Guna Die Alone part 6

I’ll start off by saying that feminist was an absolute nut bag. It’s important to remember, however, that her nut baggery was different from, and added onto the already present insanity that all you ladies innately possess. That’s my way of saying she was extra crazy. And not only was she extra crazy, but she was sneaky about how extra crazy she was. I hung out with this woman and had no idea what she was actually like, until the proper catalyst was introduced.

Thanks Evan.
Evan may have saved my life. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

This particular incident was like something you might see on the discovery channel. Something like…When Bitches Attack! or The Top Ten Most Dangerous Whores! It made me think of this show I watched about spiders.

What’s that you say? You never thought to compare women to spiders? Well yes actually, it is a completely new concept, that women, might conceivable be similar to spiders. I know right!

I’ll go ahead and copy this one more time for some of the slower members of my audience.
sat⋅ire 

–noun
1.
the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc.
2.
a literary composition, in verse or prose, in which human folly and vice are held up to scorn, derision, or ridicule.
3.
a literary genre comprising such compositions.

I’m getting to it don’t worry. So yes spiders. Specifically about that desert tarantula that digs a hole in the ground. Let’s pretend I’m a bug. This is one of those things some people might call a metaphor. I know this is tough, but bear with me folks. So yes, I’m a bug. How about a dung beetle…that sounds like it suits me. So I’m a big, sexy, manly dung beetle just pushing my dung along, minding my own business when I see this hole.

Now I’m sure by now you all can imagine how I feel about undiscovered holes. So I’m like, “Damn. I have to go check this out.” I owe it to all of dung beetle kind. So I go over to the hole and take a peek inside, totally harmless, then BAM! That fucking spider jumps out of the hole and bites my fucking face off and drains me of my manly fluids, and not in the way that I might usually enjoy.

This was feminist.

It really starts with the fact that feminist stole my best friend's bucket of change. Well alright, she didn’t technically steal it, but she kept it, and that may as well be steeling, since at this point I’m might not be able to get it back.

The first time I hung out with this woman was at her house for “Singles” Poker night. She had invited me the week before when I randomly ran into her at the bar and our mutual friends informed me that she had a thing for me. Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. I was less than pleased about my other 2 chicks, as you know, so I was totally in.

A week goes by and I head over to her house with my best friend Tim. She tells me that we are only going to play for spare change, so Tim and I grab his gigantic bucket of change he’s been hording for god knows how long.

When we get there we are both instantly disappointed, despite being the only men in a house full of single women. We discovered that none of the women at “Singles” poker night were actually single. Except for feminist, of course, but remember she was just separated from her husband, not divorced.

SIGH!

Seriously ladies, you can’t fucking call it singles poker if the people playing aren’t actually single. Do you remember a few posts ago when I said that women are smarter than men? Yes, I said it, and at the time I meant it. But maybe I should take it back because inviting young virile men to singles poker when no one is single is pretty fucking stupid. This isn’t rocket science god damn it!

In actuality, I think feminist was planning ahead. I feel like she was old enough to understand that men don’t ever want to be friends with girls. Obviously. So were she to invite us to poker night without the faint promise of poontang, then we never would have come. Obviously.

So what did she do? She tricked us so she could lure us over to her lair, kind of like one of those things…what are they called…oh yea! SPIDERS!

Anyhow, I still decide that maybe we could salvage the evening. The best part of all of this was that we discovered that all of these women we were playing poker with, including feminist, worked at a battered women’s shelter.

Now as you know I’m very sexist, and a mild misogynist. But really it’s all in good fun. Still, for most of the night I do almost everything in my power not to unleash my arsenal of jokes about women. And of course, battered women!

Some of my personal favorites include:

Q: What do you call that useless skin around the vagina?

A: The woman

OR

Q: What's the first thing a woman does when she gets home from the battered women's shelter?

A: The Fuckin' dishes if she knows what's good for her.

I could go on and on. Honestly, it caused me physical pain to bite my tongue as long as I did. Eventually I got really drunk and made sexist comments anyway, but by then everyone was more or less gone and it didn’t really matter. It also became fairly apparent that feminist was quite into me. Still, given the circumstances, I decided to abandon the operation. Tim and I went back to my house, got even drunker, and passed out watching movies. Sadly, we left the huge bucket of change and that slut kept it. Fucking sluts!

Now let’s flash forward to the last time we hung out before I called it quits. Everything that happens in between is totally boring and unimportant.

She calls me up and invites me out to the bar. I then proceed to meet her at my favorite bar the Surf Side, with every intention of getting drunk and taking her home and hate fucking the shit out of her.

When I get there she is already pretty sauced, so I take quick initiative and try to catch up. I liked this chick because she was older than me, like I said, and because she was working for something she cared about. She was actually doing something that helped other people. Saving women from abuse. I found the whole thing very attractive.

Now I know I joke about violence towards women a lot, but guys, don’t hit your ladies. I know women are crazy and you just want to smack them upside the head when they act crazy. Everyone can appreciate punching a bitch in the grill, but it’s just bad for business. Instead I suggest that should your lady get all out of control, just shake that bitch. Shake her till all the blood rushes to her head and she has to sit down and be quiet. That way everyone wins.

It also reminds me of this time a girl I used to see. On a particular occasion, during sex, she asked me to slap her around a little. Now tossing a girl around during sex is one thing, but actually hitting or punching her is another. I’d never had a girl ask me to hit her during sex before, so I wasn’t sure what to do. Being the adventurous fellow that I am, I asked her to be as specific as possible about how she wanted that to happen. After she explained what she wanted, it ended up with continuing to fuck her, only then to smack her in the face. Remember she asked me. I’d never punched a girl before, it was pretty satisfying. Anyway, she was so shocked I actually hit her she pushed me off her and ran out. You ladies are crazy. In case you forgot.

It’s a slow night at the bar when my very good friend Evan comes up to say high. He was also just hanging out. Now I was fairly drunk at this point so my memory is slightly cloudy. If I leave anything out I’m sure Evan will post something in the comments we can all enjoy. Evan and I share very similar opinions about most things, so I’m sure it will be gold. Though he was also pretty drunk, and I remember him blacking out afterwards and punching me a lot.

I don’t remember exactly how we go to this point in the conversation but it started when Evan made a joke about how old women go crazy because menopause gives them brain damage.

Fucking Christ was that some funny shit. Everyone who heard, including me, is just dieing of laughter. Feminist, however, was not amused. I’ve seen some angry women in my time, for damn sure, but I couldn’t believe how pissed she was over something so stupid. I’ve told other women about this, and they thought the joke was funny. And you know why, because it is fucking funny. Hold on let me post this again just in case some of you, like feminist, don’t understand.

sat⋅ire 

–noun
1.
the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc.
2.
a literary composition, in verse or prose, in which human folly and vice are held up to scorn, derision, or ridicule.
3.
a literary genre comprising such compositions.

Fucking seriously, why is this so hard for you people? When we say things that are completely outlandish and ridiculous it’s for a point, you fucking retards. Granted I do legitimately hate just about everyone, but anger can be used for very constructive purposes. And if you don’t think so then fuck you, because you’re probably one of those fucking retards that doesn’t understand this simple literary concept. I’d like to see all of you fucking troglodytes stick your stupid fucking faces in your ovens till you bake your faces off. Or better yet open your oven and turn on the gas then light a candle and pretend that nothing bad will happen to you since your head is jammed so far up your ass. That’s how most people get through life anyway.

This tirade went on for like 2 hours mind you. She started off by calling us sexists. Oh my, that’s original. Then she started ranting about how as a white man, Evan had no right to tell a joke like that because he was in a position of oppressive power. She said a lot more than that, but that’s basically the crux. Evan then attempted to explain, that by saying such stupid things, it takes power away from the assholes that really believe that shit. He even apologized to her a few times, since I was “with” her, and I’ve never really seen him apologize to anyone. Did she accept his apology? Well fuck no, because she’s a petty, immature, stupid cunt that’s why! Fucking Christ!

Calling me a white male oppressor. What a bunch of total fucking shit. All I do is bitch and be mean to people. I’m not oppressing shit. Not too mention Evan and I are young men, and classically, young people are considered to be stupid. We hang out in a punk bar, have tattoos, and belong to the so-called “counter culture”. And we’ve more or less rejected other classical ideas of what life should be about in good old America. On top of having no money. In a sense, we have chosen a form of exile. This is my way of saying that in contemporary times we get shit on just as much as anyone. And don’t forget that since we’re men we are viewed as an evil presence.

Loads of people think like this feminist cunt. Being a man is a bad thing, they would have us believe, so I might argue that men are becoming the new minority. Especially with all this affirmative action nonsense.

Now I’m not saying I want white men to run everything, far from it in fact. I think an Oligarchy of old crusty white asshole men is a terrible idea. I just want to be able to be who I am, feel the way I want to feel, without having to be ashamed of it. And I’ll be god fucking damned if I’ll ever sensor myself from anyone especially a closed minded bag of slut like this chick was. So cleverly hidden in the guise of righteousness. Well fuck you with a capital FUCK!

In an attempt to stick up for Evan I tried to explain that satire was our way of constructively venting our anger, and expressing our outrage on behalf of those who are unfairly oppressed.

She responded by saying something about how since I was a white man, in the seat of oppressive power I didn’t have the right to be outraged on other people’s behalf.

ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS!

That’s how change happens you crotch pheasant ignoramus. Ever hear about the civil rights movement? I think that was about a lot of people being upset that certain groups of people were being oppressed unfairly. FUCKING ARRRRRGGGHH!

Needless to say I never fucked this chick. And that was the last time I hung out with her.

In part 7 I leave the country for a bit and I meet another woman. She follows me home.

Yes, hilarity ensues.

Guna Die Alone part 5

Let me begin by saying that I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back on the ball. My computer had a pretty shitty virus and I needed dump my whole system. What a fiasco that was. It took me 3 days to find my copy of Vista. Turns out it was in my attic and I'm just a retard. After that it involved calling India and talking to several people that didn't speak English, but kept asking me the same questions, and who apparantly knew a lot about computers. And honestly tech support goons if you sound like Apu from the Simpsons I know your name isn't really Jim.



And why did I have a shitty computer virus you might ask? Let's just say my roomate had a spank rag...



Anyhow, back to the matter at hand. So gypsy and I had a really nice "first" date. Nothing fancy, we just met for a few drinks in an empty bar and talked for a few hours. It should also be noted that it was the only time we were alone together when we went out. Every other time it was like I mentioned before. I'd be trying to talk to her and some fucking chud with his hair combed over one eye and wearing his sister's panties would roll up acting all fucking cool and give her a hug before rambling on and on about these new revolutionary musical ideas, aka stupid fucking shit no one gives a fuck about.



