What the fuck else. I’m a broken and defeated man. Spiritually castrated. It feels great. The dream, the wife and kid dream keeps trying to sneak back. But it’s gone. I let it go.
I don’t have to write. Pain on my left side around the rib where I got Muay Thai kicked in the back and again in the chest. It will heal or it won’t. Things will be fine. It will be fine if things are not fine. My life and death– saying they don’t matter is a stretch. But there are no stakes. I let it go.
What the fuck else. What to write about. I want to have sex with (REDACTED). I want her big titties in my face and her smelly Armenian pussy oozing on my thighs. She’s 4′ 11” so I don’t know if this is biomechanically possible. I want to suck (REDACTED)’s hairy snatch and I resent myself for not pushing her to see me. Out of respect for her boyfriend. Who it turns out was fucking his ex too. Stockpiling hoes. She looks not great in pictures. Hot in person. She has Double G titties, she tells me. I’d have to look at a chart to know what that means. She’s smart in a way that gives you a hard on. She’s the only kind of bargain there is now– bad in pictures but secret hot. Only fuckable in the third dimension.
We’re wrapping up the project. That doesn’t mean I’ll kill myself. I gotta remember– when I get the feeling of putting my affairs in order– that before that I have hundreds of thousands of dollars to spend on whores. If there’s no future– well I could leave it all to my nieces and nephews. But I’m spending it on whores. Decades of Filipino money. I’ll die alone but plenty of time before that to jack off and watch Netflix. And those Netflix shows are fucking good.
**
Baby with a helmet. I’m at the coffee shop. There’s a long faced Filipina woman behind a glass partition across from me. And she looked at me. I still got it.
I looked fat in the changing room mirror at the vintage store. I got two sweet T shirts. One says “Ruger” and one says “Thank God I’m Scottish.” I looked fat but maybe because I haven’t tanned. So I should go tan. Get Chinese food and go to the gym. She has nice eyes, the long face woman. Nice eyes and a baboon face with a six mile long philtrum. I want to fuck that baboon.
I want to sniff this baboon faced woman’s crotch. She looks like a magical realist South American painting. Now she knows I’m looking at her and is not making eye contact. She’s disgusted. A black guy sits next to me and watches YouTube without earphones. Baboon face gets up to leave. Black yoga pants. She puts her mask back on and looks hot. When you can’t see a woman’s face you rotoscope in an 8.
**
The coffee maker broke. Ten years. Emily gave it to me because I smashed my glass French press hammered. The Mr. Coffee Model JWX9-RB boasts an unbreakable steel carafe. The French press was a gift too. I used it on fancy beans from the rich people store where they have clear acrylic bins of organic heirloom chick peas, etc. But coffee from the JWX9 was just as good. Ten years because there was no glass to break. I not only enjoyed the shit out of every cup of coffee it made, but my guests remarked “this is great coffee.” Needless to say Mr. Coffee discontinued the JWX9. There’s one on eBay but it has the the glass carafe.
Walmart’s web site said the new model 5 cup Mr. Coffee was available at the Burbank Supercenter. Burbank is LA but it was still a real Walmart. Women in stretch pants with huge high lumpy asses like trash bags of autumn leaves. Anatomical impossibilities. Men who look like Tiger King, like Nu Metal MMA fighters. American flags on sale. The 5 cup Mr. Coffee that replaced the JWX9 was out of stock. They had a generic brand whose build felt cheap. The plastic handle and lid felt like they’d soften in heat.
I failed. I went to the gym. A woman with a thick ass and black yoga pants did standing shoulder presses in front of me. Her ass cheeks clenched and plumped into a fat T shape with each rep. Thick meaty ass. I was reading Story of the Guy by Rachel Rabbit White. Angela sent it to me. I’d assumed she sucked but it was good. A desperate woman becomes bored with a wealthy autistic man. A French guy eats her ass.
The web site said the 5 cup Mr. Coffee was available. All of life is like this. You do what you’re told and don’t get what you want. Walmart’s across from the animal shelter where I got Bud. When I left there was traffic. I was parked outside of it, looking at it for a long time. This was why God sent me to Walmart.
