I met a girl at a party and took her to my car to make out. Choke me, she said. I was parked on a well lit public street. Even better. Get her topless and clamp her neck between my arms; she is excited that a cop might drive by. Nowadays every girl under 25 is a cenobite. They want to be choked, hit, fake raped. They want to lacerate you with sharp nails, scratch at your nipples, bite your bottom lip and draw blood. They all squirt. Ten years ago nobody squirted. It just didn’t exist. Now everybody squirts. Everybody deep throats. Everybody’s into BDSM. She’s a sub telling you on the first date that she needs a forearm in the throat to cum. Or she’s a “pro domme.” No such thing as an amateur domme. Dommes all get paid. Continue reading
It’s the light that gets me. Dark at 4:30. I just want to drink and sleep. You try to go outside but it’s cold and all the girls walking around have big sweaters on. No more yoga pants. Why go outside if you won’t see a fully defined pubic mound, the mathematically perfect curve of an ass crack jiggling. What’s the point.
Drink and sleep. Your hormones crash. Go to the gym and your strength has fallen off a cliff. Creaky joints. Every movement grates like bone on bone. I believe I tore my rotator cuff. This is another way of saying: my shoulder hurts. “Rotator cuff” is the only piece of shoulder anatomy I know the name of. Therefore I tore my rotator cuff. No heavy bench press, no heavy military. I now have the upper body of Barbie without the tits. It hurts when I hold the bar to dead lift. It hurts when I support the bar to squat. It hurts when I do a pullup. Continue reading
Yesterday was gonna be the day I stopped drinking. But I got stuck in traffic. Tanker truck caught on fire on the 60 freeway. It was carrying liquid hydrogen. Hindenburg. All lanes closed in both directions.
I don’t take the 60 freeway, but everyone who does jumped on my freeway of choice, the 10 East. It was my day to stop drinking. For the first hour I took it. Stuck with the plan. But I’d been driving all day. It got dark on the road. The radio just kept telling me about the horrible traffic conditions I was in, every channel. Defeatist messages. Folks, it’s gonna be bad out there for a while. As we’ve been reporting the 60 is closed. Of course you have your alternate routes, the 10 and the 210. But those are stacked up now too from downtown past Azusa. There’s a ripple effect going on here folks. The 605 and 710 are a sea of red. The 101 is stop and go through downtown past Hollywood. And the 5 is on fire, the commuters have begun torching their cars and eating passengers’ flesh. Trees blackened. No life left in the hills except one sinister looking cactus. Starved crows circling. If you’re an alcoholic, you’re gonna want to drink extra liquor tonight to power through the sensations you’re gonna be feeling for the next several hours. I am speaking directly to you, Delicious Tacos, the announcer said. You are an idiot for wanting to stop drinking. Why would you torture yourself further. Think of that first drink. The one that makes this all go away. Continue reading
Credit-wrecking broke. Now I have to get a real job. I got hooked up with a recruiting agency. They represent “cool” companies. You sound “cool” if you work there. Squinting into spreadsheets just like the Fonz. Silicon Valley related shit, which means they pay you a fuckload of money to answer a phone. 65 grand a year plus OT, which is a king’s ransom to me. I’d be wearing suits made of gold and smoking fine cigars. For me fast living is buying two pints in a bar at four bucks a pop instead of pounding a pint of hobo brandy outside and then drinking water. Fast living is getting the brakes fixed on the car, instead of hoping you don’t have to stop fast. Fast living is not waiting until you’re getting five collection calls a day from Verizon, five collection calls a day from Time Warner. A text from Progressive saying “We’re sorry you decided not to stay with us.” You’re meant to say “WAIT! I NEVER MEANT TO LEAVE YOU, HERE’S MONEY!” This is Verizon Wireless with important information regarding a change to your account. Market researched words. Words that made the most lab monkeys press the button. Important information regarding a change to your account: give us money. Continue reading
Fuck. God damn man. Still hung over. 2 days later. I did cocaine and took valiums and drank a fifth of brandy. OK. It will be fine. Tomorrow you will feel better. Tomorrow. Go to work. Have a productive day. It’s cold, feels like winter, it’s sixty eight motherfucking degrees. Jesus Christ man, you have to stop getting drunk, doing hard drugs. You have to stop this shit. Eat a fucking salad and perform vigorous compound exercises. Read quality literature, watch birds in the forest. Clean your motherfucking act up and be a functioning human being. This is what happens. This is why people have to have kids. To have something to do all fucking day. Keep the thing from squirting roach spray in its gullet. Run around making sure he doesn’t jam his finger in the outlet. Or your wife does that, I guess. You go to work. Sit on a train in a suit and a stupid hat and read the financial papers. Martini at the end of the day, golf on weekends. Anyone under 40, your concept of normal life is from TV. A dead dream.
