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.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
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!
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!
Friday, June 11, 2010
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?
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?
Friday, April 30, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, March 5, 2010
A fresh beginning???
So what is up? Wow, thats been a productive couple of weeks. I've had so many ideas, and chances to blog, but really... I've just been lazy. I think we should recap. What do you think? Since this is online I'll let you answer in your own mind.
I've started work in a new bar. It was called, The Barge. And because my boss/owner of the bar is stupid, I was unfortunately laid off. Wow, that was twice in one year. Fuck I need to ask more questions during the interview program, aside from: How many hours will I work? And can I stick my dick in the pickle slicer? I did that only once. Long story short, I got fired, and she was written up.
So fired... well not really fired, but not working. Okay, what happened was, this young girl got a hold of this hotel, and bar. She gave her older brother of 22 years old the bar. He failed to acquire a liquor license.... for his bar. So either way, they went tits up, and got shut down. I went in for my last paycheck and got a R.O.E. Shit! So I need to find another job.
Last week I came into Kanata and found a couple of jobs in the Centrum. It's like this outdoor mall. Got a Walmart (not a superstore, but its still pretty big), giant theatre, and a couple of bars. Blah! So now that I've found work, I needed to find somewhere to live. Because the commute was killer. Kijiji here I come.
Now Kijiji is like a whole community of people who like to half-ass everything. I applied to maybe 12 ads. Got 3 emails back. But luckily I had 1 viewing set up so I could check it out. It fullfilled every one of my low expectation standards, so I told them I'd move in Thursday.
Yes Thats right I have been here for 20 hours so far. Amazing, how I went from being unemployed and living in my parents basement to living with 3 other roommates, and living in Ottawa. I've taken pictures, but I lack my cord I require to connect to the camera from the computer. You know. I will post them undoubtedly on "My Face." We will see what tonight brings.
Last night I ended up getting faced with a roommate in The Glebe. Its almost as fun to say. Sounds to be like a sexual disease. Man, I got the glebes. Fuck, must have been that slutty twat from the club.
Anyways, I gotta header. Them strippers aren't going to stuff my rent down their s-strangs themselves. Alright, take care, and don't forget to miss me.
I've started work in a new bar. It was called, The Barge. And because my boss/owner of the bar is stupid, I was unfortunately laid off. Wow, that was twice in one year. Fuck I need to ask more questions during the interview program, aside from: How many hours will I work? And can I stick my dick in the pickle slicer? I did that only once. Long story short, I got fired, and she was written up.
So fired... well not really fired, but not working. Okay, what happened was, this young girl got a hold of this hotel, and bar. She gave her older brother of 22 years old the bar. He failed to acquire a liquor license.... for his bar. So either way, they went tits up, and got shut down. I went in for my last paycheck and got a R.O.E. Shit! So I need to find another job.
Last week I came into Kanata and found a couple of jobs in the Centrum. It's like this outdoor mall. Got a Walmart (not a superstore, but its still pretty big), giant theatre, and a couple of bars. Blah! So now that I've found work, I needed to find somewhere to live. Because the commute was killer. Kijiji here I come.
Now Kijiji is like a whole community of people who like to half-ass everything. I applied to maybe 12 ads. Got 3 emails back. But luckily I had 1 viewing set up so I could check it out. It fullfilled every one of my low expectation standards, so I told them I'd move in Thursday.
Yes Thats right I have been here for 20 hours so far. Amazing, how I went from being unemployed and living in my parents basement to living with 3 other roommates, and living in Ottawa. I've taken pictures, but I lack my cord I require to connect to the camera from the computer. You know. I will post them undoubtedly on "My Face." We will see what tonight brings.
Last night I ended up getting faced with a roommate in The Glebe. Its almost as fun to say. Sounds to be like a sexual disease. Man, I got the glebes. Fuck, must have been that slutty twat from the club.
Anyways, I gotta header. Them strippers aren't going to stuff my rent down their s-strangs themselves. Alright, take care, and don't forget to miss me.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Are we really proud to be Canadian? I'm not. I happy that I grew up in Canada. But pride should come out of some accomplishment that we've achieved. Maybe you lost 20lbs after 5 months at the gym. Or you saved up all your money after you quit smoking and you're going on vacation. This makes sense to be proud. But we have no control over where we are born. And we have no control over our ethnicity, either. So I'm not really understanding this racial pride.
I get it because Black people have overcame so many social obstacles. They got their freedom. Which, well that first day that the American Constitution was signed must have been pretty awkward. All these slave owners wrote and signed a bill that empowered every man, including slaves. Now when they got home, they noticed an entire field of unpicked cotton. Hahaha. Now black people have their own college, television channel, and month. That might be going a little overboard, but I guess all the important white people think it'd be better than always being reminded that their country once had slaves. "God Bless America"?
But it's not like we chose our own skin colour. So why do we choose to label all the other groups of different coloured skinned people, with negative stereotypes? Mexicans are dirty. Blacks all have nappy hair, and bad credit. Native Americans are all casino owners, and drunks. I think these are all social problems, and are bases on individual choices.
I have shitty credit because I've been irresponsible with my credit cards. Now I paid them all off, cut up my cards and pay cash for everything. I don't want to spend money I dont have, on things I don't need. Does this make me a better person? Yes. Because I've seen the light. And I've changed my ways. Except I'm fucked. Because nowadays you need a credit card for everything.
