2011 is shaping up to be my sluttiest year yet.

Hello all you lovely little creeps and pervs...

I'm sorry it's been a while since I last posted an entry on here. Allow me to explain: I'm a lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy person. After coming home, doing laundry, cooking dinner, and cleaning (sorta) the apartment, I barely have the energy to masturbate 7 or 8 times before going to bed. Try finding time to write a blog with THAT schedule.

Plus, there's been the added wrinkle that in the last 6 months, 2 managers have left at work. That means more extra-fun work on everyone's favorite guy: ME! Honestly, there must be a rumor at my company that I'm into scat-play for all the shit that gets dumped on me.

Well, hopefully, the shitstorm will finally give ways to sunny days. Maybe I'll finally be able to sit back, have a beer, and write more drunken, rambling, non-sensical blogs, like this one!

Cold Water

Repitition kills the senses. The same routines, the same experiences, day in, day out, and the nerves go dull. You become accustomed to the minor joys, the little annoyances. You rationalize the situation. After all, there are those far worse off. What right have you to complain just because you have no cause to cheer?

Then, at the most unexpected times, random bursts of cold water hit you across the face and chest from unseen pranksters. Shock, freezing, stimulation, embarassment, humility.

It is a difficult thing to be reminded of just how easily people you know can find someone to hold and hold back in return. They fall into the embrace of new lovers as easily as falling out of a chair: they need only to let go, and the rest is course.

I'm not expecting warmth. I'm just waiting to be dry again.

I think my manager can reproduce asexually, because he is both a DICK and a CUNT!

If you read my last post, you may remember that I was somewhat looking forward to getting a new manager to help alleviate some of the burden of running the store. But the guy is just an unbelievable CUNT! He looks like a cunt. He talks like a cunt. Even when he's just standing around doing fuck all, he just screams cunt.

Now, I'm not the type to swear too often, even when I do get stressed out. But when I came into work yesterday and he started to lay into me for stuff I was not responsible for, I could actually feel my head get hot! Swear to God, you could've fried an egg on my forehead. I'm positive my face actually turned red. And heaven forbid I should suggest that if he wants people to respect the rules he lays down, then it would be helpful for him to follow his own damn rules. Instead, he will just talk spew some double-talk about "critiqueing" and if I'm going to critique him, I should keep in mind that he is the boss. His words. "He is the boss." So to make him eat his own fucking words, I made positive that all the little pissy things he was bitching about were taken care of for him when he came in this morning.

I was so super-pissed on the way home I stopped in a titty bar. Not too often you see a stripper wear glasses on stage.

So when I came into work today, the very first thing he mentioned was not how good the place looked or a thank you. It was why I did not do one certain thing. All day, not one single positive comment about all the shit he was griping about one day earlier. Swear to fucking God, FUCK THIS CUNT!

It's nice to remind yourself everyonce in a while that you can still do something different and completely out of the ordinary for you. A couple of days ago I got both of my nipples pierced. Now, considering this crowd, I know it probably won't impress anyone. However, for me, this is a BIG step. No one who knows me saw it coming. Hell, it caught me a bit by surprise. Honestly, it hurt more than I thought it would, but I didn't stop at just one. I got a little light-headed afterward and had to sit down, but other than that... The piercer even said I handled it better than most guys.

I suppose that's about the biggest news for me lately. I'm sorry I haven't been around for a while, my fiesty little fuckers. The manager at my store left just before the holiday season, which left me running the store. The seasonal help wasn't exactly stellar, either. Now, FINALLY, we have a new manager, so I can pass the buck and take a breath. So you had all better get ready to reacquire my taste, cause you'll be seeing more of me from now on.

I'm sorry I haven't been around lately, my saucy sickos! I deserve a hard spanking. Anyone? Anyone?

I've been a little busy lately ever since my boss quit and I've been running things at work ("And there was much rejoicing. 'Yay'"). Perfect timing, too. When she left, we were right in the middle of hiring a lot of new people. Of course, none of the paperwork was finished. I had to fumble around trying to make sense of it. It is almost as if my manager picked the 2 weeks out of the whole year when it would fuck things up the worst to quit. Sorry, but I'm still venting, folks.

Anyone want to help me relax? Buy me a drink? Tell me a joke? Scratch my back in that little spot where you can't reach it yourself unless you're some kind of double-jointed freak that people would pay two bits for to watch in a carnival freakshow?

Salutations, my naughty little monkeys!

Did you think I left? Did you think I would abandon all of you twisted perverts? Did you really think I could ever turn my back on all the beautiful naked women? Ok, I have done that last one, but only cause lots of lube and a dildo were involved.

The reason I've been incomunnicado these past few weeks is that I moved into a new apartment. Being a cheap son-of-a-bitch, I was hoping I could just use an unprotected wireless signal to get internet access, but alas, no such luck. So I finally broke down and got my own service, for a pretty good deal actually.

But I digress...

I love my new apartment. It's a one bedroom (ladies), built-in shelves and cabinets, great 1920's architecture, perfect for an old-school hipster like yours truly. Still a little short on furnishings, but it's getting there. But don't worry; I've already got a great big bed.

To all of my devoted fans who have been following the ongoing saga of my car, here is another exciting chapter!

For the past year, I've been putting up with lots of measley little annoyances, several of which needed repairs. Struts, brake drums, exhaust pipe, oil pan, etc., etc. But a couple of weeks ago, my rear bumper decided that it had finally had enough of my and tried to make a break for it. It started sagging lower than an old man's testicles. One more pothole, and my bumper would have it's freedom. And since the fuzz doesn't like ass-less cars, and there was no real way to fix it, it was time to look for a new non-pimpmobile.

It took a while for me to swallow the bitter, bitter pill of how much I would need to spend on a decent used car, I finally drove home in my very own 2004 Chevy Cavalier.

No, that's not it. That's just a picture I found on the internet. But believe me, my car looks exactly that unsexy in real life.

Her name is Loretta.

So, I'm finally getting a new place to call my own. Yay! It's a one bedroom, hardwood floors, lotsa windows. It's kind of small, but that's okay since I don't have a lot of crap to put in it and if you've seen my pics, you know I'm a skinny skinny skinny boy. But I have so much stuff to buy for it: sofa, dresser, table... But I did see a nice bed frame. Plenty of places on it to tie or cuff a vict... uh... I mean, a fully legal and consentual lady, to play Scrabble. (Yeah, that'll stick.) It'll be a couple weeks before I'm all moved in, but I'm so excited about it. Finally getting out of the suburbs and within stumbling distance of all my favorite bars. Bye-bye, liver. It was nice knowing you.

When you spend so much of your time scrutinizing and criticizing other people, it becomes so very easy to lose all perspective of yourself. You want to spend so much time being smart, being clever, being funny, witty, and wise that it takes some truly idiotic behavior on your part to shock you back to reality. And when you are there, and you look at yourself, you realize that you have become one of those people whom you scorn and deride daily. And it's really likely others have looked at you that way too. "Real." Now there's a word for which I have no love.

My lousy social skills are a plague that seem to infect any social situation I'm in. Just touching it contaminates it, ensuring that the relationship will wither and die. Maybe quarantine is the answer. Then again, 40 days hardly seems long enough.