The other guy stole the second gram. I was pissed at the time. Now I think: good. I hope it’s really gone. Never again with that shit. From now on, fruits and vegetables. A nice beef broth. Put me in one of those FDR wheelchairs with the plaid blanket and park me in front of an old timey radio. Jesus Christ. I am too old for this. I’m too old for drugs, liquor and pussy. But what else is there. Jesus. Gardening, I don’t know. Continue reading
My buddy finances porn. Little shit, nothing you’ve heard of. But he’s moving into the clips4sale world. You post clips of fetishes so obscure that there’s not enough on the tube sites. Guys pay to download them. Women stomping on balls, popping balloons with their pussies. Guys shitting in diapers and getting laughed at. Weird shit. It’s one of the last places where the money is.
He asked me to help out. Find fetishes that are underrepresented. Niches to fill. We have girls who will do anything. Do not raise your daughter as a Jehovah’s Witness.
So what I want to know is: what twisted shit do you desperately want to jerk it to, but can’t find enough of? Comment or email me. I don’t judge. I jerk to dwarves, diaper girls, fat pigs, small penis humiliation, unwanted impregnation… that’s just scratching the surface. I jerk it to shit that would make a billygoat puke. Anything but studio porn with fake watermelon tits and tacky post-molestation piercings. I don’t give a fuck. In my actual sex life I’m a staggering bore.
What’s a fetish scene you want to see? Or in a vanilla sex scene, what’s a scenario or plot you want that doesn’t exist? We can do old school stuff with dialogue, locations. What type of girl(s), guy(s) aren’t out there enough? Whatever you want to jerk to but can’t.
I can’t promise anything in return. If you’re not anonymous and suggest a winner I’ll try to hook you up. Give you the clip you requested free at least, if it can be done. Name the actress after your grandmother. Whatever I can do. But I have no idea how the money side of this works, so. You may suggest a billion dollar idea and be left holding your dick.
I’m in California. Legal to shoot here. Films will be shot and distributed by pros in compliance with all applicable laws.
AAAAHHH money money money money money. Relax. You have enough to pay the credit card bill. OKCupid coaching will pay enough to register the car. Unemployment will come through. You can bill work for leads. Everything will be fine. Except it won’t because you have no god damn money. You have no god damn money. Your credit is destroyed and there is no way you will get a job, ever. Ever. You worked beneath your talents for eight years and this is what it got you. Nothing. You saved nothing, learned nothing. You were miserable for nothing. Now you are miserable for less than nothing.
Let me say this again: there are no jobs out there. Back in Spring when I didn’t want to work, I still dutifully applied. I applied for jobs for which I am fully qualified, overqualified. I took care on my resume and cover letter. I have hired people; I know to keep it short. Nothing. I had one interview, a group interview. A Beverly Hills residential Realtor™, a white man the color of an Irish Setter, made 20 of us complete 2 hours worth of tasks that simulated being his assistant. Other than that it was finance scams. One interview– no, one group bake-off– for over a hundred resumes. And I’m good. Continue reading