Shit I Didn’t Post in 2015 (Part 1)

23 Dec


Clearing out the vault. Here’s some shit you might have read this year, if I could have cracked it:

Waiting for the Bus

The fucking bus will never come. Die by the side of the 101. Skeleton with a long beard, flesh picked clean by squirrels. A Mexican will stand in my rib cage, sell fruit. The bus will never come. Or the bike rack will be full. Haul the bike up the steps every morning, next to the homeless camp under the bridge. One guy’s tent is bigger than my apartment. What goes on in there. Pull aside the Home Depot tarp and there’s a disco ball, full bar. Captain Morgan proclaiming “welcome to the party;” waves his saber with a flourish. These homeless people have better lives than me. Pick up your GR check and drink all day.

The fucking bus. I woke up at 530. Gotta shave, gotta check your shave because it’s fucking difficult to get every last little fiber. You end up with a two millimeter sprout right under your nostril drawing attention to the tangled nest of white nose hairs crawling out from your deviated septum. Your nostrils are what you imagine the nostrils of James Cromwell to look like. Trim the nose hairs. Iron your dress shirt. Spend the day vigilantly guarding it from stains.

On the bus now. The thing lurches around. Women behind me jabbering in Spanish. Para this para that. Some bullshit. Their daughters getting pregnant; sons going to jail. Making tamales. Or they could be figuring out the next fucking satellite launch for all I know. What do I talk about. Pussy and taking shits.


Christina’s Visit

I want Christina to fly to LA so I can fuck her. She was weirded out by my blog post. And she should be. The stuff about wanting to live inside an asshole came from her. Emailed her yesterday: yes come stay with me. I was horny. I also chased a girl on tinder with a face like Scott Baio.

A wise man told me: jerking off is like defrosting the windshield. It’s not a good idea to have Christine here. But she’s pretty and young and Chinese and I want to shoot cum in her asshole. She emailed me. I was at work and couldn’t jerk off. I want you to fill my hot holes with cum she says. Get me pregnant, she says. Call me daddy’s little cum slut, she says. I’m going to take pills and kill myself, she says. There should be places for men to jerk off before decisions. Like a public urinal but it sucks your cock.


The No Rape Trophy

We’re talking about rape. She went to Oberlin and is interested in midwifery. She pronounces it “mid-whiff-ery.” It’s not going well. The prevalence of rape is overstated, I tell her. And how do you know that, she says. Because I’ve never done it. If anybody were gonna do it, it’d be me. She says what do you want, a trophy.

Yes. I want one of those giant old bowling trophies from a yard sale in Parma Ohio. Five tiers tall with a marble base. Towers going up in metallic green plastic. At the top two brass plated figures. A woman prone. A man with arms crossed grudgingly looking away. The no rape trophy.

I think I’ll go to another bar, she says.

Good luck out there honey.


Roll Call

Judy got a boyfriend. I didn’t want her but I wanted to keep her in my pocket. The one AA girl who didn’t look at me like a worm. It happened unexpectedly, she said. A) Bullshit B) good shit never happens to me unexpectedly.

Isla got a boyfriend. We’d made an arrangement. Come here a couple times a week, I said. We’ll fuck and eat takeout. Watch movies. All right with her. We’d had a good night together. This time was different, she told me. You’re actually talking to me. I thought all you ever wanted to do was fuck. Finally I’d replaced Gertrude, another young Asian.

She found some college boy. From her facebook it’s moving quickly. They make art. When I went to unfriend her I came close to crying. I am almost forty years old.

Who else. Agnes. Her I miss the most; even her pussy giblets. I could call her but my sponsor was right. She is emotionally unavailable. Speaking to her will only hurt me. Her boyfriend before me was some kind of pick up artist. She needs to be gamed. That means: fuck other girls while you date her. Who has the energy.

Emily went crazy and will never speak to me again, again. Astrid’s kid got into meth. Her whole life is a Very Special Episode. She sits all day on facebook posting his baby pictures.

I’d like to talk to girls on the street but I’m invisible. I see the same girls over and over again at AA meetings. I remember every one of their arm hairs. Every time I speak to them I need to be introduced.


Sex Slaves for All

OKCupid shows me single moms who love and laugh and live. They look like the big muppets that had the Fraggles in their basement. They switched the rating system; I went from Elvis Presley to dog shit overnight. Had to switch my zip code to Manhattan to to pump it back up. Women out there are thirsty. Pitiable. Our Los Angeles girls, stuck up cunts who make you understand Elliot Rodger.

