A few, small excerpts from the timeline of E.

Unlike other males at the age of 5, I was a man. I started shaving a few months before my 5th birthday. I bought beer and a pack of smokes for the first time at 6. The attendant didn’t even ask for my ID, probably due to the thick, protruding forest of chest hair. She did ask for my number though…and I nailed her because I’m awesome!

At age 9, after spending a couple of years in prison for extreme bad-assery, I escaped. I have since toned it down to stay under the radar. Not because I wouldn’t be able to elude the authorities but because all the screaming fans gets old. Sometimes I just want to be a regular person. It’s nearly impossible for me to do that due to elevated bad ass levels. Sigh.

At age 10, I was in California to watch the 1989 World Series between the A’s and the Giants. I’m sorry to all the Californians for the earthquake...my balls dropped that day. I would have expected them to drop a lot sooner because I started shaving so early but nature takes its own course in a person’s body.

At age 30 on July 31st, 2009 I realized how stupid this post was and discontinued it.

I feel like I'm creatively bankrupt this week. I hate being sick.

I may be a lot of things...

I may be prone to sensationalizing. I may have a natural inclination to exaggerate my involvement in events. I may be beset with rugged, good looks. I may be as slick as the devil himself. I may have the ability to make women spontaneously orgasm at the mere sight of me. But what I don’t have is…

…a tolerance for fairies, of the tooth variety. Sneaky little pixies. Good for nothing whores!!

What do they do with the teeth? Practice dentistry? I don’t trust them.

Something to try.

I was at the dentist this morning taking breaths from a nitrous oxide delivery apparatus. My head was pleasantly spinning about as I watched The Price is Right. That is a damn good show. Drew Carey is a fine replacement for Bob Barker much like Conan is a fine replacement for Jay Leno, aka douche bag central. Just give me one good whack at that ant hill he calls a chin. I digress. The hygienist strolls in to scratch any unpleasant calculus off my Chiclets. While she's busy swinging the instrument like it were an ice pick, I momentarily looked up to notice that TPIR has ended and a soap opera had begun. I have never watched an episode of any soap opera so I can only speculate as to the content. Whorish activities, killing, slutting, cheating, overacting, excessive dramatic pauses, STD swapping, music that has a lot of theatrical violin crescendos, things of that nature.

However, today whilst affably enjoying the magic gas, I took a few minutes to study the gripping appeal these shows have to some people, namely housewives and queers. I did so without the headphones plugged into my ear holes. I endeavored to make up my own storyline that I’m sure was completely incongruous with the actual fictional plot. That was some funny sheeeit.* I cordially invite you to try it one day when you have a spare moment. Bonus if you have a nitrous oxide tank lying around you can take pulls from or a big fat philly blunt, son!

*Cannot be held responsible for not having a similar or enjoyable experience because I have a vibrant imagination that oft times runs rampant, especially when on nitrous. Also because I am cool and you are not.

Curses!!

I got duped into viewing the latest installment of blue ball cinema last night. Yes, I watched the new Harry Potter. I feel as though I visually supped upon a sweaty ball sack. Even worse, some little teenage brat was breaking her teeth on a cup full of ice right in front of me.

I would be so pissed if I was a Harry Potter fan but I guess I would be used to getting teased. 2 hours of Harry Potter getting his ass kicked, punked and in general being a little bitch. Then 30 minutes of action only to set up the next movie. The only thing I can think of to equate it to would be an old man with ED hooking up with a chick. After 2 hours of flaccid horseplay, something finally happens. Wood. Then the chick bails and leaves him with his dick in his hand.

If Harry is the chose one, why does he continually get his ass handed to him by EVERYONE? He “kills” some bad ass only to have him come back in the next one. Where did they find this bad guy, at the party store next to the trick candles? Harry’s next spell should be “success” which he should exclusively use on himself. Everyone that goes against him knows it, why can’t he learn it?

How does any Harry Potter fan ever think he is going to become a wizard when he is clearly a massive fairy? Your move gullible lemmings.

An awkward situation.

“E, why don’t guys find me attractive? What’s wrong with me?”

My head scrambles to reassemble itself from the atomic bomb that was just dropped within it. How do I start? How do I begin? Why wasn’t I given a few weeks to think it over?

“Well…uhh…”

I realize the first question is a front for the real question, why don’t you find me attractive, which complicates an already complicated position. There are no good answers. Every word I use to answer the question will be scrutinized ad nauseam and probably interpreted incorrectly.

“That is to say…errr..uhhh…”

Delivering an unrehearsed, unscripted answer that normally requires a great deal of inspection and careful thought is not smart, especially when she is your friend and obviously very vulnerable. I am not qualified to answer for all men and I am certainly not qualified to answer a question like that. Ladies, this is a loaded question that any man with half a brain would immediately run at hearing. How is it that I understood that learning to walk was more important than learning to talk first and yet somehow failed to apply the knowledge when it mattered most? My stupidity sometimes keeps me in uncomfortable situations.

“…hmmm…”

Articulation fails me again. Not that it matters, no thoughts are qued and ready to be expressed. My words were precisely conveying the exact thoughts going through my mind at that time. Gibberish and lots of it. I don’t know why I’m not into her, I’m just not. How do you explain something that isn’t there? There is nothing wrong with her. I like her just the way she is, a friend. Our feelings are not reciprocates though and that’s why I’m here verbally fumbling like a virgin mumbling nonsense as he tries to figure out how to put it in for the first time.

“You see I…you…guys…”

My discomfort intensifies as her eyes continue boring holes through mine as she tries to access and interpret the disorderly words floating around in my gray matter. If by some magical force she succeeds, she too was waiting for the jumbled words to properly align themselves into a cohesive sentence that she could begin overanalyzing.

