was over.

There’s just a little more to go. So if you can, hang in there. We’re almost done.

Guna Die Alone part 12

The morning I left princess’ house to go meet up with my friends before mexico got into town, I had accidentally left some of my winter paraphernalia in her living room. I called her not long after and asked her if she would be nice enough to drop my stuff off at my work and I’d get it when I had time. Princess lives on the exact opposite side of town as me, so getting over there is a pain in the ass. She said sure. This is important for later.

So by the time that mexico got into town I had disposed, if you will, of my other lady friends.

You already know the story of how feminist and I parted ways. I had no intention of ever calling that crazy cunt stain ever again. Someone really needs to convince that bitch to take a valium or something. Either that or her ex-husband, which doesn’t surprise me at all that he left, should show up and shake that bitch till she settles down. It really works I’m not kidding.

Gypsy actually took care of this process for me. The last time we hung out she pulled me aside as I was leaving and told me she really wasn’t looking to get attached to anyone. This didn’t really come as a surprise. She did say she was still down to hang out and stuff, which was her way of saying that she was still fine with getting drunk together and having some sex. Normally that’s just what I want to hear, but I took the opportunity to tell her that if we kept hanging out I would get attached to her, and we should just call it quits. It wasn’t a total lie, but there was definitely some truth bending involved.

Then there was stripper. Well, to be honest I kind of forgot about her.

This leads us back to mexico’s visit. I feel I should also include some of the things I told mexico before she came for her visit. I realized that my relationship with this chick was about to have many Hindenburg like qualities to it, so I thought I should say something. I told her something along the lines of, “if you want to move out here for school that’s fine, but don’t move out here for me.” I then explained to her what a fucking wreck I was, which is true obviously, and that I really couldn’t be her boyfriend. I’d show her around and that’s it. She said ok I understand.

But really folks, when a girl says ok I understand, to something you explain to them logically, they don’t really understand. What they really mean is, “Ok I’m going to change you!”

When will you organic blow-up dolls understand that we don’t want you to change us, for fuck’s sake. I want to stay just as I am. If in case I had just received a full frontal lobotomy from H.O.L.E, then perhaps I would be susceptible to change, but it just isn’t so.

In case you were curious as to what H.O.L.E is, well it’s supernatural phenomenon that could be classified right next to things such as the Tooth Fairy, or the Boogey Man, Santa Claus, and probably Jesus. H.O.L.E. stands for harlots occasionally love evil, though occasionally should probably be changed to every minute of every day, but that wouldn’t fit into the acronym now would it. H.O.L.E is a group of wicked women that sneak into men’s bedrooms at night and remove part of their brain. You see, every man has a part in his brain that tells him it’s a bad idea to marry girls we don’t like, which is all girls more or less. H.O.L.E goes in and cuts that part of the brain out, which explains why men get married. I think it should be put right into Mother Goose and shit to warn the young lads of the perils that will come. H.O.L.E’s members include various evil figures such as, Bitcherella, Whorenstein, Slutzilla, Skankosaurus, and who could forget Cunta Kinte. Look out fellas, some holes just aren’t worth it.

The moral of the story is please don’t try and change us, but if I’m going to try and argue or reason with a woman, it would probably be more productive to go bash my head into pulp against a wall, or light myself on fire. But whatever, I told mexico how I felt and she didn’t listen.

It was my fault though really, because I hate fucked her. And as we all learned earlier, when I hate fucked her, in her mind it translated to:

“Oh he’s hate fucking me. He must have just been kidding. He totally loves me!”

SIGH.

On the second day mexico gets all excited to go out on a “real” date with me or something fucking retarded like that. I say whatever and take her somewhere, since I’m trying really hard to focus on the fact that all I have to do is avoid people I know while she’s here. This is a lot harder than it seems.

Fort Collins is a very small place, and I’ve lived here most of my life. As a result I know a fuck ton of people, and it’s hard to go anywhere without running into someone I know, but more importantly running into someone I know that’s going to tell princess that I’m out with this crazy mexico slut.

Here’s a fun example. My friends and I more or less hang out at the same bar every week. Surfside 7. On one particular occasion my friends and I were in the bar talking, and after I took a good look around, I paused whatever stupid bullshit we were discussing. I informed everyone to look around. Between the 4 of us we had, dated, fucked, made out with, or at least done something with every girl in the place. It made me sigh to myself.

It’s an odd feeling knowing that you’ve probably fucked all of your friends indirectly through other people. It’s like that 3 degrees of Kevin Bacon shit you hear about on TV, except this involved your genitals and a lot of tears.

So everyone in Fort Collins knows everybody and we’ve all fucked each other, give or take. This is my dilemma trying to keep shit secret. To start, we go out to dinner. Unfortunately this bitch is all about fancy shit, which makes me sad because I’m poor. But I still manage to use this to my advantage. Since the majority of the people I fraternize with are also poor, I take her to an expensive restaurant, and we’re safe.

Side note. Do you remember earlier when I said something about how this girl reminded me of what a philistine I actually am? Well, it’s true.

Right off the bat I’ll say that I’m a PBR drinking, ramen noodle eating, duct tape fixing, dirty clothes wearing, shit hole living, rocker kid. I don’t like fancy, or ritzy shit. I like to be surrounded by a little filth, because it makes me feel cozy. I enjoy the fact that my home is ancient, and falling apart, and that I’m crammed in here with 2 other guys that are equally filthy and ridiculous as I am.

She is the exact opposite, just another reason why it isn’t meant to be. You should have seen all the shit she brought with her for a fucking 3 day trip. Honestly, she brought more stupid girl shit with her on this trip than all of my possessions combined. Why does one need so much luggage? Not too mention her monstrous make-up bag. It took her so long to get ready for anything. Now I’m aware that it takes women longer than men to get ready for stuff, in general, that’s fine. But this girl, good lord. She just had so many products to apply to herself I’m shocked we ever went out at all.

Don’t get me wrong I can appreciate when I woman takes some time to make herself up. When a chick is really trying to look hott, they do nothing but succeed as far as I’m concerned, and that’s nice every so often. She went through this super rigorous make-up process every time she left the house. I even saw her make herself up, go out and take care of her grad school stuff, come back to my house take a second shower and make herself up again. What the fuck is going on here!

I like it when girls look the way they do naturally. That’s what I like. This mexico chick was not that in the least. Not too mention, she fucking made my house smell like butterflies, and rainbows and unicorns and all that other gay fucking shit I don’t like with the gallons of perfume and hair products she had on her all the fucking time.

I want my house to smell like booze, cigarettes, and MEN. Because that’s what a man house is supposed to smell like, not fucking gay ass butterflies and rainbows!

So after dinner we go to the movies, and the coast is still clear. She, of course, wants to go to a bar. I definitely could use a drink at this point since she’s driving me crazy, but where can I take her where we’ll be safe from people who know me? I’m sure as fuck not taking her to the bar I work at, or to the place I normally hang out at on my nights off. She suggests we go to the juice bar.