Even hotels, require you need a credit card. And not a pay as you go credit card. They need something with your name on it, and some photo Identification. I understand this is all a way to ensure you're going to be held accountable for everything you do in their room. But what if you're just looking for a place to sleep and shower in the morning? In that case, you'd better find yourself a good cardboard box, and hope it rains in the morning.
I could go into all of my bad habits, but I only have a limited amount of time. I get asked what ethnicity I am all the time. Usually because I'm wearing a suit, and smoking outside of a bar chatting with complete strangers. I would rather not be seen as a representative of my Race, and seen as the individual instead. I know enough about my background I can fill most questions. But until I find a way to tell these fuckers off, in a clever way, that shines my own prespective on the way I see things, I'm going to have to suck it up and be proud of a genetic abnormality, I never had, nor will I ever have any control over.
Anyways, today's getting on without me, and im still in my pyjamas. Take care, and Don't forget to miss me!
I get it because Black people have overcame so many social obstacles. They got their freedom. Which, well that first day that the American Constitution was signed must have been pretty awkward. All these slave owners wrote and signed a bill that empowered every man, including slaves. Now when they got home, they noticed an entire field of unpicked cotton. Hahaha. Now black people have their own college, television channel, and month. That might be going a little overboard, but I guess all the important white people think it'd be better than always being reminded that their country once had slaves. "God Bless America"?
But it's not like we chose our own skin colour. So why do we choose to label all the other groups of different coloured skinned people, with negative stereotypes? Mexicans are dirty. Blacks all have nappy hair, and bad credit. Native Americans are all casino owners, and drunks. I think these are all social problems, and are bases on individual choices.
I have shitty credit because I've been irresponsible with my credit cards. Now I paid them all off, cut up my cards and pay cash for everything. I don't want to spend money I dont have, on things I don't need. Does this make me a better person? Yes. Because I've seen the light. And I've changed my ways. Except I'm fucked. Because nowadays you need a credit card for everything.
Even hotels, require you need a credit card. And not a pay as you go credit card. They need something with your name on it, and some photo Identification. I understand this is all a way to ensure you're going to be held accountable for everything you do in their room. But what if you're just looking for a place to sleep and shower in the morning? In that case, you'd better find yourself a good cardboard box, and hope it rains in the morning.
I could go into all of my bad habits, but I only have a limited amount of time. I get asked what ethnicity I am all the time. Usually because I'm wearing a suit, and smoking outside of a bar chatting with complete strangers. I would rather not be seen as a representative of my Race, and seen as the individual instead. I know enough about my background I can fill most questions. But until I find a way to tell these fuckers off, in a clever way, that shines my own prespective on the way I see things, I'm going to have to suck it up and be proud of a genetic abnormality, I never had, nor will I ever have any control over.
Anyways, today's getting on without me, and im still in my pyjamas. Take care, and Don't forget to miss me!
Monday, February 1, 2010
Old School V. New Age
How many people have actually seen this clip? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAK0ESgp8VQ It's Abbott and Costello's "Who's on first?" sketch. I believe this writing is so clever, it's one of the pieces of iconic comedy. Now a days, it's a little under-appreciated. These days all you need to be considered a comedian is a whole lot of dick jokes, jokes about sex, and just obscene jokes about dead baby rape. Is this even comedy any more? I understand that the whole idea of seeing a comedy show is purely for entertainment. To temporarily forget some of your problems, and enjoy a night amongst friends, family and other people with common interests.
Here's my problem with it... Where is the creativity? You see comedian after comedian set themselves up for a joke, and then initiate the punchline. One of my favorite movies of all time is, "Airplaine!". I find the humour to be so quick, and you really have to pay attention to it. A lot of the gags are pretty simple. But when you listen to the wording of each joke, you really have to enjoy and appreciate the intricate writing of each scene.
For example,
[as the plane prepares to take off]
Hanging Lady: Nervous?
Ted Striker: Yes.
Hanging Lady: First time?
Ted Striker: No, I've been nervous lots of times.
or
Rumack: You'd better tell the Captain we've got to land as soon as we can. This woman has to be gotten to a hospital.
Elaine Dickinson: A hospital? What is it?
Rumack: It's a big building with patients, but that's not important right now.
You can google "Airplane!" quotes for more. There aren't too many people who show appreciation towards this sort of quick-witted humour anymore. Seth Macfarlane references all kinds of past television shows, movies, and songs. I enjoy watching family guy because I like catching all of these. I like to think I can appreciate it.
I also enjoy watching, "Three's Company." Because the humour was part of a different era, but it's all still relatable. Somebody once told me that I was born in the wrong decade because I like older TV shows. But you don't get the same quality of jokes as you did back in the 70's. Or earlier. Can you really blame me? Why should I watch Canada's next Top Idol? Or subject myself to watching some dribble about rich people making more money working a high-stress job. It's all manipulation. I hate it. Don't get me started.
I tend to stay away from very very obvious jokes. You just got a vaccuum? That sucks! I always look for something else I can make fun of. I always take the high-ground. Make people sit and think about my jokes. It keeps people on their feet, and I hope it gets the appreciate it deserves. If not, then at least make them smile.
Now I can sit here and make a list of people whose careers I follow. Demitri Martin, Rodney Carrington, Jim Mcaleese, Christopher Titus, Louis C.K., Jimmy Carr, Jon Lajoie, John Pinette. But I won't go too far into any of them and their careers. I would like to think some of you could take time out of your schedule and google some of them. They make me laugh.
