Elius Rebooted!

Hey guys,

I understand it's been such a long time since I've written anything.  Much has happened:

It's been over a year since I've performed comedy.  I've been preoccupied with school.  Assignments, driving back and forth.  *Yawn* I was also living with my parents while I was busy trying to looking busy and studious.  It was Office admin.  I wish someone had told me before I enrolled that I was going to be a glorified secretary.  Not as much fun as being a paper-pusher.

Anyways, life has progressed, and things are finally looking up.  Much like life, I've had my ups and downs.  I'll get more onto that later.

Right now I am residing in Ottawa, and looking for work.  Administrative work?  Not really.  I am willing to do anything right now that pays well, has steady hours, and gets me out of the house for a couple hours.  As long as it isn't giving mouth-hugs underneath an overpass.

Now that I've recovered my password, I should be available to keep you guys up to date on my activities.  Take care, and don't forget to miss me.

E~

Long time no speak

Yes. Its been such a long time. Now that I'm finishing working in Ottawa, and finally got a laptop that works... I will resume blogging stupid shit with half-thought out ideas, and even poorer grammar. If you should so choose to follow me, and my tirade of dumb ideas. I'll be also posting videos on youtube as well. No promises as to the frequency of this half-cocked plan. Inspiration hits every day, but whether or not I choose to publish it, well more on that later.

Cheers!

Living in Ottawa

Well, its been far too long since I've blessed you with my words of wisdom. And for that I apologize. (I try not to make a habit of that: Apologizing)

Now this is the seventh week I've been living by myself in Ottawa. So far, so good. Now I mention that I'm living alone. When I first moved in to the city I was living with a "friend". No, this was not a sexual relationship. I use the term, Friend loosely.

As it turns out my desperation has masked my good judgement. I ended up bunking with an extremely abusive alcoholic. It was a two bedroom place. And night after night, I had to come home with some drunken 'talk'.

Rule 25: Never speak of important matters under the influence. This rule was made after a stint of dating a girl who loved to talk about serious items, and a night out having drinks, turns us into The couple who fight at the bar.

I enjoy having those initial conversations that happen when two people embark on a relationship. Be it, sexual, co-habitational, friendly. Those conversations that smelt these two individuals into a stronger unified relationship. "Ironing out the wrinkles" as I call it. Because no two people are perfectly fitted to relate to one another right off the bat (unless you keep it strictly superficial).

Now you can see where my predicament begins. I'm not completely innocent. But this was the first time it wasn't my drinking that ruined what could have been a great friendship. Or just a roommate setting. After the first week, I decided to go out every night. To avoid my roommate who had earned the name, "The Hoff." That's a story for another night. Even if it was just to ride the bus, and sip on a mug of coffee. I needed to get out of the house.

Now I'm residing in a highrise, one-bedroom apartment. It's a nice enough building, but it has 'critters'. I love saying that word because I hate telling people I have cockroaches in my place. Critters has a smalltown, down-south charm about it. Along with Y'all, and folks.

The quest for a job is still active. My comedy is being honed almost every night. New jokes created. Old jokes reinvented. Modified. Reformed. Stronger.

How many jokes can you string together within 6 minutes? Standing in front of strangers, and laughing with them. It sounded a lot nerve-racking than it really is. I can do it when I have some material to work with. I try to be relatively quick-witted. Oddly enough that has gotten me out of a couple of ass-kickings.

Sex life is active. Dating is being done. Most of the girls are from online. We chat. Text. Sext. It feels good to dust off my cock and nuts every now and again. I can still use my old moves. Old moves, new girls. New city, bigger demographics. More opportunities. I can feel my ego inflating. Or whatever you wanna call it. ;)

I'll blog some more as my situation works out a bit better. Have a good one. Don't forget to miss me.

New Blog Cumming!

Alrighty. I know its been a while. This year I've really drug my ass around doing fun "summer" activities. Waterpark, camping, boat-fireworks, kingston, ottawa bluesfest, black eyed peas (dont judge me just sit there and try to guess the flavour of the popsicle you're sitting on), and of course shenanigans.

It's been a while but don't think I haven't been working on something new and exciting. Now in my last blog, I mentioned I was going to start "editing" my newer blogs. Now, that's half true. To fullfill my own promises, as well as feed my egotistical, and narcassistic tendancies, I have decided to answer some advice columns.

Let me tell you how this all got started, and I have a good example I've been working on for a while. For the last, lets say three years, I read the news paper. Not all the boring bullshit. I like doing the puzzles, and reading the occasional book review. Abe Rocks! But I also enjoy reading advice columns and before I read "Abby's" dumbass response, I like to chime in and/or ask those around me (maybe a first date; I know its kinda rude to read the paper, but isn't it fun to see if you have the same twisted sensibility as the person you will be having sex with that night?)