You fucking hipster pricks are not the reincarnation of Emmerson and Thoreau in musical form. This isn't fucking Walden. You live in fucking Fort Collins and are thus surrounded by concrete, shopping malls, and of course your fucking favorite, coffee shops. I did actually overhear a group of these fucking pretentious pieces of shit, in a coffee shop no less, talking about how they might be it. They were so fucking pleased with themselves about how their musical efforts could very well prove to be the next transcendental movement.



Are you fucking kidding me! You have a fucking hammer tattooed on your arm for fuck's sake! And why? Because you like to build things? Really? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. The only thing you're building is my rage. I wish that hammer was real so I could have bashed your face in with it. Just because you fucking faggots sit around playing pirate songs on your accordion while you and your friends fill each other's heads with delusions of grandeur in a big fucking circle jerk, doesn't mean you've unlocked some great mystery.



Where's your civil disobedient? The fact that you shop at the Good Will? You're avoiding corporatism to make a stand right? NO! You shop at the Good Will for two reasons. 1, you like looking like shit all the time, because that makes you cool right? Girls dig that shit right? Fucking faggots. 2, you're fucking poor! I know this because I shop at the Good Will too, and I'm fucking poor. There isn't a single thing about any of this shit that is transcendental. Oh, and no one has ever gotten laid by playing and accordion. Except Weird Al prolly.



So this shit would happen all the time when I was with gypsy. Drove me fucking crazy. And for the record assholes, if you're reading this, everyone knows you didn't actually want to do any side projects with her. You just wanted to fuck her, and that's all. And it's hilarious because you have yourself so convinced that this new musical image you've so carefully sewn together, much like the Tickle Me Pink patches to the sweater you stole from Hot Topic with your eye liner, is so fucking cool girls will just roll over. Well Fuck you.



Though I am sad to say that this bullshit works out for them far more often than it should. And why? Becuase girls are dumb. Stop falling for this shit ladies! It's all lies, all of it! I know I give you bitches a lot of shit but it pains me to see you be duped in such a fashion. You're better than that.



Oh and girls. We never, and I mean fucking never want to be your friend. Any guy that tells you he just wants to be your friend is a fucking lier. What he should be saying is, "I just want to be your friend, until you finally decide you want to fuck me, because that's all I really want." The majority of the time that men spend with women is in search of sex. And it fucking cracks me up when I tell this to girls, for their benifet in my mind, and they get all butt hurt. Sorry to burst your fucking bubble but you're really not that cool. I'm trying to tell you some truth about men so maybe you ladies won't be so confused when we act strange. Don't be so fucking sensitive.



But yes, men have no interest in being friends with women. Ever. It's not that you women don't have good qualities, in fact you all have plenty of great characteristics. Like your vagina for example. That's a great one. Do you get what I'm saying here? Remember girls I love all of you. So much in fact, you will most likely be what kills me in the end. We're just too different to be friends without fucking. Men are animals and women are fucking crazy. Sex is the only real way we can connect. Everything else is built on that. So grow up.



Anyway, the point is that when this shit would happen I would get really angry. So angry in fact that I wanted to throw her on the ground, wherever we might be, and fuck her in front of everyone. In the middle of it I'd look up at the guy through his disheveled hair and say, "Excuse me, but we were talking!" Then after I fuck her, with no souce of course, I'd pretend that he was a vampire and that my penis was a wooden stake. Hopefully right after I stab him through the chest with my angry erection, I'd bust a nut into his heart and main arteries so that my jizz could circulate through his body in the last few seconds he has before he fucking dies like he deserves.



What a great idea for an episode of CSI, don't ya think? No one would ever suspect my penis was the murder weapon.



I should state for the record that I wasn't so angry about it because I was all possessive of her. That's not really my style. She's her own person and can do what she likes. I get upset when I'm constantly surrounded by lies. And sadly, that is what our world is composed of.



Now with all that in mind, enter lady number 3. Feminist. Oh, what a piece of work she was. This chick was a friend of a friend. I dug her because she was a little older than me, and I have a thing for older women. Now I don't mean OLDER than me, just a couple years or so, late 20's maybe 30. I've always wanted to date a chick in her 30's. Women of that age, as far as I can tell, might actually feel good about their bodies and the way they look. By then they're enetering into their sexual prime, and they've had time to play the field. They know the score. There's more honesty. They might even have their shit together and know what they want. That's a big difference from the girls I'm used to fucking.



Really though it all came back to Sarah. I convinced myself for a while I wasn't still upset about her because I had all these other women, but it wasn't true. I hated striper. We had nothing in common, thus we had nothing to talk about. All we did was fuck. Then there was gypsy. For a few moments I actually though that she could be my replacement for Sarah.



Now I know that sounds terrible and I don't really mean it the way it sounds. I've come to terms that it's going to take a very special lady to do for me what Sarah did. Who knows if I'll even find one again. It's that special. But for a few moments I thought maybe gypsy could fulfil that for me. Insert all those problems I mentioned about us together earlier, and we all know how that story ends. So between those 2 girls, it motivated me to go for 3. And this is what led me to feminist.



So feminist was a friend of a friend, that at the time, had just separated from her husband. She also had kids. Now don't fucking ask me what it is with me and chicks with kids, cause I don't fucking get it. I can tell you, however, that I am a magnet for girls with emotional problems. Now this is usually where I might insert some hilarious quip about how all women have emotional problems and I'm just a girl magnet. Hardy fucking har. Umm, no. And fuck you for thinking I'd write that down.



No I'm talking about serious intimacy issues. I also have those, but at least mine are funny to read about. Seriously, if there is a crazy fucking bag of whore, she'll find me, and she'll think I'm fucking great. At least for a little while. I think it's because I've slowly grown into that abusive father figure that they loathe outloud, but secretly have wanted to fuck since they were little girls. I think this is true because most of us define our reality through suffering and unhappiness. Miserable = comfortable. At least I'm doing something for someone.



So she had kids, but I was less sketched out about it because her husband was still going to be active in the children's lives, so that was a big relief for me. I also never saw her kids because they rotated visitation every week, so I only hung out with her when her kids were gone. Worked out well. Especially as I juggled time with various women.



Now I know you didn't get as much of the whole story in this episode as I promised you might in my last post, but this shit has been pestering me, and I needed to get it out. That, and I'm warming back up.



My time with feminist was boring, and completely unextraordinary. There was only one time when she is really worth mentioning, and that was the last time we hung out together before I called it quits. It's also important for later on in the story.



With that, I'll leave you with this, copied right out of the dictionary, word for word. You'll need it to get ready for part 6.



sat⋅ire 

–noun
1.
the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc.
2.
a literary composition, in verse or prose, in which human folly and vice are held up to scorn, derision, or ridicule.
3.
a literary genre comprising such compositions.

Guna Die Alone part 4

Alright! Where was I? Ah, yes.



So Gypsy came back into town and I woke up from my comma. My drinking was still kind of out of control, at least so some people have told me. My response to them, however, was along the lines of, "May I offer you a nice tall glass of "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"



Fucking seriously. All you concerned citizens can eat a fucking cock. I know when I'm fucking out of control, and if you think I don't then you're a fucking retard and haven't been paying attention to anything I've said so far. When you destroy yourself proffesionally, you're always aware of possible repercussions. That's the whole god damn point. Miserable = comfortable, and I like being fucking comfortable.



But anyway I still drank a lot, which influenced my activities with this girl. I'm just not the dinner and a movie type of guy anymore. Who really wants to sit through some shitty meal at a restaurant you couldn't really afford to begin with, because you think that will impress her. Somewhere down the line someone gave us fellas the impression that women like guys with money. Now I wonder who did that? Oh yeah! WOMEN DID! With that fucking superficial nesting instinct you all seem to have. Well I'm poor and always will be, so why don't you get a job and suppport me. I'm fine being a house man. You go to work and convince yourself that your independent and all that makebelieve shit, and I'll stay home and clean and do the laundry. Shit I'll even cook you dinner and fuck you every night. I think that's a fair trade since I never really want to have a job or do anything.



There I go getting distracted again. As I was saying, dates are garbage. You sit through a shitty dinner you can't afford and partake in awkward conversation about nothing just so you both can pretend to be interested in each other's lives. After that, more bullshit as you have to endure some god fucking awful romantic comedy she wanted to see, because she's a girl and girls like bad movies. After that you drive her worthless ass home to fish for a kiss. Except I don't own a car anymore, so that bitch would be picking up my worthless ass. Maybe you kiss her in the car, maybe you go in and fuck, maybe nothing happens and your pissed you even fucking bothered.



Now why would you ever do any of that when you could both just go out and get drunk, and then go home and fuck. That's what everybody wants anyway.



This is what I did with gypsy.



Now if you recall, when I went out with this girl before she went abroad, we never really got together. This was, as far as I could tell, for two main reasons. The first reason being that she had recently been divorced and was planning on taking that trip. She got married in her early 20's for the record.



Now don't even get me fucking started on young people getting married. What the fuck is wrong with everyone! You can't even legally drink booze and you want to get married. Jesus fucking Christ! That's a blog for another day.



The second reason, which was the one that irritated me the most, was how fucking popular this girl was. Anytime I went anywhere with this chick she would get mobbed by loads of friends and other various losers that just wanted to talk to her about stupid fucking retarded shit. One of the hazards of seeing a girl that's in a band.



So we decided it just wasn't going to happen that first time. She was a mess after her divorce, about to leave the country, and I could barely get 5 minutes alone with her. I figured we'd at least have some hate sex, but it just didn't happen. Oh well.



Now when she came back for round 2 I had somehow convinced myself that all of those things that kept us apart the first time would be different. Again this just proves what a fucking imbecile I am when it come to these things. They were slightly easier to deal with, but they were there.



So here's how we got back together.



I was at work walking around keeping an eye on all the drunk people. I had been picking up empty glasses to help out the bartenders when I noticed some long blonde hair and the back of a familiar face. I may not always remember names, but body parts generally don't give me any trouble.



It hits me again. And suddenly I remember how much I liked this girl, and now she's back. So I go up and say hello, I give her a hug and we make small talk for some stupid reason. She had apparantly gotten back into town not long ago, and had come in to see some of her friends play.

My attention then shifted to the band that was playing in the bar, which I had been doing almost everything in my power to ignore, because indy rock is fucking stupid and was never good, especially in a small town like Fort Collins, and especially when the scene is run by the hipster thrift store gestapo.