The fucking juice bar, that’s brilliant! I had earlier mentioned we had a bar in town that sold booze filled smoothies and slushies and shit like that. Now I hate that fucking place and never go there. I want my booze to taste like booze, not some pansy ass fucking faggoty smoothy with fruit and shit. It’s the perfect place to take her. The odds I’ll run into anyone I know there is slim.

I’m a fucking moron.

We roll into this place and there are literally 2 customers inside. One is this girl I know that works at a bar just a few doors down. It’s not a big deal though, because I never fucked her, and she is in a different social circle than what’s been going on in this blog. Still, I did say I couldn’t go anywhere. Guess who the other is. Go on guess.

The other customer is none other than stripper.

Jesus fucking Christ! Seriously? Fucking Seriously?

Now remember at the start of this entry I said I kind of forgot about stripper? Well, that’s exactly what happened. I hadn’t called her in a while, but I never officially broke it off with her either. And I can tell you only seconds after she saw me walk in with mexico, I could tell by the look on her face that she had indeed been sitting by the phone waiting for me to call for god knows how long.

At any moment I expect fireballs to fly out of her eyes and incinerate me. Or for her to unleash the legions of demons and fiends I know she has hiding in her vagina, to come fly across the bar and tear me to pieces.

Still, up until this point I’d had a pretty good run with the whole secrecy thing. I wasn’t exactly sure of what to do, so I just play it cool and I sit down with mexico at the other side of the bar and order some drinks. I wasn’t about to let some skank ass ho, drive me out of anywhere.

The bartender walks up and takes our orders. He is mid sized fat man, with crooked buck teeth, and a balding head. He is not very attractive. I’m not being needlessly mean here. His appearance will be important soon.

At any moment I also expect stripper to walk over to us and slap me or something, or make a scene, but she never does. Instead she does something far more hilarious.

So I’m sitting there with mexico doing my best to get drunk, because frankly this shit is outrageous, when I notice my beer is empty. As we all know empty beers are sub par for getting drunk so I flag down the bartender for a fresh one. I run into a problem when I discover the bartender is gone. Oh well, I thought, he’ll be back in a minute. Lot’s of minutes go by and both me and mexico are like what the fuck, where is this guy. At this point he’d been gone for about half an hour, and I was seriously on the verge of just hoping the bar and getting us new drinks myself. At this point I notice that stripper is also gone. Ah yes, the plot gets grosser.

I ask the other girl, who works down the road, where everybody went. She shrugs, since she isn’t sure, but goes to investigate, since we’re all thirsty. She goes into the back room, only to return very quickly looking terrified.

That’s right folks, stripper was in the back room with that ugly ass chud spite fucking him on account of me. Just imagining that guy naked in any way shape or form just gives me the willies.

As I said before stripper was really fucking smoking hott, so I don’t really know what to say except, Oh the hilarity!

I hope that made her feel better, because I certainly don’t give a fuck. I think a slap in the face or making a scene in front of me and my “new girlfriend” would have been a better payback than a spite fuck. Whatever though, girl logic is inextricable from craziness so who the fuck knows.

Good for the ugly guy though. I bet he had a good time.

After that I closed my own tab, stole a pint glass of the shelf, and called it a night. There might also have been more drunken hate fucking, but I’m not sure.

In part 13 someone spills the beans. Not only do they spill the beans but they piss and shit all over them and rub it in my face.

Guna Die Alone part 11

I admit to totally screwing the pooch with mexico. I never should have said any of those things I said to her. I honestly couldn’t tell you why I thought it was a good idea. Not too mention, I have no idea why I just didn’t tell her to go fuck herself from the start, or at least when she told me she was coming to check out the university in Fort Collins. I had so many chances to get out, and I didn’t take any of them.

Miserable = comfortable. In case you forgot.

But more than that, I’m just such a fucking attention whore. That’s what it comes down to. Even when I know it’s a terrible idea I love getting attention from women. It’s my main weakness. And if you ladies still wonder why I say such terrible things about you, it’s because this phenomenon I experience makes me absolutely insane. That and you’re all just terrible people in general, on top of being a bunch of dirty cunts.

Still, in my mind at the time, this little operation I had planned seemed to be totally natural and legit. It was honestly what I considered to be the correct course of action. I would continue womanizing in order to cease womanizing.

That’s like dropping bombs for peace, and fucking for virginity all in the same go.

“I roared. And I rampaged. And I got bloody satisfaction.”

I’m dedicated to being comfortable. I’m an artist in my own way.

So it was the day before mexico was to arrive for her visit. I was at work, and it was getting late. Princess was there, and princess was drunk.

Now princess was a regular at the bar I work at. As a result I see her all the time. We flirt, or at least we did, a whole lot. At first I didn’t think much of it, because she does that with everyone, and as I said earlier she is really fucking nice. To everyone even. I know right!

Then somewhere in there I get the idea that maybe she’s flirting with me a little more than usual. This is pretty standard stuff, but I don’t know to be honest. I can usually tell when a girl is into me, one of the skills that most man whores possess. It’s like Spiderman’s spidey sense, but instead of helping me doge bullets and shit it just leads me straight to the poontang.

With princess it was a little bit harder, since she was so amiable toward everyone. Regardless, every time I would see her she’d come up to me and give me a big hug, we’d kiss each other on the cheek, and it just felt nice. I would then see her hug other people, but it just didn’t seem the same.

I realize I’m in danger of sounding like one of those pathetic crybaby faggots I’m always yelling about, but I’m trying to explain my thought pattern here, so bear with me.

I finally tell myself to relax and not go overboard. Eventually we hang out a few times with mutual friends and I get to know her a little better. This just makes me like her more, for the reasons I have already listed.

I don’t think I’m mistaken in thinking that she at least liked me a little considering how we interacted, and that she would call me regularly to hang out. But, I have all that other nonsense with the other girls, so I don’t make a move on her. I just like being around her, because she’s cool, and I’m so calm.

Poontang soothes even the most savage beast.

So the night before mexico is supposed to show, princess stays late at the bar after close, while we clean up.

Incidentally, that was also the same night some drunk asshole pooped a little on toilet in the men’s room. I went and cleaned it up in between interactions with her. I should have taken that as a sign.

When I’m finally done with work I walk her to her car and we sit there for a while and listen to metal. I was just melting the whole time. So fucking sexy, you have no idea.

Anyhow, after we do this for maybe 30 minutes she tells me to buckle my seatbelt, and she starts up her car. At this point I threaten to roundhouse kick her in the face if she even tries to drive home as drunk as I know she is.

