Man, what a tedious two weeks. Bureaucratic bullshit on the lenders side, but hey, what are you going to do?
The good news is that we scored free sod and a sprinkler system for the front and back yards, due to the fuckwit that was doing our loan.
Had a damn good - no, great - interview today. I really, really don't want to go back to work. Fuck a duck.
So, since I've got approximately 10,000 boxes to unload and put away, I'd better run. CW has been acting horny all day, too, so hopefully I'll get some action tonight. I'll make sure to do a full after action report if I get my pee pee wet.
In an attempt to get some sleep, I ran down to HEB (a central Texas grocery store chain) last night and bought a box of Sominex out of desperation.
Gack.
Yeah, it knocked me out, but shit, talk about weird, disconnected dreams. I did have a dream about Figging, I shit you not (no pun intended). I was the Figee and Madeline Albright was the Figger.
And she was naked.
Does that count as a nightmare?
Even more frightening, I woke up with morning wood. Holy crap, I'm really starting to worry about my sanity. For those of you who watched "The Forty Year Old Virgin", I woke up just like Andy did in the opening scenes. Boooooiiiiinnnnnngggggg! Ordinarily, I enjoy waking up with a raging boner so I can dance and caper about the bedroom and send CW off to work with that as her last image of me, but in my head I could still see Ms. Albright chasing me around a cement room, wearing nothing else but a corset and dominatrix boots, waving ginger root in each hand, screeching "Come take your medicine, bitch!" at the top of her lungs.
For the uninformed, this is Madeline Albright:
Unfortunately, she wasn't wearing the beret in my dream.
I'm afraid to go to sleep tonight.
Maybe that's why Anna Nicole Smith was so drugged up when she geezed - she had mistakenly run across Figging somewhere on the Internet and she was trying to drug herself into a state of Non-Figgedness.
So, thanks to a comment left on JustJulie's blog, I had to break down and Google "Figging". Fucking Figging. I had no idea. For the uninformed, it's having Ginger Root stuck up your dumper. Sounds bad, right? Wait, it gets worse...apparently Ginger Root burns like a motherfucker when it's inserted in said bunghole.
Yikes.
Don't get me wrong - I like a little ass play, but the most I've ever had in my pooper is a finger or the occasional tongue. I still have yet to meet the woman that could sway me into letting her do the strap-on business to me. As a straight male, you've gotta really like a woman to let her do that, not to mention trust her. But, that's another post for another time.
Those of you who read my verbal vomit a few years back, before I went on hiatus, may remember my fascination with the female ass. Yes, I'm an anal sex virgin. Go ahead, point at me, laugh, throw rocks at me. I've had women who were set and ready to go, but chickened out at the last minute. CW's dumper is off limits, so it looks like I'm going to remain The Anal Virgin for the foreseeable future. Along with being obsessed with anal sex.
Anyway, back to the figging thing. From what I could gather, it's big in the S&M/BSDM world. On one site I stumbled upon, figging was used as a training accoutrement. My deviant nature hasn't explored the S&M/BSDM deal, either.
Now, I do get into the good pain thing. If it's full on monkey sex, then twist my nipples, rake my back, dig your heels into my lower back and pull my hair. None of this half ass shit, either - do it like you mean it. I just had this conversation with a friend the other day, and I summed it up for her thusly: Fuck me like you hate me.
Last night got me thinking that perhaps the Taliban wasn't all that bad.
Over in Talibanland, if someone did something egregiously stupid (at least according to thier rules, which were admittedly fucked up), you could get your stick out and light them up - just beat the living dogshit out of them.
My insomnia is back full force, and has been for the last few weeks. I'm lucky if I fall asleep before 2 or 3 A.M. It sucks. Last night, I finally fell asleep around 11 P.M., only to be awakened by CW, asking if I had seen JPQ Jr.'s water cup. The conversation went like this:
Me (after being rudely awoken): "Gahhh! What the FUCK?!?" CW: "Do you have JQP Jr.'s water cup?" Me: "What? Why would I have his water cup? Jeezus Fucking Christ." CW: "I thought you were awake." Me: "Huh? My eyes were closed. That generally means I am asleep." CW: "Oh. Well, DO you have his water?" Me: "God, please take me now before I kill again."
3 hours later I finally get back to sleep, only to be awoken again by CW hitting her snooze button repeatedly at 6 A.M., followed by 6:09, 6:18, 6:27 and 6:34 A.M. At that point, I said fuck it, may as well drag my sorry ass out of bed and make coffee.
That's OK, though, because I have a plan for revenge. This is a fairly meandering story, so bear with me, OK? OK then.
For my birthday in December, I bought a Sirius satellite radio for my birthday, and one of the channels is the Playboy Channel. Ginger Lynn (Meh) and Christy Canyon (Hubba Hubba) are the hosts from 6 - 9 P.M. and host a call in show. A few weeks ago, they had a porn actor named Peter North on for an interview, and apparently his claim to fame is shooting gallons of spunk during the money shot. Never having seen a Peter North video, I can't testify to this, so I took it at face value. He went on to relate that one way to generate copious amounts of nut yogurt was to take a 400 IU of Vitamin E daily. So, this morning I ran down to GNC with JQP Jr. and Godzilla and picked up a monster size bottle of Vitamin E.
