‘Cause I don’t even know myself. Hello, welcome back. A long time away, even though only four days have passed. The opening is again a song by The Who, but it eccentuates every fucking thing I’m feeling right now. If you’re interested, and I know you are, you will keep reading. If you stop now, you are an idiot, because this is going to be a fucking awesome post, as per usual. Here we go.
I have dwelled upon this revelation for about three days, looking for the perfect time to put these thoughts down. Now, at 1 AM my time zone it seems to kick in. I am divided into three different people. Not, voices in your head people, but three distinct personalities. It’s really quite amazing how I pull it off, if you think about it. Managing all of those and keeping the idea of sanity still somewhat together, man I really am pretty fucking good, as if you didn’t already know. Anyways, here they are, my three me’s, and the traits of all of them.
First up is the everyday Dude. Normal, according to my standards. This is the person everybody sees in person. I am lazy, quick witted, mildy funny, and lookin sexy. When you encounter me anywhere in person, you’ll get this guy, because that is the person that is called for. How shitty would it be to people meeting me if I came of as a down, depressed, smart ass prick? Exactly. Normally speaking, I am just a regular guy with better than normal taste in things. However, that is just one-third of the equation.
There’s the blogging me. This me has been plenty of different things, no doubt about that. A general outline, though, has emerged. Angry, judgmental, witty, prickish, call out your bullshit type of guy who is still lookin sexy. In other words, it is here where I am brutally honest on any and every subject I write about. Don’t think I was telling the truth about something? Check here, I’ll let you know. It’s here where I sit on my chair and tell the world how it should be run, but make no attempts to change anything. It is here where I tell everybody how bad I feel, but I make no attempts to change. This is the place to tell my life story, no matter how bad and sappy it is. And I write that I feel better, because that is what everybody wants to hear. That is what everybody wants to see. Nobody wants to see anyone keep up with the same pitiful fucking routine day in and day out, week after week. I play the role on here, because that is what is called for.
And then there is me when I am alone. There is me with my thoughts, my mind spinning, and lookin sexy even then. I relished these moments once. I loved solitude and my ability to think. Now, it is all the same gut-wrenching shit. I begin to think, and the same scenario always comes to mind. That stupid fucking day, that stupid fucking phone call, my stupid fucking self for falling in love, my stupid fucking heart breaking…end phone call. I think day in and day out about just what the fuck I’ve done to lose somebody so important to me that quick. I love her so much, and yet, it matters no longer. How and where did I fuck up so badly? What did I say that pushed it over the edge? Why couldn’t I see this coming? Why?
I think about the things I’d give up just to have her back. Just fucking name it, and I’d probably do it. Travel across the world, hmm? Is that it? Is that all that is fucking required? Hmm? That isn’t fair to say, but fairness has neither really applied to me, nor anybody else. I think about the many times I have prayed and prayed and prayed, and still I can not conceive of any other route I could have taken, or any route I could possibly take now. I begin to question if love really has a point, or if it is just a cruel fuck that enjoys messing with people. I sit, and I think. My thoughts consume me, and this somehow keeps me from realizing, for a bit, that I am alone. I fall asleep with my thoughts, and they turn into dreams. I dream of her every night, and every morning I awake with a tear-soaked pillow, and I hate it. It has almost been a month, and still she is always on my mind. Nothing has changed, even though I said it has. I still hurt the same as before. As much as I want that to be a lie, I can’t help it. It does not matter where I am, conscious or not, I can’t escape this feeling. This is my private thinking, me with my thoughts and nobody else, in a nutshell. And now they are yours, and part of my second self. Funny how that works.
Yes, I do believe that I run on three different wavelengths. It’s a hell of a ride, and I don’t particularly enjoy one-third of it. Which third is the real me? Tough to say. All of them, and none of them. But, it’s how I operate, and will continue to do so until further notice. I will write, you will read, and you will love it, because I said you will. Now, can you see the real me? I’m not sure if I can, but what I can see, I fucking love. You didn’t think I could hate myself, did you?
That will do it for me this early morning. I will, someday, get back on my normal routine of ranting at idiots. Until then, you can blow me, because you know you wanna. That does it for me. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
And don’t you ever fucking forget it. Readers, welcome back to the awesomness that is my blog. A slight absence from the postings has probably left a good number of you dead from withdrawals, and for that I apologize. For those that remain alive, I give you props. You have survived long enough to be granted the honor of reading this current post. Congratulations and enjoy.
This post is going to mainly be just a rant, because I haven’t had a good long one in a while. I’m sure you all are so excited to see what and whom I’m going to badger and make my bitch today, and in all fairness I can’t wait either.
As I was saying, a reference from The Who, again. Yeah, I’m sure it gets old, but until everybody acknowledges that they are awesome, I will continue doing it with The Who as well as other bands that I deem worthy of being in my blog. Well, the song really does have a theme I feel like ranting on, so here you go.
Would you like to know what I hate? Of course you do, that’s why you’re here. I hate it when people say that our future is fucked because of the upcoming generation. Now, I know that in one of my previous posts I bitched out all the stupid fucks that are like so many of today’s kids, I know this. Stay with me here while I tell you how this post is not hypocritical. I promise I can prove it, and I also promise you will love it. And if you don’t, perhaps you’re the type of people I’m ridiculing.
I’m not bitching at the kids anymore. It’s somebody else’s turn to feel the wrath of me. I fucking hate it when people say that we’re doomed because of the youth of today. According to the experts, we’re getting stupider and fatter than all holy hell, and we don’t give a shit about other people either. True as this may be, although not in my case, what I don’t appreciate is when they assume that the kids and teens should just accept the blame for later when we haven’t even had a chance. Where do you think the supposed idiots of tomorrow learned to become idiots? Hmmm, perhaps from their parents? The stupid fucks who are running the country now. It’s funny how they think they have such a handle on life and that our generation is going to fuck it all up.
Here’s the real deal. We’re fucked now, and the upcoming youth can’t make it much worse than it already is. We’re deep, deep in debt, our economy is damn near non-existent, we’re in conflicts (not officially wars) that we can’t seem to get out of, and the King of Pop just died. Really? All of this is going to get worse? I especially like it when they kind of try and push it all on us now. Like when they say, “I worry about the problems of today and how we’ll deal with them tomorrow. (ish)” Like all the shit that happens today is our fault as soon as we come of age. How dare we will have, right? How about they grow some balls and admit they fucked up, instead of just waiting for the next in line to inherit the blame.