I'm not saying that nothing about today's culture makes me smile. Or that I gloss over everyone today just because of their age. I'll listen with an open mind, and maybe if I'm bored, I'll google new people. I just hate the idea of someone getting famous (by today's standards, that ain't hard, just look at Perez Hilton, or Lady Gaga, or Dane Cook, or anyone with a sex video), just by trying to be offensive, out there, or a rip off of someone else. Just by mentioning them, gives them undeserved credit and I hate it. If you ignore them, they will go away. That's what I was taught. That's why I wouldn't kill any of them. Because people will only remember them for what the positive stuff they did.
Like Michael Jackson. Fans came out of the woodwork, when he died. And just weeks before they were making jokes. Pedophile. He's just a little boy, trapped in a mans body.... inside of another little boy. See? Funny. "show some respect". Ha, somebody told me this just before I dragged them outside and made them dig their own grave. More on that later.
Basically what I'm saying is that, you can't really appreciate today's culture without a look at our past. What made us laugh before the internet, cellphones, rearview cameras, wifi, gps, y2k, SARS, vd, hiv, spendi, and auto-erotic asphixiatia. Because, no matter whats going on with the world, War, Famine, Discrimination, Racism, Religious Persecution, Political Corruption, and the Abusive Relationships, there will alwatys be certain individuals that we can all sit back and enjoy together. Who have a light hearted spin on the way we see the world, and temporarily bring us all a little closer. Maybe just for a minute.
Here's something that happened to me last year. My parents retired and relocated to a little town in Ontario. So I went visit them for Thanksgiving. My little rug-rat nephew and I are always getting into trouble. Being the adult I am "suppose" to be the responsible one. Hehehe. My parents are now cutting their own firewood for warmth to save blah blah blah. So we have a few axes, and hatchets. I took my nephew out so we could toss a hatchet at a tree for target practice. We went inside for a drink of water, or some junk, and Gunt (my sister in law), asked what we were up to. My nephew without thinking told her that I was taking him out to toss an axe at a tree. She looked at me with the widest eyes ever and said, "Hey! Les. That's in you're blood." So I yelled to my nephew, "Hey, C! Think you can balance this apple on your head?"
So aside from offending me and my native blood, that day, she also lost a son because apparently I'm not William Tell. Anyways, you take care, and Don't forget to miss me!
Here's my problem with it... Where is the creativity? You see comedian after comedian set themselves up for a joke, and then initiate the punchline. One of my favorite movies of all time is, "Airplaine!". I find the humour to be so quick, and you really have to pay attention to it. A lot of the gags are pretty simple. But when you listen to the wording of each joke, you really have to enjoy and appreciate the intricate writing of each scene.
For example,
[as the plane prepares to take off]
Hanging Lady: Nervous?
Ted Striker: Yes.
Hanging Lady: First time?
Ted Striker: No, I've been nervous lots of times.
or
Rumack: You'd better tell the Captain we've got to land as soon as we can. This woman has to be gotten to a hospital.
Elaine Dickinson: A hospital? What is it?
Rumack: It's a big building with patients, but that's not important right now.
You can google "Airplane!" quotes for more. There aren't too many people who show appreciation towards this sort of quick-witted humour anymore. Seth Macfarlane references all kinds of past television shows, movies, and songs. I enjoy watching family guy because I like catching all of these. I like to think I can appreciate it.
I also enjoy watching, "Three's Company." Because the humour was part of a different era, but it's all still relatable. Somebody once told me that I was born in the wrong decade because I like older TV shows. But you don't get the same quality of jokes as you did back in the 70's. Or earlier. Can you really blame me? Why should I watch Canada's next Top Idol? Or subject myself to watching some dribble about rich people making more money working a high-stress job. It's all manipulation. I hate it. Don't get me started.
I tend to stay away from very very obvious jokes. You just got a vaccuum? That sucks! I always look for something else I can make fun of. I always take the high-ground. Make people sit and think about my jokes. It keeps people on their feet, and I hope it gets the appreciate it deserves. If not, then at least make them smile.
Now I can sit here and make a list of people whose careers I follow. Demitri Martin, Rodney Carrington, Jim Mcaleese, Christopher Titus, Louis C.K., Jimmy Carr, Jon Lajoie, John Pinette. But I won't go too far into any of them and their careers. I would like to think some of you could take time out of your schedule and google some of them. They make me laugh.
I'm not saying that nothing about today's culture makes me smile. Or that I gloss over everyone today just because of their age. I'll listen with an open mind, and maybe if I'm bored, I'll google new people. I just hate the idea of someone getting famous (by today's standards, that ain't hard, just look at Perez Hilton, or Lady Gaga, or Dane Cook, or anyone with a sex video), just by trying to be offensive, out there, or a rip off of someone else. Just by mentioning them, gives them undeserved credit and I hate it. If you ignore them, they will go away. That's what I was taught. That's why I wouldn't kill any of them. Because people will only remember them for what the positive stuff they did.
Like Michael Jackson. Fans came out of the woodwork, when he died. And just weeks before they were making jokes. Pedophile. He's just a little boy, trapped in a mans body.... inside of another little boy. See? Funny. "show some respect". Ha, somebody told me this just before I dragged them outside and made them dig their own grave. More on that later.