This is slightly ironic, because when I had a car, I was the drunk driving king. Though really, had there been an award given for responsible drunk driving, it would have been mine. Despite my greatest efforts to crash and destroy myself, no matter how drunk I was I always made it home, and should I be carrying any passengers I always got them home safe as well. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to justify my drunk driving, because it was a poor idea every time I did it, and it’s just a bad idea all around. Doesn’t change the fact that I did a lot of it.

I once drove a few friends, totally wasted to Denver from Fort Collins, so about 50-60 miles. I was so fucking trashed I slept at the wheel the majority of the time. Isn’t that fucking stupid? The purpose of that trip was most likely drug related activities. I like to go all out. The rest of the time I would just drive myself home all wasted and secretly hope to lose control and crash into a tree, or that super sneaky bus full of nuns and orphans I always hoped would be on the road at 2 in the morning. I would have at least liked to have run over some stupid bitche’s cat. Nothing bad ever happened.

So there I was encouraging her to be responsible and not drive. Instead I offer to drive her car and her back to her house, since I was sober. It was going to be a pain in the ass since I would then have to walk back to the bar and retrieve my bike so I could go home. It wasn’t that far, but it was far enough to piss me off. Still, I decide to do it because I like this girl, and I planned on telling her in just a few fucking days when mexico is out of my hair.

For the record princess knew that I hooked up with mexico when we were all out there. I was the only one to get laid on that trip, and my disappearance cause quit an uproar. So everyone knew about it. What she didn’t know was that in less than 24 hours from when I was sitting in the car with her, mexico would be staying at my house.

Now my co-workers all knew this, however, which is important for later. I didn’t want to tell princess that mexico was visiting because well, come on people that would just be fucking stupid. Oh the tangled web we weave, when you try and lie to bitches that all your co-workers know and interact with.

So I drive her to her house, and when we get there she tells me that she’ll carry my bag inside. I stare dumbfounded for a moment, and again my brain turns into mush. OK, I manage to say before I follow her into her house like a horny little puppy dog.

Though the main difference between me and an actually horny puppy dog is that I lack the ability to lick my own cock. Lord knows I’ve tried. It’s actually a good thing that most men lack that ability otherwise we’d probably never leave the house. That and you bitches would be out of a job.

Once inside we proceed down into her room. She puts on a movie and changes into her girl pajamas, and by that I mean something really tight and awesome. I shouldn’t describe it anymore than that otherwise I’ll lose the power to type since all the blood in my body will be drain from my brain and go rushing to an monstrous erection.

Ok we’re safe.

I strip down to my underpants and hop into bed with her and we snuggle and watch whatever movie she put, but obviously I’m not really paying attention to that.

I’ll tell you right now that nothing happened. I remember lying next to her, thinking that this was my chance. She hung out late to get your attention, she brought you down into her room, she’s lying next to you in her underpants…fucking the time is nigh! Fucking drop your pants and get to business!

Seriously, every fiber of me just wanted to pounce on her right then and hate fuck the shit out of her. I wanted to hate fuck her until I couldn’t hate fuck her anymore. I wanted to hate fuck her until all the anger drained out of my body and started to love fuck her. Whatever the hell that means.

But then I recalled that she was pretty fucking drunk. Even in all of my scumbaggery, I’m not about taking advantage of girls in an altered state. Unless they’re really dirty, and in that case they probably deserve to be raped.

Sigh, you know what I mean.

And of course mexico was coming soon, so fucking princess, then entertaining another girl for a week probably wouldn’t go over well. That on top of her being drunk, caused me to tuck my dick away for later.

FUCKING TIMING! Can you believe it? I cursed myself for not just telling mexico to go the fuck somewhere else. That was my chance with her, and I blew it.

I slept with her that night all snuggled up, and it was alright. I had no idea what was going to happen in a few days, so I still felt optimistic about the whole thing. I still felt like I could salvage the operation, and somehow when it was all said and done princess would be my girlfriend or something.

Epic fail.

That morning my friends called me up drunk, before noon, so I figured I should probably look into that as well. I’d need to be a little sauced for when mexico showed up. I said goodbye to princess and made my way to my friend’s house on foot.

Long story short, it took mexico till like 11pm to get into Fort Collins, and by that time I was pretty fucking sauced. She picked me up, which was weird, since the last time I saw her she was naked on a balcony, passed out drunk. We kept up the trend and went to a bar where I proceeded to get even drunker, just so I could function in her presence.

After last call we went back to my house, and the whole time I was kicking myself. Why didn’t I tell her to get a hotel? Why would I let her stay with me? Don’t fuck her. Think about princess. Don’t fuck her. Just rub one out and go to sleep. Don’t fuck her.

I fucked her. Not only did I fuck her, but I hate fucked the shit out of her. No sauce. What a surprise.

I really am a simple creature.

When I woke up in the morning, I hated myself in all sorts of ways. But I’ll be god damned if it wasn’t the most natural and coziest feeling in the world.

In part 12 the shit hits the fan, and stuff starts to unravel, as my story nears it’s end.

Von Doomstein's 2 cents

If you recall when I told the section of my story about feminist and her tirade, that it was my good friend Evan who accidentally incurred her rage, thus letting out whatever vampiric fiend was dwelling within the depths of her meat wallet. This is a little bit extra for your reading enjoyment, straight from him. Make sure you you also check out his blog as well, there is a link to it below. It's all gold as far as I'm concerned.

"So here's what I remember: It was a lovely evening and I had just returned from safari. I went to James Chesterfield's house to discuss my adventures and enjoy a snifter of brandy. After a few of those, I felt a bit peckish, so I sauntered down to a place called Surfside 7 to eat and drink with my fellows. It was here I encountered a dear friend who was accompanied by a terribly loud-mouthed dyke bitch who wouldn't shut the fuck up.

Andrew's telling of the story is pretty much accurate, and I don't remember much more, except that eventually I got fed up with trying to apologize. I had initially tried to make peace, so that Andrew could stab this cunty little whore with his mutton sword, but after trying to explain that broke, white, punk-rocker guys aren't what keep women down about a thousand times, I got a little angry.

Of course, due to the brandy, I don't remember what I said verbatim, but I believe it was along the lines of this:

"Alright. I'm sick of this. You know what? Women aren't equal to men. Men are stronger, we are faster, we are obviously smarter because you don't get the simple concept that I was fucking joking, we are most certainly more adept to running the fucking world, and frankly, if women could do something to change that, they would have done it already. Nobody is inherantly equal and treating people like they are is fucking communism. The reason why I'm in charge is because my fist is bigger than your head, and were I to so choose, one blow from me would crumple your face. So, how's that for sexism?"

http://www.vondoomstein.blogspot.com

I hate veryone except the people I don't. Brilliant.

Guna Die Alone part 10

Before I go any further, here are a few things to know about mexico the girl.