But lately I've veered off of Abby, and whoever else. And I've read some other advice columns. Comospolitan Mag, or Maxim, or possibility some "Self proclaimed PICK UP ARTIST". These jackasses, wrote a book and are now teaching these self-help methods to meeting women. The very first one I read was, "Double your dating: Guaranteed". Which was pretty clever. Let's do the math. If I'm dating nobody. And I try this particular book. I could potentially DOUBLE my dating percentile.

Fuck him and everyone else who claims to have mastered the dating world. I've listened to these professionals with the same skepticism as I read everything else. I take it with a grain of salt. I under the concepts. Only because I've grown into myself. Am I well adjusted? Probably not.

Just the same, I don't want to help those people who don't wanna help themselves. You can't help those who don't help themselves. And most of the guys out there should really try fucking themselves before they try to fuck "some skank" at the local dive bar.

But there are the small amount of guys who are willing to swallow their pride, and write into these advice columns to gain new and mature prespectives on their own lives, and/or their personal 2012 crisis. This is where I like to pipe up and sound like a man. Well that and after a quart of whiskey, when my tongue looses up and I start reciting George Carlin's material as my own thoughts and feelings on the world around me. It's worked so far.

About a year ago, some jackass parent wrote in, asking for advice about their teenage son. Who was raised to be respectful, and obedient. Always done his homework, helped with the dishes,and kept a tidy room. So this one time (an isolated incident), this particular parent witnesses him (the accused), walk passed a full garbaged receptical, without taking the time to bag it up and walk it outside to their garage, or wherever those fucking robots who live in suburbia put their trash. This parent is outraged. The nerve! The audacity! This kid had the stones to blatantly walk pass this can of garbage, overflowing with filth. Obviously this kid was punished. He had to go up into his room. And type up a letter (as many of us have done, some more than others. I won't name names.) expressing his feelings about said incident. HAHA.

Long story short, he wrote how he feels impeded by his lack of independance, and that his parents coddle him. He mentions, "wanting to be like a normal child." His parents don't get it. So Abby, tells the guy who was too drunk to pull out and aim for his wifes face, a.k.a. DAD, to let the kid off his short fucking leash (I'm paraphrasing), and give him, (The accused) the choice to have his own freedom and trust that he would make proper choices in the future.

Sound advice, right? My concern is.... Who put that last piece of garbage in the recepticle? If it wasn't him, which of these fucking dip-shit parents was so irresponsible that they would fill this garbage, and leave it for their slave-child to take care of. What the fuck! And have your teenage son sit down and express himself through letter form? How about try the lost art of TALKING!! You loser parents. Get your head out of your ass. Fuck yourself and die. Instead of writing to me, maybe try putting yourselves into counselling or I'm going to write my own letter to child services, so you can learn how to take the garbage out yourselves. NEXT.

So tonight I will create a new blog. Taking ACTUAL excerpts from people who are writing into these advice columns, and responding to them myself. I will try to write here for the time being as I want to have a few letters responded to; added, edited, and published. AND AND AND if you're feeling lonely, and you would like some sound advice, you can write to me at Leswebb1017@hotmail.com and I will of course change the names to protect the names of those parties who will be found guilty. And I will try to get around to responding when I can.

Cheers,
Don't forget to miss me!

Okay, one more...

As you can probably tell by now, I do not rehearse my blog beforehand. I sit at my laptop and let my thoughts and ideas flow. I understand that I do know some of my jokes get lost in translation.

Alright. Let's do this. Now that I've been out in Ontario for close to a year now. I like to think I'm moving in the right direction... "life-wise." I guess you could put it. I've done quite of bit of me work. Gotten into shape. Eatting properly. Cut way back on my drinking. Aside from being socially abstinant, I enjoy my lifestyle.

Am I a social butterfly? I am not sure about that. I know I thrive on new and unusual situations. I like talking with strangers. I'm always looking for something new. But I do feel like I'm missing out on having a constant social companion. A wingman.

If television has taught me anything, it's that true wingmen have grew up together. Try making new male friends without coming off as a total fruit seems a little bit weird. So what's next? Find female friends, and assimilate into their 'male' friends, and claim them as my own.

Hm... but what kind of guy is 'best friends' with a girl? I used to be best friends with a couple girls. But how do you leave the feelings from growing. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFWGOKuFyjk But I do know a lot of guys that develop feelings for those girls willing to put up with their emotional baggage. "We're only friends."

