A snippet of conversation.

Me: Physics can blow me.

Friend: Wear protection.

Me: And have a loss of sensation? Nah!! I want it to be really personal for Physics cause I hate it that bad.

I'm sleepy.

I am more worn out than a whore after a month of double shifts.

Gettin some.

I had a friend tell me today I needed to get married so I can get laid again. Hmmm...nah.

The thing about most married LDS guys I know is that they got a lot in the first few weeks or months of their marriage and now rarely get it at all. Begging, pleading and any attempts of enticing their wives to have consensual and not pity sex is unproductive.

I would rather know that I'm not going to get any than know it's available but inaccessible. False hope is a bigger bummer than not getting any sex at all.

Mouth Breathers.

You make me want to beat you about your lips so they swell and prevent you from breathing aloud. You sound like a vacuum with a short in it. Stop breathing loudly or stop breathing period. I will make the choice for you if you seem irresolute or slow about it.

That is all.

A portly girl from Portland…or wherever. I’m guessing some place that specializes in fried foods and mayonnaise.

What the….? Was the back of her thigh smiling the smiles of a thousand kids with dimples? She must have gotten hit in the back of her legs with a sack full of nickels. That’s unfortunate. Even more unfortunate is that she would proudly display them. People with scar tissue or burn marks usually hide them out of embarrassment. She should learn from their example.

This woman is probably a wonderful, sweet person undeserving of scrutiny. However, she brought this upon herself by exhibiting her craterous leg flesh. The assemblage of dimples comprising her posterior thighs were so deep it looked like nails had been in her legs for a long while and were just taken out. They were deep little suckers capable of housing some potting soil and a small plant.

Cellulite, cottage cheese, or whatever you like to call dimpled thighs, should be hidden and not advertised. Owners of it should not be sold short shorts/skirts. Liquor stores ID people before allowing qualified people to purchase booze. There needs to be a screening process in place at the clothing stores. I’ll devise the standard. Hot chicks only! My definition of hot chicks will be the standard. Girls that don’t meet the standard will be refused the article of clothing and told to come back when they’re hot and skinny or have rectified whatever violation they’re guilty of. Isn’t that offensive? No. If you juxtapose the two offenses, my objectivity and their fashion faux pas, and compared the offensive levels of each, I would be so much less offensive so as to be nearly negligible.

“Juicy” the strained material spanning her behemoth butt declared. Each letter was the size of a midget. Juicy indeed, in the most disgusting way possible. Billboards belong on the side of roads and aren’t portable and butt shaped. I’m not saying that clothing makers shouldn’t put words or pictures on their items; I’m saying that this chick’s butt was as big as a bill board. Gross. I’m going to go punch myself in the crotch and try to regain feeling in my swimming suit area again. I fear I may have a lifetime of penile flaccidness ahead of me. Thanks fatty.

What it do?

The demands currently being placed on my time and energy are taxing and I'm oh so tired. Applying to dental school is a long, arduous task that would try the patience of the most patient person.

Posts have been infrequent and probably dull. Sorry but you can’t wring a molecule of water out a paper towel that has been in the drier for an hour. My simple mind seems to have been set on the lowest dimmer switch setting. No subjects or people proffer themselves for my ridicule at the moment. I’m sure things will change because many things deserve my ridicule. Actually, I lied. My elfish Physics professor. Such an annoying little man. Screaming is not teaching. Which formula should we use to answer the question that nobody cares about? How about: You = Pederast. Quit patrolling Baby Gap’s changing rooms for new “friends.” Sickos like you should be repeatedly sodomized with a swordfish or deer antlers. Unless you like it then we’ll revert to something you don’t like. Like having sex with adults or something that doesn’t live on a farm.

On a more positive note, both of my fantasy football teams won last week. The winning streak will probably end next week because that’s what always happens to my teams. They prefer streaks of losing to those of winning. Whatever. I mostly enjoy fantasy football for the shit talking, probably because I don’t know what it feels like to win in fantasy.