“To best answer this question we must first delve into the specifics of cellular respiration.”

“What? No. Just answer the question and answer it honestly. Say what you think. My feelings won’t get hurt, I promise.”

Everyone knows that last sentence is super-saturated shit. I can’t remember what I said to her. I hope it made sense and wasn’t taken badly.

Ladies please don’t ever put a man in that situation! You won’t like what he has to say. I think in your mind you’ve played it out that he will respond as though he were in a super sappy chick flick and would sweep you off your feet with his response. And right before you hit the ground he would effortlessly catch you and hold you close and tell you he deeply loves you. Bah! He should titty punch you for verbally punching his brain like that.

Another segment from the aforementioned scroll of wonder.

Our translating experts believe this is not connected to the previously posted translation but who knows really? Whomever the author was, he seems like a real a-hole.

You’re so fat you look like a crowd. Are you the reason for the Swine Flu pandemic? Well you and some drunk that imbibed so much he blinded himself and eliminated his sense of touch and proportion? I don’t even want to run a reel on that tragedy. Pardon the anthropomorphism; I know you don’t have the ability to talk like Wilbur or Babe the Pig and that I may as well talk to a brick wall but I find you fascinating. I guess even a hippopotamus gets some every once in a while to perpetuate the species right? You go girl. Go on with your fat self. You’re hideousness is only eclipsed by your stench. But it’s all good right? It’s you. This is what you’ve chosen for yourself. This makes you happy. Well I support it then. Physically I would not be able to support you, obviously I meant it emotionally.

For all you baby seal lovers.

I am thinking of starting a new club for baby seals. I'm thinking of calling it Club Baby Seals. Anyone interested in joining?

A lucky find.

Some ancient scrolls were recently found and translated. It seems to be a recorded interrogation or screen play of some sort. It’s unclear what happened or how it was resolved but what is clear is that this is by no means laziness on the part of the author. I share a brief excerpt with you now.

“I assure you that was not the case. I offer my life, family and all my valuables as collateral of my sincerity.”

“I couldn’t buy a bucket of spit with any of those. No deal.” [slap]

“My daughter?”

“Been there, done that. That reminds me, I’ve got a present for you that’ll be delivered in 9 months.”

“I don’t get it.”

“No need, your daughter got it just fine…a few times. She should be able to lose the IV drip in a few days.”

“IV drip??”

“Yeah to replace lost fluids. Kinda odd considering the amount of fluids she took in. Enough about her excessive promiscuity, let’s revisit your jack assery. Why did you do it?”

“I’m a giver what can I say?”

“Really? You look like you’d be the receiver.”

…to be continued…or not, we’ll see if I feel like revisiting and continuing this disaster.

Please be respectful of my feelings.

Just because I'm a whore doesn't mean I'm cheap.

Bad-assery.

The other day I walked up to a beefy ex-con and bit through a quarter, flexed, punched a woman, kicked a puppy, drowned a kitten, lifted a car with each hand, wrestled a bear bare handed, broke a light saber over my knee, cut a laser in half with my hand, made time stop, spit in his face, jumped up and pulled an airplane out the sky just to name a few of the bad ass things I did. You may argure that everything I do is bad ass and you would be right.

All this was done to illustrate my bad ass-edness. After composing himself and swapping out his crap and urine filled undies for a fresh pair, he told me he had never met a bad ass like me and swore his allegiance to me for the rest of his mortal life. I told him that won’t be necessary because me being such a bad ass means that I would have no need for him other than managing my fan club. I don’t need a bunch of little jerks running around getting in my bad ass way.

P.S. Sorry to the quarter, woman, puppy, kitten, bear, light saber, etc. It wasn’t anything personal. You were simply needed to illustrate a point. Thanks for your help and sorry for ruining your life. If it makes you feel any better, it made me feel good doing it. I knew you’d understand.

Whoring.

All I’m saying is you put me in a room full of women and someone’s bound to get knocked up. Unless any of the freaks I’ve mentioned in previous posts are there, namely Lindsay Lohan, Jessica Sarah Puker…rather Parker, whatever. You include either of those broads/skanks/vomit inducing whorefests and someone’s getting stabbed/shot/repeatedly punched in the throat.

I started off with a boner but am now flaccid as all get out. Jessica Alba…Eva Mendes…nice. We’re back in the boner business. I don’t mean to sound too creepy but I would boil their soiled undies and drink the broth. I mean I would sop either up with a biscuit in no seconds flat. I would happily carry their children.

So Jessica, Eva consider this my proposal. Let’s do this.

Dirty Thirty

I am officially a dirty old man…as of a month ago.

Leaving my 20’s behind was not a traumatic experience. Just another day. I intentionally neglected to tell anyone my birthday was coming up, like I always do, so that a big deal was not made. Mission accomplished. I don’t understand huge productions for birthdays. I’d much rather avoid the spotlight and unnecessary attention. Birthdays are not that big of a deal. Everybody was born, big whoop. After meeting many of the people I have, that is no reason to celebrate. In fact, it’s only a reason for sorrow and gloom. Celebrating their departure from this life seems a much better reason to party.

As much as I write about hoping people spontaneously die for reasons CSI can’t explain or don’t want to because they’re too gruesome, I’m not serious. I just verbalize what most other people think, albeit in more vivid detail. If you disagree, I invite you to come get a face full of piss. Actually I don’t want to discriminate; I invite you all to come get a face full of piss. Come one, come all! Step right up! Free piss in the face. You think you look good now, wait till you see your face dripping with piss. [whistle]

Now that I have appropriately earned the title of dirty old man, it’s only gonna get worse. Beware.