Mexico is about 27 for starters, and she has one of those real jobs I hope to never have myself. She’s a nurse or surgical assistant or some shit like that. As I said, a real job. The kind you go to school a long time for. That makes her all responsible and shit. Another reason why I wonder why she’s interested in me. I’m a useless bag of bones. Granted they are angry bones, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re also useless. She informed me that she had already been looking around and applying to grad school programs, so she could go back to school and become a child care specialist, AKA stupid fucking woman job.

Honestly, she wants to be a child care specialist. You know what that sounds like to me? It sounds like someone just wants to be mom. Seriously though, she actually wants to go to school, not just school but grad school, unload shit tons of cash for however many more years, so she can take care of a bunch of snot nosed gremlins running around screaming, shoving crayons up their noses, and poking their own eyes because kids are fucking annoying and do loads of stupid shit like that.

It would be a lot easier if she just made herself up like a tramp, which as we all know is a secret talent all you women possess, then convince some guy, THAT ISN’T ME, to shoot her full of grade A man vitamins so she can get with the babies. In 9 months she could be taking care of her very own shit machine, one that comes equipped with an extra vomit attachment, as opposed to the 4 to 6 years it will take her to do whatever over here.

But no! She has to go through the whole process just so she can wear that fucking white lab coat with her name on it, and don’t forget that extra pair of panties she’ll have every time she wets herself when people call her doctor. Because she has to fucking feel important, and drive me fucking crazy while she does it!

I definitely overreacted when I heard she was coming out. In fact, I had a fucking cow. Still, when she told me she was coming, my brain turned into mush. All I could say was, OK.

Fucking ridiculous. Am I wrong for freaking the fuck out? I don’t believe so. I meet this girl in Mexico randomly on vacation, we hook up, then go home. Not long after she calls to tell me she might be moving to my town. That’s some fucking amazing shit! How could I not freak the fuck out? I imagined her standing over me with a sledge hammer, like Kathy Bates in Misery, about to break my ankles, as she tells me she loves me and it’s for the best. It’s not for the fucking best, and you don’t love me. All you were was a fucking dick warmer to me. That’s it.

I’ve met very few girls that were actually capable of fucking without any emotional attachment. Is it really that hard? I fucking do it all the time.

Think about it logically for a moment. This is what I imagine going through the girl’s head.

“Oh god! He’s hate fucking my asshole. He must love me.” OR

“Sweet Jesus! He just came on my face. It’s meant to be.” And in the specific case of mexico.

“Good lord! He’s really wasted and we’re making sloppy sex outside on vacation. He’s totally going to propose.”

Cum dumpsters! That’s what you fucking whores are to me. A pillow with a hole in it serves the same function you do. Jesus!

Ok deep breathes. Remember girls, no matter what I say about you, my life still revolves around you. I’m a fucking slave to you ladies, and it’s true as much as it pains me to say it. And on that note, it’s time to back track a bit.

Remember when I said that after my return from vacation, I had emotional blue balls? Well that was just it. I was so upset and I couldn’t express myself. I was just totally exhausted. Part of it, was that I realized I was totally infatuated with princess.

This is also the part of my story where I may get myself into real life trouble. People who know me, people I work with, people who know her, have told me they have been reading this blog. So, it’s just a matter of time before these people figure out who I’m talking about and go flapping their traps. This will most likely result in a lot of people being very angry with me, potential slaps to the face, loss of friendships, and possibly even an ass kicking coming my way.

But you know what readers, I don’t fucking care. If I were to die young, it wouldn’t be because I burned out on booze or drugs. If I die young it will be from the overwhelming frustration that I experience all the time. My mind is a constant firestorm of dissatisfaction and irritation. My ire has no limits. I’m a very brutally honest person, but I accepted a long time ago that were I to speak to everyone the way that I wish I could, I would no longer be able to interact with anyone. I can barely interact with anyone as it is, because I just fucking hate everything.

Still, I haven’t been trying to hide what I’ve been saying on this thing, and I figured it would just be a matter of time before everyone figured it out. And you know readers, should these people get all fucking butt hurt for the mean things I say, well then fuck them for being the bunch of whiny ass fucking crybabies I’ve already accused them of being.

Honesty is a rare gift that very few people ever really get. Honesty is possibly the greatest thing in all the world, and it is a scarce commodity. It’s something I want to give to everyone, no matter how horrible it may be.

So, as I was saying, princess.

Princess was just fucking awesome. Let me describe her to you if I may.

She just turned 28 for one, and as you may recall I’m very attracted to women about that age. She’s a massage therapist. Pause on that for a moment. She’s a fucking massage therapist. Good lord that’s awesome. I can only imagine some of the things she can do. On top of that she’s absolutely fucking gorgeous, with an amazing body. She’s a blonde, but not long ago she dyed her hair brown. This amused me because I totally prefer brunettes to blondes. This just gave me a bigger boner for this girl. She’s also into tattoos, just like me, and she has some cool ones. And, AND, AND!!! Get this folks…she likes heavy fucking metal.

Yes that’s right! You heard me. A fucking hott ass chick, that likes heavy metal music. Now I’m a total metal head. I like it loud and full of hate. In my current emotional state, heavy metal is one of the few things I can say that I don’t hate. It just suits me. Now I know this may not seem like all that big of a deal to some of you, but if you were a metal head you’d understand. Especially, when you live in a fucking hippie town like Fort Collins. Metal girls are really hard to come by, and when you find one, they’re usually some fat Hot Topic reject that used to be a goth kid. Even though they don’t really like metal but it’s cooler than liking industrial, since industrial is fucking stupid. Trent Reznor did go dance party for some reason. Good one asshole. And if they should like metal, then they usually like that poppy radio metal, that isn’t really fucking metal. This is because no one likes metal anymore, so metal never gets played on the radio.

Odd that I would like something that isn’t popular. Weird huh? Anyway, my point is that she was a rare find. She’s also really fucking nice. And I mean there isn’t a mean bone in her body. At least not from what I’ve seen. Now readers, you might be asking yourself, what would I see in a girl that’s all nice and stuff? And you know, that is a good question. Whenever I would talk to her, I would just turn into goo. A big pile of goo. It was odd, but when I would talk to her I’d calm down. I would be totally relaxed, and not pissed off.

The other girls I was seeing didn’t have that affect on me. In fact, they usually just made me angrier. Except for Sarah of course. I was always calm when Sarah was around. Now this feeling was being duplicated, and I felt I needed to hang onto it.

It reminded me of King Kong and Fay Wray. Now for you movie morons Fay Wray played Ann Darrow in the original 1933 version of King Kong. This movie had stop motion animation, which is bad ass, as opposed to that shitty CG animation where King Kong fights a triad of T-Rex. He’s supposed to fight 1 T-Rex not 3, but 1 is never good enough for you action hungry cretins is it?

Anyhow, Kong would be going crazy then Fay Wray would come out and Kong would settle the fuck down. Or he’d go gay fucking ice skating with Naomi Watts. Good one assholes. This is what this girl meant to me. Something told me I had to have her.