The bar was pretty busy, which tells us that everyone likes shitty music, and I tell her I should get back to work. I get the brilliant idea to ignore her for the rest of the night and let her come to me. Seems I felt like she owed me. Now for as smooth as I can be, and considering I don't really have a hard time getting laid, I can be a big fucking retard when it comes to women.



Let her come to me! Ha! What was I thinking? Women are rarely ever aggressive at all unless they're wasted. Yes folks, that is foreshadowing.



Now I feel the need to address this for a moment. Do you ladies have any idea how fucking irritating it is to always have to be the predator in the courtship process? It's absolutely exhausting. I'd be doing you false if I said part of me didn't love it, but for the most part I'm a lazy fucker.



Now for you girls that are on the market, so to speak, I'd like to inform you that you've most likely missed your shot with your dream guy. Time to go out and buy 50 cats and get a sewing kit so you can knit slippers for all your friends who got married and had kids.



This is because men are afraid of you, believe it or not. Specifically men are afraid to talk to you. Well, I'm not, but the rest of those insecure crybaby faggots are. I've told my friends that I get laid more than they do for 2 reasons. 1, I'm an asshole, and girls like that for some stupid fucking reason, because girls are dumb. 2, I score more chicks because I get rejected more.



I hate hearing about how fucking sad all these whiny ass pussies are about breaking up with their girlfriends, or how hard it is to meet girls blah blah blah. In the specific case of my friends and me, sure I've scored more chicks, but I've also been rejected by more girls than all of them combined. Just be a man and get over it already. That's my message for every man.



As for you girls, here's my advice. If you like a dude, even a little go talk to him. If you tell a dude you like him, it's almost a guarantee he will accept you. We're men and we are animals, in the truest sense of the word. Anyman who disagrees with that is a fucking lier.



You ladies have a hard time with this, however, because you think if you're aggressive we'll think you're a dirty skank or something. Well I got news for you. No matter what you do, we'll still think you're a dirty skank, so grow up and get over it. There have been several occasions where I had a notion to go and talk to a girl I found attractive in the bars and what not, but didn't because I felt too fucking lazy and just wanted to sip my beer.



Anyway, with that in mind, I was stupid for thinking she'd come up and talk to me. She just left without saying goodbye. I got a wave.



A little time goes by and she comes back in for another bad show. We interact similarly to the way we did before, except this time I pulled my head out of my ass. I planned on just asking her out when I got the chance. The bar was really busy, because like I said earlier people like things that suck, so I had a hard time finding a free moment to go over and talk to her. Finally I just say fuck it, and I decide I'll just wait until the end of the night before she leaves to talk to her. By then she'd be a little sauced and possible more enamored with me than usual.



It's the end of the night, and I do my usual routine of kicking everyone out by screaming for everyone to go home and fuck themselves before I get angry and fuck them in their stupid faces. Gypsy comes up to me, and she is absolutley fucking annihilated. She starts babbling something to me I couldn't really understand, because she was really really really trashed.



Her friend walks up to us and mentions something about how she thinks gypsy got ruffied, because she didn't see her drink that much.



Oh hilarious! So for a moment or 2 I entertain the idea that some coward fag frathole shitcan, might have actually sliped her a pill. There isn't a lot I can really do about it at this point, but I still use it as an excuse to interrogate and be mean to a bunch of guys minding their own business as they leave the bar. Finally I decide that she's just really drunk.

Oh and for all you coward fag frahole shitcans out there that actually slip girls pills, I fucking hate you. I'm sorry you're too fucking inept and pathetic to hook up with girls in a legit fashion, you have to resort to drugging them. It's because of you fucking worthless piles of shit that people decided it's not ok to be a man anymore. I'd like to bend all of you over and hate fuck your assholes till you bleed to death. Then we can get on with our lives.

So she keeps babbling all this nonsense to me that I still can't understand because she's wasted and can't form words. Trying to understand her could be equated to teaching Hellen Keller how to do a Sudoku. It just isn't worth it. I did manage to decipher a few things. Basically she wanted to tell me that she felt bad about how we never had a chance to get together the last time.



Ok, now we're getting somewhere. I get her number from her friend, and I call her the next day. She, of course, doesn't remember our interaction at all but whatever. I ask her out and it's on.



This is when I start budgeting my time betwen ladies.



Now in part 5 the next 2 girls enter the fray and the real fiasco starts to unfold.

Heartfelt Bastard Tour 07

I had every intention of posting part 4 today, but alas practicality is a mother fucker.

Still, here's something to tide you over. A few summers ago I went on tour with my friends band, Heartfelt Bastard. I went along as den mother and their own personal journalist. No matter what state of mind I found myself in, I still managed to write everything down. So enjoy.

HEARTFELT BASTARD TOUR 2007
Blazing A Trail Of Class Across The Country

DAY 1

9am Wake up feel terrible.

9:01 Ryan smells bad.

9:30 Matt finally wakes up.

10:20 Arrive at Jamie’s.

10:30 “Enjoy” small talk and play with puppy as people take a long time to pack.

11 Van is finally loaded, oh so exciting.

11:01 Ryan still smells bad.

11:20 Get gas, it’s still too expensive.

11:21 Matt almost hits a truck, scary but hilarious.

11:38 Superfluous drive to Jamie’s bank.

11:45 Decide on tour names:
Matt = Gene Snake, he’s the tough guy
Ryan = Skuz, like that needs explaining
Jamie = Fernando, probably cause he’s the spicy one
Brad = Snort, that was just a fluke
Andrew = Sleeves, it’s ironic but it’s not

11:50 Hit the highway. The stolen suckers from the bank taste like ass.

5pm Stop at gas station in Raton NM. Broken men’s room probably involves Sleeves taking a big dump in the lady’s room. The trail of class begins.

5:10 Skuz buys new atlas and almost leaves it behind with Dr. Pepper. (And no that wasn’t product placement)

5:11 Angry attendant makes fun of Skuz for having alzhiemers.

5:15 Steal sauce from Arby’s and have a picnic the parking lot.

5:17 Skuz still smells bad, leaves floater in Arby’s restroom.

8pm Arrive in Albuquerque, immediately spot shady hotel, abandoned hospital, and big black hooker, probably a man.

8:20 Find Atomic Cantina. No smoking ban, horay!

8:22 Skuz doesn’t smell as bad due to deodorant theft. But barely.

8:25 Enjoy free drinks, talk to strangers. Skuz and Fernando find Kelly from Ft. Collins. It’s a small world after all.

9:30 Kelly gets us free drinks at the Launch Pad. The bartender is really hott. Probably inspired the deodorant theft.

9:45 Sleeves discovers Kelly had the same nerdy hobbies when they were kids. That’s worth more booze!

10pm Return to Atomic and play drunken pool. At this point too drunk to keep track of time effectively.

10:30 First band goes on. It’s the same the same drum and base line for every song. It’s rather sub-par. We drink more.

11pm Dead on Point Five goes on. Rock out!

11:25 Time stops for some reason.
Heartfelt Bastard goes on. Really drunk Skuz ruins four songs, but crowd too drunk to notice. Lot’s of fat Mexicans decide to mosh it up. We’re in “The Hood”.

Bastard makes enough to cover expenses, as well as more free booze.
Skuz and Fernando have a cooperative vomit in the Atomic restroom. One in the sink, and one in the urinal.

At last call load up the van and head to Andy’s house. Watch digital cable, smoke weed, and ponder why no one is getting coke while talking about music. Pass out eventually.

DAY 2

10:30am Wake up feel terrible.

11am Eat at Frontier, oh so tasty!

11:30 Return to Andy’s and watch cable as we pack up.

12:30 Head out!

12:33 Pay for $90 in gas and almost drive off without filling the tank. We rock for sure.

12:35 Scare some random girl, but she gave us bad directions so fuck her!

4pm Traffic on highway stops for some mysterious reason.

4:10 Horse in trailer in front of us gives Skuz the evil eye...is that a challenge!

5pm Traffic starts moving again. Apparently, a lemon loaded semi exploded in the road...disaster!

5:05 Van overheats, oh no more disaster! Stucky’s to the rescue!

5:15 Stucky’s is almost too white trash to handle, but still pretty hilarious. Way to charge us $14 for anti-freeze assholes!

5:45 Enter the realm of Texas, and celebrate by blaring Foreigner.

Things we forgot about NM:
Kelly’s favorite element was K, or Potassium. Then she vanished like drunken ninja!
Spot Snort talking to Basil, a.k.a. the only black man in Albuquerque.
Sometime before last call, Skuz pisses on Snake’s hand.
The bug shield on the van falls off. It apparently has seen enough. At least the hood is now perchable.
All of us dumbfounded as van vomits radiator fluid.
Sleeves walks bare-foot into Stucky’s bathroom. That was probably a bad call.

8pm (Back in Texas) Arrive at E.O.S. It’s a very odd house, doctor’s office, venue combination. No one knows what E.O.S stands for. Eat our shit? Every orifice stuffed? Enchanting Ovaltine shake? Equal opportunity sluts?

8:25 Visit the only Asian in Amarillo, and purchase High Life Light tall boys.

8:35 People start to show up. We meet Frohawk and company.

8:40 The taint conversation begins: Taint first and the Hot Tubs...beware the Australian Mohawk down under!

8:45 Realize there are a lot of pretentious coffee house fucks. Sleeves stops paying attention.

9:30 Spot fat English chicks dressed like zombies. Fat zombies talk to fat roller derby chicks, with out-of-place token black friend. Go Texas Go!

10:10 Johnny Handgun sings songs about fucking dead girls, and fat zombie girls love it.

11pm Bastard rocks out as Snort teases lots of people who probably deserve it. There is probably a lot of hilarious beer spittage.

11:30 Skuz busts out tuxedo thong. “Put your clothes back on!” -Crowd.

11:45 Some guy brings in an exotic beast. Kind of looks like an anteater fucked a raccoon. Is that Paris Hilton? The Humane Society hates you!

12am Royals go on, but who cares really?
Time stops again.
Owners threaten a puppy’s life to help sell merchandise for Bastard.
Bastard officially wasted, but as the sober driver Sleeves remains vigilant.
Record selling bonanza ensues...way to save the puppies assholes!
Odds the taint conversation is still going on? 100%
Not surprisingly, Fernando starts talking shit. “I’m gunna shank a bitch!”
As a result, we nearly get in a fight with random people across the street. The cops arrive, but fortunately Snort is very good at playing diplomat.