Can you tell where this story is going?
Since I'm still on the quarterly plan for sex, I've got 2.5 months until CW deigns to grace me with her pink taco. By then, I'm going to have some serious SBU (Sperm Back Up) going on.
I'm going to make her look like a Krispy Kreme.
Right before I release the swimmers, I'm going to pull out and give her a good glazed topping. Given her complete and total aversion to all things spooj related, it should be good for a long, hearty laugh.
Since I'm rambling about pharmcopia, I thought I'd share what I take every morning: See the 2 clear pills in the left column, third row? 800 IU of Vitamin E, baby.
Yeah, I rattle when I walk, but I feel better when I take all this shit as opposed to when I have a brain fart and forget to for a few days. The Effexor XR is the only prescription I take - it's a kick ass anti-depressant which keeps me from going into the garage and hanging myself. The rest are vitamin and supplements. Good shit, my friends.
Boredom reigns supreme here in rainy San Antonio. Too wet outside to take JQP Jr. and Godzilla outside, nothing on T.V., and I can't watch one more episode of the Wiggles. Tried to watch 'Resident Evil' to get geared up for the release of 'Resident Evil 3' which releases this summer (with the added bonus of nude Milla Jovovich), but it's not a kid friendly movie - zombies, guns, gratuitous violence. JQP Jr. kept asking questions along the lines of "Daddy, why are they shooting each other?", so it was time to turn the movie off.
What else to do?
Can't take a nap, kids are awake.
Can't look at naked ladies on the net, kids are awake.
So, I thought I'd share my reading list with you. Since you, dear readers, seem to share my fucked up sense of humor, here are some books you may all enjoy:
You Suck: A Love Story by Christopher Moore If any of you have read anything by Christopher Moore, you're most likely a junkie for a good book. This guy is the king of fucked up situations. Droll as a motherfucker, makes me laugh out loud.
American Shaolin: Flying Kicks, Buddhist Monks, and the Legend of Iron Crotch: An Odyssey in the New China by Matthew Polly Finished this at around 2 A.M. last night. True story of a college student who's basically lost (as in who he is, not where he's at) who raids his college fund, bails from Princeton and goes to China to study with the Buddhist Monks in Shaolin, home of kung-fu, right after the Tianemen Square standoff in the late 80's/early 90's. Excellent, excellent book. Funny, and gives great insight into the Chinese mindset during that period.
The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of Those Who Survived the Great American Dust Bowl by Timothy Egan You think we have it tough in 2007? Give this a read -we're living the dream, baby. These people had it tough. My paternal grandparents were teenagers living through the Great Depression; both were hoboes (Love that word. We should still use it, rather than "homeless") and met riding the rails when they were 16 after leaving their respective farms in Iowa, which blew away during one of the huge dust storms. Fascinating.
Speaking of The Good War: An Oral History of World War Two by Studs Terkel, this is one book I re-read every few years. I found my dad's copy back in the early 1980's and didn't put it down until I finished it a few days later. Incredible glimpse of life during WWII, both from the battlefront to the homefront. Can't recommend it enough.
And last, buy not least, the best of the best subject lines in my spam folder: A girl playing with a cucumber in public (We all need our veggies, right?) Busty shemale beautie in latex (Yeah, uhhhh, thanks, but no thanks) get laid tonight by one of our hookers in your area (Hmmmm. Nah, not into the whole hooker thing) Quality vinyl siding installation (How did that get in here? Vinyl siding?) Gardening product testers needed (Weedwacker, perhaps? Ha! I knew I could turn it into something sexual. I'm so juvenile.) two girls waiting for you (Now we're talking!) You missed dates with these hot & cute girls! bigtits asian girl absolutely naked (Big tits? Check! Asian woman? Double check!!!) Huge natural knockers (Yeah. We all know how I feel about huge natural knockers. Yummy.) Hot blonde girls spreading (Meh. Now, if she were a brunette/redhead...) Horny naked babe fingering (Hmmmm, another devotee of onanism. Me likee)
Is it wrong that I'm intentionally tanking interviews so I can stay home with JQP Jr. and Godzilla?It hasn't gotten to the point where I'm being a complete smartass, but I can sense it coming. I've heard the same questions from so many different potential employers:
1. What is your greatest strength? "Well, gee, I guess I'd have to say that I'm hung like a bison. I mean, just fucking enormous down there."
2. What is your greatest weakness? "I'd have to say that my greatest weakness is that I'm a chronic masturbator, so I'm definitely going to need a private office."
3. Describe your ideal job. "Work from home. In the nude. No other employees in the company but me."It's enough to drive a man to drink.
April 12th can't get here soon enough - that's the close date for our new house. I went over there last night to see what the contractor has done this week. The brick/limestone is 75% done, all the electrical fixtures are in and they've started the interior paint. Here's where I'm currently sitting in the rental: Privacy? Solitude? What's that? Believe it or not, this room was spotless at 6 A.M. this morning.
