Tuesday, March 11, 2008

I'm An Idiot...

...or should I say a fucking idiot?

Once upon a time, yours truly had a truly benevolent notion. I would move from Kissimmee, Florida to Cheboygan, Michigan and eventually to Portland, Oregon and live out my days as a happy, healthy, studly human being. You know what they say about best laid plans, right? Well, if you don't, let me tell you, best laid plans SUCK!!!

It's been over two years since I've posted anything on this site. The stress finally got to yours truly. The well was dry. Dry as a hooker working dollar beer night down at the local tavern. Too much stress. Too many problems. Too much life happening to me all at once. There was a time when I looked up to the heavens and said out loud, "How much more do you expect me to take before I go on a four-state killing spree?" It's been a long road, with many more miles ahead of me.

Anyhow, I digress. Back to the suckiness of laying plans. When I found out "we" were pregnant with G-Doggy, all I could think of was getting the fuck out of Florida and heading West for greener pastures and a better life. After Mozilla came along, I really thought I was set in Portland for life. Then, it happened. I started thinking. Actually, I started over-thinking. I overthought EVERYTHING. I got caught up in the Nation of What If. As in:

The answers started to come in a flood:

Do you see where I went wrong? I wish I would have.

Yes, I pulled up stakes back in July and moved to Utah (where? - EXACTLY). I cannot say that I like it here. Actually, I dislike it a lot. It's too conservative, political and Mormon-ish for me. Now before the haters start, let me say that I don't have anything against Mormons as individuals. But when they assemble in large groups, look the fuck out. Let's just say that shit gets done. Not good shit either. We're talking about a large portion of the population deciding what is right and what is wrong for you, so you don't have to burden yourself with making a decision about anything. I love drinking the 3.2% alcohol here. Of course, now when I go back to Portland or to Vegas and am in the vicinity of a bar I become drunk beyond recognition. I love the fact that I have had 4 friends DUI'd since I moved here. In the 15 years I lived in Florida and the following 11 that I spent in Portland, I only had 2 friends that had been DUI'd...now I know 4 in a shade under 9 months?? What.The.FUCK?!? Yes, they wait outside the bars at night and watch. When someone gets in their car and drives away, they find some bullshit reason to pull them over and guess what? I know they have officially scared me straight. If I go out and the girlfriend orders an alcoholic-type beverage, I drink water. All night. I refuse to be the 5th personally known DUI.

There are some good things about this place also. I love the house I live in. Love the view out of my front window and back yard. Love that I'm 4 blocks from the trailheads so that I can take the 3 dogs hiking whenever the mood strikes (yes, it strikes a lot). My jobs (yes, I have 2, child support be damned) are better than the average bear's jobs here. You can buy a lot of house for fewer dollars than on the West Coast. The house we live in would fetch upwards of $350k in Portland. We paid just shy of $215k.

But it comes down to this - I honestly wish that I never would have moved out of Florida. I have lived all over the place, but Kissimmee, Florida is my home. I get that achy feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I think about what my life was like. Was it utopia? No. Was it perfect? Hell no. But was I one lucky bastard to have been raised in the shadows of Walt Disney World? Hell FUCK yes!! Why wouldn't I have wanted that for my kids? What was I thinking?

Ever since Nanny (my grandmother, not a 21 year-old caregiver) died, it's like I'm incapable of making a correct life decision. I think my brain is short circuited. I'm so indecisive, so unsure of myself, so fucking regretful that I can't even stand myself anymore.

It's a shame. I was in the perfect place for me. I was too stupid to realize it. Now I live in the anti-perfect place for me. And I'm FUCKING miserable.


Friday, March 03, 2006

Yes, I Was Dead...

As IF it's any business of yours. Dead, buried and no longer around. I planned to stay that way too. However, I decided to raise myself from the ashes and post again.

Holy fuck, how melodramatic was that? No, I wasn't dead. I wasn't even sick. However, it's been awhile since I've felt together enough to post.

