This is sort of like confessional for me. I know it's been a while, but I also know that nobody really gives a fuck anyway. Besides, the Rapture is supposed to be this weekend anyway- so Jesus has better things to do than listen to me whine.
This morning on the radio they were talking to a women who's fiancee had died so she decided to get a tattoo in memory of him. I'm cool with that. She very rationally decided that she shouldn't get his name or his picture out of respect for her future relationships, so she decided to get a tattoo of his favorite car.
So I've been doing some thinking. The way I see it, since the wife gets a whole bunch of life insurance money when I die I want her to get a tattoo in my honor should I die before her. And I of course would want her to have something respectful and tactful in terms of a memorial tattoo as well. Something that is special and expresses the love that I have for her. Something that subtly sums up our relationship of mutual respect and most of all, communication.
Here it is.
And I think she needs to have this tattooed in the tradional "tramp stamp" position. So that way whoever she's humping after I'm dead and gone will see this.
And when they opened up the plane it was five minutes before the empty beer cans stopped hitting the ground.
China is a filthy place. Polluted. I doubt if the people there realize how absolutely filthy the air is.
So there was this dude from Oregon at the conference I was at named Brian. This is in fact his real name, and yes it is that Brian you are thinking of. After the second day Brian decides he wants to get a massage at the hotel we're all staying at. So he goes down to the 3rd floor and, looking at the price chart, decides to get he most expensive one listed. After all, it's only about $50- right? So, being a typical Chinese Massage, it began with three dudes in speedos rubbing him down and ended in a happy ending. Brian was so excited to get said happy ending that he tried to draw it out as long as possible. So he says.
I didn't get a handjob while I was there. But I did learn that you can get a hooker for 450 rmb per half hour. I didn't get one of those either, though I did try to convince my room mate to fork out 450 so we could get two hookers to do a dyke show for us. He wouldn't bite.
Probably for the best.
Oh, no, wait. That's a cop. Eh, what the difference.
Some people are just born with a bit of poetry in their hearts. Generally speaking, those people tend to irritate the shit out of me, but every now and then a poetic genius will come along who has something work saying.
Here are a few examples of literary works that I honestly believe will last the test of time and one day will probably even come to be taught in university classrooms.
A few classics written by the gentle hearted, poetic great Andrew Silverstein:
Hickory Dickory Dock. My balls fell out of my jock. I laid them to rest On some hooker's chest And paddled her face with my cock.
Twinkle twinkle little star, Will she blow me in the car. I bought her dinner, she had fun. My balls are boiling, I'd like to come.
Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater.
Whacked off in the movie theater. Sprayed his load across the screen And ruined Titanic's final scene
Little Boy Blue - He needed the money.
Jack and Jill went up the hill Both with a buck and a quarter Jill came down with two-fifty
That fuckin' whore.
Mary, Mary, quite contrary, Trim that pussy it's too damn hairy
Old Mother Hubbard Went to the cupboard To get her poor dog a bone When she bent over, Her Rover took over And she got a bone of her own.
I was trying to think of a title for this post and out of the blue that's what my wife just said. It somehow seemed to capture a certain "Insérer mot aléatoire français" that I was looking for.
So today I'm sitting here minding my own business. It's Friday. I don't have to do anything except whore myself out like a fucking clown later this evening. And I mean that, I'm going to go entertain a bunch of kids fucking Bobo style. Kinda like this...
In other news, I've just booked my flight to China in December.
During my stay in China I am going to miss seeing women with hips and titties. I'm not really into chicks with little boy figures. And oddly enough when Chinese women get older they take on a shape not unlike Spongebob.
This is the song that generally plays in my head. Almost all the time. I like it that way.
And yes, it is the titties.
During sex the Mrs. likes to wear her sex socks (see previous post), means she's ready for makin' love. I just walk into the room naked and slap my right ass check.