So ladies, if your still reading, this is where I would remind you that even though I say some terrible things about you, I’m still sitting here drooling all over myself thinking about how much I love you. So if you’re still all butt hurt about some of the things I say then fuck you get over it.

So I was on a mission. For a few moments I entertained the idea that I could keep my other 3 girls, plus mexico on the phone and still be able to go after princess. I call her that because that what she was to me. She was my fucking heavy metal princess. Fortunately, I quickly tossed the idea of trying to juggle all of these girls, and decided that I would go after princess in a legitimate fashion, which meant discarding all the other girls.

This would not be a problem for me at all, since fuck those fucking whores, fuck them right up their stupid asses. I had bigger fish to bone. Get it? I’m so funny…

Now I was all set to stop acting like a scumbag when mexico calls and tells me she’s coming out. Do I tell her not to? Well you already know that I’m a fucking retard and the shock turned me into mush, and I said OK.

SIGH.

At this point I told myself that I would ditch the other chicks, mexico would come out here, I would do everything in my power not to fuck her again, break it off with her, since I had been sweet talking her to death, and then go after princess.

Sounds good doesn’t it. Sadly, I epic fail.

In part 11 I’ll tell you all about mexico’s visit and why it made me the saddest panda in all of the kingdom.

Guna Die Alone part 9

By now the sun had already set, and I imagined my friends already safely back in America.

Meanwhile I’m sitting on a couch in a condo that is much nicer than anything I’ve ever lived in. My shirt was misplaced, I’m covered in sand and tequila, and yet periodically some chick will saunter over and suck on my face.

I had earlier accepted the fact that I had been left behind. It was really my fault though, for running off. Consequences still didn’t matter to me, however, because I was still on vacation. Actually, I didn’t care if I ever made it back. My life back home was bunk. All it consisted of was me being angry at everything and everyone all the time. Why not just say fuck it and stay. I thought maybe I’d get a job as a bouncer at a strip club. I could deal coke and be useless just like the rest of them. Or maybe I could work at one of the taco stands and feed all the fat assed Americans when they come down on the weekends. Then I’d marry the owner’s daughter and inherit the business. What’s the worst that could happen? They deport me? Back to America…oh the tragedy!

In case you hadn’t realized, I was really fucking sauced. Work in a taco stand? What a fucking joke. I had enough money left in my wallet from my weekend to put the entire town through college with a meal plan and some spending cash. This place was extremely poor, and the only reason it’s economy survived was because American’s came down on their days off to exploit it. I saw it happen while I was there. I had been a part of it. The whole thing made me sick. My anger would follow me here. Also, my anger wasn’t gone. It was just sleeping, like a grizzly bear shot full of tranquilizers.

Sure it’s harmless now, but when it wakes up its going to be really fucking pissed off.

I had to go home. But how?

I had several more fantasies about hitching a ride with some random Mexicans back to the other town, hoping they wouldn’t decide to robe the stranded American. That isn’t me being racists either. When I decide to be racists you’ll fucking know. I say that because if I were them, and I saw me stranded and alone trying to find my friends, not only would I rob me, but I’d beat the shit out of me. After that I’d gang bang my asshole and smash my face into the ground until all my teeth are knocked out, so I could give everyone head. That’s right people. Ass to mouth. Then I’d toss me in the middle of the desert and leave me there.

I also imagined wandering there on foot. It couldn’t have been more than 20 miles. Then it occurred to me that I’m a fat pampered suburban kid that’s never even gone camping. I could probably have built my own airplane out of Dos Equis bottles and refried bean cans faster than I could traverse the desert in the dark. Anyway by then my friends would already have been gone.

I wasn’t mad at all though. We had a pretty decent buddy system, but at the end of the day it was every man for himself. I went off on my own and I had to deal with the consequences. It was ok though. I knew I’d figure something out.

Even with that looming over my head I didn’t care all that much. My vacation wasn’t over yet. I still felt fantastic.

Now imagine me, as I had described myself before. All shirtless and disheveled, covered in dirt and booze, tattooed and surely, sitting in this extremely nice condo, making out with this chick. Now imagine that we’re surrounded by all of her friends, and a decently sized group of guys that I would describe as chads.

Now if you’re unfamiliar with that term, just think about the most cliché stereotypical fraternity guy. Think of a popped collar on a pink, or baby blue button down shirt. Imagine a gold encrusted crucifix hanging around their neck. Jesus loves gold for the record. Imagine a sideways hat, pants that hang down around their ass, and maybe even a barbed wire armband tattoo. They have hip hop playing on the stereo, of course, and they’re drinking Keystone Light. Occasionally, a few of them might bust out a Swisher Sweet and light up. This sounds really stupid doesn’t it, but it’s all true.

These guys are my mortal enemies back home in Fort Collins. And it’s amusing, since they outnumber me 10 to 1. Ok, so it’s not as dramatic as mortal enemies, but it’s just obnoxious to be surrounded by a culture you can’t relate to in the least. Especially when you think it’s outrageously superficial and stupid, on top of being a fabrication. Sometimes I do feel like I’m beset on all sides by foes. Even though my "culture" is just as stupid.

It's kind of like the dude in Omega Man, or I Am Legend. The difference being that I don’t like to shoot children with guns like Charlton Heston did, and Will Smith…well…Will Smith just needs to die so he’ll stop making music and movies that are fucking Horrible. Seriously, he’s fucking terrible and you’re a fucking retard if you think he’s awesome.

According to Mexico, these guys had been trying to hook up with her and her friends all weekend. They had had poor luck. This was also according to her.

Then throw me into the mix. I roll in looking the way that I do, gulping down straight whiskey, and sucking down Marlboro reds (which I affectionately call coffin nails) like it’s my job. Then factor in that I’m getting the majority of the female attention in the room. I got a lot of attention from mexico, obviously, and I spent the rest of the time being charming to her friends. As I said earlier, one of the best ways to get with a chick is to win over all her friends. And that’s what I did.

Just think of that first big Spice Girls song that came out back in the late 90’s. “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends” or some stupid shit like that. If you’re curious as to how I remember that, well then all I can say is…puberty…and The Spice Girls. You figure it out.

I always liked to imagine that that song was about some girl telling you to bang her and all her friends, because that is something some dumb slut would tell you to do. Then I remember how much I hate the Spice Girls, and their shitty pop music, and that bunk British invasion shit, and everything associated with them in the music industry. So these days when I hear that song I imagine hate fucking all those dirty cunts and choking them to death afterwards. Though maybe I should choke them while I fuck them in the hopes that their vaginas might clench up a bit more from all the pressure as I squeeze their lives away. They might get tight enough that I’d actually get sauce. That way everybody wins. Horrible bitches dead, and Mandrew gets an orgasm. Horay!