How emasculating. For the guy I mean. To be put in the friend zone. This means you are no longer a dating option. Like a girlfriend... or a lamp. Now I admit that I talk with girls. Do I want to bang all of them? Short answer... Yes.

Would I? That's a whole different issue altogether. (That's a whole different issue). Anybody? Hello? I hope at least somebody got that. Moving on. Everyone has their issues. Everyone has their own prespectives, priorities, and goals. Most differ from mine.

I try my hardest to cut all ties from bullshit. Now this is mean, degrading, and hurtful. Only because we've been raised to be in touch with our sensitive side. Crying men who call up their female friends in middle of the night because someone cut them off in traffic and called them a dirty name. Fuck them.

This is fun. Go and ruin somebody's day. Using nothing but words. The rule is don't go for the obvious. "You're fat." Let's set the scenerio up. You're in line at a grocery store. And you notice a woman in front of you with toothpaste, a bag of apples, and a cucumber. You say to her, "Hey, you must be single." And she naturally says, "how did you know?" "Because you're ugly." I know it lacks creativity. But it sounds like you're about to make some psychological insight into her personality using nothing but the items in her grocery.

Now I am filled with all kinds of wisdom. But how do I shell out my rubies of experience to someone I just met? I'd say first comes planning. But not everyone deserves the treasure at the end of the rainbow. First make someone chase the tail. Figuratively. Maybe hop through some hoops to deem them worthiness.

Maybe before I seek a partner in crime, I need to set myself up with a high paying career. OH OH OH. I know... maybe I could be a life-coach. Where do I find a life-long loser with lots of money who seeks advice? Any suggestions?

Guys named Chad

Alright, now among my travels I have met many different people, who have several different backgrounds, and different life experiences. Drug dealers, pimps, pushers, arsonists, felony rapists, car jackers, hookers, druggies, and guys named Chad. But I realized this week, I have not met anyone whose had an abortion. Isn't that weird?

They say its all different when you're forced with an unexpected abortion. Maybe you're a teenager. Or maybe you've been raped, and later find out you're pregnant. Maybe you were at the laundromat and you sat on someone's squirt-shirt and you decided to- whatever. Either way you're expecting and changes are a-coming.

And does this not only affect your entire way of life. But it also changes the fathers. And your parents, and siblings, etc. It changes your career aspirations, relationships, possibly some schooling.

Now even if some of us weren't planned, as our parents would have wished, but we all still made it out of the womb. Unscathed? Let's hope so. Let's let the character building begin.

Now, I think its time for me to be a "jerk". Haha, I love that word. Only because it's such a stereotypical 90's teenager girl thing to say about a boy whose not treating her fairly. "What a jerk!" Priceless. Okay, so along with my lifelong bachelorhood, and my committment to aspiring to a level of singledom that surpasses all others.

Now I have met a ton of single mothers. Hundreds if not dozens. Now what that tells me is that for every single mother out there, there is a deadbeat dad, who's walking around enjoying the splendors of his singlehood, and fucking everything that will let him. Literally consequence free. All while one woman, who has been left with a life-changing miracle.

Let's give him the benefit of the doubt. He tried to make things work, maybe let this baby be the beacon of the entire relationship. No matter the fighting, or weeklong silent treatments. He stuck it out, until the mother got fed up and gave him the boot.

Now that means with every relationship she pursues, or enters after that moment, she now has 'excess baggage.' If that's what you wanna call it. It's very much like an STD. Once she has it, she has it for life. But she also has to change her priorities in her life to take care of this child. The fruit of her loins. (sidenote: 'new baby smell' does smell a lot like a womb-juice.)

Okay, lets not get too off course. You would be surprised how, at my age, its getting more and more difficult to meet other single people, without children. Maybe to grab a cup of coffee. Or take a roadtrip for the weekend. Or even to meet a girl my age, who has been a, "Good girl". I hate saying that because having a child shouldn't be a burden. It should be a miracle. Not a mistake.

So now if I do meet some cute, single mother. Maybe she's the woman of my dreams. But she has kids. So now I'm forced to choose between a woman of lesser 'caliber', or else help raise some other asshole's kid. Does this seem fair?

Okay fuck it. Now I'm going to rant off once again about a concept I've been working on for about 4 to 5 years. Now I know the being a bachelor isn't about having a lot of sex with random strangers, and only being tied down in the most literal sense of the word.

There's no sex in heaven because sex is the only reason for procreation. I just realized this a few months back, and I felt kinda bummed out. Ideally, that means you should have sex as much, and as often as you can in this life. One of the drawbacks to sex is STD's, VD's (I think they are the same thing, but since I'm not a doctor, I really dont have a whole lot invested in this concept), and pregnancy.