The long and short of it is that I got fired. Yes, me. Fired. And the reason? This blog. When I posted my female masturbation list, one of the IT geeks in Seattle just happened to be monitoring what I was doing. Well, he passed this lovely little website on to the senior partner at the big firm in Seattle who called the office manager at my office in Portland and told her that he wanted me gone by the end of the day. Nice.

Never mind that the post took me literally 10 seconds to post, since I had it saved as a draft. Never mind that I was on my break. Never mind that I was on top of my work from day one, never fudged my hours for billing purposes. Never mind that I was there every day from 7:15 to 5. Never mind that I busted my ass for them. Yeah, all that was out the window because of this website. So, as you can imagine I was a little bitter toward this place for awhile.

Yes, they claimed that I violated the "sexual harrassment" policy at their nice little firm. I asked how, exactly, did I do that since I never sent anyone at work my link. Never told anyone at work about this website. Never even hinted about it. She had no answer for that one. She only said, "It's out of my hands."

Then, I pointed out that I had worked the day before, which was MLK day (office was closed), and had I known this, I wouldn't have come in. After that, I said something about this being a supremely bad day all of a sudden to which she said, "Believe me, I didn't imagine my day being like this. I was home doing something and had to come in to do this." I looked her in the face and deadpanned, "Yeah, it's much worse for you considering after this you get to go back to your nice office and your $100,000 a year salary with as many days off as you can get away with." She asked if she'd have to call security.

At that point, I told her that no, you don't need security. See, I'd really have to give a shit about the company in order to go ballistic. Looking back, I really didn't give a shit. Don't get me wrong, I love doing what I do, but the last firm I was at has problems with how they treat their employees. Everyone is just a number. They give you just enough perks to keep you from slashing everyone's tires on the way out the door for the weekend. Also, it's hard to work for a company that is so intent on screwing the little guy out of every last cent they can. I really just didn't care. In that respect, they did me a favor.

So, after I collected belongings, she walked me out the back, watched me get on the elevator (as if I had any inclination about running back into the office and getting naked or something) and walked back to her cushy job and shitty law firm. Scoreboard me for the moment.

The first couple weeks were great. I took my kids to school AND picked them up. I did some projects I've been putting off for a long time now. Surfed the net on my own terms. Thought about what was important to me. Basically, I reconnected with my life.

However, after the first month, when I had seriously started looking for a job, I saw how different the market is this year. I really thought that I'd have a job with a comparable salary within a couple weeks. Well, we're going on Week 7 and I still haven't found it.

My savings account has dwindled to almost non-existent and the pressure is on. I have managed to keep myself afloat for the past couple weeks by doing some temp work and some side work for another attorney. I don't mind the temp work, but something's gotta change soon. I'd prefer to sell my Suburban and/or trade it in, not have the bank come get it. The problem is that if I sold my Suburban, I'd have to go get a new car and I don't know any banks that will loan moolah to a dude with a temp job and no clear definable income. Oh well, I'll just keep making that payment somehow.

So, here I am at ANOTHER cross-road. I found myself in a similar situation last year when I was told I was being laid off. The main diffence being that I had a new job the next week.

It's been a stellar 12 months for JP. Two forced job changes (one still pending), one divorce and no more savings account. A little word of advice, when you save money for a rainy day, make sure you save twice as much as you think you need because it NEVER goes as far as you think it will.

Anyhow, this has degenerated into a long, boring diatribe. I just wanted to let all you guys know what was up. I consider you my friends and wanted to put something here for awhile now, but just didn't feel up to it.

Hopefully soon we'll be back to our regularly scheduled ranting.


Saturday, January 28, 2006

The Mid-Season TV Lineup

Yes, I know it's been a long time since I posted on here. I don't think I'm ready to talk about what's been going on with me, so I have worked on a new post to keep you guys entertained. Hopefully, I will get my thoughts organized enough soon to give you some sort of explanation.

Until then, here are some of the TV shows I expect to come out soon. I mean, network television is getting so redundant, isn't it? I hope that someone from TV land picks up on these.


