Archive | 2012

ASMR

15 Jul

Has anyone heard of ASMR?  It’s an internet phenomenon now. Basically the idea is, you know, when you were a kid and someone would lightly tickle your back you’d get that weird quasi-orgasmic tickly feeling that would kind of put you in a trance.  Now people make youtube videos that are designed to have the same effect.  I just tried one and it totally worked.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNwkOC46Pog&feature=plcp

Despite it being a (REDACTED) looking 13 year old girl whispering to you and being called “role-play,” I promise that this is nothing sexual.  Her weird whistly sibilants just make you feel tingles all over your head and spine.  It is also not Rick Astley, nor a slideshow of prolapsed body cavities.  Go try it and report back your results.

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A Message from God

15 Jul

What do you do with huge coincidences.  What do you feel, when shit happens that is so unlikely that it feels like magic.  Me, I get scared.  Or, I have a moment of: how the fuck do I interpret this.  But there’s an urgency to it, too. I better do something.  This is a message from God.  What does it mean.  How do I put it to use.  Continue reading →

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Protected: OKCupid: You Want Me to Message You Back?

14 Jul

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Thoughts on Nikol

13 Jul

Nikol. Why do you have three kids and two ex husbands. Why do you have these things. I kind of love you.  You are really smart and funny and an excellent writer.  And you’re good looking!  You clean up really well.  You are the only person I’ve met in the last two years whom I could conceivably fall in love with.  Why do you have to have this weird fucking baggage—I don’t care that you were born into foster homes, getting beaten and molested, having—seriously—getting locked into a room full of bees.  Is that real, or did you fall asleep watching CANDYMAN and just absorb the movie as your own memories?  But yeah, why.  Why can’t you be 24 and with no kid, although– I do like her kids. I do like Trast, like- we could play fucking Dungeons and Dragons together. Continue reading →

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Diary 12/30/10: Cat UTI

12 Jul

My poor cat has a urinary tract blockage. My poor Bud. He just squatted in the litterbox for like ten minutes, straining out a niggardly trickle of pee. And he peed on the bathmat recently, unheard of for him, and in fact appeared to have peed just outside the box once before, since the underside of it was all covered in ammonia-smelling cat piss. Which, one of the symptoms of cat urinary tract blockage is they like to piss on a “cool, smooth surface.” This is bad shit. Your cat could die, although, I just picked him up and his abdomen doesn’t appear to be in any pain. So, you know, this isn’t life-threateningly serious. I made an appointment to take him to the vet tomorrow. Who knows. The internet says that shit just goes away sometimes. Continue reading →

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Every Single Rape Joke Ever Made Is Fucking Hilarious

11 Jul

Daniel Tosh is suffering from controversy because he told an audience member she should get gang raped.  Or rather, he made a joke about rape, she primly heckled that “rape jokes are never funny,” and then he started screaming that wouldn’t it be funny if she were gang raped.  Or something.  So now he’s in some shit.

Or not.  I don’t know.  Is he in any danger of losing his show? Comedy Central doesn’t give a fuck, right?  Except tons of Jezebel commenters watch The Daily Show and Colbert Report and so there could be letter writing campaigns, boycotts of Stoli Marshmallow and the Subaru Forrester and whateverthefuck else advertises on those shows.  He has to tweet an apology, but, maybe he also has to do the Tracy Morgan apology press conference where he tearfully says that his own mother was raped and he’s going to tour the country counseling rape victims and blah blah blah.  And suddenly Daniel Tosh won’t be funny anymore.  Just like Tracy Morgan.  Tracy Morgan was funny for going on morning shows in Dubuque still drunk from the night before and taking his shirt off and telling the bemused weather girl that he was going to impregnate all the women in town…. you never knew what was coming, but you knew it was going to be something crazy.  Now you see Tracy Morgan, maybe it’ll be something crazy but it won’t be something crazy about gays, and probably not something crazy about women or rape victims or child molestation.  He has to come up with crazy material about airline food now.  You see him, you know he’s gonna be constrained.  So you lose the tense part of what the fuck is he gonna do next, which is kind of what made you laugh.  What the fuck is he gonna do next– nothing that might irk people who might buy detergents and personal toiletries advertised on NBC Universal entertainment products.  Nothing that could rustle the feathers of anyone who could write a sternly worded letter to someone at NBC, its parent corporation NBC Universal, its parent corporation Comcast International, or any of the above’s myriad sponsors, local affiliates, public relations agencies and hangers-on, and etc. etc. etc. Continue reading →

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Having a Job

10 Jul

is at once hating something and being in mortal fucking fear of losing it.  Like being married to someone who beats you up.