Anyhow, those guys weren’t fond of me. But really, what the fuck were they going to do? The answer to that question is, not a god damn thing. Still, I was being oddly polite. Most likely because I was in such a good mood. Besides, it’s not my fault they didn’t have anything interesting to say, or that they suck at picking up chicks. It’s social Darwinism, and only the strong get laid.

Nothing too exciting happens after that. We hang out for a while, until the girls decide they want to go out to the bar. I tagged along of course.

At this point my mood gets even better, because when we get to the bar who do I find? My friends, that’s who. Fuck yeah people! A small group of my friends were worried that I disappeared, so they stayed behind in a rental car to look for me. The fact that, out of all the bars I could have gone to, they just happen to run into me was fucking magic. It was a glorious man reunion of dry humping and screaming in victory. After that we decided to stay an extra night and fucking party.

We hung out at the bar for a while, until mexico and I ran off on our own back to her room. She made a makeshift bed out of blankets and pillows on the balcony of the condo, that overlooked the ocean. This is when I boned her. So romantic.

This was the first girl since Sarah that I didn’t hate fuck. It wasn’t that I thought this chick was that awesome, in fact, she’s the type of girl I wouldn’t have given much thought to had I met her in Fort Collins, but as I said I was in such a good mood. My rage was still sleeping.

So we had sex on a balcony overlooking the sea, in the middle of Mexico, and it was awesome. One of the best sexual experiences I’ve had. No sauce, of course, but still it was pretty damn fun. Not too mention I was never expecting to see this chick ever again, which made it even better. No strings is a wonderful thing. So I thought anyway.A few hours later the sun came up, and my friends retrieve me one more time, and it’s back to America.

It was a really long way home.

Out of the whole 4 day trip I had slept maybe 12 hours, and eaten about 3 meals. By the time we finally got back to Fort Collins, a good 18 hours after leaving, I just collapsed hoping to never wake up again. I knew what would happen if I did.

The very next day my rage was awake again, and being angry at everyone and hating everything seemed to be the most natural practice in the world. And that’s because it was. My hangover from the trip lasted for days, and I suddenly had all this responsibility to see to. School, and work were there again, and I had to be around those things I can’t stand. You know, what are they called? Oh yea, people. Fucking people. Something was slightly different though, I had a hard time describing it.

In Mexico my rage was a sleeping beast. When I got back home, my rage was awake again, it was hungover and it was really pissed off. The difference was, that it was behind bars. It was all caged up. I was angrier than ever, but I had a hard time expressing it.

Everything in my life kept coming back to semen. I had emotional blue balls. I needed to burst.

I looked around at the 3 girls I was entertaining and I hated all of them. I needed to do something. But what?

Now somewhere in my drunken state in Mexico, there had apparently been some phone number exchanging with mexico the girl.

Sometimes I wonder why I do some of the things I do.

I send her a message asking if her and her friends got home alright. I seriously regret that decision since it spawned the whole shit storm you’ll hear about soon. She responded back and we reminisced a bit about our trip and blah blah blah.

Then she starts calling and texting me all the time. I’m unsure of what to do at this point. Then I think to myself, what the fuck. I hate the women at my disposal anyway, and this chick lives in Arizona. I’ll never see her again probably.

I’m a fucking moron by the way.

So I start talking to her on the phone. Not only am I talking to her on the phone, but I’m sweet talking the shit out of her. It makes me sick to my stomach to relate some of the things I said to this girl, but I will say this. Just imagine all the sweetest most vomit inducing shit I guy could say to a girl, you know, everything those dumb bags of vagina want to hear, and that’s what I said.

What the fuck harm could it do, I thought. I had 3 ladies in town, and one on the phone.

Then one day she calls me. She tells me that she has a job interview right here in Colorado, and can she stay with me.

My heart stops beating. I gag on bile. My bowels feel like they are about to open up.

She’s coming to see. What the fuck have I done?

In part 10 this whole debacle goes down. I also will talk about princess. Princess was my favorite and she ruined everything. And by that I mean I ruined everything.

Guna Die Alone part 8

The sun was burning hot above us, but the cool ocean breeze was rolling in as the tide went out. It was the perfect temperature, and laughter was the predominant sound. My mind becomes a whirlwind of thoughts, jumping from one idea to the next. I scold myself for thinking so much before I meander over to the barrel of tequila. I kneel down under the nozzle, holding myself up with one hand and opening the spigot with the other. I drink it in, as much as I can stand. When I get back up my vision blurs, but there is a smile on my face. The world was fading away.

Still, I had to decide between our stasis and the poontang.

This ladies and gentlemen is how I sound to myself when I’ve drunk myself into a stupor. I slow down and remind myself through some stupid automatic response how functional I can be. I’ll translate that first paragraph back to the way I normally sound.

Fuck it’s hot outside, but we’re on the beach. Hell’s yea! Look at this fucking party. Man I’m pretty wasted maybe I should sit down. Well while I’m down here…GLUG GLUG GLUG. (I gag slightly) Fuck, I can’t believe we have to go home soon.

I should probably fuck this chick, but I don’t want to leave everybody.

The Mexico girl reminded me of what a philistine I actually am. But that realization didn’t come till much later. Despite being a philistine, in my own way, I still consider myself to be somewhat of an intellectual. But I will say that no matter how intellectual you’ve convinced yourself that you are, you’re still a dude. And as a dude you’re an animal. This is how we think, no matter who you are. And ladies, again, if any man says he doesn’t then he’s a fucking liar. As far as women go I’m not sure, and I have no intention of finding out. I imagine that scene from Indiana Jones and the last crusade.

The bad guy picks a cup that he thinks is the holy grail and drinks from it. Now we all know what a stupid mistake that was because as we discussed earlier the holy grail isn’t a stupid fucking cup. It’s actually located between the legs of women everywhere. And he thought it was a cup, what an asshole. So he drinks from the cup, realizes he’s wrong, then grows old and disintegrates before everyone’s eyes.

This is what I imagine happening to anyone trying to figure out how women think. It’s just a poor idea. Anyhow, on with the story.

So I get called over for a picture with mexico, some of her friends, and my boss. We’re all pretty plowed so we fumble awkwardly for a moment as we attempt to get into a good pose. As we do this I drop my drink which I had been precariously holding with my teeth. When I drop my drink it falls all over her and her white shirt.

I was drinking a bloody maria, which is a bloody mary but with tequila. That translates to a big red stain on a white shirt. Now I’m used to dealing with big red stains, but never above the waist.

Ok, well except for that one time but that still kind of gives me the shivers.

Disaster! I think I say I’m sorry but I don’t remember. She then ran off with her friends. In general it’s a poor idea to drop drinks on, and ruin the clothes of the girl you’re attempting to score on. Most guys would give up at that point.

I’m not most guys.

I spy her a few minutes later off in the water with her shirt off. She was washing her shirt in the ocean while her friend waited for her on the shore line a ways back.