Bud was in a clear acrylic cage and they were going to kill him. Instead he had a great life. We had a great life together. How long will I cry about my cat. Until I’m dead probably, or until I do have a kid and he gets hit by a truck. The new cat didn’t stop me crying over the old cat. The neighbor’s retarded Doberman– I swear to God this dog has autism– will kill my new cat and shit will just compound. I’ll be crying over two cats, four cats, etc.
What does it mean. They were going to kill him and he had a great life. We had a great life together. Maybe I should adopt a kid. Link up with one of these Hinge 40 year olds. But I don’t want to go through the audition. I should not have to read for this role. I’m tall, built like a Muay Thai fighter, my face not that ugly. I make insane money. I’m famous and a lot of people like me. But if it’s get out there and shill these bullet points or die alone– I choose die alone. Work your whole life or die alone– die alone. I am an absolute bargain bin find, a fully programmable Mr. Coffee model JWX9-RB. I can’t tap dance anymore.
I’m only fuckable in the fifth dimension. I’m seeing a Lithuanian. She’s like an elf with big tits. I take her to the woods. I barely want to fuck her. I’m spiritually castrated. But whatever she puts in her hair smells nice on my pillow. I failed and I give up. It feels great.
delicioustacos 
I come here on occasion, and I don’t skip your paragraphs.
You have that authentic quality in spades — Writer’s Voice. It is distilled from your emotional state which doesn’t quite descend to brooding but instead is like a broken record playing that “Kick to the Head (Love Is)” song by Dean Martin.
Someday someone may pluck you out of L.A. and move you to more hospitable climes. People are watching you. Just keep doing your schtick and keep giving up (but getting back up on that hamster wheel all the same) and who knows what miracles may occur? Your life is only half over.
— Catxman
http://www.catxman.wordpress.com
gonna leave a comment before i even read the poast. ‘cuz it looks like a long one. hang in there, pal. and i don’t mean by a noose or anything. you’re not getting out that easy. long road ahead. still gotta retire to the filipines with a filipina wife.
couldn’t you just get the one with the glass carafe and use your existing stainless steel carafe? or is this too midwit?
Yeah that’s what I’m gonna do
“Netflix shows are fucking good”
what shows in particular, or is that too personal of a question?
So far The Witcher, Wild Wild Country, Stranger Things and Tiger King
thanks, i might check out one or two of those. but i don’t wanna pay netflix. i’ll ask a bumble wine aunt if i can come over and watch one of these shows with her.
Funny what qualifies as “insane money” to these barely literate American desk drones. Bet it’s not even 200k before taxes, and for an entire year.
A peasant’s wages.
Not built like a fighter, definitely far from famous. Though that’s more of an LA thing than a taco thing. LA dudes automatically have to assume this since they live in this weird bubble where if a few hundred people have heard of you, then you must be “famous”.
Famously gay. Lusting after near menopausal snatches. Which maybe not literally gay but close enough. Taco should just go full-gay with all the never ending “hey I look so great” tales. At least then sh*t would come together for him.
Heh. Also, “insane money”.
It’s true, I should go gay
u cud change ur twattr pfp (profile pic) to one of ur shirtless pics (no homo) instead of using kenny rogers (rip). Probaby boost sales and get more biofem followers (moar poosie). werks for ZEROHEDGE (most #based altnews site) even though none of their owners/writers look like a shirtless brad pitt. one of the biggest and most successful larps. at least u r ackshually of that body (which men want to have and wahmen wants to touch). also werked wonders 4 BAP who is undoubtedly doing very well now. the brandy ad pic from filipeens of them poking ur abs could also work very well. nibba u got 1 life to live (and shill). why not maximise so u can retire earlier. whilst u still hab yoof.
*the above remarks is not to be construed as advice. but i hab nevar led u astray in past? nein
“This is why God sent me to Walmart.”
thank you for that, i needed it.
DelTacos have you checked out Nightmare Alley (involves alkieholism) and Tinder Swindler (on Nflix)….pls respond
You control what you put in your hole. Always a choice.
Keep making the one that makes sense for your life. Being straight doesn’t make life easy, shit still happens, you have to deal with.
You’ve got it.
You control what you put in your hole.