Also, I’ve heard back from 6 of the 14 schools I applied to. 5 interviews, one rejection. I like the ratio. Not bummed about the one I got rejected at cause it was a safety school. Hoping to hear from the remaining 2 of my top four schools soon.

The girl I had been dating for 2 months up and told me Sunday she was moving back home to Washington Tuesday. She always was a stickler for advance notice. She told me I was the best thing that has happened to her in a long time. It only makes sense she would leave. A few certainties this humble man knows: death, taxes and girls leaving me. Such is life. I don’t say that for pity or out of sadness. It is eerie how much I have no thoughts about her having left. You’re leaving? Oh okay, drive safe. I must be part robot. It was fun but now it’s as if it never happened. That seems rude but I don’t know how else to describe my lack of emotion toward the subject. She’s gone and I’m here, the world keeps on spinning. No sadness, no anger, no nothing. Pure ambivalence.

I’m considering foregoing dentistry to do pro bono work…

...as a prostitute.

Box, it's what's for dinner.

I wonder how the phrase “Think outside the box” ever came to existence. Why would you ever want to? I imagine a homo or a vagiphobic person thought it up. I am a vagiphile and seek to maximize time spent within box. All my thoughts are singularly focused inside box. The only thoughts relevant to outside the box is the owner of it.

Holy Sheeeeiiit...

I haven't posted in a while. I have been busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest.

By way of update, football season is soon upon us. (Pre-season doesn't count.) As such, that means fantasy football has started. I am in two leagues because I am a nerd. In one of my leagues, there is a certain douche bag that I'll refer to as S who fancies himself a shit talker. He tries to step and gets humbled every time. Below is an excerpt but I first need to set the stage. Last year my team's name was Vaginal Spotting because they were a bunch of bleeding bitches. S won last year and claims it was due to superior planning and awesomeness. Clearly he's delusional. You can't predict who gets hurt otherwise I wouldn't have picked my whole team last year. I edited the f word and names but left S’s apparent distaste for punctuation and grammar to emphasize his lameness. No one posted in our league last year except S and I. Fair warning, it’s pretty crass.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am so pathetic that I loudly crack myself up when writing sometimes. Enjoy!

S: E has a bleeding vag. Anyway, C thanks again for having us over it was fun. To e, go f yourself buddy. To the rest good luck!

E: True, hence the Vaginal Spotting name last year. I'm amazed you can type and eat asshole at the same time. C, I hope S's typing doesn't take away any of your enjoyment as he eats your butt.

I dare any of you lames to step up and post this year. Fair warning! Do so knowing you'll get ruined. Notice how S wouldn't look me in the eye at our draft. He's still recovering from last year.

S: Me recovering? You were in the closet crying by week 6. It's good to see that you fully recovered and are out of the closet again... As for eating assholes it was your mom's so get it right. She wants to know if you need any laundry done, if so go f yourself.

E: So you admit to eating assholes? And I sat next to you on draft day? Damnit C! Why didn't you tell me? He was probably fresh off an asshole and circulated fecal matter every time he spoke. Wear a mask out in public, dude!

While you were busy patrolling the elementary for new meat, did you happen to ask one of the little kiddies for a come back? You forgot to include, "No, you are." Oh wait; you basically said that in your third sentence. You are a walking douche bag. Are douche bags capable of being gay? If so, you are the composite Elton John, Liberace and Freddy Mercury edition douche bag.

Last year you were able to rely on your team to make up the difference from your inability to talk shit. That will not be the case this year. Make no mistake, my team will be nowhere near the top of the leader board because…well…they’re my team and they consistently find ways to suck ass. I guess you and my team have some common ground.

S, I appreciate your misguided ambition to verbally keep up. Your stupidity gives me ample material to work with. I can only hope, for your sake, that someone else joins the shit talking extravaganza otherwise it’s going to be a long, depressing season for you. Better start taking anti-depressants now.