OBJECTION! (ABC, Sundays, 9:00)
When was the last time you experienced a courtroom drama chock full of lawyer jargon? Sure, "The Practice" is up there, but there's all that other stuff going on and that fat bitch. Who cares? "Objection!" promises a higher objections-per-minute ratio than any show in the history of television. With "Objection!", your intake of good courtroom drama will only be overruled by your sustained pleasure. And that's admissable.

Godot's Not Here, Man (FOX, Mondays, 9:00)
Legendary one-joke funnymen Cheech and Chong reunite after twenty years, lighting up your television screen with this minimalist show about two burnouts, Pedro and Estragon, hitchhiking on the side of the interstate of life. This very existential program explores base human relationships, man's eternal struggles, and new ways to incorporate the word "man" into otherwise logical conversation. Some nudity.

JUDGING REINHOLD (NBC, Thursdays, 8:30)
Two parts "Night Court" and one part "The John Larroquette Show," TV's newest and funniest judge, played delightfully by Judge Reinhold (last seen in "The Dumpster in Back of My Apartment Complex"), will surely sentence you to a lethal injection of giggles. It's gavel to gavel comedy as the lawyers and bailiffs are even wackier than the plaintiffs and defendants! "Judging Reinhold" is one jury duty you don't wanna have your friend bloody up your face to get you out of.

BOOBS (WB, Fridays, 9:30)
Those folks over at the WB are looking a little bit like Fox in the early '90s with this candidly titled program. In "Boobs," two brothers (Anthony Michael Hall and Fisher Stevens) co-own a plastic surgery clinic that specializes in breast augmentation. If staring at "Boobs" for half an hour while tickling your funny bone is your idea of a good time, perhaps the WB has your prescription.


The geniuses at ABC have done it again, this time giving ordinary Americans the chance to goose past winners of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" Like "Who Wants To Be...," "Who Wants To Goose" is a variation on the British version of the show. The main difference is that host, Regis Philbin, sucks cock for extra cash.

THE GREAT RACE II (CBS, Wednesdays, 9:00)
Neo-Nazis compete for cash and prizes.

SURVIVOR 4: OBSCURITY (CBS, Wednesdays, 8:00)
Members of the band Survivor outwit, outlast, and outdo each other as the last Survivor not to commit suicide gets like a Chia Pet or something. Hosted by Frank Stallone.


THAT 30S SHOW (FOX, Mondays, 8:30)
From the shmucks who brought you "That '70s Show," this hip new show guides us through one of our nation's other beloved decades: those wacky 1930s. A candy bar cost a penny and bread cost a nickel, but laughter? She was free.Watch these kooky kids and their hoky hijinks as they try to catch a buzz on economic failure and stay one step in front of their nosy neighbor, crochety Mr. Hitler (Tom Selleck). "That '30s Show" will certainly cure any great depression.

DHARMA & GRACE (NBC, Thursdays, 9:00)
The peacock network finally struts its stuff with this daisy of a show, called "the best program of the new fall season" by my penis. Free-spirited Dharma and clothing-optional Grace make every schoolboy's dream come true (and quite sticky) with this wonderful show about lesbians and the girls who love them. If you like gals kissing each other, this very well might make up for that teddy bear Santa never got you that one Christmas, that heartless bastard.

The lovable vixen Sabrina is all grown up now and she's off to college. This time around, Sabrina is no longer played by Melissa Joan Hart, but by my ex-girlfriend, Leann, who went Wiccan before our messy breakup and then put a curse on my transmission to spite me. "Sabrina the College-Age Witch" is a little different than the teenage equivalent because Sabrina dies in the first episode and then the rest of the show pretty much revolves around me and my militia of whores.

MY ACHING WOODY (NBC, Thursdays, 9:30)
After beating Satan in a game of marbles, ex-bartender Woody Boyd (Woody Harrelson) is granted one unconditional wish. That one wish? The power to prescribe medical marijuana. Things get interesting when Robert Downey, Jr., Charlie Sheen and Gary Busey move in next door.