This is our generation. Are we stupid? High chance of yes. Are we fat? Sure, give or take a person. The fault on both accounts, however, works two ways. You’re our role models, and that’s our fault for being so dense as to look up to you. You influence us and how we grow up. Look at you, and what you’re teaching us. You’re teaching us how to be fat and how to fuck people over. You also teach us to just pass on the blame to the next person rather than take it yourself. Thanks for the lesson, but I think I’ll pass. I encourage everybody around my age to do the same.
Now, let me educate you further. We’re fat and stupid, perhaps. What we aren’t, however, is a bunch of rich fucking pricks who have screwed over half the country because they want a bit more money, an extra high, one more cheap lay, or yet another fucking tit job. It wasn’t us that fucked up a bunch of people’s families by sending troops overseas on some bullshit intelligence. We didn’t start a ‘war’ just to gain some oil either. We didn’t kill the soldiers fighting, you did. With your piss poor decisions and your fucking greed. No. All that is on you fuckers currently in power. You caused all of this. Do you care? Probably not, but don’t you fucking dare put that shit on me and the youth of today. This is MY generation, and on behalf of all of us, we accept none of your fucking bullshit blame. You’re welcome.
How’s that for a rant? Pretty good, if I do say so myself, and I do. As for me and my girlfriend hunt, pfffft. It’s hard to do when you don’t get out. Even harder when you don’t give a shit about most people. All my close friends are guys, and the one close chick friend I had just got the fuck out of Dodge. That leaves me here, alone, waiting. What for? I’m not sure. I just expect some girl to fall into my lap, because that’s the way it’s always worked. I don’t feel the need to go out and make an effort, because I’m too damn lazy. My theory is that if a chick likes me, or wants to get to know me better, they’ll ask. I’m accommodating, I’m a nice guy, more or less. Perhaps not the best idea, but until I start having fantasies of that green thing from Ghostbusters, I think I’ll be alright.
That does it for me. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Hello, welcome back, it is time for me to post again. No reason in particular, I just felt compelled to write down some thoughts. The title, you ask? Awesome song by The Who called Behind Blue Eyes. Limp Bizkit does the song no fucking justice, and I wish they would all die. Anyways, the title kind of expresses how I feel currently. Now, moving onward, because I feel like writing more.
Today is Independence Day. Well, that is, if you’re from Caucasian ancestry. Perhaps they should shoot fireworks on the day the Emancipation Proclamation was signed, or maybe on the day the Civil Rights Act took effect. Nah, this is just easier. But, looking at the whole idea of the Fourth, I have to say it’s bullshit. Don’t get me wrong, I love my country and all that nonsense, but the logic in the whole holiday doesn’t add up. What exactly are we celebrating? The fact that we’re free? I’m sorry, but I have to beg to differ on that principle. Now, to give you my reasoning on why we’re not, I’d like to present me.
Hello, how are we today? Good, glad to hear that. But not really, I could give a fuck less. Today’s topic of discussion is freedom, and why we don’t have it as a country. It’s really simple. Independence has never existed in our country, and I don’t care what Declaration you throw at me. Nope, never has. We’re not independent, and I’d have to call you a dumbass to think otherwise. Look at it like this. We were started as a colony, got fucked over, and then fought a war to gain our liberty from that country. Afterwards, we then found ourselves in an enormous amount of debt to the French, debt that we never have fully paid back, and debt that we never will pay back. Free? Hardly. We never even got past colony.
Sure, I’ll give you that we govern ourselves, or rather let rich assholes do it for us. We act as an independent nation because no other country will call us on our bullshit. Look at China. They could own damn near every business in the United States with a couple of quick phone calls. We owe them so much dough it is insane. And we continue to spend, mindlessly. Free? Nah, it’s more like an ever increasing bar tab. One day, our credit will run out, and then we’ll be truly fucked.
On that day, the people that have spending our non-existent money will finally realize what assholes they truly are, and the people that elected them will too. And they’ll all feel like fucking retards, rightfully. People will begin spending on only the necessities. Things like television and new cell phones won’t become so important. People would learn to share and live off of each other, because working separately they’re screwed. Conversation will return in light of nobody being able to afford much else. I, from my miniature soap box, will half-heartedly write a post telling everybody that reads this that I predicted it, as many already have. And you will read, you will realize that I am correct, and you will realize that I am awesome. The day some country wants their money is the day I take my first step towards ruling the whole world. Moo hoo hah hah! If only our country would go bankrupt, the world would be a better place. In closing, Happy Fourth, and enjoy shooting off your imported fireworks. I know I will. Ahh, the glorious irony.
It’s a fun thought, perhaps, but I couldn’t rule the world. Maybe in stints here and there. But, I ramble. On to my ranting, because nothing else really has come to light.
I was browsing through the wide world of Web the other day, and I happened upon an article. Now, I’ve seen plenty of these before, but this time it really just steamed me. It was one of those “How to…(insert something dealing with relationships here)” articles. That is nothing but heaping load of crap. I can’t imagine the people that buy into that garbage. Books teaching you how to act in a relationship? Really? Come on people, I thought you were smarter than this. I must have given you way too much credit, somehow. If you have to go to a book or an online article to figure out what the hell is wrong with you and your significant other, then they obviously are not that significant. It works the other way, too. If everything is fine, don’t buy in to that crap that tells you there may be something wrong. There isn’t. You love each other, keep it that way. Don’t go fucking around changing things because your relationship doesn’t add up to the dumbass article test scores.
Here’s my quick tip. Be yourself. If you can’t handle them being theirselves, and/or vice versa, split. It’s real fucking simple. Talk to each other. Find out what makes them tick. Dating is finding out about people, not trying to impress somebody. It pisses me off when couples turn to books and shit to figure out how their relationship should be run. It should be run by both of you, not some bullshit author who has no idea what you are like or how either of you function. It takes time to build a strong relationship, not five minutes reading an online ‘how to’ book. That’s the problem with people today. They don’t want to put any time or effort into anything. Lazy fucks, myself included. People want things done now, like yesterday now, and they want somebody else to do it. What they don’t understand is that when you actually put your whole heart and your whole being into something, the rewards are so much greater. You don’t need those fucking articles, all you need is your own damn self and some work ethic. So, to all of the idiot authors, shut the fuck up. Your large numbers of bullshit writing is only outmassed by the couples you helped break up with that awful excuse for literature. I enjoy finding the printable version to use as toilet paper. Ha. You’re welcome.