“Well, her shirts off. May as well use that to advantage.” I remember thinking that to myself, before I grabbed 3 fresh beers out of our supply and sauntered over. I decide to stop and talk to her friend. One of the best ways to win a chick over is to get her friends to like you. So that’s what I did. I hand her a beer and we make small talk until mexico came back from laundry time in the ocean. When she finally walks back over to us, I extend my hand and help her up some rocks and hand her a beer.

She still hasn’t put her shirt back on, and those giant gorgeous tits of hers are just pouring out of her bra. I was totally mesmerized. This is somewhat cliché and I’m sure you’ve all heard it before, but you have to treat breasts like the sun.

Don’t stare directly at them.

Staring directly at them can only lead to disaster. Girls don’t like it when you treat them like pieces of meat.

Ha! Ok that’s not true. They totally do, however, they don’t want to say it out loud. It’s all a very delicate process. If women didn’t know that men were ogling them all the time, their self esteem would be low, and women wouldn’t walk around like they own the place. So stare at the tits guys, just don’t make it obvious. Until later anyway.

Now I’m not a rookie here people. I had strategically put on a pair of dark sunglasses before I went over. The real dark kind where no one can see your eyes. This tactic allows you the freedom to stare directly at any pair of tits at close range. It’s also an accepted form of ogling.

I’d be fooling myself if I actually thought girls didn’t know you were staring at their tits through dark glasses. But as I said, they like it, and as long as no one says it out loud, everybody wins. She gets to feel desired, and you get to stare a gorgeous pair of tits, that at any moment you expect to jump out of their bra and be free like that Willy character from that shitty movie all those years ago.

Go Willy! Go!

During that little exchange I couldn’t really hear anything she was saying because I was doing everything I could to restrain my animal urges, which are made worse by being drunk, to jam my face right in between those things and motor boat the shit out of her. That might also be foreshadowing, I’m not sure.

Anyhow things go well from that point on. She grabs my hand and we go back to the beach party. I drop the spoon line on her and in a few moments we’re making out.

The funny thing about the spoon line, is mexico wasn’t the first girl I had used that on. It always has a variety of responses, that range from scowls and slaps in the face to the sucking and plunging of party parts. In general I say I’d like to eat your ass with a baby spoon, but this time I went with just her in general. Seems like it worked out.

Her friends eventually inform us that they are going back to the condo they rented for some BBQ party and they steal her away.

I wasn’t disappointed really when she left. I remember that I’ve been really relaxed on this trip, and after almost 3 days not a single rage related outburst. I was on vacation damn it. That’s what vacations are for. Not too mention we’d had a few good moments on that beach, and part of my vacation was getting away from women.

But if you recall, I’m an animal.

So we make out some more, and her friends take her away. I’m in a fantastic mood.

A few minutes later she appears behind me again. She informs me that one of my friends was getting into their cab with them, and that I should come. When I find out which friend, I get pretty excited. Surely if he’s going then I can too. I told a few people about it, but quickly scampered off.

Keep in mind that we were all supposed to drive back up to Phoenix to catch our flights home the next morning. None of it mattered to me though. I hadn’t experienced such a state of freedom in so long, I wasn’t sure if I ever had. For 3 days I didn’t feel angry. So off I went.

When I get into the cab with her and her friends I quickly realize that my friend is no where to be found. I’m all on my own. The car starts up and we start driving away.

Apparently my friend who was supposedly already in the cab, had tried to convince one of mexico’s friends to go have a quick hump session in an alley way. Seems that the eloquence of whatever line he may have used was insufficient. As a result he went back to the vans.

Still, I’m not worried. I told people where I was going, sort of, and I still have plenty of time to get back before we drive to Phoenix.

This is where I fail.

I had imagined that their condo was just a few blocks away in whatever town we were in. Not the case. We start slowly driving away, back toward the town we had previously been staying at. I also realize that I’ve left my phone behind. And no passport.

This is how I get left behind. Ah shit!

Still, I remain distracted by the women with gigantic boobs sitting next to me, biting my chest.

My penis and I need to have a serious conversation about expectations.

In part 9 I will eventually get rescued, and we have to fight our way back to America. Mexico girl will also come to see me.

My kingdom starts to topple.

Guna Die Alone part 7

So by this point in my story, I successfully have the company of 3 women. The stripper, gypsy, and feminist. Oh boy! What a lucky man I am…

I also realize that my audience may contain some poor unfortunate souls that don’t ever get laid. And of course by poor unfortunate souls I mean crybaby, bellyaching, wussy, incompetent faggots. If you find yourself at home cursing my name for not “appreciating” all the female attention I get, while you get very little if any, then I have only one suggestion. Stop being so fucking useless! You’re in charge of your own destiny, well aren’t you? If you don’t think so, then by all means live in your parent’s basement forever. Don’t forget to stroke off before you cry yourself to sleep every night, because that’s almost as good as having a woman. RIGHT!

I’m a horrible person and girls like me for some reason, so take some initiative, it’s not hard. Besides, if you keep reading a little further, you’ll see how this lifestyle of mine eventually ends up. I don’t believe in happy endings anyway.

So I have these 3 women, and I’m fairly miserable. That people is the sound of success.

Then all of a sudden, something magical happened. The bar I work at closed down for the weekend and all of the employees took a trip to Mexico. That’s right everyone, a fucking company trip to Mexico. This is just another reason why my job fucks your job in the ass, like the whiny bitch it is. Not only do I get paid to be mean to idiots, but then I get rewarded with trips to Mexico. I win!

The night before we left for the trip, stripper came into the bar to see me. I can only assume anyway. I made small talk with her, but at no time did I ever mention I was leaving the country for the weekend. I needed a break from this shit. Not too mention it was only a matter of time until I fuck it all up and run into one girlfriend when I’m out with another. That might also be foreshadowing, I’m not sure.

This trip was my saving grace, since my head was about to explode. After work Thursday night, and or, Friday morning I drove my drunken co-workers to the airport and we then proceeded to make a scene all through DIA. My employer decided that we would take the Christmas card photo while in Mexico, so as a result my buddy’s only carryon was a big box of Santa hats. If only all the airport employees didn’t hate their lives, they might have thought that was funny. Especially, as we wobbled our way to the terminal like a drunken amoeba.

We flew to Phoenix from Denver, and rented some vans in order to drive the rest of the way. Have you ever been kicked out of an airport bar for being too drunk? Well we have. There are few things as satisfying as whiskey at 9 in the morning.

At that point the only logical thing for us to do is purchase 10 cases of beer and start driving down to the border. We actually bought 20 cases of beer, but we split up into 2 vans. Half way down we ran out of beer and had to get fresh supplies. I about died from laughter when my boss stumbled into this liquor store 2 hours from the border and bought every can of sparks on the shelf. We also bought a few more cases of beer and a bottle of bourbon, so I’m sure you can imagine the state were in when we finally arrived at our destination.