Basically what I'm saying is that, you can't really appreciate today's culture without a look at our past. What made us laugh before the internet, cellphones, rearview cameras, wifi, gps, y2k, SARS, vd, hiv, spendi, and auto-erotic asphixiatia. Because, no matter whats going on with the world, War, Famine, Discrimination, Racism, Religious Persecution, Political Corruption, and the Abusive Relationships, there will alwatys be certain individuals that we can all sit back and enjoy together. Who have a light hearted spin on the way we see the world, and temporarily bring us all a little closer. Maybe just for a minute.
Here's something that happened to me last year. My parents retired and relocated to a little town in Ontario. So I went visit them for Thanksgiving. My little rug-rat nephew and I are always getting into trouble. Being the adult I am "suppose" to be the responsible one. Hehehe. My parents are now cutting their own firewood for warmth to save blah blah blah. So we have a few axes, and hatchets. I took my nephew out so we could toss a hatchet at a tree for target practice. We went inside for a drink of water, or some junk, and Gunt (my sister in law), asked what we were up to. My nephew without thinking told her that I was taking him out to toss an axe at a tree. She looked at me with the widest eyes ever and said, "Hey! Les. That's in you're blood." So I yelled to my nephew, "Hey, C! Think you can balance this apple on your head?"
So aside from offending me and my native blood, that day, she also lost a son because apparently I'm not William Tell. Anyways, you take care, and Don't forget to miss me!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Bar Etiquette
Now I'm an unmarried mid-20 something, with various job opportunities. If television teaches me anything, I should have my own sit-com, with crazy characters, and a very hot neighbour I will someday hook up with. Not only will I have a steady income, but I will be able to sit around a bar, and bitch about all the "important things in my life". Like how I have 'intregrity', and I won't sell my soul just because my unbelievably hot employer asked me to have sex with her to get a raise.
Unfortunately I don't have these problems. I do sit around in a bar, and observe many other people's weekend rituals of trying to drink their body weight in alcohol, and smoke way too much cannabis, in an attempt to appeal to the fairer sex. Guys try a little bit harder than girls. Because girls are the gatekeepers of sex.
(for a guy to get laid, he not only needs to be clean, well spoken, smell good, dress well, have friends, be able to drive, hold his liquor, be funny, and have a fake job. the only thing a girl needs to get laid is to say yes.)
Now amongst all the different personalities, each person with their own stories, jokes, drink preferences, backstories; we are all a aggregation of what we've been through in the past. It's not how we act thats going to seal the deal with anyone else. Be it, meeting new friends, engaging in intriguing conversation, or gittin' yo freaky tryst on with another fellow human.
But there should also be a certain amount of respect, and dignity we all show to one another in these situations. First and foremost... Tipping! In the past 5 years, I've worked in various fields of work. Casinos, Restaurants, Factories, Construction sites, Telemarketting, Data Entry, Warehouses, and the Service Industry. I've noticed one thing. A lot of places I've worked will give you a cost of living raise in pay at the beginning of each year. But not in the service industry.
These waiters, and waitresses are always paid the minimum wage wherever I go. So I tend to tip very well. They will work their fingers to the bone, just to make ends meet. Yes, they are all physically attractive. But the better ones are also competent. These individuals know how to treat customers, and which ones will tip better than others. It's what they do for a living. This is how they pay their rent, buy their groceries, and clothe their illegitimate children. I tip a buck a drink. Drinks are usually expensive enough I always make sure I pay my bills, and rent, and buy groceries before going out. If not, I usually change my priorities at 2am. I might not always remember what my address is, but I can always remember my PIN to my bank card.
2, The doorman is always your friend. You might not always get along with your friends, but hey, you've been drinking, and that nullifies all of your actions and opinions. A sober bouncer will always trump a drunken fool. If they say leave, just go home. I always sit around and bullshit with the bouncers before the club actually gets going. That way, if I leave and check out some other place where the drinks are cheaper, or the women are dressed scantillier, I always have the confidence of a bouncer at first bar for last call. I find myself bribing more doorman, now that I have no identification. Which sucks balls. Damn wallet theft!!
But I digress. 3, Hooters is not a real man's restaurant. This is like guys who are afraid to buy real pornography and opt for Maxim. If you want to see tits, go to a stripper. Earl's hires just a pretty waitresses, who wear skin tight clothing. Get over the fact that they are gorgeous, and quit flirting with them. What is the point? You really want to date a girl who makes tips by shaking her ass? Do you want her buying you a nice shirt with all loonies? Or a casual hook up? If she's really that easy to go home with a patron who over-tips, and speaks loud so that everyone knows he just got a raise, or he's going into a new lucritive business model. blah blah. Either way, she's prolly gone home with many other guys in the past, and hasn't learnt her lesson. Or she just found another cold sore on her hooch, and she wants to share it.
Unfortunately before I get through this list, I have some running around to do before this Friday night gets off to a start without me. I will have many many more. So keep checkin' in on me. Don't forget to miss me!
Unfortunately I don't have these problems. I do sit around in a bar, and observe many other people's weekend rituals of trying to drink their body weight in alcohol, and smoke way too much cannabis, in an attempt to appeal to the fairer sex. Guys try a little bit harder than girls. Because girls are the gatekeepers of sex.
(for a guy to get laid, he not only needs to be clean, well spoken, smell good, dress well, have friends, be able to drive, hold his liquor, be funny, and have a fake job. the only thing a girl needs to get laid is to say yes.)
Now amongst all the different personalities, each person with their own stories, jokes, drink preferences, backstories; we are all a aggregation of what we've been through in the past. It's not how we act thats going to seal the deal with anyone else. Be it, meeting new friends, engaging in intriguing conversation, or gittin' yo freaky tryst on with another fellow human.