I’m a sad lonely person. All I do is pay bills. Taxes. Sit sadly on the bus because my car broke. Get to work, use Excel and Powerpoint to create data driven solutions for market leading brands. I have quality insurance and a matching 401K but they’re always out of diet coke. They get the same amount of each soda. Like sixteen cases per order. The diet coke is gone in three weeks; there’s diet Dr. Pepper in there from 1988. At a company that provides data driven solutions. Count the fucking soda. It’s like the guy who buys cookies for the AA meeting– the chocolate chip is gone instantly. Every other flavor just sits there. Every cookie purchase should be at least 85 per cent chocolate chip. God should have made human beings at least 85 per cent young attractive women. I’d say something at work but I don’t want to make waves. They provide free Activia so the women can shit.

On the bus. Girl across from me smiles at me. She’s immense, but she’s 19 and Mexican and wears yoga pants. That’s all I want. A young fat girl who reads at a third grade level.

I’m not exceptionally ugly and my body is five pounds away from Brad Pitt in Fight Club. But none of this means shit. The one hot girl at work looks at me like an insect. I bike to the bus to the office to the bike to the bus to the house where I sleep and wake up and do it again. Once a week dig into my mailbox. Look at all my bills which are slightly more than what I earn. Again and again and again while my hairs turn gray, my skin gets loose; the one part of my youth left is horniness. Almost 40 and it’s the same as when I was 13. The only thing that makes my dick soft is a woman I love and respect.

Everything would be OK if they legalized whores. Made them cheap. Whores should be like the military. You become a hooker, you’re in the trenches for a few years but after that you get health care and a pension. Young girls get arrested, they should give them the option: go to jail or join the hooker corps.

It sounds disgusting but then we send people to have their limbs blown off, faces burned off, souls mutilated. We send kids to kill babies. Or we send them to fix rear differentials on jeeps while trapping them in a corrugated steel minimall where they’re forced to buy Pizza Hut courtesy of Halliburton. One in nine black men are incarcerated. They make fifty cents an hour doing collections calls for Verizon. We’re already an appalling factory farm to crush and cripple human lives, but we’re doing it to men so it’s no big deal. Let women have a taste. From the ages of twelve to twenty five, let them take dick for the government. GI Jane. It shouldn’t be mandatory. But it should be an option. Teen girls should be channeled into federally funded sexual slavery, is what I’m saying. Write your congressman.


7 Responses to “Shit I Didn’t Post in 2015 (Part 1)”

  1. Atlanta Man December 23, 2015 at 9:08 pm #

    Sex Slaves was the best of the bunch, but I enjoyed them all. Sex Slavs was the only one with that “ummph” for lack of a better word. I know you dream of the short well edited pieces, but I kind of dig the longer ones. “Back From the Pussy War” was a good short one, and you have had a lot of good short ones- but all the ones I like from your overall top posts have been the long ones.

    Also, as a fan I like getting to look at the ones you toss, or choose not to post. I like seeing the process and what you think was not up to snuff. I do not think I could have written anything as good as the shit you are tossing. I will soon have free time and money,I was planning on going out and living some bold, aggressive, well funded hedonism-Then writing about the debauchery including the failed attempts to keep it real and not just the highlight reel. If I was to go to a hot Miami party, do blow all night, pull off a threesome with a couple of bad bitches, and fuck for 14 hours straight by switching to Meth and Cialis and while still in an amphetamine daze podcast that shit live with video feed and subsequently write about it on my blog, it would be less entertaining than you writing about waiting for the bus.

  2. olivermaerk December 24, 2015 at 1:42 am #

    That are very interesting posts. A agree with “Atlanta Man” the sex slave story was the best of them all.

  3. me December 24, 2015 at 12:12 pm #

    Roll call was nice, its good to get updates. No rape trophy was good but seems like it would be part of another story.

  4. Soul Barer December 26, 2015 at 12:25 am #

    Write your congress man, super!

    One can dream.

  5. Onlooker December 28, 2015 at 10:24 am #

    “Whores should be like the military. You become a hooker, you’re in the trenches for a few years but after that you get health care and a pension.”

    It’s almost like that already.


  1. Shit I Didn’t Post in 2015 (Part 1) | - December 23, 2015

    […] Shit I Didn’t Post in 2015 (Part 1) […]

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