All that being said, I have come to another realization. I really do need to move on from this whole shenanigan that was my previous relationship. I constantly think about her, and this frustrates me. I’m over the whole idea of depression and getting her back. It’s futile, that’s cool. My thinking, as irrational as it may sound, is that to get her out of my head, perhaps I need somebody else there. Hmmm? Pretty fucking clever, isn’t it? So, I am now seriously looking for a new not as significant other. Any comments, or suggestions, please feel free to leave a comment. Now, that has been said, and I shall move on to the closing.
That does it for me America. Until next time. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: basketball, break up, cody, love, the who, tired
for about two daysish. For those of you that get my reference, congratulations. For those that don’t, my title is the opening lines of A Quick One While He’s Away by The Who. Hello, welcome back, and how ya doin’? Readers, my miniature vacation has done wonders for my mind. Also, a bit of good news has cheered me up considerably. This shall be a different post, in that I’ll really dish out the credit and compliments to those who have earned them. You’re welcome for the Thank Yous you’re about to get. Now, before you continue reading, figure that last little trick out. Pretty clever, huh? I know, I’m awesome.
Anyways, as I previously stated, credit. So, I’ll start with a backstory. I’ve been depressed…That’s really about it. If you’re a fan of the blog you know why, and you know that it’s led to some damn good posts. However, a message on Facebook changed everything for me, and I’m not exactly sure why.
After my mini-hiatus, I came home today and checked my shit. A message from my previous significant other (who is awesome) was sent to me in response to one I’d sent her. In it I just told her thank you, that I’d always love her, and I wouldn’t have a bad thing to say about her. You know, the normal sappy, dysfunctional shit. In the response, she told me that she would always love me. This, somehow, made me feel so fucking good. It was more or less closure. I knew that I hadn’t put in all that effort, loved somebody so much, for nothing. Now, please don’t take this the wrong way, we’re not back together, and probably never will be. That’s fine. I have come to accept this, finally. I had what I had, it was awesome, and now it’s over. Thankfully, she will always be a great friend of mine.
That is why I’m happy, and that is why I can begin to rebuild my life. It is a long process, but it must be done. It shall start with the little things. Talking to people again, getting out more, and eventually finding another girlfriend. However, I don’t feel I could move on effectively without pausing a second to mention a few people in particular who have been there for me, and I whom I feel I owe a lot to. In no particular order, here we go.
Mom, you’re up first. You were always there, even though I didn’t talk about my situation to you. You remained silently in my corner, helping me while saying nothing. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I love you.
Drew, you probably won’t read this. You were the first person I told, because you’re the first person I thought to call. You were there to help me get my mind of things. You’re one of my closest friends, and I thank you deeply for being there. I think of you as a brother. I love you man, in a non-gay way. You’re too ugly anyways.
Allen, there’s a chance you’ll read this, depending on your Internet. You’re my best friend, and one of only two people I ever discussed my real feelings on the subject with. You were there to give me your insights and advice on everything, and I want to thank you. You, also, are a brother in my eyes. You’re my best friend, and I love you, in a heterosexual way.
Jamaal, think I’d leave you out? Besides Allen and Drew, you were the only one to really see me broken down, to see me at my worst. And, somehow, you were there to give me a laugh, a well-needed pick me up. The last two days really helped clear my mind and let me get back to somewhat normalcy, and I’d like to thank you and your mother for being so accommodating all the time. I consider all of you guys family, and I have nothing but the highest respect for you. I love you all, thank you. And we fuckin’ beat you in that last SWAT game, so piss off.
Garic, you there? You’re my brother, and one of my closest friends. I didn’t really see you too much during this whole ordeal, but you helped keep me going. You probably didn’t know it, but I think more of you than damn near anybody on this planet. When we just talked, I knew you had an idea of how I felt. I love you, don’t you ever go fucking change. Thank you.
I think this person shall remain nameless. I’m not sure why. Perhaps she’d prefer it this way, perhaps not. If she wishes to make herself known, she can. Either way, you know who you are. Outside of my close friends, you’re the only one who has really spoken to me on the subject in depth. You were there to just discuss everything, not just that. You showed me the meaning of good conversation, and I appreciate that so much. I can now deem you awesome. Thank you.
Finally, you. The one I lost, and the one I love. You are the only source of every bit of depression I’ve had, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. (For the record, that was a compliment, just sayin’.) If it hadn’t been for those thirteen months, I wouldn’t be half the guy I am currently. I shudder to think at the path I may have chosen if you had not come along. You saved me from what I was becoming. You made me a better person, and I was too late realizing what a gem I had acquired. You are, and always will be, my first TRUE love. The only thing I ask of you is to always think as highly of you as I do. I will always love you. Thank you.
That, I believe, is all the thanks that needs to be given. If you feel I left you out, well you’re pretty fucking arrogant. One last thank you to everybody who was there for me, and an even bigger thank you to me for keeping on keeping on. If it wasn’t for me being here, there wouldn’t be any Thank Yous. Ladies, I am once again available, but not for purchase. I don’t sell out. Now I’m off to go drink some Coca-Cola, eat some Pizza Hut, and finish it off with a nice big bowl of…Always Save pudding. Oh yes, I pull for the little guy.
That does it for me readers and non-literate idiots. Sooner or later, I’ll get back to my normal ranting. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: basketball, cody, dude, exhaustion, love, significant other
What do you get when you cross a weekend of basketball tourneys, a bit of insomnia, two weeks of depression, and finally two weeks worth of thousand word posts? You get fucking tired. You get worn out. You become exhausted. Hello readers and welcome back to this website, better known as Education Central. Glad to have me back? I’m sure you are, because you’re loving what you’re reading so far. Anyways, I shall continue with this bound to be awesome post. Here you go, lap it up.
I have recently come to the conclusion that perhaps a slight vacation is in order, quite soon. I need to go somewhere, anywhere, just away. I want to get away from all of this. Away from the stress, the depression, the hurt. I want to get away from the sleepless nights, the constant thinking, the always present wondering. I just want to be gone from it all. Damn near anywhere would work. Even if it’s just for a day, I’d at least have that. I’m so tired of wanting something I can’t have. I’m tired of being in love with somebody I, against my heart’s deepest wishes, apparently can never be with. And, more recently, I’m tired of starting damn near every sentence with I.