THE QUEEN OF KINGS (CBS, Tuesdays, 8:00)
An obese cardshark, Chloe (Camryn Mannheim), who knows when to hold 'em, knows when to fold 'em, and knows when to roll away will certainly deal her way into your heart with "The Queen of Kings." Even though she's in a wheelchair, she can still have a good time, especially when she gets back home to hubbie, Ace (David Caruso). You'll laugh hysterically at the soon-to-be-famous episode where Chloe enters a lard-eating contest. If you like to hit on 17, then you, sir, are what I call a cradle robber.


Tuesday, January 17, 2006

The Definitive Female Masterbation Terminology List

Ok, for all of you out there that are sick of the same ol', same ol' terminology when it comes to female masterbation, here is a whole list of terms to choose from. Feel free to add any I've left off.

Digging a Trench
Doing your Nails
Dousing the Digits
Drilling For Oil
Engaging in Safe Sex
Erasing the Problem
Fanning the Fur
Feeding the Bearded Clam
Feeding your Slot
Fiddling the Bean
Finger Blasting
Flickin' the Bean
Flit your Clit
Fucking Without Complications
Gagging the Clam
Gagging the Lips of Love
Genital Stimulation via Phalangetic Motion
Get a Date with Slick Mittens
Get a Lube Job
Get To Know Yourself
Get a Stinky Pinky
Going Mining
Groping the Grotto
Greasing your Hips
Grissle Rub
Gusset Typing
Having Sex With Someone you Love
Hee-Haw with wrinkled Mee-Maw
Hitchhiking South
Hitchhiking to Heaven
Hitchhiking Under the Big Top
Jillin' Off
Let the Fingers do the Walkin'
Levy Break Limbo
Making Soup
Manual Override
Muffin Buffin'
Nulling the Void
Paddling the Pink Canoe
Pampering the Pussy
Parting the Red Sea
Pearl Fishing
Pet the Petunia
Pet the Pussy Cat
Polishing the Nugget
Polishing the Peanut
Polishing the Pearl
Play Poker
Play the Clitar
Play Couch Hockey for One
Play the Silent Trumbone
Playing With Her Pineapple
Playing with Mrs. Palmer's Five Daughters
Playing With the Man in the Boat
Pushing the Button
Peeling the Asian Pear
Pussy Soccer
Riding the Unicycle
Rolling the Dough
Rubbin' the Nubbin
Rubbing the Donut
Rubbing the Red Pussycat
Scoring the Hoop
Soaking the Whisker Biscuit
Spearing the Bearded Clam
Squeeze the Peach
Strumming the Banjo
Surfing the Channel
Teasing the Kitty
Teasing the Tuna Taco
Testing the Plumbing
The Virgin's Release
Tickling the Taco
Tiptoe Through the TwoLips
Toggling the Bit
Tossing Pink Salad
Three Point Shot
Trolling the Bermuda Triangle
Two Finger Taco Tango
Washing your Fingers
Night in With the Girls
Airing the Orchid
Auditioning the Finger Puppets
Beat the Beaver
Beating Around the Bush
Brushing The Beaver
Buff the Weasle
Carpet Bumping
Cat Got Tongue
Checking for Squirrels
Clam Bake for One
Cleaning your Fingers
Coming Into Your Own
Coming Into Your Own
Cunt Cuddling
Dialing the Rotary Phone


Thursday, January 12, 2006

An Open Letter to Porn

Dear Porn,

Hi there, how are you doing? It seems to me like you're thriving - you're a multi-billion-dollar worldwide industry and there's more of you out there every day, in new forms, with new perversions, expanding into more markets all the time. Your mother must be so proud.

