Because Jesus Loves You.

I Done Went to China....

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.

"So would you like to help me straighten out my Longfellow?"

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.

My boobs are just so big! I mean, I just have big ass boobs. That scarf sure is pretty, but it's just the boooooobs that keep it from going.

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.

I envision my trip to be a little bit like this.

My Theme Song

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.

Then while we're making sweet love I say to her:

She hates that.

Locking the Door

Sometimes a locked door is a wonderful thing to have in the morning. So there I was, asleep, possibly snoring in a very sexy way, looking cute and cuddly with my usual morning wood. And like all women who have been married for over 10 years, rather then molest me while I sleep as she once did, my wife thought this would be a fine opportunity to work on a knitting project in peace.

And then disaster struck. For her knitting project. For you see, like the undead hordes of hell, the unholy host from which all evil and fornication are spawned, like the first awakening of youthful lust corrupted by a lifetime of sick and twisted yet very creative thoughts- I awoke.

A crazed look in my eye, I spied her non-heaving bosom. Her sleep pants, not revealing the hotbed of desire that I knew awaited my attention, gently refusing to contour even remotely to her curvaceous body.

Seeing that I was awake she looked me deeply in the eye, in a way that I knew suggested that she wanted me so much she couldn't help herself. Or maybe it meant something else....

"I'm out of coffee. When you get up to take a leak bring the carafe." And then she hid her lustful thoughts behind what I knew to be the false appearance of intense focus on her knitting.

Sexily, I went pee and got her some coffee. And while I was at it, got some for me as well. I finished my cup with a grin that was sure to make her want me more then anything, at least, if I could get her to look at me.

She started talking about the different kind of yarn she was knitting with and why it had certain qualities. I took this as an invitation to make my move.

I started kissing her ankle and then slowly moved up her leg, then down the other. She didn't stop me- not because she was interested- but mostly I think she just didn't notice my advances.

I removed her sleep pants. This did not escape her notice.

"Don't be surprised if I'm too focused on this for much response. I have to count rows."

With this, I went to work, utilizing the skills acquired from decades of cunnilingus experience, and a training manual I once read, I slowly began to tease her with my tongue....

To make a not so long, but rather involved story short, I was able to change her focus.

Ouch My Balls.

Tell the truth, you think about this a lot. A romantic evening. Just you and Princess Leia and Chewy. Maybe a double ended dildo and a jar of nutella. Oh yeah, I know how you roll.