But there should also be a certain amount of respect, and dignity we all show to one another in these situations. First and foremost... Tipping! In the past 5 years, I've worked in various fields of work. Casinos, Restaurants, Factories, Construction sites, Telemarketting, Data Entry, Warehouses, and the Service Industry. I've noticed one thing. A lot of places I've worked will give you a cost of living raise in pay at the beginning of each year. But not in the service industry.
These waiters, and waitresses are always paid the minimum wage wherever I go. So I tend to tip very well. They will work their fingers to the bone, just to make ends meet. Yes, they are all physically attractive. But the better ones are also competent. These individuals know how to treat customers, and which ones will tip better than others. It's what they do for a living. This is how they pay their rent, buy their groceries, and clothe their illegitimate children. I tip a buck a drink. Drinks are usually expensive enough I always make sure I pay my bills, and rent, and buy groceries before going out. If not, I usually change my priorities at 2am. I might not always remember what my address is, but I can always remember my PIN to my bank card.
2, The doorman is always your friend. You might not always get along with your friends, but hey, you've been drinking, and that nullifies all of your actions and opinions. A sober bouncer will always trump a drunken fool. If they say leave, just go home. I always sit around and bullshit with the bouncers before the club actually gets going. That way, if I leave and check out some other place where the drinks are cheaper, or the women are dressed scantillier, I always have the confidence of a bouncer at first bar for last call. I find myself bribing more doorman, now that I have no identification. Which sucks balls. Damn wallet theft!!
But I digress. 3, Hooters is not a real man's restaurant. This is like guys who are afraid to buy real pornography and opt for Maxim. If you want to see tits, go to a stripper. Earl's hires just a pretty waitresses, who wear skin tight clothing. Get over the fact that they are gorgeous, and quit flirting with them. What is the point? You really want to date a girl who makes tips by shaking her ass? Do you want her buying you a nice shirt with all loonies? Or a casual hook up? If she's really that easy to go home with a patron who over-tips, and speaks loud so that everyone knows he just got a raise, or he's going into a new lucritive business model. blah blah. Either way, she's prolly gone home with many other guys in the past, and hasn't learnt her lesson. Or she just found another cold sore on her hooch, and she wants to share it.
Unfortunately before I get through this list, I have some running around to do before this Friday night gets off to a start without me. I will have many many more. So keep checkin' in on me. Don't forget to miss me!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
FWD: FWD:
Okay, so here's my beef with Forwards. I remember when I was 8 years old and I got a chain-letter in the mail. I was so excited just to get mail first and foremost. A hand-written letter for me. Then after my father sat me down and explained what I got, why I got it, and what I was obligated to do now. I was suppose to re-write 10 letters, BY HAND, and send it to 10 of my friends. I'm 8. How many fucking people do I know? And their actual postal codes? Jesus! Thanks Uncle Fuckrag! Now I'm going to poop into a shoe box for the rest of the year, and send it to you for Christmas.
Then as I matured, so did the technology. Ooh, fancy. What is this 'Electronic Mail'? Thats a fucking mouthful. And I would know, I went to catholic church. After signing up for about 5 email addresses so I can geek out and send myself emails. Then before I knew it, someone started sending me Forwarded emails. Once again, obligating me to find 10 friends I hate, and send cute pictures, or funny stories, or whatever, or else I'd have bad luck for the next 24 years of my life. Blah blah blah. I figured, "Hey thank god, they ain't coming through text messages. yet."
So instead of receiving something in the mail, we get a text message, pretty much prompting the same thing. or else... What shit. I'm not sure Karma travels through a T1 line. Or bad luck, or whatever you wanna call it. I don't mind receiving funny ones. Maybe a collection of dirty cartoons, or a list of why women are better than cellphones. Trust me, I'm unemployed, I need something to read while crunching out a duece. (two feces references in one blog? Say what!)
But do these fucking people have no life that they take time out of their busy schedule of eatting junk food, and neglecting their new born baby to send me some digital version of a death threat. Because they are all the same. They begin with the same sentiment, and end with a list of how many people you can send it to you, in order to either obtain better luck, or get laid by the true love of your life.
I believe this is the same hokey shit as Psychics. I'm not too sure I believe in ghosts, goblins, aliens, psychics, demonic possession, ouiji boards, palmreaders, or foreign dentistry. Sure they make for good stories. The whole idea of something in your house, that goes bump in the night, oooh. Scary. I like it. I like being scared. If something suggest there could even be the slightest chance, I am not alone in my room, I curl up under my blanket. Because deep down I know it's not real, and I have a very good imagination.
I like reading. Like when the movie, "Urban Legend" came out. Sony had a website where people could publish their own urban legends. I thoroughly enjoyed reading those. One after another of unedited, blurbs of the unexplained. And to be honest I don't care for explanations. I've always been like that. Even when I was the manager of a restaurant, I don't care about why you showed up late. Just don't show up late again, or at least call.
I think thats why some people choose to believe in that shit. Because it can't be proven, or disproven (without some logic). But I'm not saying it's all shit. I'm saying, its fun. But I seriously don't need people clicking forward, and then selecting my name to send me some unsentimental fuck-a-ree, that doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything because you never took the time to read it, write it out, and then buy stamps and envelopes to send them beforehand. I always take the time to tell the sender to fuck his mother. or her mother. And before I go to sleep every night, I pray that they were molested as a child.