12:45 Skuz’s underpants are acknowledged on the ground in the parking lot.
A belligerent Fernando breaks a bottle, yet no shanking occurs.
Sleeves loses count of times he pulls up Fernando’s pants.
Skuz’s pants become the official van flag.
Skuz eats own pubic hair for $4 in change after burning them off.
Snakes responds by eating his own for free.
Roller derby sluts tag van for some reason.
Fernando drinks all of random girl’s rum, complains about how bad the rum is, smokes a joint that she rolled, and demands that she give Sleeves a blowjob. Sadly, the girl is married. Sorry Sleeves.
Fernando bites Sleeves’ cock through his pants. Almost as good as a free blowjob.
Fernando starts referring to all the girls by different names everytime they speak.
After speaking with the cops Snort vanishes to buy coke. How ironic.
Fernando vomits on the E.O.S couch. It probably added more character to the place.
Fernando also pisses on Royal’s van. The very butt-hurt Royals leave without their money, so Frohawk give us extra.
Snort returns. Mission accomplished.

1:30am Leave for El Paso.

1:33 Skuz gets us lost. Good one!

1:35 Snort does the newly acquired coke while Sleeves drives the van for the first time.

1:45 Gratuitous rain storm ensues. Sleeves has a hard time finding the road.

2:55 Skuz informs Sleeves that he can turn on the van brights. Brilliant!
There’s change in time zones so who knows when things start to happen.
Skuz and Sleeves enjoy driving through several creepy towns that appear abandoned. Some of them appear to be filled with random road lakes. Zombie attack expected at any moment.
Skuz freaks out about extreme blinky red lights near Roswell.

4am Back in NM time zone. Van overheats again, so we stop for a bit.
Quotes for Roswell:
“Let’s start a brush fire!” -Fernando
“I shit my man-thong...” -Skuz
Snort begs Sleeves to run Skuz over.
Pretenders sing-a-long at some point.

DAY 3

5am Still awake, feel terrible.
Sleeves has a hard time reading the clock.
Enter random Ewok looking forest, in between deserts. Sadly, despite the searching, there were no Ewoks.

6am Sleeves becomes delirious and can’t stop giggling.

6:35 Sleeves swerves van to avoid massive cat carcass. This signals the start of the road-kill highway adventure. There are dead animals every two seconds for miles and miles. It is decided that NM has no state animal because they’re all splattered on the highway...the land of enchantment indeed.

7:30 Skuz scares old man in gas station via his underpants flag.

8am Arrive in El Paso. Sleeves is about to die.

8:20 The search for Taco Cabana almost proves impossible. Fuck you Texas.

9am Cabana located, we heart tacos. Delirium overpowering...”Where the fuck am I?”
Find ourselves searching aimlessly for a hotel or something. Why do we need a fucking pool! Oh the dickheadery!
Finally locate hotel. Snort and sleeves bake in van while remaining fuckheads swim in the pool.

1pm Check into hotel. Thank you jebus! Sleep is attempted, but drinking beer just seems easier.

3pm Fernando and Snake go to waste gas on some kind of exploration. Good one.
Sometime before this Sleeves realizes that it’s not father’s day, and is livid for calling home. He probably yells at his mother.

5:08 It is decided that the current events in Texas can be described by one thing...Jean-Claud-Van-Dancing.
At some point Snort declares, “I’ll show you drunk!”

9:30 Arrive at Lucky Devils and immediately spot cowboy hat. Probably a recipe for disaster.

9:35 Discover that the band isn’t going to get free drinks. After discussion with cowboy hat he decides he can give us a $15 bar tab. Oh how generous.

9:40 Random acts of homophobia begin:
Sleeves puts mouth over overflowing beer, and older female bartender gets uncomfortable. Sleeves loves the cock it would seem...
Snake tells old guy that he looks good for his age. Suddenly old man wants to fight the faggots from Colorado. Way to go Texas!

10pm Bastard sets up. Spot a strange amount of twelve-year-olds sporting Sex Pistols gear. This bar rocks!

10:10 Sleeves starts hitting on younger female bartender. There are still no free drinks. He is displeased but not discouraged.

10:30 Bastard is in the middle of their set when twelve-year-olds start chanting Skuz! Skuz! It would seem that kids who’s balls have yet to drop love guys that smell bad and act like assholes.

10:31 Parents of kids look displeased.

10:32 Look around and notice that entire crowd is just the other bands waiting to play. Way to go Texas!

10:45 Bastard almost done with set, and parents still look displeased. Sleeves is thoroughly sauced.

10:55 Bastard finishes set and the parents quickly rescue their kids away. They are also censored from buying merchandise.

11:05 Disgusted that no one is buying anything, a wasted Sleeves starts spouting shit at people, though he finally squeezes some free drinks out of the cute bartender. He also sells her a T-shirt.

11:30 Next band goes on. Where did the crowd go?

12am We discover that fat cowboy hat is not going to pay for the show. “But I gave you a $15 bar tab.” Wow fucking Texas!

12:05 Diplomacy starts. It is explained to cowboy hat in a nice way that he is a terrible promoter and why it’s not a good idea to fuck the bands who are over-booked at shows that haven’t been advertised enough, just so he can pocket all the profits.

12:06 Diplomacy fails.

12:07 Shit talking starts. That’s more our style anyway.

12:45 Van is loaded yet shit talking continues. The owner feels bad that cowboy hat fucked us so he gives Snort $20. Older bartender buys us all tequila shots. That’s fucking super.

1am The legend is born!

1:05 “We should kick that guy’s ass.” -Snort
“Let’s just steal his hat.” -Snake
Brilliant!

1:25 We all sit in van poised to drive off while waiting for Snort to make his move.

1:30 Spot Snort as he grabs the cowboy hat off Hurley’s fat head. The van cheers!

1:31 Sadly, fat hat’s wing span proves too long, since he latches onto Snort’s hoodie and tackles him.

1:32 At the sight of Snort being accosted Fernando and Sleeves pounce on fat hat like jungle cats, as Skuz brandishes metal pipe at remaining poser fucks. Snake appears ominous as usual.

1:33 Shit talking increases. Cowboy hat receives knee to the face, gouged eye, and a beer soaked shirt courtesy of Fort Fucking Collins.

1:35 Drive back to motel in celebration, despite beings sans hat.

1:45 Snake and Sleeves hop fence and jump naked into hot tube. This is a strong move.

1:46 They realize that the hot tub is cold. Turns out it was a bad move.

1:50 Snake compliments Sleeves on having a nice penis. Sleeves remains gracious. That’s not gay at all.

1:55 Snake and Sleeves decide to steal patio furniture since the hot tub was a false advertisement.

2:45 Celebration continues in hotel room. Sleeves does blow for some reason, and talking has never been so easy.

DAY 4

11am Wake up feel terrible.

12pm After rehashing the evening, pack up and check out.

12:45 Get new fluids for the van, as we encourage our vehicle to stay strong. “The van runs on gas and superstition.”

1pm Hang out in the El Paso mall in all of its monolithic corporate splendor. Spot fat female security guard on some rascal-like device. It’s still probably intimidating enough to dissuade the cheesy El Paso youth.

1:40 Visit the Hot Topic. “Of course is name is Juan!” He seems nice enough, so we make friends.

2pm Go see Hostel 2, in order to kill time. First thing we see is a shaved Euro cock. It sets stage for the entire movie.

4pm We really couldn’t feel worse about El Paso. Let’s GTFO!

4:30 Finally out of Texas. Horay!

5pm Begin to see signs for The Thing! The suspense only builds as we go.

6:45 Arrive at The Thing! Tickets only cost $1. Oh Boy!

7pm The Thing! is revealed to be the corpse of an old Chinese railroad worker, who white people continue to exploit ages after death.

7:05 Skuz begins bank account fraud.

10:30 Arrive in Phoenix. Thanks Gordon.

11:30 Purchase a thirty pack of turtle beer. End result probably clear.

2am Gordon goes to sleep. Skuz and Fernando start wrestling. Skuz receives Yokozuna (bare ass to the face) from Fernando and Fernando receives atomic wedgie from Skuz all before falling onto Gordon’s futon nearly breaking it. Good one. Skuz has several Fernando-sized hand prints on his body.

2:45 “Kids” go to sleep. Snort and Sleeves stay up till 4:30am bonding over turtles.

DAY 5

Wake up feel terrible. “What time is it? Oh, it doesn’t matter, where’s the whiskey?”

11am Bastard composes the Ballad of Charles Hurley to chronicle the legend of El Paso.

12pm Begin watching House. Snort is content. The next six hours can be summed up by watching House and drinking booze. Snake, Skuz, and Fernando may have been drinking pool water. Who knows?

6pm An extremely wasted Skuz can’t seem to keep his pants on. No skuz, we will not change your diaper. “Look how small my dick is!”
6:05 Skuz rubs his penis on a sleeping Fernando’s back.

6:30 What’s going on? Everyone starts fighting. Seems there’s ball punching and face spitting. We better drink some more.

8pm Gordon comes home. Rally up.

9pm We visit Gordon’s favorite bar. Order food as Skuz tries to make a scene.
Spot Snake talking to guys for some reason, instead of girls. “But he sets the prices at the airport!”
Snort encourages Sleeves to hit on random girls, especially the dready.
Sleeves doesn’t seem excited. He does love the cock after all.
Why did we even go out?

10:30 Return to Gordon’s apartment, and watch Departed.

2am Everyone passes out. Snort and Sleeves stay up late again and bond over more turtles.

DAY 6

12pm Wake up...Wow feel terrible. Snort don’t die!

12:30 Switch from House to Arrested Development. The Sun! Whos idea was that?

2pm Go to the grocery store for pre-show BBQ. Spot Fernando and Sleeves slow dancing in the booze isle. Good thing it isn’t Texas.
Rest of day summed up by not moving and watching TV.

7pm Gordon comes home. Time to eat!

8pm Snort does blow off the Blow DVD case, and finally takes a shower.

9pm Arrive at Jug Heads. It’s pretty empty.

9:20 Snake gets pretty excited about the porn-filled crane game. He wins a classy pair of dick glasses. Second band arrives.

10:30 Bastard goes on, and we officially make the transition from giant Mexicans to giant Indians. It’s a solid play.
Earlier we receive a call from Austin. Skuz has to get laid for Austin’s birthday, or Austin will be furious. The mission begins.

11pm Survey the lady situation.

11:01 Spot hott chick, but probably the girlfriend of other band’s bass player. Move on.
11:02 Realize the only other girl in the bar is most likely a wildebeest or perhaps a surely manatee.