It doesn’t seem like a big deal when you do it, staying up till the ass crack of dawn. You become accustomed to it. It is you, and you don’t notice that you’re pretty much fucking nocturnal. It’s weird, how your body is so quick to adjust, but how fucking hard it is to re-adjust. I can’t go to bed before 2 in the morning, and that blows so much balls. Well, after three days of constant exertion on the basketball court, I’m done being nocturnal. It is just too much on me, and I wish no more.
You know, not sleeping isn’t the only thing preventing me from…not sleeping. Cranking out millinieum length posts night after night takes a toll on you after a while. Perhaps not on you the reader, but on my end, it’s a bit more work. It takes a lot to be as awesome as me. Lot of people can’t make the cut, and it’s understandable, they’re fucking stupid. Again, you don’t realize it. I was so caught up in my emotions. I needed somewhere to vent, to tell her (indirectly) how I really felt, that I didn’t realize how fucking tired and spent I truly was. Two weeks later, it all hit me at once. I am beaten down. This will probably be my last post for a couple of days. I’m running out of things to write about. It’s true, I could probably continue writing my sob story about the girl I love and the same girl I lost. That idea, however, is damn near been tapped. I’ve said just about all there is to say. I know that I still love her ridiculously, and I know that I’m going to continue to hurt as long as I do. But, I don’t want to keep writing the same awful shit over and over again. I need to wait for something to write about, otherwise my posts are just going to go back to shit. Don’t think I haven’t noticed my recent redundancy, and the starting of my writing to go downhill. I have just began to force the issue. I have to face facts. I just don’t have the energy to keep posting these night in and night out. So, I regret to inform you, and I’m sure it’s to your dismay, that you may have to wait a couple of days in between my life lessons. Tough shit, get over it.
I will, however, leave you with one final rant before I am off to nothingness for a few days. It is pretty piss poor, and is evidence of my growing lack of ability and ideas. Now, put your damn kids to bed, or at least get them to shut the fuck up, get a cup o’ tea, and get ready to be informed. It’s the last time for a while, so listen up really good, because you don’t know when the next one shall be. Basically, this lesson right here may have to last you a month or two. Do you begin to see where I find my writing becoming redundant? Here we go.
The topic at hand is…there is no term for it. It’s just a trend I’ve began to notice, and it pisses me off. People today have started to become so fucking generic. They are nothing more than carbon copies of everybody else. Think about it, what is the typical person in to? I’ll give you an outline, teen-wise.
Music-shit-also seen commonly listed as this: Rock, rap, country, just ’bout anything…Really? You apparently have the exact same taste as twelve million other assholes. Rock-Nickelback, Hinder, any of that emo shit, any of that punk shit…nobody ever thinks for themselves…It is all the same fucking shit, and it disgusts me.
Television-also shit-commonly seen as MTV, the hills, cmt, gac, family guy, south park, any other reality tv. Again, really? MTV pretty much sums up how fucking stupid you people are. If that is your favorite channel, there really is no hope for our generation. Granted, I do like Family Guy, but let’s be reasonable.
Movies-mainly shit-aka Will Ferrell movies…An actor who can’t play anything other than that same character he’s been playing since Old School. Enough said.
Books-uhh I don’t read books are stuuuuuuuuuuuuuuupid!!! Yay partay!
My solutions-awesome-better known as THINK FOR YOUR OWN FUCKING SELVES. Instead of that commercialized garbage, put on a record. Blues, jazz, good R&B (Al Green perhaps), and above all listen to some real rock. Classic rock, better known as the best fucking genre ever. All of that is real music, not that shit the producers give to you, which you fucking swallow like a naughty girl giving head.
Television-Kill MTV. Or at least just go back to showing music videos. But really, instead of that fuck awful reality show that’s really staged, how about turning on the History Channel? Maybe drop in on the Discovery Channel and see something that might actually make you think. People underestimate the value of a good documentary.
Movies-Challenge yourself. Stop watching the same movie with the same lame fucking actor. Go rent a foreign film. For action, check out Leon the Professional. Find out what the classics are, and watch them. If you’re really in to comedy, check out the Marx Brothers. Duck Soup, made in the 1930s, is one of the funniest movies ever. Hardly anybody I know has even heard of it, but they love them some Disaster Movie. Oh, and stop with your Dane Cook bullshit. He’s not bad, but there is so much better stand up out there. Eddie Murphy-Raw and Delirious both are fucking awesome. Any Richard Pryor. Zach Galiafinaks, Bill Burr, Christopher Titus, Bob Saget. Good comedy, something other than a guy prouncing words with a bit more emphasis than normal and a messy hairstyle. Ugh, you people make me sick to my stomach.
Books-Fucking read one, or two, or even a bunch. I hate people who don’t read. You’re wasting valuable resources when you don’t. Fuck, even a graphic novel is better than nothing. Culture yourself. Don’t be afraid to read a comic or two, they’re pretty fucking good. Also, my blog is a good read. Oh yes, I just plugged my blog inside of my blog. Pretty fucking ingenius, huh?
My main point in all this is to stop being fucking robots. Do you know why I hate people? They’re all the same. They’re all ignorant. I don’t claim to be the most cultured mind ever, but I can at least think for myself. Please, at least attempt to be yourself, otherwise our country has the bleakest future ever. In the event that yourself falls into the categories I marked as shit, please do us all the favor of going away. In reality, you’re a douche. You’re materialistic and not real, probably like those enormous tits on you. Now fuck off, I believe the painters that do your make up want to put another coat on. You people disgust me, and I fucking hate you. You’re welcome.
That shall do it for me for a bit. As I previously said, I am taking a bit of time off. I fucking earned it. Oh, a minor change will be added to the end, but you’ll find that out soon enough. Just giving you a heads up, so you assholes don’t question my continuity.
Now, I’ll be back when I damn well please. Probably two days from now, because you can’t go too long without me. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I’m still in love with you.
Filed under: Uncategorized
This is my hope. This is my plea. This is my prayer. Hello readers, welcome back. I know you enjoyed my last post as much as I enjoyed writing it. That, however, was more than likely the peak of my writing, as it was over seventeen hundred words long. It was pretty glorious putting that asshole in their rightful place, but I think I’ll move on to something different tonight. Mainly because they probably didn’t read it. Don’t worry, the change won’t be a major one. It’ll be a different asshole perhaps. That’s all. Either way I’ll enjoy it, and so will you. But first, a pitiful bitching session of my ongoing heartbreak.