Now I am a true believer that most people shouldn't be allowed to have children. Don't stop reading. I think every male at the age of puberty should be sterilized. And only once in a fully-committed, monogamous relationship should they be considered for conception and the male would be de-sterilized. Now this wouldn't be a government run program. Because they are nothing but a bunch of puppets for the mega-rich. More on that later.

Now this would clear up any, and all possible paternity suits. Sexual diseases would still exist. But no unwanted babies. I've known a lot of people who just shouldn't be parents. They are unbalanced, crazy, negligent, addicted to drugs/alcohol/dane cook, etc. Maybe they are just racist. Doesn't matter.

The way it is now a days, is everyone can have kids, and a lot of people who want children, can't. Maybe without all the foster homes, or orphanages, abortion clinics, paternity suits, maternity suits, child support cases, we'd have more money to invest in cures for other diseases. Aids, cancer, genital warts, guys named Chad, or any other ambisexual names for guys (courtney, lindsay, ashley, jody, elliot, leigh, cameron, chris, jesse, drew, kelly, morgan, taylor, stacey, reilly, randy) Maybe together we can eliminate all these names from our children's future. And why would anyone give their daughter a masculine boy's name like Leslie? DUDE! Come on. Get your heads out of your ass.

Sex is a sacred act. I understand this. Why don't more guys understand this? It's shit when you think about it. No glove, no love. Girls, we expect more from you. It's all up to you. Protect yourself, and everyone around you. Because when it comes down to it, you are the gatekeepers of sex. It's that decision that should be on your shoulders, not your cankles. Write that down.

Now that that's out of my system. I really should get going. Until next time, Don't forget to miss me.

Let's get in there and start throwin' some dick!

It's me again. After living in our Nation's Capital for over a month now, I had come realize that the women in this town are so much more promiscuous than I had assumed. I know, I know. With my reputation I should be happy about this. But you know what it feels like? I just bought a video game, and before I had the chance to get the feel of it, someone used the cheat codes, and now to finish the game, all I need to do is show up. This isn't any fun. Where's the challenge?

I say that only to say this. I have been a bachelor for most of my sexual career. Most of you know this already. Now, I like to think I've changed and evolved. Learnt from past experiences, and grew with each rejection. Overcame some of my old fears, and discovered some new ones. Like a video game, theres always new challenges.

I have grown as a dick-swinging bachelor. I know who I am. I know where I come from. And there's confidence in that. I don't claim to have, "Game". Because I don't use any gimmicks, or tactics. Nothing I do or say comes from a script, and I rehearse nothing. It's just me. Out there amongst a sea of eligiable women and girls.

One way I have grown is by not associating myself with married, or otherwise attached women. You remember one of those ways I told you Ottawa's female population was promiscuous? Yeah. Most of the women, and or girls I've spoken to, who seems somewhat interested, were dating or committed to someone else.

For the most part, this wouldn't have bothered me, but I realized that I am not looking to waste my honed skills as a bachelor, on some floozy. Really when I go out, I'm only looking for a few things. A cool place to chill out and have a few drinks. A wide selection of possible strangers to chat up. And the makings of a crazy story that I can go away with.

Now I've said it before and I'll keep saying it. If it were all about sex I know who I can call. Sex is one of the things I do well. It's one of my skills. But to make a connection with someone. A good looking someone. Now, I know for a fact that theres no such thing as a perfect 10. In the scale of objectifying women, I can't say that I have ever came across a woman so down to earth, and has a banging body. That's an adjective.

I don't believe in the perfect 10. As far as beauty goes, I'm not sure it's all on the inside. I give 2 points to the inside. So if a woman has a killer body, curves in all the right places, and takes pride in her appearance, she gets an 8. The other two points comes down to her personality.

Now the only reason I suggest beauty isn't all on the inside is because its whats on the inside that propels us to how we portray ourselves on the outside. It comes down to what our priorities are. Do we like vintage clothing? Are we too busy with kids, and work to get our nails done? How committed are we to our bodies? This all dictates how we conduct ourselves in any and all situations. So you find someone with a good personality, a great body, and no excessive emotional baggage, and you're getting somewhere.

I like to think that I've put more than enough thought and effort into the way I conduct myself in public. I would be selling myself short if I were to go jump in and out of bed with a beavy of women, and girls. Am I wrong? If I could advocate this to future generations, I'd be a happy dude. Like, "Hitch" without the creepy stalking, and formula for love. But I have yet to find a like minded individual that shares my optimism, and yearns for a better way to meet a plethora of strangers, as well as strange people.

I have so much more to write about, but I have to get this day started. Keep on checkin' in, as I will be writing some more within the next few days. Don't forget to miss me.