Like owning a subsistence farm that only grows horrible tasting fruits and stinking corpse lilies.  Like living solely off mushrooms that grow in dog shit, that taste like dog shit, but it’s the only food you have.  If you anger these fickle dog shit tasting mushrooms they will go away and you will starve and die.  You will be like nine grand in credit card debt, your car will be broken, you will have no ability to support yourself.

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Diary: Kate Flakes

9 Jul

Fucking Kate.  That is a permaflake.  “Sorry, I’m gonna have to be lame and take a raincheck! (frowny face).”  Permaflake!  Except- she included a frowny face…. I keep looking at it.  That frowny face means she is frowning to not be able to hang out with me, right?  Despite not having a counterproposal of any kind and not saying anything in the intervening day and waiting until prompted by my text to say something—maybe she still likes me, right?  Maybe maybe maybe. Continue reading →

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The Alpha and the Omega

7 Jul

I read a lot of “man-o-sphere” blogs.  Roosh and Chateau Heartiste and stuff like that.  It’s part of the reason why I write about getting laid so much, or failing to get laid– because I like these blogs.  You read shit like that and you want to write about it yourself.  Screeds about internet fatties and so on.  Yelling at women for not having a sense of humor.

You read enough of this stuff and you pick up an adversarial tone toward women. Or rather, it brings out the natural hatred and resentment of women in a guy who thinks he doesn’t get laid enough.  A guy who thinks other guys are getting laid more than him.  Who thinks this relates to his own deeper worthiness, the judgment of some drunk chick.  Your failure to get her to act on some base impulse when another guy was successful at it.  It means you are a loser.  It affirms your own deeper self hatred.  And you get pissed off.

The weird thing is, I get laid plenty, and I still feel like this.  I get more ass than a toilet seat despite  my self-loathing being pretty dead-on in a lot of respects.  I am an underachieving mean-spirited layabout and chicks still like me.  Why on Earth do I get so mad at them– they like me a lot.  Most of them end up fucking me, and they call me, and I don’t call them back.  Why am I so resentful of women who are supposedly not wanting to sleep with me, when they are in fact sleeping with me.  I’m the one blowing them off.  You have to create more and more elaborate standards to keep considering yourself the victim.  You become angry that nineteen year old girls under one hundred twenty pounds with small noses and perfect facial symmetry want to sleep with some famous guy in a  band rather than you.  You become angry that guys with so-called “game” are getting laid more than you, when in fact game is completely accessible to everybody and if it were such a big deal, why didn’t you just learn it.  You become angry that guys with small noses and perfect facial symmetry have an easier time getting laid than you.  Not that they get laid more than you, but that they have an easier time of it. Like being rich by your own hand and getting pissed at people with inherited wealth. Continue reading →

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Diary 2005: Irritable Bowel Syndrome

6 Jul

Note: I no longer have Irritable Bowel Syndrome, thank fucking God:

I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

It’s a stupid fucking disease to have because:

A) It makes me swell up like a pregnant sow and shit hot acid and

B) It has an impossibly stupid name with a you’re-just-cranky connotation that compounds the embarassment of having a chronic medical condition that revolves around shit.  That makes you take shits of bizarre consistencies at highly inappropriate times and renders said shit-taking just ridiculously painful.

It’s actually pretty much gone now but back when I had it I didn’t know what it was. That made it worse. Doctors talked about cancer, colitis, Krohn’s– the type of stuff where they have to slice out your colon and your asshole, drill a hole in your side and sew in a plastic pipe attached to a shitbag that you have to empty by hand. What effect this would have on my already limited ability to get laid I dared not speculate. But for months I would just at random have horrible clawing pains in my belly, and then some appallingly discolored substance would fly out of my ass on very short notice and with no regard for my surroundings. I shat myself at work, for instance, several times. Once in a meeting. I shat myself at home and on my bike. You’d think that with repitition any experience becomes normal but shitting oneself in front of one’s peers is an exception.
Continue reading →

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