As I was hoping, pleading, and praying in the beginning, I want so badly to not feel so fucking depressed anymore. It has been two weeks, two entire weeks, and I cannot shake this feeling. It hurts just as much as the first day. My mind is fucking consumed with thinking about it. I’ve done everything I could. I’ve gone out, I’ve stayed home, anything to get my mind away from this fuck of a rut I seem to have stuck myself in. Me doing this now is, again, probably because I’ll soon see her at church. Everything comes rushing back. All the emotions that I’ve felt, as hard as I’ve tried to push them away, always find me again when I see her. And it blows. To see her standing up there, and knowing that I let her slip away from me, it kills me inside. I want so badly to say everything possible to convince her otherwise, but that is ridiculously selfish thinking. She’s happier this way. I have to come to terms with that, but I refuse to let that thought enter my mind. But, as terrible as this feeling is, I’d rather me feel this way than have a relationship with her that doesn’t make her happy. I have always been one to acommodate others, contrary to my posts perhaps. If I like you, I’ll do damn near anything to make your life easier. It’s what I view as common courtesy. So, it stands to reason that I’d rather her be happy like this than keep her to myself, where she can’t spread the awesomeness that is her personality to people that really need it. The problem is, I don’t like this reasoning. Ugh, I hate every damn thing about this situation so, so much. I wish for somebody to blame, but nobody is available. I just wish…for no more hurt. Please, no more.
Now, I shall change the subject, because I wish to speak of this no longer, as it is a rather annoying topic that seems to keep appearing in my posts. It is now time for me to rant, and time for you to learn. This one is all about minor annoyances. Here you go.
Alright, here is a minor topic that concerns some recent media. It’s minor enough to not be that big of a deal, but big enough to qualify as something for me to rant about. And it’s not leukemia, fuckers.
I’m sure you have all heard of the recent passing of the King of Pop. If you haven’t, well, you live in a fucking cave and need to step out and advance a couple millenia. Now, Michael caught a bunch of shit in his life, and most of it was probably well-deserved. Yeah, he was bit of a creep, no contesting you there. But what I despise, and heard some dumb fuck talking about recently, was boycotting his and others similar to Michael’s music because of their personal lives. This does not sit well with me. But, if you wish to do that, fine. I’m going to dig up some of your shitty past, and then I’ll try and discredit everything you ever do with your fucking skeleton filled closet. How’s that for fair? Hmm?
It’s not just Michael either. Prince is another one. Sexuality in question, so they just don’t listen to his music. Do you know what this is? It’s fucking ignorant. Prince may crack the Top 10 Guitarists of all time, and because he’s a little bit strange, you don’t listen to him? What if Jimmy Paige were a bit fruity? Would you stop listening to your beloved fucking Stairway? (Number one most overrated song ever…ever.) What if it was revealed, to a massively shocked world, that Freddie Mercury was gay? Would you all hate Queen? For all of you dumbasses who like today’s rap, what if (insert fuck awful rapper here) were a bit hoity toity? Would you boycott their music too? Granted, in that specific situation, it wouldn’t be a such a bad thing to stop listening to today’s piss poor excuse for rap.
It doesn’t matter though. You will more than likely continue in your ignorance. Was Michael a bit odd? Fuckin’ a. That does not, however, detract from the fact that he has the greatest selling album of all time. Over 100 million copies world wide. Nobody else even sniffs the crotch, the one he so often grabbed, of that number. He also had over ten number one singles. I would also make an argument for the greatest dancer ever. Simply put, he was, and probably always will be, the King of Pop. So, in closing, please, musically ignorant people, shut the fuck up. For what it’s worth, I’m going to go listen to Billie Jean, When Doves Cry, Smooth Criminal, and finish it off with some Purple Rain. You can stay at home, play your Skynyrd whilist beating off. It’s the only way you get it up now anyways. The grand finale happens when you come over the American flag and the end of Freebird, right? You’re welcome.
Now, that will do it for me tonight. Significantly shorter than the night previous, but I totally expected it to be so. Could you imagine if I just kept cranking out 1700 word posts day after day? You people would become as smart as me pretty fucking fast. But no, I wish to delay the process. I wish to keep you thirsting. And you do. Every night, I quench your thirst. It’s a give and take. I give, you take. And you love me for it. Fuck, I love me for it.
Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
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Hello readers. Glad to have you back. And I’m sure you’re glad to be back. Are you ready for me to call out some more bullshit? Me too. Ready? Do you have your Don’t Have to Think Because Duder is Telling You caps on? Good. Then we shall be off to the land of truth, where discrimination is non-existent. Everybody is welcome, except idiots. Ha. Anyways, be quiet, the post is about to start.
Recently, I was asked where I got the nerve to blog about the things I do. How I could so easily pass judgement on people and their actions. This person, who shall remain anonymous and stupid, then had the nutsack, not an indicator of gender, big enough to throw scripture in my face. They quoted Matthew 7:2, which goes something along these lines. “For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” (New International Version, copyright 1984) I told them that I thought they were a little less than a complete fucking moron, at least in my judgement. They didn’t get the joke, not suprisingly, and left me alone, where I want to be.
Here’s the deal. They’re right on when they toss the Bible around like that. Perhaps not morally correct and a little ironic that they were trying to judge me by using the Bible, but right on all the same. However, they’re preaching to the choir. I know I’m not impartial. I know I’m judgemental. But, fuckin’ hell, somebody has to be. If nobody were judgemental, nobody would call out the bullshit they knowingly see. Am I impartial? Hardly. But I’d bet you damn near anything that I have a valid point, and am probably fucking right, and that you’re just an idiot.
Where do I have the nerve to do this? Why am I allowed to pass judgement? Well, in all fairness, I’m probably not. But, let me give my reasoning, which is adequate, as to why I have this ability. It deals with my past. I have a Masters in Fucked Up Arts. This is the essence of my being, of why I hate you idiots out there.
It begins around age sixteen. I’m fucking stupid, like many of you out there. I think the world revolves around me. No, that wouldn’t come for another two years, which brings me to now. Anyways, as I was saying, age sixteen. It was this age that I began to realize things. I realized that the world is not perfect, perhaps a bit late. I began noticing patterns. Patterns my father had. Patterns like staying out till 3 AM on the weekends. Patterns like not going to church after one of those days. Patterns. I found out that my dad was an alcoholic. Perhaps not a big deal for many. But, to a stupid fuck like me who was under the impression HIS family didn’t carry any baggage, it was a big fucking deal. Fuck me over if I was only at the tip of the ice berg.
