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!
Friday, January 22, 2010
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!
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