Don't worry about not recognizing me - you don't know me, but we actually have a long history together. I won't go into the full story, but just let me say that I've done some crazy shit for you, stuff that I'm not entirely proud of...but that's not to say that you didn't reciprocate, of course. I mean, you completely changed my life three times - first, when I discovered masturbation, second, when I got a TV and VCR in my own room, and third, when I discovered that I could find you on the internet. Mind-blowing stuff...and now that I'm living by myself and am currently single, I can see you any time I want for as long as I want. This is like our Golden Age together, except for one slight problem. I didn't notice it at first, but as we spent more and more time together it became pretty obvious.

You suck, dude.

And I'm not trying to make some sort of cute pun here - you really do suck. You're awful, horrible, poorly made, and I can think of a whole list of huge problems that you have.

First off, you don't make any fucking sense. I mean, have you ever sat down and actually tried to watch one of your "features" straight through? If your plot isn't some needlessly complicated, convoluted mishmash of nightmarish editing, it's so utterly simple that non-sex scenes consist of little more than "Hey, we know each other, let's fuck." I realize that creating plausible situations for characters to have sex while only having 5-minute bursts of plot in which to do it in is difficult, but with that in mind, why bother? There are fewer people that watch a movie of you for the plot than read Playboy for the articles (if that's even possible). But I guess I can overlook that since I usually can only watch (read "last") about 11.5 minutes of you at a time.

Next, let's talk direction. Do any of the people who direct you have any clue what in hell they're doing? Here's just a few of the egregious errors most directors make:

1) The Extended Close-up: You know, this may surprise you, but anyone who's watched you for more than five minutes knows exactly what a penis going in and out of a vagina looks like. Especially when it's a close-up shot, where all you can see is pussy, cock, and pubic hair (except when it's a doggy-style shot, where all you can see is pussy, cock, balls, pubic hair, and a pair of asses). And do you know exactly what a close-up shot of a penis going in and out of a vagina looks like?

EVERY OTHER SINGLE FUCKING CLOSE-UP SHOT OF A PENIS GOING IN AND OUT OF A VAGINA THAT HAS EVER BEEN COMMITTED TO FILM IN HUMAN HISTORY, THAT'S WHAT! Okay? Do you get it now? We've seen it, and we've seen it a million times, and it never looks any different! It's not like you can even tell who's actually doing the fucking just by looking at the close-up, like some warped version of "Name That Tune" - so why do you feel the need to spend 45 seconds out of every minute showing it to us? Could we please actually see what's going on in the rest of the scene, and maybe show some breasts or, god forbid, the woman's face, for once?

2) The Guy Shot: Now what the hell is the point of this? Go out on the street and randomly poll people - 99% of them are going to tell you that women are better looking than men, and 100% of them are going to say that female porn stars are better looking than male porn stars (Ron Jeremy is smart and funny and all, but let's admit it, dude is fucking ugly). So why the hell do you randomly, all of a sudden, switch to a shot of either just the guy's face or just the guy's upper body or something for 30 seconds? Most guys in porn don't bother acting while they're fucking anyway, so all you really get is 30 seconds of not showing anything remotely interesting. And do you know how much it sucks to be jerking off, start to come, and then get stuck with a Guy Shot? You know it's too late and there's nothing you can do about it, but you'd rather be doing anything else than coming at that particular moment. (The nearest equivalent I can think of is prepping a launch of a missile, pressing the fire button, and all of a sudden realizing you've just launched it at your own house.)

3) The Acting: Can this get any worse? It's bad enough that the acting during the plot segments is wooden at best, but then when you get to the sex scenes themselves, it stays universally awful. First, there's girls who break the fourth wall and look at the camera when the cameraman isn't part of the scene. Girls, if you're in control enough to look all sultry at the camera, we can tell you're bullshitting. Secondly, girls, don't continue moaning after the guy has pulled out and is jerking off above you. Nobody is stimulating you in any way - who the hell do you think you're fooling? Thirdly, you could replace the guys in porn with pieces of plywood that have strap-ons attached to them, and there wouldn't be much difference.

(And speaking of the guys, what the hell is with most of you needing to jerk off to come? Here you are, having sex with women that most guys would give their non-masturbating arms to fuck, and they can't even get you off? That just seems wrong somehow.)