Around March of that year, I had another suprise. I found out that, under the worst possible scenario, my mom had had a daughter around eighteen years back, and had given it up for adoption. We met her a couple of weeks later. The world I knew was coming down around me, and everything I had known as normal wasn’t there anymore.
Another few weeks passed, and I happen upon the Dish Network bill. Porn, and a fuck load of it. Now, being a teenage boy, I was pretty fucking horny, but not so much as to pay money for it. Damn. No, that award would go, again, to my father. Alcoholic, porn addict. Hey, pretty normal, right? Two strikes against my one time role model.
Then, after a few more months of dealing with all of this shit, everything went even more to fuck. I learned, one day, that my dad had done some things not given permission to him to do. I won’t go into details, but you should get the fucking concept. The man I tried to model myself after, and this is how he behaves. My world, shattered, torn down, and blown up. Everything I believed in was shaken. Nothing seemed right. My parents separated on these obviously differing philosophies. All of this given to me in about a year’s span. It’s a much better deal now, and everybody, for the most part, is in a happier place. I, for obvious reasons, switched role models. My mom, the clear choice, is at the forefront of everything I do. Second only to God. Her ability to cope and deal with shit makes her, hands down, the strongest person I know. Mom, if you read this, I fucking love you with all of my heart. Now how about those quesadillas?
After all of that, I kind of went into an out of control downward spiral. I met this chick that I dated all the way through all of that. I did some stuff, physically speaking (but never went all the way, just so we’re clear) that I probably shouldn’t have, even though I have no regrets, just to feel like I was normal. I thought I loved her, and at one time I did, but only fleetingly. It ended awfully, and everything went to shit. It was a gloriously hideous breakup. I enjoyed it much. That I refer to as my almost out of control phase, and that was me trying my damndest to be stupid again.
But, as much as I tried, it couldn’t happen. I could never go back to being that guy who knew life to be perfect. I found it flawed, ugly, and quite frankly, a bullshit deal. My thinking was, “You go through all this pain, all this hurt, and then you die. What the fuck is up with that?” I found it all to be a bad fucking joke.
And then I found her. She was the girl that was always right there, the one that was a great friend, and the person I never thought about giving any thought further than that to. But, I realized, in a moment of clairty that, perhaps, it could work. It did, and my opinion of everything began changing. I saw what a great life could be. I became a better person, and I started going back to church. I found out what true happiness was. I wanted nothing of what I had before, because I had all I ever wanted with me. I found the real fucking meaning of love, and I fell head over fucking heals into it. I didn’t want to admit it, although I knew it for a long time. I tried my damndest to deny it. It didn’t matter. I was no longer so fucking bitter at the ass hand life had previously dealt me, because this time around it had dealt me a royal fucking flush. Perhaps it’s selfish to think of her like that, but that’s how it was. I always had her. Even if things were shitty, nine in the evening would come, and my life would always take a turn for the more glorious. I was at the highest point in my life, and I never thought I would come down…
And that was stupid on my part. After all I had gone through, I let her become my out. She was my way out of the fuckery that was my life. And that was stupid. I shouldn’t have ever put her into that position. Please, don’t misinterpret, I really did, and still do, love her. I just allowed myself to think that nothing bad could ever touch me anymore. Life, however, has a sickening way of coming full circle.
Two weeks ago, it ended. After thirteen months of being together, she thought it best for us to part ways. In a matter of minutes, everything was over and done with, but everything also came back. All the bleakness, all the crap that was my life, was back. It stared at me, laughing. It asked, “did you really believe we were gone?” Heartbreak, depression, hurt. It was all there again, and once again I seem to be the recipient of these feelings. Fuck, listen to me. I sound so pathetic. Please, as much as it seems the contrary, this is not me wanting sympathy. Ugh, I fucking despise that. This isn’t a fucking pity party, so piss off. Now, moving on.
You learn things very fucking fast when your world crashes around you. You learn even faster when it happens twice. You learn that people, no matter how close, will always fuck you over one way or another. You learn that love, no matter how much you want it to work, probably won’t. And finally, you learn that life isn’t much more than a bunch of shit with a few momentary highs here and there.
Now that, in summary, is why I feel the need to judge people and situations. I’ve seen more fucked up shit in a couple of years than I would wish on anybody. Perhaps fucked up is all perspective though. I’m sure there are people out there who have had it worse, but they obvisously don’t have blogs. So the next time you feel the need to throw the Good Book in my face, I beg you to oblige me for a second. I’ll turn to Exodus and show you the Ten Commandments. Do you know what else? I’ll do you the favor of pointing out how many commandments I’ve seen broken, and broken myself. Finally, I’ll show you the people around me hurt by the assholes, (assholes even includes me!), that broke them. Judge people? Get on your knees and fucking blow me. I will judge, you will read, and you will fucking love it. Now shut your fucking mouth, your breath stinks almost as bad as the shit you think up. You’re welcome.
That does it for me. Now, go back to your normal routines. Can you? Perhaps, perhaps not. I know I can, because this…this education, it’s what I do. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
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from outer space. But not really, even though it’s a cool concept. Yes, my adoring public, I am now back to the normal posting of my life, instead of continuing to dedicate a whole post for your education. I’d apologize, but I’m above such nonsensical horse shit, so piss off.
Today, after being up late, as usual, I had to wake up around 7:30 so I could go look normal for a college brochure photo shoot. A real fuckin’ chore it was too. I mean, if you know what I look like, you know that I’m not a looker, or normal looking. I’m a fucking telephone pole with limbs and a shnause, so normal damn near killed me. But, I managed to pull it off, and afterwards spent the rest of my day doing nothing but playing Halo 3 and browsing the Internet.