But that's just me. Anyways I should get going, keep in touch. And Don't forget to miss me!
Then as I matured, so did the technology. Ooh, fancy. What is this 'Electronic Mail'? Thats a fucking mouthful. And I would know, I went to catholic church. After signing up for about 5 email addresses so I can geek out and send myself emails. Then before I knew it, someone started sending me Forwarded emails. Once again, obligating me to find 10 friends I hate, and send cute pictures, or funny stories, or whatever, or else I'd have bad luck for the next 24 years of my life. Blah blah blah. I figured, "Hey thank god, they ain't coming through text messages. yet."
So instead of receiving something in the mail, we get a text message, pretty much prompting the same thing. or else... What shit. I'm not sure Karma travels through a T1 line. Or bad luck, or whatever you wanna call it. I don't mind receiving funny ones. Maybe a collection of dirty cartoons, or a list of why women are better than cellphones. Trust me, I'm unemployed, I need something to read while crunching out a duece. (two feces references in one blog? Say what!)
But do these fucking people have no life that they take time out of their busy schedule of eatting junk food, and neglecting their new born baby to send me some digital version of a death threat. Because they are all the same. They begin with the same sentiment, and end with a list of how many people you can send it to you, in order to either obtain better luck, or get laid by the true love of your life.
I believe this is the same hokey shit as Psychics. I'm not too sure I believe in ghosts, goblins, aliens, psychics, demonic possession, ouiji boards, palmreaders, or foreign dentistry. Sure they make for good stories. The whole idea of something in your house, that goes bump in the night, oooh. Scary. I like it. I like being scared. If something suggest there could even be the slightest chance, I am not alone in my room, I curl up under my blanket. Because deep down I know it's not real, and I have a very good imagination.
I like reading. Like when the movie, "Urban Legend" came out. Sony had a website where people could publish their own urban legends. I thoroughly enjoyed reading those. One after another of unedited, blurbs of the unexplained. And to be honest I don't care for explanations. I've always been like that. Even when I was the manager of a restaurant, I don't care about why you showed up late. Just don't show up late again, or at least call.
I think thats why some people choose to believe in that shit. Because it can't be proven, or disproven (without some logic). But I'm not saying it's all shit. I'm saying, its fun. But I seriously don't need people clicking forward, and then selecting my name to send me some unsentimental fuck-a-ree, that doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything because you never took the time to read it, write it out, and then buy stamps and envelopes to send them beforehand. I always take the time to tell the sender to fuck his mother. or her mother. And before I go to sleep every night, I pray that they were molested as a child.
But that's just me. Anyways I should get going, keep in touch. And Don't forget to miss me!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Poster Boy for Original Thinking
Alright, well I couldn't sleep last night. But I got reasons. First off, it was due to the fact that I woke up yesterday prematurely, and went down for a 5 hour nap. Woke up, naturally I was going to have my days and nights mixed up. Poor me. Then because I require such specific conditions to sleep (one of them being that I want my room ice cold, and my blankets to be many), I opened the window around 3. Wide open. Then after watching all my previously recorded television shows, All of them. I resorted to thinking about blogging in my head. Finally getting some sleep, I awoke two hours later because of my intolerance of lactose. Just thinking about how they get to vote, and special treatment just because of their - nevermind.
In case you were unaware of what I do when I'm working. Mainly working alone... is thinking about blogs. My own to be more specific. I'll prattle off in my own mind about how I feel about certain things, or why I am how I really am just because I want someone to understand me. Mostly it's just a way to organize my hate. And I enjoy writing.
Now, this morning as much as I wanted to write about how society views men, and the unimportant role men have assigned themselves in this flaming ball of shit we call, earth. But I think I need to get something else off my chest this morning.
I really hate to say it, but this past two weeks I have looked back and evaluated my life. I have so many questions. It's 2010. Is this where I saw myself say 10 years ago? Have I really changed and moved toward my goals, and plans? Here's a big one, slightly too profound at this early morning, Why am I not married, or loved eternally? I hate to admit this because I think everyone else is doing the same thing. Some are depressed. Some are in relationships, so they don't have to be alone during the holidays. Maybe some are quitting something, or starting to work out. It's all bullshit and it's bad for ya!
Now I can sit around and wonder these things. I can make lists. I can make myself some goals for the next year, and hope to achieve them, one by one. But I say fuck that shit in its crummy fucking asshole. Because I've already made a list. First one, GET LIFE. Second, GET LAID... a lot. I think 15 year old Les would think I'm pretty fucking awesome. Because, DAR!!! I am.
Now recently in this past year you're Uncle Les was dumped. You can tell I was dumped just by asking, "Hey, what happened to what's her face?". And how I respond to the question, "Can exes ever be freiends?" I don't think so. Why would you want to be friends with someone who broke your heart, and rejected you're entire way of life? I always said, I'd much rather get rejected at a bar 20 times versus, once by someone you let get close enough to scar you.
I made many sacrifices to make that relationship work out. I gave up a suite apartment sweet. Sold all my furniture. Rented a room during the holidays. Worked 12 hours shifts at a baler-twine factory (which kept me pretty tied up). Even changed my facebook status. Loser!
You can consider this my excess baggage. I don't carry on these superficial relationships because deep down I'm hurt, and cold and lonely. No. I keep them to amuse myself. I text lots of people every day, dont think you're special. I like to keep it fresh and simple. I don't need to date someone a million miles away, via text. As soon as it starts to look like a real relationship without the sex, I'm out of there. Save your bullshit drama for your friends.