4) Recycled footage: How fucking dumb do you think we are? If you take the same 90-second loop of footage and use it two, three, or even four times during one scene - news flash! - we can tell, you idiots!

5) Outside shots: Sorry, but your directors need to learn the concept of light and shadow, because when you do a shitty job of dealing with light, all the shadow means that you can't see a damned thing. And I know it's outside and there are billions of insects out there, but seeing those little black flies or gnats flying around while trying to watch some Asian pear tasting is really a turnoff.

6) Anal: Look, porn, if I were into watching the gay version of you, I'd understand this. Guys not only have the nerve endings in the asshole itself, we have the prostate too, so it makes sense. But women? All they have is the nerve endings way down at the end, and with the amount of testimonials I've heard from real women who swear against it, why do you perpetuate this myth that women like taking it up the ass? Not only that, but when a girl sucks a cock after it's been up her ass, I don't feel like jerking off, I feel like cringing. I feel like puking. I feel like stabbing myself in the eyes with a nail file. I feel like doing anything but jerking off. What does one have to do to make that sanitary, give her a pre-fuck bleach enema?

Direction aside, there's all sorts of other stuff that stinks about you, porn. For every decent boob job, there's six girls who have obvious scars and stretch marks or look like they've had a pair of cantaloupe-sized lumps of Silly Putty stuck to their chests. For every Chasey Lain, there's three skanky-looking girls you wouldn't screw even if you were falling-down drunk and had the option of using someone else's dick. For every ten seconds' worth of actually arousing imagery, there's twenty minutes of uninspriring tedium. And worst of all, for every hour that I've spent watching you, downloading you, sneaking around my parents' house looking for you, and thinking about you in general, there's an hour that I could have spent been doing something else a million times more worthwhile, like expanding my knowledge to help me become a multi-millionaire. But, alas, it's not to be.

You suck, porn. See you tonight.

-Lifetime Porn Watcher #10,495,102,867


Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Personal Ads

Even though I'm newly single, I really don't ever see myself having to write or answer a personal ad, but you never know when the need will arise. When I was married, I used to read the personal ads as a source of entertainment. However, now I read them for research. Here is the difference between a personal ad a woman would write and one a man would write.

Women's posting:


- Be over 6'2"
- Be in great shape.
- Be great looking.
- Be educated. I have a masters degree AND a law degree. That means I am really smart. Did I mention I have a masters degree AND a law degree? Even though deep down I know I am not that bright I can hide behind these degrees and pretend I am - phewww!:)
- Have a great job and make lots of money. If you aren't a doctor or lawyer you aren't good enough cuz they are really, really smart but more importantly they will make my best girlfirends jealous (bitches !).
- Be able to impress my friends and make them envious and jealous. Oops I think I mentioned that above. Just want to make sure you know what your main purpose is.
- Not be too domineering but you aren't a momma's boy either. Meaning whatever mood I am in I will tell you how to act.
- Like wine. I like Shiraz cuz it's Australian and I am really worldly and only know Merlot and Shiraz and Shiraz sounds more sophisticated.
- Be well travelled. The bus tour in London was great and staying at the Paris Hilton just screams culture. It means you are smart, attractive and cultured if you travel, cuz getting on a plane and staying at the Hilton takes lots of brains and skill.
- Like jewelry. Tiffany is my very favorite - it is just wonderful. I love wearing a dog tag around my neck that reads someone elses name. Besides only 20 million other women have it. I feel so special wearing the same thing everyone else does.
- Like Starbucks. Even though their coffee really sucks and is way overpriced I must have it. What would someone think if they saw me walking with a plain styrofoam cup ???
- Like fine cars. As with jewelry, I have very unique taste in cars as well - BMW or Mercedes.
- Love Sex and the City because like the girls on the show I have whored around a ton (I will never admit that to you though) but seeing it done on TV makes it OK. Because they aren’t just whores, they are rich women looking for love! They represent sophisticated, educated, tasteful, classy girls like me. If you are a yuppie and spread your legs for lots of guys you aren’t a whore – you are just looking for the right guy. Those uneducated blue collar girls that fuck lots of guys are whores ! But I have a masters degree and a law degree so just because I have had more men than the urinals at Fenway Park I am not a whore damn it !
- Not ever, ever, ever be worse looking than any of my friends boyfriends cuz if you are I will try to fuck him behind your back and my girlfriends back (that bitch!)
- Not ever, ever, ever, mother fucker be less successful than any of my friends boyfriends. If you are I will try to fuck him behind your back and my girlfriends back (I hate her !)
- Never bore me. Yes, you guessed it, if you do see above, cuz I am getting sick of telling your sorry ass how many ways and why I will cheat on you (sigh!)
- Give me the attention I need but not be too clingy. Again, this all depends on my mood of the moment. Good luck figuring that out. Oh and if you aren’t attentive enough or too attentive, see above.
- Have a huge dick. Again, see above, you know by now what will happen if you don't.
- Constantly be amazing in bed and live up to every fantasy I have ever had about a man. If you don't I'll be coming home late from work several times a week.
- Be a Prince or the son of a Prince would be good. I am too stupid to know that the son of a Prince is still a Prince but I know I want to get me one. If not a billionaire, millionaire, singer, actor, athlete, doctor or lawyer (in that order) is acceptable.