This evening, after my sister and mother had left for a tee-ball game, I was left with the house to myself. No, I didn’t go, because I just don’t feel the need to go watch pitiful baseball…or underaged girls….but mainly the baseball (just kidding, perverts are sick). I enjoyed my aloneness, again, and I was happy. I had no one to fuck around with me, or ask how I was doing. Around sixish, I had started to get around for the practice that I would be attending, for a team that’s not mine, and for an all weekend tourney I’m none to big on playing in. I was feeling a bit more down than usual, and pissed that I had to go to practice, when I get a text from my friend asking if I planned on going. I responded, jokingly mind you, that I wished to be alone and in solitude. Not totally untrue, but not my intentions all the same. So, he texts me back with this smart ass comment. “Not coming to the pre-game practice? Smart.” I wanted to shoot him, right in the fucking balls. Big target, because it takes a pair to just throw shit out there like that. Perhaps it was the combination of everything, and that just iced the fucking cake. Either way, it pissed me off beyond my own belief. I told him, in 160 characters or less, just how I felt about that. Not too big on people guilt tripping me, or at least trying to, in order for me to do something. If you want me to do a favor for you, ask. Odds are I’ll tell you no, but at least it won’t piss me off. It’s fucking common courtesy to ask, not tell. Asshole.
Anyways, that is only part of my anger I shall poison your children’s minds with. Here’s the other part, and it’s quite the humorously fucking stupid story.
As you all pretty well know by now, I am depressed, slightly. Yeah yeah, I stay up late and what not, it happens. Would it not only stand to reason that if I stay up late and wake up early the next morning, a Sunday, perhaps, that I would be tired that day? Any person with half a brain, no matter how big of a stupid fuck they may be, can tell you this is a common knowledge fact, or so I thought.
The other day, it just so happened to be a Saturday night Sunday morning, actually, I did in fact stay up late. So, when Sunday morning came around, I was tired, as only logic would tell you. Perhaps I wasn’t as fucking chipper and happy go lucky as the fucks that get up at the ass crack of dawn just to watch the sunrise, but at least I was there. Anywho, I may have nodded off during the prayer. Hey, it happens. This, along with the other signs of me being tired, should lead right back to that same conclusion. I was tired. It should not, however, lead somebody to believe I need to be checked for leukemia. Apparently, someone else believes otherwise. Yes, a person in the church told my father that I needed a leukemia scan, if such a thing exists, to make sure I was healthy. You could say he was leuk-warm on the idea. For all of you who didn’t see that coming, enjoy it now. For those of you who did, well, you’re less funny than that joke. Anyways, my dad, being an intelligent being, maybe, acted with swiftness. He told her to piss off, as any good and knowledgeable dad would do. Except he didn’t. He called my mom and asked what she thought about having me tested. Really dad? Really, you dumb ass hick bitch that started this? Leukemia? Do you understand what you’re saying? For all that wonder, let me make this clear. I AM TIRED. I am not sick with leukemia, and have no intentions of being in the near or distant future. Yeah, I’ve gone through a bit of a rough patch, but nothing to get that all up in arms about. Fuck, I’m just naturally skinny.
It’s people like that, the dumb bitch, not my dad, that I wonder how they ever came to be? What fucking sack of monkey shit did their ancestors evolve out of? My God people. I realize the humor in the situation, but it also frustrates me. You can’t be depressed anymore without somebody claiming you have leukemia. What’s next, herpes? Fuck me, if I take a long enough shit, you going to ask me to get checked out for colon cancer? Prostate health, what? To you ignorant fucks who know nothing of what they speak, I hate you. I really fucking hate you. Please, shut your mouth, I can see the tobacco stains from here. You’re welcome.
There, I am done with my ridiculously long paragraph over me having leukemia. Ironically, a pretty funny word. Leukemia….leukemia…leukemia. Ha. Anyways, everything else remains the same, and that blows. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you. (Happy Birthday)
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Do you know what I see when I imagine? I see our world. It’s shitty, it’s downtrodden, and it is nowhere that I want to live. In all fairness, this fucking place blows. Welcome back readers. I think I’ll make this a rather different type of post. Be ready, what lies ahead waiting for your eyes could be hazardous to your ignorance.
We live in a world where nothing is sacred. Nothing is above exploitation. Look at it. How much merchandise have you seen with Obama’s slogan on it? How many times have you seen tee shirts with his face? It pisses me off. Even religion has television plugs. Scientology, even in its insanely asinine views, has commercials. It’s ridiculous. Everything, every single fucking thing is about money. Nobody wants to stop making money, or perhaps screwing others out of it, long enough to give two shits about anybody else. You see it everyday. We’re all part of it. Think about it. I do it, you do it. How many times do you see somebody in need, but instead you pass on? How many times do you half-assedly ask somebody what the matter is? You don’t give a fuck how they’re doing, you’re just too busy to make real conversation. No. It’s all about analyzing people, figuring out how they can fit in to your scheme. How they can help you better yourself. You analyze how to use them. That is our only business with people anymore. It’s fucking sick, and I personally am done with it all.
Think about the last time you had a really, really in depth conversation. Can’t remember, can you? It’s because things like conversation are lost when you’re busy fucking people over, when you’re busy not caring. I’ve recently had some of the most in depth conversations in my life. You know what? You tend to find out more about people when you stop and just fucking listen for a minute. Some people you hardly gave the time of day to before. Now, however, you’re eyes are opened, and you realize that they’ve got a pretty good handle on life. People, when given the chance to display it, are deeper than they appear. But nobody has time to see it. Nobody cares. Just stop. Believe it or not, when you just chill out, slow down, and stop running all the damn time, everybody benefits. And that, learners and gentlelearners, is awesome. When you start coming around to my system of education, you become happier. Conversation, the ability to listen and respond. Please, for your sake, bring it back, or forever fuck yourselves.
Look at our government. It’s in shambles. And it’s your own fault. It’s my fault. It is our fault. Our economy? It’s gone. Greed and idiots combining to make our monetary system a big orgy of stupidity and recession and semen-coated money. Now, I personally blame the idiots who were dumb enough to take out loans bigger than they could repay. I also blame the even bigger, stupider, greedier fucks who gave out that loan. They knew those people couldn’t pay it back, and they loved it. They jerked off at night, thinking about all the anguish and anxiety they’d be putting those people through. They wanted everything that person had, and that’s how they could obtain it. Auto industries aren’t exempt either. You’ve made shitty vehicles and passed them off as good, and we were stupid enough to believe it. Twelve miles per gallon on the highway, but it can haul four fuckin’ trees. WOOOOO! I can’t speak for everybody, but I’ve never had to haul as much weight as they advertise. It’s bullshit, it’s exploitation of our own stupidity. That is both of our faults. The immoral assholes that pull that shit, and the idiots that buy into that crap. It’s all about money, and I’m done with it all.