So for the sake of time I’m now going to list off some of the key events that went down in Mexico, otherwise we’ll be here all day. These events also lead to lady number 4.

Hilarious Mexico Shit

We arrive at our hotel we never made reservations at. We discover that the hotel has been closed down. We then locate the owner and convince him to open it back up just for us. An entire hotel to ourselves for the weekend. Fuck yea.

We then repay the man’s hospitality by acquiring fireworks somehow and blowing shit up in the hotel. The thing to remember about Mexican fireworks is that they aren’t like the stuff you buy here. Fireworks in Mexico are essentially dynamite wrapped in paper. Drunk people with hand grenades is probably a poor idea, but we ran with it. We blew up a few chairs, a toilet, various fixtures, and someone threw a grenade in a big trash can full of empty beer and soda cans. When it exploded aluminum shrapnel flew out everywhere. I feared for my life.

Later on that first day we all end up at some bar that I can’t stand. It’s full of Americans having a stupid fucking dance party to the same fucking horrid music I can’t escape on a daily basis. I get kind of surely at this point and decide fuck everybody, if I wanted to hang out in a frathole bar, I would have stayed at home. I decide to wander off. One of the other guys feels the same. We decide to go in this dirty looking bar down the street. It turns out it’s a strip club…hilarious. I’ll yell about Americans in Mexican strip clubs in a little bit.

We go to this bar called Mickey’s to hang out, and it turns out that my boss is kind of friends with Mickey from previous trips. When we get there we are sadly informed by Mickey’s wife and son that Mickey has passed on. My boss then leaves for a moment to talk to Mickey’s widow, and when he returns he informs us that he just purchased all the booze in the entire bar. And I mean every fucking bottle, including a 50 liter cask of tequila. That’s right folks a 50 liter cask, or barrel, or drum, whatever the fuck you want to call it. My job kicks fucking ass. We then spend the next few hours drinking every drop of booze in the place. Now not only did we drink that entire cask of delicious home brewed tequila over the course of the weekend, but we refilled it a couple times and drank it again. 50 liters is like 13 gallons I think. We do all this before noon.

Having been an alcoholic in a town at a very high altitude for so long, I was not prepared for how awesome I would become at sea level. Drinking at sea level is an amazing experience. I changed from the God of Fuck, to the God of Drunk. Too drunk, was no longer an issue. I was like some drunk ass fucking super hero running around Mexico. My friends also went through a similar transformation. We became the justice league of drunks.

More firework shenanigans as I almost get arrested. All I wanted to do was go the god damn taco stand for some fucking tacos. Story of my life I suppose. So we’re all walking down the road by our hotel and I’m excited to go eat some tacos. One of the guys, who had been the master instigator of blowing crap up, decides to light a grenade and toss it into the street. A police car almost immediately drives over it. Luckily, it explodes before the car drives over it, but the cops still stop and get out. Everybody scatters, but the cops grab me and a few other guys, since they didn’t see who threw it. I’m very the glad the car didn’t drive over the fucking fireworks. Those things seriously are like grenades, the cop car might have exploded if it had, who knows. I’d probably be in some Mexican prison being ass fucked by every cholo with a teardrop tattooed on his face. I’m sure you all recall my rule about assholes. If you don’t want anything in your ass, then I certainly don’t want anything in mine. It is an exit only zone. We were fortunate that someone came to our rescue. As the cops searched us for explosives, which none of us had, some lady, who spoke perfect Spanish, told the police we had nothing to do with it. They very reluctantly let us go. I know enough Spanish to get around and order tacos and shit, but not enough to have a conversation with police about almost blowing up their car. Thank you strange lady, wherever you are.

Later on the whole group of us went to another strip club which was far better than the one I had previously been at. We’re the only people in this place, so we get a little rowdy.

I feel the need to explain the difference between American strip clubs, and Mexican Strip clubs. American strippers make fucking tons of cash. Guys get all drunk and horny and toss bills at girls till we run out. I know this because I have done this, and I had a stripper waiting for me back home. Also if you try and touch the girls some giant dude will appear and eat your face. Not in Mexico.

In Mexico, the girls might even be working for free. Who fucking knows. I find it satisfying enough throwing dollar bills at naked chicks till I run out. I get to get drunk and look at tits. The owners of the tits get all my money. Everybody wins. In Mexico nobody fucking tips the girls, and when they do, the bouncer rolls up on the stage and grabs all the money. The girls don’t get shit. Not only do they not get shit, but anyone who cares to can pretty much touch the women all over. And I do mean tit grabbing, cunt poking goodness. I just couldn’t believe it. I actually witnessed some fat lady with her fat ass boyfriend grab a stripper off the stage onto her lap. She then proceeded to suck on the strippers nipples in front of the entire bar. I couldn’t believe it. And we wonder why the world fucking hates us. Good one. The girls will also do just about anything for 30 bucks in the back room. I know this because I was privy to several failed blow job buying adventures. Funny stuff. I almost bought one myself before I reminded myself that these girls suck cock for a living. I tried to imagine just how many cocks they might actually suck in one day. Dirty shameless American cock. I decided to pass.

Instead of a blowjob I spent a fair amount of money on some really good cocaine that we purchased from the bouncer. You heard me. Mexico is all about service. Not only did this guy instantly get us some good blow, but he drove me to the fucking atm machine so I could get some more cash. I was convinced it was the only atm in Mexico. Fucking awesome. I can now say that I’ve done coke off a toilet tank, with my boss, in a Mexican strip club. My job fucks your job in the face. We went through about 3 grams that night. Not a bad bender if I may say so myself. The bar manager also got up on stage and stripped for everyone. He apparently had an exotic performer’s license. The strippers even gave him a few bucks. Good times.

The last day we leave the city and head to this bar called JJ’s or something which is about 20 minutes away, and right on the beach. This is where I meet mexico the girl. We park one of our vans on the beach and have our own little beach party. My employers buy cases and cases of booze from the bar and bring it down to the beach. We also bust out the big cask of tequila, which we had affectionately nicknamed, the tequila pig. At this point everybody throws on a santa hat and jumps in the ocean for the x-mas photo. Great success. We eventually make such a drunken scene on the beach that random people start migrating down to us from the bar out of curiosity. Our beach party becomes a festival of drunken tourists.

Then I see her. I’m totally fucking wasted at this point, so as far as I was concerned she was the prettiest girl in the world. In all fairness she is a pretty good looking girl, but she just has a giant fucking rack, and tits just fascinate me. It was on.

I make small talk with her and get her friends distracted by my friends and their overall ridiculous behavior.

I’ll end this installment by telling your exactly what I said to her before we started making out on the beach.

“I just want to eat very inch of you with a baby spoon. You know the kind with the plastic tip and the Snoopy handle?”

Fortune favors the bold.

In the next installment I run off and get left behind in Mexico. The things we do for pussy. God damn.