My constant companion: That's Godzilla. See the blue stuff around his mouth? I stupidly went to the bathroom about 10 minutes ago, and during the time it took me to take a whiz, he'd grabbed a marker from his brother, pulled out the felt tip part with his teeth and was wandering the house decorating.
So, you can tell by the picture that I have no hair. Boredom and impetuous are two things that seem to rule my life. CW was out with some friends at an Arbonne party (makeup and shit like that), JPQ Jr. and Godzilla were watching the Wiggles and I was laying on the couch pondering the meaning of life. In a flash of complete idiocy, I decided I was tired of having to fuck with my hair in the mornings. I walked into the bathroom, got the clippers out and shaved a strip up the side of my head.
Hmmm, no turning back now. Shaved it all, then took a razor to it. Very liberating. CW hated it and wanted me to grow it back. Flash foward 6 weeks, and my hair is coming back in. Grey (or is it "gray"?). Tons of it. Where none was before.
Ho-lee-shit.
Needless to say, I'm doing a clipper job every Monday morning.
But, I digress...
In the new place, I actually get an office. An honest to god, all to myself office. I'm thinking about putting sandbags and claymores around the entrance.
With all this time on my hands, I've had lots of time for introspection. Well, maybe not introspection, per se, it's really more like laying on my dead ass on the couch. Regardless, I've come to a realization that A) I'm fickle, or B) I just want what I don't have.
An illustration:
Here's what EW looks like. I took this picture way back when we were married. She was in to the whole exhibitionist thing:
All well and good, right?OK, here's what CW looks like. Caught her coming out of the shower - she didn't get too pissed off, but she works strictly on the quid pro quo basis and demanded one of me: Again, all well and good, correct?So, tell me, dear readers, why I've been obsessing over women like this: It's all very interesting. I haven't figured it out yet, but hey, it's good fodder for the monkey spanking sessions.
I do know a few things about the woman in the last picture:
Boobs Boobs Boobs An ass I'd love to stick my face in
Anyone care to render an opinion on this? Any insights? Or am I just a fickle bastard?
Although, Milla Jovovich has recently entered my "5 women I get to bone if ever given the chance list", which will actually happen when when monkeys fly out of my ass.
The list, you say?
Okey doke, on with the show: Milla Jovovich: Ashley Judd: Rachel Ray: Salma Hayek: Sarah Silverman (if you're sitting here reading this and laughing or thinking "What the fuck??? Sarah Silverman???", you can bite me. I think she's a hottie):
Thoughts on Britney Spear's twat and being unemployed
Yeah, I know, it's old news by now, but the image of her beav has been stuck in my head for months now, and I always think the same thing:"That is one worn out, fucked up looking beaver".
How can a woman that young have such a beat up looking love canal?
Eh. Whatever.
Next topic: Unemployment
I'm doing the Mr. Mom thing again. Telling your boss, his boss and corporate HR to "shove it up your ass" is a sure way to join the ranks of the non-working.
I'm digging it, though, and John Q. Public Jr. and John Q. Public Jr. Jr. definitely like having Daddy home with them, rather than going to daycare. I'm kinda looking for a job, but not very hard. CW likes having me home with the boys and we can swing it financially, so I'm really undecided about going back to work.
Other than being unemployed, here's what else is new:
John Q. Public Jr. turned 4 in February.
John Q. Public Jr. Jr. (aka Godzilla) is 16 months old.
CW is CW. Same story. See all the previous posts. Although, three weeks ago I did make her squirt, which was tons of fun. She was grossed out by it. Go figure.
We're building a house. Here's what it looks like:
I know what you're thinking. "Hey, dumbass, you're not working. How in the fuck are you building a house? Do you enjoy bankruptcy and foreclosure?"
That's one of the beautiful things about living in Texas - it's so fucking inexpensive to live here. The mortgage is only going to be $100 more a month than we're paying on our lease.
As Mr. Mom, here's what a typical day is like:
Wake up at 6 A.M. Ugh. Yeah, I should be sleeping in, but it's just about the only alone time I have all day long. Make coffee. Login and check my email. If I'm really motivated, take a shower. Fondle myself in shower.
Godzilla is usually up by 6:30. Give him a Brown Sugar Pop Tart, turn on Sesame Street.
Make sure CW is out the door by 7:30.
John Q. Public Jr. wakes up around 8 or so. Make him breakfast. Start laundry and cleaning.
10 A.M. - Watch Jerry Springer.
Put Godzilla down for his nap at 11 A.M.
Fix lunch for John Q. Public Jr.
If it's not raining, take the boys out for a walk. Flirt with all the stay at home moms who are out walking with their kids.
Work with John Q. Public Jr. on reading and writing. Keep Godzilla from fucking up all the work JQP Jr. and I spent the last 30 minutes on.
If it's Wednesday, watch the Montel Williams show at 3 P.M. Wednesday is Sylvia Browne day.
Give the boys an hour of T.V. time, usually Thomas the Tank Engine.
Fix dinner.
Talk with CW. Listen to how her day was. Blah blah blah.