Meanwhile, while we are fucking ourselves in the asshole, the government is nit picking. They’re helping us out, right? Of course they are, and their becoming stronger and more powerful is just a coincidence, right? Wrong. The government is beginning to take over our private industries. They say they’re going to give it back, but do you trust them? I don’t, and I even pushed for Obama. It doesn’t matter who’s in the big seat, the situation remains. They’re people, like us. They’re greedy, like us. They want power, and we’ve given it to them. You say we can’t let those banks fail, or people will lose their homes. Bullshit. Tell that to the people who have already lost their homes. Let those banks fail, it’ll be the best thing to ever happen to them. Perhaps it will give the companies and their owners a sense of humility, but probably not. Let them fail, but at least get the companies back to their shitty owners, and out of the hands of our shitty government. We’re doing nothing but worsening the situaiton by bailing them out. We’re going deeper into debt, and in the meantime building a false support system for our bullshit economy. Letting banks fail will restore some sense of stability to our economy. We just can’t keep borrowing. Our credit will eventually run out, folks. We’re awesome, but not immortal. Fuck, if China called our tab right now, we’d be washing dishes for them for our whole lifetime, and probably your kids’ lives too. A final shout out here. Wall Street jerk offs, I fucking hate you, and I hope I can speak for some of my fan base when I say that. You’ve given Congress reason to start really fucking around in the free market. God help us all.
I, however, am only a man of words. I can’t say I’m going to overthrow the government. Mainly because I’m too lazy, but also because it is slightly frowned upon. All I’m saying is that I’m done living in a world where we can’t stop screwing with each other long enough to realize the big picture. We’re all in this together, assholes. If we don’t realize that soon, we’re going to be completely and utterly shat on. And that’s a lesson in AMERICAN democracy for you. You’re welcome.
I shall now change the subject a bit. No, I won’t. There is no need. I still feel the same, and it still blows.
Now I am done talking about the shit in the country, and people in general. I am just done. I feel absolutely no need to continue this any further. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Nah, I’d rather not. Hello readers, are you going through withdrawals yet? I almost am, and I get to spend all day with me and my knowledge. That’s a scary thought, that I’ve built up that high of a tolerance to me. Soon I’ll need a clone to get my fixes. Soon, so shall you. Before you start killing yourselves, and each other, from waiting, I shall continue writing.
As I was saying, I do not wish to label it morning. I think I’ll go by the appropriate term. Depressed. I have avoided using this term ever since this whole fucking shibang happened, but I really cannot deny it any longer. I’m depressed. Nothing motivates me, and I don’t want to be around people. Even more so than normal. Now, I’m sure this does not come as a big fucking shocker to you readers. But, coming from someone who hasn’t ever been depressed, it is a rather large deal.
Now, let’s clear this up. I’m not severely depressed, like suicide watch and shit. Depression doesn’t necessarily mean stupidity. So before you assholes start trying to cheer me up, I beg you to fuck off. It’s just a mild to moderate case of fucking bummed out. I wish only to sit alone, listen to music, and think. Nothing more, nothing less. Now, back to my discussion.
I’ve been in bad situations, seen and learned things that could have made me depressed. It didn’t happen. And it’s a simple matter of caring. I didn’t care about any of the horrible shit that happened to my family, because it didn’t really affect me directly. Yes, my parents split, but that wasn’t because of me. It was because of an idiot, but that’s another story. I know how selfish it sounds, I really do. If it doesn’t concern me, than I have no need to feel down about it. It’s arrogant, prickish, and self-centered. It’s how I cope with things, so blow me. And it was damn near fool proof. I didn’t really involve myself with too many things, so not much could backfire and blow up in my gorgeous face. There wasn’t anything for me to cope with, because I wasn’t ever faced with those types of situations.
This, on the other hand, found a way around my defense. Love. Fucking asshole, love. It got me really, really involved. Had me thinking about things, and enjoying every fucking moment. I was in deep, and I couldn’t have cared MORE about her if I tried. So, it stands to reason, that when everything went to hell, I was left reeling. And I don’t know how to cope with it, because I’ve never been here before. Nothing I do helps, so I’ve just stopped trying and accepted it as being ass. And this has led to slight depression. It hurts, but I don’t care. Somewhere, below the depression, I know I can handle it, somehow. God wouldn’t pull this shit on me if He thought I was unable to deal with it. I just wish He thought I couldn’t. It would make things so much easier. I hate it, the way I feel, and the whole fucking situation. I know, redundant, but I just feel the need to reitterate the fact that heartbreak blows. So much. I’ll get over it, eventually, maybe.
However, I wish to speak of this no more. There are more important, but not really, things to concern myself with. One of these is educating the people known as my growing fan base. You must learn, because then you shall not make the same mistakes as the assholes I talk about. This next topic is not a big concern to me, but it’s annoying enough to address. Now turn off your fucking TVs and stop tugging at that, because you are not a paying full-time member. And also because if you are tugging at it in the first place, you disgust me. But thanks for the support anyways. Prepare to know.
I hate whores. I hate sluts. I hate stupid people. Sometimes, these go hand in hand. Then you get one of the worst pieces of shit in the world, the stupid whore. Do you know where they congregate? No, not on the streets, those whores cost money. They congregate on the internet, and you see them damn near everyday. Ads. Internet ads for a quick lay. They try and disguise themselves as dating sites, but they don’t fool me. I mean, really? I don’t think that luvsyourdik22 is gonna be a tea and crumpets type chick. No, this is not a dating service. This is nothing more than finding a dumb chick you can fuck. Now, these chicks don’t see any money, they aren’t that fucking smart. The website, however, racks in the dough. It costs a couple bucks to see who you’re “matched” with, doesn’t it? Have to pay somebody for your whore. Please, these women are nothing but an easy way for a guy to crank one off inside her before going back to his wife, who he no longer finds attractive. And they wonder why they can’t find the right guy. Well gee, I tried all the online dating services. Here’s a crazy idea. Perhaps it’s because you, but not anyone else, is too fucking stupid to realize you’re nothing more than free pussy. Let me help you. Get off your computer. Go out. Socialize, and don’t bring a guy back. It’s really fucking simple, just don’t get laid. Eventually you’ll find chemistry with somebody, and then perhaps you can think about doing the no pants dance. Also, piss off with your suggestive names, hrnymama33. It doesn’t suggest brains, or morality, in the least. Until then, keep your legs closed, I can fucking smell it from here. You’re welcome.
This shall do it for me on this evening. Now, I will be off to deal with my depression by listening to music and staying up until the ass crack of dawn. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