11:03 The game is on!

12am Bastard goes on again for Kareoke. They play a wide variety of songs, and bar dancing ensues. Reese gets up and rocks out, even while he is serving. The manatee won’t stop badgering Sleeves about the reality TV cooking shows. “Just let me talk to Gordon for fuck’s sake!”

1:30 Van is loaded up. We are about to leave when manatee stops Skuz. Happy birthday Austin.

1:35 Skuz rides with the beast while Snort mans-up and drives us home. It was still a group effort.

2am Arrive back at Gordon’s, manatee in tow.

2:05 Sleeves deposits Snake in a tree so that he might urinate from it.

2:07 Snake has to cork his stream to avoid pissing on the manatee. After that she claimed that Snake did in fact urinate on her. In actuality the trollger pissed her own wasted pants.

2:10 Back in the apartment a furious pissed soaked manatee runs off into the night.
Note: Skuz was not excited to have sex with mentioned wildebeest, which says a lot.

2:15 Team “Get Skuz’s Mullet Laid for Austin’s Birthday” does everything in its power to get the trollger back, including an offer to switch pants. Sadly the efforts prove fruitless.
Note: The entire time Skuz does nothing. He obviously hates Austin.

2:30 Until everyone passes out we tease the crap out of Skuz for being a worthless bag-of-bones and not fucking the manatee for Austin. Two out of three rule, “My ass! Your name is Skuz.” Good thing he has standards.

DAY 7

11:30am Wake up, feel less terrible. Enjoy left-over breakfast.

11:45 Finish the rest of Arrested development.

6pm With the sun safely down, it is time to drive to Vegas.

11pm Stop in a town close to Vegas and purchase two eighteen packs. “Let’s roll into Vegas with style.”

12am We are probably drunk in the van. We start to notice signs for some elaborate police check point. How many beer cans can we hide?

12:05 Despite us looking shady, having a driver with a mustache and mullet, and a van full of crap, they just let us go.

12:25 We ride over the Hoover Damn, and there are probably more cops. Good thing we started drinking again.

1am Vegas baby!

1:30 We park the van on the strip and have group bonding piss on neighboring vehicles.

1:40 Treasure Island for some reason.

2am We stop at Barbery Coast and partake in extremely over-priced shots. Skuz and Snake want to gamble.

2:10 We take more shots, and time kind of stops.
Spot plastered Fernando interrupting as many prostitutes in action as possible. Any old guy talking to a younger hott chick who looks incredibly too interested, has a date with Fernando.
The King of Cockblockery! Sleeve’s personal favorite cockblock is the nerdy white guy, complete with fanny pack, pulling money out the atm with his black hooker. Earlier the same guy bough Fernando drinks to leave him alone.
Later notice Fernando, currently on a rampage, harassing a group of posers wearing classic rock Hot Topic T-shirts. The band is brought up, and it’s fairly obviously the posers are getting pissed at the very obnoxious Fernando who teases them. When they ask what function Sleeves serves he responds, “I kick people’s asses when they talk to much shit to my friends.” They then become very accommodating to Fernando’s emotional needs. Feather Ruffle for the win.

4:30 We attempt to return to the van, except like a bunch of drunken goamers we can’t remember where it is.

5:30 Locate van and head to Chris’s house and pass out.

DAY 8

3pm Wake up. “Where are we? What day is it?”

3:05 We notice that no one we know is home, except some girls who we were sure would enjoy the company of dirty sleazy strangers.
Snake and Skuz have been long gone to go gamble.

3:30 Eat breakfast and watch Ricky Bobbie. Skuz and Snake return at some point.

5:30 Chris and Bobby come home.
Nickelodeon Gas! We watch GUTS. Climb that Aggro Crag!
Legends of the Hidden Temple. The Green Monkeys did what to Olmek?

8:30 While still in a stupor, we roll to the Slanted Clam. Probably the best bar name ever. Yes! Free drink tickets.

9pm Crowd would rather sit at the bar than listen to the Rock.

9:30 After Bastard plays, the “interesting”crowd shows up.

10pm Spot Skuz getting cozy with hott black chick who likes punk, mullets, and the mustache for some reason. We agree that it is a massive improvement over manatee.

10:30 Sleeves tries very hard to push the record. He only sells a few, most people still suck apparently. Snort, still not feeling well, sleeps in the van.

11:30 Snake and Sleeves receive far too much attention from forty-nine-year-old skanky black chick, probably a hooker, who oddly enough is friends with Skuz’s potential biddy.

12am Creepy black chick, who can’t really speak, gives Sleeves a psychic reading. She tells Sleeves his ex-girlfriend had his baby. Bullshit of course, but accurate enough to freak him out.

12:30 See Skuz be the victim of a very elaborate cockblock via potential biddy’s friends, who for some reason don’t like him. Imagine that.

12:32 Potential biddy tries several times to scribble her number on a wet napkin, leaving only an undecipherable treasure map to the poon-tang.

12:40 The rest of the guys start small talking, as Skuz starts pouting.

12:50 Angry Skuz starts teasing some big curly-haired guy, who later turns out to be the promoter that books the shows and pays the band. Good one.

1am Skuz is being super obnoxious to sober lady friend of Chris while sitting in the back of another band’s truck. He is content to talk shit till he finally passes out in the van.

2am Return to Chris’s house, and notice that the other roommate Stephy has brought some punk rock version of Sanjaya my papaya. This equals super annoying girl pants wearing, story telling, liar liar, who can only get-off to gay porn, so we better make sure he doesn’t steal our stuff.

2:10 We buy food from the Circle K. Sleeves gets free carton of eggs from clerk who can’t count change, or work the register. Come home, and pass out.

DAY 9

12pm Wake up, and not sure if we feel terrible. At this point we could probably just say normal.

12:30 Have breakfast of champions. Thank you free eggs.

3:30 Load up and head to Bakersfield.
Entire drive can be summed up by Sleeves sitting between and extremely wasted Skuz and Fernando. How many times does one think the wonder twins can spit beer on, ash on, fondle, bite chest hair off of, and passively threaten to spill piss on Sleeves during one van ride? Probably more than a few. Also, dumping piss out the window is at the heights of class radiation.

8:30 Arrive at the bar. Skeezy = awesome. We say hello to Mika’s friends and hilarious array of biker dudes.
Spot poser band Riff Raff. “But the dude is a squatter. You know, one of those kids that pretends to be homeless till they use their cell phones to bum cash from their parents.”

9:30 Riff Raff goes on. Sucky at best.

10:30 Jay Cool’s band goes on and are much better. “How many fat biker guys can you fit into one band. (Look around) I mean one bar.”

11:30 Bastard goes on. They play a very good show, with some hilarious biker guy participation. Seems fat biker guys is the natural progression from giant Indians.

11:35 How many times can Skuz and Fernando say party? Let’s party, where’s the party?, hey party my party, let’s party in the party on the party party, hey don’t put your party in my party, that’s not enough party to party my party. Shut up for fuck’s sake!

1am Informed of big after party at Jay Cool’s house. Snort heads off with Kyle, who is a friend from Fort Collins, and his big amazon lady friend who used to work at the Drunken Monkey. “Wow, sit on my face!”

1:30 Spot entire Hell’s Angels gang roll into the bar...It’s time to go.

2am At the party Big biker guy Joey picks up Fernando only to immediately fall over, dropping Fernando on his head...but in reality he just scrapped his fingers.

2:10 Enter Jay Cool’s house and immediately spot giant bag of Taco Bell. Drunk people + Taco Bell = feeding frenzy.

2:30 Skuz and Fernando start shit talking Riff Raff.
“Hey do you faggots know what a squatter is?” -Fernando
“Look at these faggots. ‘Hey my mom did my mohawk’.” -Skuz

2:35 Snake and Riff Raff bass player break a light fixture in the kitchen. Gravity is a bitch.

3am Riff Raff is intent on fighting, so long as Sleeves isn’t in the room.
“You faggots don’t know what a wine recline is? You put the space bag to shame. Take that shit out of the box.” -Skuz
Skuz removes the wine from the box, only for a pissed-off Riff Raff to put it back in.

3:30 How many burley biker guys can you fit into one house. A lot apparently, especially when they all look the same.

3:45 Sleeves goes to deposit trash in the kitchen. While gone Riff Raff actually tries to fight Skuz. Sadly, for them, things go south. While probably thinking they were safe, Riff Raff tries to punch Skuz, but since they are drunken retards, they hit Sheila instead. The end result involves big guy Joey (who earlier dropped Fernando) performing an extremely elaborate WWF Macho Man Randy Savage spin move and lays out the oh so skinny Riff Raff singer. Riff Raff then runs for their lives before they are devoured by the army of giant biker thugs. They should probably never play Bakersfield again.

4am Everyone has successfully bummed all of Sleeve’s smokes.

4:30 Everyone, absolutely in love with Bastard, gets them all to sign autographs before passing out.

4:45 Sleeves and Snake pass out in the living room while Fernando embarks on an adventure.
Sometime after 5am Fernando befriends some lady in the middle of a domestic disturbance. After pounding half of her Jagger bottle, he tried to fight her cheating husband who was hiding in the house. Lucky for him, he never came outside.

Day 10

11am What a fucking surprise, Skuz wakes us all up to the sound of his voice. Wow we feel fucking terrible.

11:01 Where is Snort? Oh yea, thanks a lot booze.

11:10 Spot giant bag of burgers in the kitchen. No wonder giant bikers are giants.

12pm Send off Jay Cool. Apparently he works in Vegas.

12:30 Start watching TNT New Classics with Jay Cool’s sixty- year-old mom. Old lady commentary is fairly priceless.

3pm Let’s go find Snort!

3:30 Arrive at Kyle’s house. “Help yourself to all the food.” Don’t mind if we do!

3:45 Spot giant amazon doing our dishes. “Wow, sit on my face!”

4:30 We all go swimming at Kyle’s friend’s girlfriend’s house. It’s a nice big house with a pool, and a fridge full of food. Living with your parents seems to pay off for the slackers.

5pm Enjoy beer by the pool in the shade. Why does their dog look like a cat had sex with a rat? “Hey don’t Pomeranian on my parade.”

7pm Participate in some ridiculous pool adventures, involving plucking fruit off nearby trees and baseballing them with a shovel while trying to pelt each other.
“Hey let’s go eat more of their food.”
“It’s ok , it’s her mom’s.”
“Nice lettuce sandwich Sleeves.”

10pm We finally leave and go back to Kyle’s to drink whiskey. We probably eat more of their food.