After all, when a healthy relationship starts, you have your milestones, or your firsts. First date. First kiss. First sleepover. First-time meeting each others friends. First time meeting their parents. First time having sex. First fight. First make-up sex session. After my break up, I went through a lot of "relationships". And I noticed I'm surprisingly traditional. I'm sure when I want to marry a woman, I'll ask her father for permission. That's just me.
But you really have to learn how to pace a healthy relationship, or else you're in danger. If you have sex too fast, you risk it becoming too emotional. Or with most guys, you become a booty-call. I think mutual respect should be the basis of a good relationship (fuck, lets call that something else because I'm tired of typing it. How about we call it, boobie? okay!).
Here's when I know I'm in a boobie and it's time to to make things exclusive... When the girl in question is pissing me off even when she's not there. I know I'm dating her because only people I let into my emotional realm can do that. It shows emotional. I enjoy her company, we have sex, and now I'm feeling. Not a bad thing. After all, how you can you really know someone, if you don't know how they act when they are mad at you? Or if you deny them something? Do they throw a bitch-fit and cry? Or do they try to manipulate you with a guilt trip?
That's why when something starts to get too dramatic, and they haven't made me mad, I get out of there as soon as I can. It's only polite. I don't need someone falling in love with me before I fall in love with them. Or vice-versa. You complete me? Fuck that. I'll complete myself, and you do the same, and instead of being 1 complete person, we can be 2 strong people, madly in love, who fight, and makeup, constantly. That's what I call passion.
Maybe that's why my last boobie, never worked. Or maybe it's because she never heard the phrase, "If you love something let it go...." Nope, she was a faithful follower of, "If he lets you leave, whore it up." I just read that and laughed so hard I farted. Damn you Lactose!!! Don't worry about me and my couch, I'll clean the blood up later.
I'm not sure half the guys out there should even be able to date, much less reproduce at their own drunken will. I've met tons of single mothers, or divorced women, or even in a few cases, married women, who just aren't happy, mainly due to the fact that the guys who are out in the dating world suck. They drank too much. They cheated. They were abusive. Couldn't hold down a job. Any number of things.
I like these guys because I have to do next to nothing to look like gold compared to these fuck-rags. Not that I need to do anything special to stand out but I do work out. I read the paper. I love crosswords. I make new friends. I try new restaurants. I go to live shows. I shop like a motherfucker for new clothes. I'm nothing if not a sucker for a new suit. Maybe some cufflinks. Next to the troglodyte who's wearing jeans, and a t-shirt that he got from a box of beer (Winner), I'm awesome.
I'm not sure any of them realizes they can have their milk for free, from any number of cows. It's called, casual boobies. For me, it started out coming to terms with all of my weaknesses. One by one, I came to terms with them. I didn't quit them because, I don't think I need some billboard telling me how to live my life.
Quit smoking. We're all going to get cancer, why not get a cancer that makes you look cool and relieve stress at the same time? Don't drink and drive. How the fuck am I going to get my car home, asshole? I just barely paid my tab at the bar, and you expect me to pay for two cabs to get home? One to get home, and the other one the next day. Eat healthier? Fuck you! I'll just eat less unhealthy shit, and more bran.
I just want to be a poster boy, for original thinking. I wouldn't call myself a man, because the way men are viewed in this society, makes me want to cut my down dick off. Hopefully I got a hard-on when I do it, so its the right shape so I can use it as a dagger to choke and stab fuckers in the middle of the night.
The key to being single now a days, is prespective. If you're not exclusive with one woman, you can see as many as possible. I say, honesty is key. But if it doesn't come up, you are not required to out yourself to all of your 'dates'. All I ask, is that you be honest, and dont hide behind lies. The key is to not do anything that you will have to explain to someone you care about later on.
I sleep easy knowing, I choose to be single. I choose to not let myself become overwhelmed with new boobies, and over-analyzing every little thing. I know someday I will want a healthy boobie. I will want a wife. Probably have to be a step-father due to the lack of morality in today's youth.
Despite how I come off I wouldn't want to live in any other time. In any other country. I love my life. I have my goals. I don't stress about too much, and I keep everything light. Light conversation. Light humour. My future's so bright I gotta wear shades. You can find peace and happiness, in the misery of others. Because they probably deserve it.
Keep in touch, and Don't forget to miss me!
In case you were unaware of what I do when I'm working. Mainly working alone... is thinking about blogs. My own to be more specific. I'll prattle off in my own mind about how I feel about certain things, or why I am how I really am just because I want someone to understand me. Mostly it's just a way to organize my hate. And I enjoy writing.
Now, this morning as much as I wanted to write about how society views men, and the unimportant role men have assigned themselves in this flaming ball of shit we call, earth. But I think I need to get something else off my chest this morning.
I really hate to say it, but this past two weeks I have looked back and evaluated my life. I have so many questions. It's 2010. Is this where I saw myself say 10 years ago? Have I really changed and moved toward my goals, and plans? Here's a big one, slightly too profound at this early morning, Why am I not married, or loved eternally? I hate to admit this because I think everyone else is doing the same thing. Some are depressed. Some are in relationships, so they don't have to be alone during the holidays. Maybe some are quitting something, or starting to work out. It's all bullshit and it's bad for ya!
Now I can sit around and wonder these things. I can make lists. I can make myself some goals for the next year, and hope to achieve them, one by one. But I say fuck that shit in its crummy fucking asshole. Because I've already made a list. First one, GET LIFE. Second, GET LAID... a lot. I think 15 year old Les would think I'm pretty fucking awesome. Because, DAR!!! I am.
