There’s no reason to spend a millisecond with another person who isn’t fucking me. And yet I do. I’ll see my parents. Then go to this stupid AA meeting. My father’s dead yet I still go to at least 50 parental birthday dinners a year. Because it’s Mother’s Day Father’s Day This Day That Day– some fucking wedding, Jesus Christ. There’s no Fuck Me Day, no Mexican Teen Pussy Day, Xbox Day. All chit chatting with old people until you look down and your own hands are old. Continue reading
I found an old penny on the table this morning. Before I went to toss it in my Yuban coffee can of old change, I had a premonition. If this penny was from the year of my birth, then…
I looked.
It was. Continue reading
“Joe” writes:
Hi Delicious Tacos,
I read a post a few years ago. It’s this one:
https://delicioustacos.com/2016/07/06/destroy-the-earth/
Has your life improved?
And then when he finally got a handjob it sucked. The fat girl who had edged him last time, the fat girl with the male orang utan face complete with cheek ridges, walked him back to the toilet and her giant ass in dark gray yoga pants made his dick too stiff to piss with anticipation. But they switched girls on him. Sent in an old woman with an old woman face. She tried to give him an actual massage. Leaned into his calves hard with her fists and he could feel her old woman finger bones. No collagen in her digits. Her handjob action too rigid. She wrapped his scrotum around the base of his pipe like an upside down rain poncho. His nuts like two heavy plums wrapped tight in a clear Safeway produce bag. Then after, his parachute size sac laying askew on one thigh, he felt like one of his nuts might have twisted. She was saying something about money and he was having a daydream about explaining his testicular torsion to the nurse at urgent care. He would say it was a girl. But he wouldn’t say he paid. Why didn’t you stop her, she would ask. I didn’t want to be rude.
He needed a raise. To save enough money to quit. HR was six months behind on his annual evaluation. This meant they knew he’d ask.
He’d had to follow up. The meeting was this morning. 9AM. The HR head would review his evaluation. They’d have budgeted an amount. But they wouldn’t mention money unless he asked. They’d pass his request to some anonymous personage. Come back with a smaller amount. A prior evaluation noted he did not always dress for the job he wanted. He would need to wear his crisp white shirt. It was custom tailored at Men’s Wearhouse. He’d had to buy it for a wedding. All cotton. No armpit stains. Continue reading
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