10:30 Amazon comes out to smoke with us. “Wow, seriously, sit on my face!” Too bad she sleeps sixteen hours a day.

12am We break the unbreakable gord. Porch decorations are overrated anyway.

1:30 Snake attempts to catch frogs before we watch The Descent. Everyone passes out during the movie. Kyle snores like some grizzly bear hippopotamus or some shit.

Day 11

11am Wake up and wonder if maybe it’s the sound of Skuz’s voice that makes me feel terrible.

12pm We load up and head to Reno.
The van ride can be summed up by the sweaty butt nest. Still the drive through the mountains was rather frightening. “My shit just took a shit!” -Snort.

5:30 Sacramento traffic is ass, but at least there is a Taco Bell.

5:45 We get gas and realize that Snake dislikes black people. “Oh Snake, why so full of hate?”

7:30 Arrive in Reno where the bars are practically on campus.

8:30 Notice that the other bands are all jam bands...if you took away the bass and the guitar you’d have a much shittier Mark Mallman.

10:45 Bastard goes on, and note the total progression. We went from fat Mexicans, to giant Indians, to burley bikers, and then to a brostada one-man-mosh-pit. Camouflage shorts rule!

1am We realize that the show was rather uneventful, but at least some drunk people bought some stuff. Note that the last guy bought a record for $7 because we had no change, followed by a belligerent Fernando immediately calling him a faggot. Luckily Snort has diplomatic immunity.

1:30 We are on the way Boise! It’s a good thing Snort bought that Mad Dog. He’s alive again!
Van ride can be described by a very drunk Snort and Sleeves rocking out to Dream Evil in the most annoying way possible while Skuz falls asleep at the wheel. Snake tries to nap for his shift, and Fernando is passed out, and dead set on snuggle time with Sleeves for at least two hours.

9:30 We arrive in Boise. “Jesus H., put a bullet in me...”

9:31 Out of the van Sleeves almost loses consciousness, as Skuz tries to fight Snort for some reason, but spot party beagle inside Jared’s house and all is well. Sam!

9:35 We pass out in the basement. Sam took a party on the corner.

Day 12

2pm Wake up feel terrible. It would seem that Snake and Skuz had already been up for some time bugging the roommates and playing with some sort of handmade swing.

3:30pm We get a snack at Bad Burger before dinner with Snake’s mom. The burgers turn out to be huge. Probably a bad play. “Sleeves, why did you eat all of those fries?”

5:30 We are moving around some how, and are off to dinner with Snake’s mom.

6:30 We find ourselves at a very expensive Italian restaurant. Kind of wish we hadn’t eaten all that fast food. Though it’s doubtful our stomachs could get much worse that this point. The doggy bag is a strong play.

8:30 We return to Jared’s house and discover that in the two hours we were gone all of Jared’s friends are already drunk. Spot Merril, the giant drunk Irish guy. No way! “Oh party beagle where are we?”

9pm Bastard plays set in basement, and it seems that Merril is passed out in some bushes. Oh well, maybe next tour.

9:30 Jared finishes off the progression with the one-man-mosh-pit of Jared screaming, “Support the band! What have you got to lose? It’s your band!” Classic sauce.

10:30 Other band plays, and is rather funkadelic with a super obnoxious strobe light. We are forced into watching by the one-man-pit.

11:30 Bastard plays again despite that everyone at the party seems to have left. Go one-man-pit go?

12:30 At this point Jared’s sentences take about forty-five minutes to complete. “Let’s take some shots!”
Also at some point Jared sells his bass to some guy for a can of creamed corn, which Jared already had in his kitchen. Oh that tequila!

1am Jared insists that Jill oil pants on his kitchen wall. Oh that tequila!

1:10 Jared is pissed that Jill painted on his kitchen wall. We discuss how one can define art. “Let’s take some shots!”

1:30 Amongst the fighting Fernando rubs his penis all over a passed out Skuz’s face. Revenge is pretty sweet.

1:35 A wasted forty-five minute sentence spewing Jared still argues over why Jill painted on his wall, while acid tripping super dad mode Snake sticks up for his sister.

2am Everyone is friends again, and the moral of the story is that Jared likes to yell at art.

2:05 Jared passes out, while the rest of us chain party. Give me a party. Who has my parties? Let’s smoke a party.

2:30 Neighbors yell at us from next door. Skuz then rally’s up.
Quote of the night: “When you fart on my dick, it’s over.” -Snort

2:35 The great sodomy adventure begins. How long would one think that Fernando and eventually Jill would try to stick a guitar plug up Skuz’s asshole?
Answer: Until they get in up there.

3am Fearing the drive, Sleeves passes out. Skuz and Jill run off at some point and fuck in the van. “Didn’t she used to be your sister?” We all wait patiently for Snake to kill Skuz. “I’m proud of you, and ashamed of her.” -Snake

5am There is a drunk drive to the gas station for more parties. Fernando walks inside with just his boxers and demands a Sparks. Sadly, it is too early to buy booze.
“If we leave before 1pm tomorrow, I’ll be amazed.” -Snort

Day 13

12:30 Wake up feel terrible, and check the time. Oh what a shocker.

1pm We go have breakfast with Snake’s mom at the Chicken King! Take that hangover!

2:30 We are loaded up and on the road home.
It is a very uneventful van ride. All of Utah is under construction. We decide that no amount of road work can fix that shitty state.

6pm We stop for gas and food, only to spot the coolest guy in Utah. “Nice convertible asshole!”

6:30 We start driving and almost get lost before encountering the worst sign on the highway: Left to Cheyenne or Right to Salt Lake City. We want Colorado damn it!
There is more terrible driving as Wyoming is also under construction.
The dream of taking a shit in Little America was thwarted by our need to go home.

12:30 Almost to Laramie and Sleeves is thoroughly delirious from almost non-stop driving.
There is nothing on the radio but intense Christian jams. “Oh I want to get down on my knees and please you Jesus. I want to feel your Salvation all over my face.”

1:30 Jesus is kind enough to guide us to a gas station in Laramie, and Snake takes the wheel.

2:30 Are we really back in Fort Collins? Do we really still live here? Good thing we partied like a rock star!

Guna Die Alone part 3

A lot of whiskey and 5 women. That's what I promised you, and that's what you shall receive.

After my conversation with Sarah I became the God of Fuck. Cake and Sodomy...the works.

Fuck her. Fuck her for making me feel all goopy and vulnerable. That's crybaby faggot shit!

Fuck women. Fuck women for being the keepers of the grail. The fucking holy grail isn't a chalice, it's that moist spot between your legs, I can't say it enough. And that fucking thing makes everyone go crazy. Especially me!

Fuck my friends. Fuck them for always trying to make me feel better about shit. How am I supposed to destroy myself with you fucking people badgering me all the god damn time! Rock bottom can in fact be an accomplishment if done well. And I certainly rock the bottom like a champ...ha!

Fuck my parents. Fuck my parents, because...well...fuck my parents.

Fuck me!

I am the God of Fuck.

For the next 3 months I go on a rampage. And the best part about this rampage is that I keep it a secret from everyone who knows me. From June to September I'm drunk every single fucking night. Whiskey is my family now.

Whiskey is my Ed McMahon. My Paul Schafer. Robin to my Batman. Pinky to my Brain. Joe C. That little guy that used to hang out with Kid Rock, who incidentally always reminded me of Tattoo from Fantasy Island. Whiskey is the Tonto to my Lone Ranger, except less racist. And of course whiskey is my Vanna White. Though if my whiskey had actually been Vanna the only thing I'd have her doing is sucking on my cock.

The only time I've ever drank more is when Halo and I downed a handle or more a day in the heroin den, but that's a different story all together.

I remained somewhat chipper at work, since as a bouncer I got to be mean to nice people for no reason, be really fucking mean to stupid assholes, occassionally toss some mother fucker on his face, steal drinks, yell my fucking face off at the end of each night, and in general rain on everybody's parade. It really is the perfect job for me. Can you imagaine that I worked in customer service for 8 years? What a fucking joke.

At the end of each night, the co-workers and I proceeded to drink as much whiskey as we could before the sun came up, though sometimes we told the sun to fuck itself and kept going. God's flashlight my fucking ass! Then we'd eventually BUI our way home. That was my three day work week in a nutshell. The rest of my week consisted of me at the bar getting shit-canned.

At this time I've also decided to fuck anything I can get my hands on.

In case any of you were wondering, if you put a cantelope in the microwave for a bit, it's almost like a vagina. And it doesn't talk to you, ask you stupid questions, whine about cuddling, and most importantly, it never says no.

You may have noticed that I work out a fair amount of my aggression by hate fucking. I hate fucked the shit out of every girl that could stand me. My charm was at it's peak for sure. The best part about all this hate fucking was that I hate fuck some tramp and then hate myself for doing it afterwards, which would then enrage me again and cause me to go out and hate fuck someone else. It's like one of those vicious cycles retarded fat people or drug addicts are always crying about. Too bad they're a bunch of fucking losers and can't do anything. If you're going to destroy something there's a right way and a wrong way.

Ok before I distract myself any further with how angry I am, I'll cut to the story. There were 5 women of note. Gypsy, striper, feminist, mexico, and princess. I'm using these fake names because I'm going to say some mean things. Shocking, but bear with me. The last thing I need is for any of these worthless whores to read my shit and come bitch at me in my private time. Now unless they're fucking retarded, which in some cases I suspect that they are, it won't be hard to figure out who I'm talking about. Ok, on with the show.

So in September it was like I woke up from a comma. A really drunken, I need to go get tested for STD's kind of comma. Clean as a whistle, in case you were curious. Fuck you Karma!

I woke up because gypsy came back into town. I call her that because she would often make references to herself as that kind of character. Now I actually liked gypsy quite a bit. I'd known her for a number of years. We had some classes together, we had mutual friends, and she sang in a pretty cool band. Well cool for Fort Collins anyway. They won battle of the bands! Whoop-de-fucking-do losers. Anyhow, the past January or so, she left the country and did her last semester of college abroad. Though I think she wanted to leave so she could wander and play music with interesting strangers, which is something a gypsy might do. Or a lame ass fucking hipster. But whatever.

The point is she left before anything could happen, and that displeased me. All of a sudden half a year later, there she is. I could date this girl, I said to myself. She was the kind of chick I could take to the bar. She could drink, and she just said some hilarious shit. Watching her sing though...totally fucking sexy. Knocked me on my ass. Of course she probably wouldn't have appreciated the fact that I had already met, and was fucking striper. But maybe had I explained it with all my eloquence and tact? Yeah, I didn't think so either.