Now recently in this past year you're Uncle Les was dumped. You can tell I was dumped just by asking, "Hey, what happened to what's her face?". And how I respond to the question, "Can exes ever be freiends?" I don't think so. Why would you want to be friends with someone who broke your heart, and rejected you're entire way of life? I always said, I'd much rather get rejected at a bar 20 times versus, once by someone you let get close enough to scar you.
I made many sacrifices to make that relationship work out. I gave up a suite apartment sweet. Sold all my furniture. Rented a room during the holidays. Worked 12 hours shifts at a baler-twine factory (which kept me pretty tied up). Even changed my facebook status. Loser!
You can consider this my excess baggage. I don't carry on these superficial relationships because deep down I'm hurt, and cold and lonely. No. I keep them to amuse myself. I text lots of people every day, dont think you're special. I like to keep it fresh and simple. I don't need to date someone a million miles away, via text. As soon as it starts to look like a real relationship without the sex, I'm out of there. Save your bullshit drama for your friends.
After all, when a healthy relationship starts, you have your milestones, or your firsts. First date. First kiss. First sleepover. First-time meeting each others friends. First time meeting their parents. First time having sex. First fight. First make-up sex session. After my break up, I went through a lot of "relationships". And I noticed I'm surprisingly traditional. I'm sure when I want to marry a woman, I'll ask her father for permission. That's just me.
But you really have to learn how to pace a healthy relationship, or else you're in danger. If you have sex too fast, you risk it becoming too emotional. Or with most guys, you become a booty-call. I think mutual respect should be the basis of a good relationship (fuck, lets call that something else because I'm tired of typing it. How about we call it, boobie? okay!).
Here's when I know I'm in a boobie and it's time to to make things exclusive... When the girl in question is pissing me off even when she's not there. I know I'm dating her because only people I let into my emotional realm can do that. It shows emotional. I enjoy her company, we have sex, and now I'm feeling. Not a bad thing. After all, how you can you really know someone, if you don't know how they act when they are mad at you? Or if you deny them something? Do they throw a bitch-fit and cry? Or do they try to manipulate you with a guilt trip?
That's why when something starts to get too dramatic, and they haven't made me mad, I get out of there as soon as I can. It's only polite. I don't need someone falling in love with me before I fall in love with them. Or vice-versa. You complete me? Fuck that. I'll complete myself, and you do the same, and instead of being 1 complete person, we can be 2 strong people, madly in love, who fight, and makeup, constantly. That's what I call passion.
Maybe that's why my last boobie, never worked. Or maybe it's because she never heard the phrase, "If you love something let it go...." Nope, she was a faithful follower of, "If he lets you leave, whore it up." I just read that and laughed so hard I farted. Damn you Lactose!!! Don't worry about me and my couch, I'll clean the blood up later.
I'm not sure half the guys out there should even be able to date, much less reproduce at their own drunken will. I've met tons of single mothers, or divorced women, or even in a few cases, married women, who just aren't happy, mainly due to the fact that the guys who are out in the dating world suck. They drank too much. They cheated. They were abusive. Couldn't hold down a job. Any number of things.
I like these guys because I have to do next to nothing to look like gold compared to these fuck-rags. Not that I need to do anything special to stand out but I do work out. I read the paper. I love crosswords. I make new friends. I try new restaurants. I go to live shows. I shop like a motherfucker for new clothes. I'm nothing if not a sucker for a new suit. Maybe some cufflinks. Next to the troglodyte who's wearing jeans, and a t-shirt that he got from a box of beer (Winner), I'm awesome.
I'm not sure any of them realizes they can have their milk for free, from any number of cows. It's called, casual boobies. For me, it started out coming to terms with all of my weaknesses. One by one, I came to terms with them. I didn't quit them because, I don't think I need some billboard telling me how to live my life.
Quit smoking. We're all going to get cancer, why not get a cancer that makes you look cool and relieve stress at the same time? Don't drink and drive. How the fuck am I going to get my car home, asshole? I just barely paid my tab at the bar, and you expect me to pay for two cabs to get home? One to get home, and the other one the next day. Eat healthier? Fuck you! I'll just eat less unhealthy shit, and more bran.
I just want to be a poster boy, for original thinking. I wouldn't call myself a man, because the way men are viewed in this society, makes me want to cut my down dick off. Hopefully I got a hard-on when I do it, so its the right shape so I can use it as a dagger to choke and stab fuckers in the middle of the night.
The key to being single now a days, is prespective. If you're not exclusive with one woman, you can see as many as possible. I say, honesty is key. But if it doesn't come up, you are not required to out yourself to all of your 'dates'. All I ask, is that you be honest, and dont hide behind lies. The key is to not do anything that you will have to explain to someone you care about later on.
I sleep easy knowing, I choose to be single. I choose to not let myself become overwhelmed with new boobies, and over-analyzing every little thing. I know someday I will want a healthy boobie. I will want a wife. Probably have to be a step-father due to the lack of morality in today's youth.
Despite how I come off I wouldn't want to live in any other time. In any other country. I love my life. I have my goals. I don't stress about too much, and I keep everything light. Light conversation. Light humour. My future's so bright I gotta wear shades. You can find peace and happiness, in the misery of others. Because they probably deserve it.
Keep in touch, and Don't forget to miss me!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)