Being a psycho or sociopath is OK as long as you meet all the above criteria. I won't let a small thing like that get in the way if you have all these other qualities. Just because it didn't work out for Nicole Simpson or Laci Peterson doesn't mean it won't work for us. And even though Princess Diana was more miserable than George Bush on Jeopardy I am sure I will be quite happy being a Princess. At least until the effect of making my friends really envious and jealous wears off, then I will find something to hate about you and my life !

Also when I do cheat please know that it will NEVER, EVER, EVER be my fault - it will be yours.

Please note this is just a partial listing of things I am looking for in a man. You should know that this list can and will change constantly and if we do get together there will be an ever changing social contract that I will constantly amend without you knowing it and worse never tell you I changed it.


I can't wait to hear from you.


Men's Posting:

Let's fuck!!


Thursday, January 05, 2006

New Year, New Rant

Ok, since Vicki is always ranting about apostrophes, here's something that irks me to no end.

lose - the opposite of win, to misplace something, ONE FUCKING O
loose - the opposite of tight, your mother/wife/sister, TWO FUCKING O's
how can so many people get these two confused? IDIOTS

your - a possessive, similar to mine, his, her as in "your loose slut of a sister loses her mind every time she gets railroaded by your whole inbred, shitbag excuse of a family", NO FUCKING APOSTROPHE
you're - a contraction of "you are", as in "you're a dipshit", A FUCKING APOSTROPHE

its - another possessive, similar to your, NO FUCKING APOSTROPHE
it's - a contraction of "it is", as in 'it's fucking simple', A FUCKING APOSTROPHE

Need a trick? Fine - when using it's or you're, expand the contraction. If "you're head is full of shit" becomes "you are head is full of shit" and doesn't make any sense (maybe it will to you because you're a fucking idiot), then you are using the wrong word.

to - a preposition, as in "turn to the right" or "it's time to go back to school", ONE FUCKING O
too - an adverb (know what that is?), synonymous with "also", "as well" as in "Really? I went to college too. I actually read a FUCKING BOOK." It can also be used to mean "to a regrettable degree" as in "It's too late for you, moron", TWO FUCKING O's
two - a number, it comes after one

there - an adverb, similar to here as in "your tiny bus is over there"
their - yet another possessive, similar to your as in "it's not their fault that you're a fucking retard. It's YOUR fault."
they're - a contraction of "they are" as in "they're not responsible for your complete ignorance of YOUR OWN FUCKING LANGUAGE. READ A BOOK!!"


By the way, grammar is spelled with TWO FUCKING A's. So next time you want to flame someone for bad "grammer," at least spell it right.

Happy New Year everyone!!


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