I had met striper at the bowling alley. It was a classy relationship with this chick from the start. She wrote her phone number down on a little piece and gave it to the bartender to give to me, before running off. For a big giant slut bag, she certainly was shy. When the bartender handed me the number, I knew it was one of those, I'll get laid as soon as I dial you, kind of things.

On top of that she was pretty fucking hott. My friends all agreed. She was a saucy little red head, or fire crotch which I prefer, and just tight all over. I had my arm around her on our first date, and guys still came up to us to hit on her. Despite that she was all over me. This is how hott she was. I didn't mind the other guys by any means. I went back to her house and hate fucked her, so I win losers!

I'm sure you've all used your masterful powers of deduction to figure out the origins of her nickname. And if you haven't, then do us all a favor and go take a bath with your hair dryer, you fucking retards!

So yes, she was a stripper. When I got her number I did not know this. I called her a few days later and while we were working out a time to meet she mentioned that she had to go to work in Denver, but we could meet for a drink during the day. That was that. When I hung up the phone it clicked. Now think to yourselves for a moment. What kind of job would a woman have, in the evening, on the weekends, that's worth commuting the 50 or 60 miles out of town when gas is fucking ridiculous?

OH! She must take her clothes off for money! I win again.

Now I couldn't have given any less of a shit that she was a stripper. The only problem I had with her, besides the fact that she was a big bag of DUH, was that she had 2 kids. 2 kids of the young variety. She even had their footprints tattooed on her legs. Ummm creepy?

Here was my issue with that. First and foremost, I didn't want to have a negative affect on her kids. As much of a monster as I can be at times, the last thingf that I wanted to be was some phantom father like figure that would appear out of no where, fuck their mom, and vanish again. I have enough issues with my own father to not want to do that to anyone. Ever.

Secondly, I'M NO ONES FUCKING BABY DADDY! You fucking sluts can lie about everything and we're so fucking stupid we'll believe you. But the one thing you can't lie about, is wanting a baby daddy for your fucking brood. Something in your wires just won't let you have your nasty little ilk slithering around without some sort of patriarch figure overseeing things. Even if he's a usless fucktard like myself.

Luckily it never came to that. Though there is something to be said for hate fucking a tramp in the ass underneath pictures of her kids. Oh well, they'll be in our shoes soon enough.

Funny side strory. The last time we had sex, we did anal in my room. For the record it was her idea. Now it wasn't the first time I'd done anal, but my rule is if you don't want anything in your ass, then I don't want anything in mine. After that we can talk. That just means I never ask for anal, but god damn it if I won't do it. God gave women vaginas so that mankind could use and enjoy them. Nothing is more American than a vagina. They're right up there with whiskey and apple pie. 3 of my mosy favorite things. Though I've never fucked a pie. I stick to girls and fruit personally. But I would fuck whiskey if it were a women.

Now when we were done I noticed I had some poo on me.

Yes people poo! It had never happened before, I was kind of shocked. Now one thing I did really like about this girl is that she had some man-like qualities. Specifically, she fell asleep almost instantly after sex. That's awesome by the way. Cuddling is for fags. And girls apparantly.

So there I am sitting with some shit on my dick and a little bit on the sheets, next to this passed out trollop. I go to the bathroom clean myself off, and pretend like I'm not about to fall asleep next to the village bicycle in a pile of shit and semen. As I said, it was nothing but class when it came to the two of us.

That was a rough week for me actually. On top of the poo sheets, I had caught my roomate jerking off in my room. One of the hazards of being the only one with a computer. I was so shocked all I could say was, "That's my chair! I sit there. I sit there everyday!" His excuse was...are you ready..."But I had a spank rag."

BUT I HAD A SPANK RAG!

And some people wonder why I hate everyone.

Also during that same week, my very good friend Johnny Lancer got blacked-out drunk and erupticoned all over my room. That's my way of saying he vomitted all over my shit. He was so drunk I gave him my room to sleep in and I took the couch. That'll teach me to do nice things for people. When he wakes up he informs me that he puked all over the place. And I do mean everywhere. On the bed, on the blanket, on the floor, on my shoes, on my backpack, a little on the TV, some comic books, my fan, and well you get the idea. I was sad.

In a very short amount of time I got shit, vomit, and semen. This people is the story of my life.

Anyway, we cleaned up the vomit with some cleansers and I was thrilled when the smell went away. I'm doing my damndest to pretend like someone wasn't masturbating in my chair, especially as I sit here typing. Though I do still come home and find porn left out on my screen.

Fuck I hate everyone.

As for the sheets I didn't even bother. I took them off and gave all my laundry to my mother and told her to do it. She didn't seem to mind.

My mother and I have a special relationship. She hides how much she's dissapointed in me, and in return I don't tell her about all the fucked-up things I do. Like sodomy for example, that results in me getting shit on myself. Thanks mom.

Honestly, I don't know why every woman doesn't want to date me.

Anyway back to the story. So gypsy reappears, and it's on. Now this is what's going to keep you coming back for part 4 if you've managed to read this far.

At this point my womanizing hasn't peaked. In the past I just leap-frogged my way from one girl to the next, always just having one at a time. But this time, I think to myself, why should I. I've been fucked over enough, I want to see just how much I can get away with. So I start running both of these girls at once.

Eventually, I'd come to run all of these girls at once, which of course, much like in Shakespeare, would lead to my downfall.

Wonder how this ends? Keep reading.

Guna Die Alone part 2 (less jizz I promise)

First let me say thanks for reading. This may very well be what keeps me from embarking on some murderous rampage where I probably will jizz on everyone. Anyway, as I promised at the end of my last post, it's story time folks.

My best friend recently told me that my life can be rather similar to a soap opera, and after thinking about it a bit, I think he's right. While I could go on for days about past events and epic tales, it's time to focus on the future. This is about my latest debacle. So if you care to read, here is a story about women.

Before I get started I'd like to address the female readers. For as much shit as I give women, I can't deny that I love women, possibly more than anything else. Though you should know that it pains me to say so, but I'm a realist. I love the way they look, feel and, smell. I love the way that some women's skin is almost feathery to the touch, its own warm ebrace. I love the way their hair drapes down around their shoulders and the way their pheromones mix in with scented shampoo. It's faint, but it's there. And let's face it people everybody loves tits, I don't care who you are. Burying your face between a gorgeous pair of tits is like that scene from Gladiator when he finally dies and he's walking through that field to meet his family. It just feels like home. Anyway fuck Russell Crowe, here's the precursor my story. It lets you know what state of mind I'm in, which is the overall point of my rambling.

I guess I should start last April 2008. It was my birthday and we had a party at my house. I met this girl named Sarah (I'll use her real name because I won't say anything bad about her, a privilege I afford to few) who is the friend of my roomates girlfriend. Sarah was visting from Florida. I can't begin to tell you how much I like Sarah, or I should say how much I came to like her over the next 2 weeks she was in town.

We hooked up on my birthday, and shockingly enough I wasn't even really that drunk, which is not like me at all. I generally don't have sober sex because I have this problem where I hate everyone. I generally rate women by how many drinks it will take for me to fuck them. It has very little to do with beer goggles, in case you were concerned. To be honest until Sarah came along I hadn't had sex with a girl that I liked in close to 6 years. That's 6 years of having hate sex. Do you know how much hate sex you can have in 6 years? A fuck ton that's how much.

Now I've had sex with what I would consider to be a fair amount of girls. During that 6 years of hate sex I thought it best to remain the man whore I always knew myself to be. I won't say I've fucked an obscenely large amount of girls, but it's a number one can be proud of, from the whore perspective. I also have a unique and ridiculous story to go along with each one.

This information is relevant because I never get sauce. Now I'm not talking about BBQ sauce, tartar sauce, pizza sauce, or hot sauce or anything fucking stupid like that. I'm talking about jizz (had to throw a little in there). When I say I never get sauce, I mean I never have an orgasm. This is something only my close friends know. It's hard to blow your load when you're concentrating so hard just to keep an erection because your drunk and you absolutely loath the girl you're penetrating. But remember I like Sarah. I got sauce with Sarah every single time.

Toward the end of her visist she was sleeping at my house almost every night. On top of being some of the best sex I've ever had, I just liked spending time with her. She was in no way like the girls I'm used to fucking. For one I could talk to her. I actually liked talking to her. One of my biggest issues with women is that I've never felt like I've found a girl that is my intellectual equal.

Now before your panties get tangled ladies, I'm not saying that women are stupid. I've never thought that women are stupid, or less intelligent than men. If anything women are probably smarter than men. Still I'd rather be dumb and have a penis. Cause that penis means even if you are smarter I still make more money than you do. Seriously, if you bitches are anything it's fucking crazy. One of the greats mysteries that will no doubt be pondered by humanity until the sun finally explodes is how can you ladies be so god damn insane. Anyway my point is that I've never found a girl that I could connect with intellectually. Sarah was the exception.

So we hung out together, we talked and I actually enjoyed myself. We slept together almost every night, and for the first time in a while I felt content, even though I knew it wouldn't last.

Incidentally, Sarah was the only girl ever, out of my giant army of sluts to ever give me an orgasm via oral sex. It might have been my greatest sexual moment ever. I seem to remember losing my powers of speech and having to communicate through sign language before I was about to blow, since I didn't want to wade in her face. Might not have expected me to say that given my last post, but as I said she is the exception. After that my vision went blurry and I turned into a fire hose. There may still be some jizz stains on my ceiling, I'm not sure. Oh and her vagina tasted like rose petals scattered across the polished marble floors of Valhalla.

Then the day came when she left. We'd had 2 weeks together, and any longer I'm sure she would have gotten tired of me, at least that's what I like to think. To be honest I didn't take it very well. She lives in Florida where she attends grad school, and I understood that's where she needs to be. That's where I want her to be, because that will make her happy. My presence would only stifle things.

So after she left we kept in touch fairly regularly through e-mails and text messages, but you know how these things go. But before all that I of course decided that I needed to immediately revert back to my usual self destructive behavior and go right out and fuck someone else, because I had no other way of dealing. That's also my way of saying I have no other way of dealing.

To begin with I wasn't completelty honest with her after that. Which makes me want to fucking dive right into traffic. Fuck me. If there's anything that I'm truly famous for it's being brutally honest all the time. Sometimes I'll temper my comments with a bit of tact but usually I always just say what's on my mind. I was so upset, however, that I actually convinced myself to tell Sarah (over e-mail mind you, that's what a coward I am) that she shouldn't wait for me or pass down any opportunities as a result of me, because I'm not worth it blah blah lies lies! What I really wanted to say was how much I missed her and that it wasn't fair we lived so far apart, but maybe we could fix that. I also told her I had been seeing other girls. She didn't like that.

Still it's important to remember that at the time I told myself I needed to stay here in fucking Fort Collins and finish school. That's changed now seeing as how I'm taking time off of school before my fucking head explodes from frustration. Circumstance is in a constant state of flux. I wish I would have remembered that. Also remember that given my usual routine and personality, I had had something really great. I had legitimately been happy. The only logical thing to do after that was to piss all over it and flush it down the drain so I could be miserable again. Miserable = comfortable.

Within the week I started going on dates again, but I had a hard time focusing, since I hate everyone, and subsequently had a hard time sealing the deal. Finally, I hooked up with this girl that I wasn't even attracted to really. I just wanted a warm body and something I could use to ruin myself later on. I made her feel real special. I won't use her real name either. To be short, the sex was awful, I hated it, and she was an ice queen. I felt like shit afterwards, it spawned an entire ordeal of nonsense that isn't even worth talking about, and of course, no sauce.

Finally, one morning I'm sitting in class. It was one of those awful summer classes that meets for hours everyday, much earlier than I was comfotable with. I made it a point to come in filthy and hung-over everyday and be as mean to everyone as they could stand. I can always stand worse. I was doing a great job of staring off into space when my phone rings. It's Sarah. I answer my phone in the middle of my teacher's lecture, return all the scowls I recieve with my best fuck you look as I walk out the door. I got a B in that class. I never did a fucking thing.

In the hallway we chit chat, and I tell her it's good to hear her voice. She proceeds to tell me that she had recently gone home to Pennsylvania to visist her folks before returning to Florida for school. While she was there I guess some guy she new confessed his love for her and they were going to date. Long distance mind you. He still had me beat. I could never give her the commitment I wanted to. Ruining everything is just so much easier than maintaining. Miserable = comfortable. I think the guy's name is Bobby, but I never remember because I fucking hate him.

How much do I hate him you might ask? Well let me just add that in the past 7 months or so since she told me that, he's actually broken up with her because she was too successful and he coduldn't handle it. They got back togbether of course over the holidays, but are you fucking serious Bobby? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS! Sarah is pretty awesome and successful, I'll admit that, but the fact that she's motivated and attending a higher level education program is too successful for that retard to handle makes me want to eat babbies! Actually it makes me want to bite the throats out of babbies and then drop kick them into blind people crossing the street!

I like to imagine that fucking moron begging her to take him back, crawling on his knees. He must have realized that he's too fucking retarded and socially inpet for other people to stand, let alone women who don't have the kind and patient disposition that sarah does. My theory is he came to the conclusion that he'll never get laid so the best he can hope for is stroking off to her voice over the phone even though she's just asking how his day was. Not only would I jizz all over this clown, but I'd like to poke both his eyes out with my cock and fuck his brain till he's dead. Though it's likely that I still won't get sauce, but I'll try for damn sure.

Again I'll remind you that he beat me.

Anyway so after she told me, I just pretended like I didn't care because it was her life and I wasn't going to be a major part of it. I was also too much of a coward to tell her about the ice queen I had been seeing. Though I finally did not long after. I toss my phone down and start screaming and kicking shit in the hallway, interrupting every class around me. I was really hoping someone was going to to come out and say something to me so I could do to them what I imagined doing to this Bobby character. No one ever did say anything to me. I just received a wide array of stares, of both pity and contempt. I went back to class.

So I admit this wasn't the story I promised you when I started on part 2. It probably wasn't very interesting for you either, but this is my blog and I needed to get it out. This explanation was intended to be about a paragraph long, but apparantly it needed a bit more attention.

Still, this whole rant sets everything up for the events that followed. I had no other choice but to embark on a rampage of destruction. The kind this blog is supposed to keep me from doing. And oh what a rampage it was. It involves a lot of whiskey and about 5 women.

So if you care to, keep reading for part three.

Guna Die Alone part 1

To begin with, I just want to ejaculate on everyone I see. This isn't a creepy sexual thing mind you, sure there's prolly some sexually related themes, but it's more of an act of rage. I want to blow my load on every fucking face that passes by me.

I want to splooge all over the fucking prom queen (who no doubt by now is fat from the 8 pregnencies she's had since highschool). I want to shoot all over her slutty ass friends (that incidentally didn't get pregnant because they spend their time sucking dick and taking it in the ass, because that's how you get boys to like you) that annoy the shit out of me while I'm at the bar.

I'll wipe cum all over those fucking hipster assholes that wear fake glasses and talk about poetry and how cool there new band is. I imagine the cum slowly sliding off the glass and ruining that stupid sweater with a horse on it that they bought at savers for 2 dollars.

I want to jizz in the eyes of all those popped collar white thugs that think they're so fucking badass because they grew up in the "hood". Fort Collins is not the fucking hood. You're a white upper class moron that likes rap for some god awful reason. Yea right guys, big screen TV's, phat whips, sweet ass dimes, gangsta gangsta gangsta! What the fuck does that shit even mean? Good luck getting my soldiers out of your bling bling fuck faces.

I want to sperm in a jar of dred wax and watch those fake rasta fuckers smear my DNA all over those hideous fucking dreadlocks. God fucking damn it you people smell like shit. What fucking Ja doesn't want you to take a shower? I don't care if you're into Rastafarianism, but you people are fucking white rich kids that just want an excuse to smoke weed and have it be trendy. Nice expensive cars, nice trust fund, nice naming your daughter fucking Marley! At least my jizz will smell better than your petchuly.

I want to erupt all over those fucking punk kids and emmo faggots. Nobody is fighting anything anymore, and especially not with shitty music that was cool 2 decades ago. Look at me I'm so fucking cool because I choose to amount to nothing and live in squaller. Yea you fight that fucking system retards. Oh and for fuck's sake take off those fucking girl pants and cut your fucking hair. You will never be hard core in pants so tight you have to tuck your dick behind your ass, which incidentally is where I will cum on you.

I'll jizz twice on the cowboys, and use the goo to polish those fucking retarded giant belt buckles. Oh look at me I love songs about whiskey and women, cause that's country living! Everyone loves songs about fucking whiskey and women you fucking retards! That's just America. Though because of you boot wearing closet fags the whole world is convinced we're a bunch of impred idiots that ride horses and hate minorities. Yee-fucking-haw you horse humping racists.

I can't wait till my slime ruins the make-up of all those dimwitted gothic heavy metal fuckers. Man is Hot Topic fucking awesome! I love rebelling against those trendy kids by doing the exact same fucking thing! Good one! As you can tell I'm kinda angry, so angry music does suit me, but seriously stop jumping around and punching each other, or at least do us all a favor and do it hard enough that you fucking die. Though it never was about expressing your anger through music, it was about being a fag and wearing dark and mysterious fashion. Ruin everything I like. Fuck you.

I won't have sex or jerk off for a month before I spray all over those fucking metrosexual pieces of shit that are ruining the world. I'll have so much gunk built up in my balls when I bust it on you, you'll fucking drown, you chest shaving, perfume wearing, wine drinking, yoga attending, easy listening mother fuckers! God I fucking hate you! For some reason it's not ok to be a man anymore, so good job fellas you chase that fucking pussy to the ends of the Earth while you bury the entire history of men. Too bad you'll all be sucking each other's dicks when you get there, because girls don't fuck faggots!

Back to you ladies...you're the fucking reason for that previous paragraph. All of a sudden you bitches decided it wasn't ok for us to be men anymore, because men are fucking mean. I'll be the first to apologize for the centuries of subjugation and discrimination, no one deserves to be treated like that, but maybe you ladies should have been better at stuff, then men wouldn't have spent so much time being in charge of you. Men still treat you like objects in the present day, they just do it differently so you don't really notice. We're so obsessed with you bitches we're willing to deny everything we are just to make you happy so that maybe you'll grant us 5 minutes to squirm in between your legs and pretend like we don't actually hate you. Anyway girls don't be mad, because at the end of the day you win. Men are so fucking stupid we'll continue to do whatever the fuck you say. I know this because I am one, and I'm pretty fucking stupid. All the men around me are turning into whiny, snivling, pansy-ass crybaby's that talk about their feelings. I'm talking about my feelings right now, happy?

I want to jizz on all the fags. Nothing they aren't used to.

I want to jizz on all the lesbians, man-haters, and those lipstick weekenders that just like to cock tease. Don't forget about the ones that are just nice people.

Yea fuck nice people. I have lots of spooge for you.

Fuck mean people too. Kinda like me.

Fuck that guy who plays guitar at parties, even though no one gives a shit and Wonderwall was never a good song. Fuck you if you like that song. Have fun wiping all the crusties off your guitar strings. How many panties are you going to get wet with a guitar that smells like my boxer shorts!

Fuck power walkers, joggers, gymnists, and those guys that lift a lot of weights so they don't have to think about their latent homosexuality.

Fuck those fixie riders. Your bike doesn't have any fucking brakes you fucking retards! But its so cool to ride around with your tight pants and messenger bag. Fuck anyone on a bike really, motorcycles included.

Fuck cars and the people who drive them. Don't even get me started on fuck cars. Just know I'll ruin your paint job with...yea you guessed it JIZZ!

I won't enjoy busting a nut all over that pathetic little fat kid as much as I should, but it's for his own good. I can see him just standing their dumbfounded as I shoot my load into his fucking twinkie pastry roll. Don't worry that calorie slurping monster will still eat it, he diesn't have any choice, because that's what Americans do. I will however enjoy shooting some jizz like a fucking lazerbeam all over those mean little bastards that will no doubt tease that fat sack of shit until he either kills himself or everyone around him. Then I'll especially enjoy jizzing on that fat bastard's parents for being neglectful and all around horrible people, just like most everyone I know.

I'll Jizz on you, and your parents, and your friends, and your fucking grandma, and that stupid fucking dog you walk in tha park to get attention.

And finally I'll save a big load to shoot in my own eyes so that maybe I'll go blind and won't have to look at anyone anymore. Then I won't have to look at myself in the mirror because honestly I'm worse than all these people. This is what I do. So fuck me.


The more people I see like myself, the more it sounds like we're all going to die alone.

If you've read this far I congratulate you. A friend of mine suggested I do this to vent my rage. It may be working.

For part 2 I will be sharing amusing anecdotes as oppossed to my excessive word vomit. So If I've entertained you stay tuned. I'm just warming up.