You can’t get out of the “what do you do” question. It is always, ALWAYS the first thing people ask after learning your name. I was told that Europeans consider it rude but apparently not since every single fucking European ever also does it in every conversation. What do you do? What is the only activity on the entire planet, in all of history, that you just spent 60 miserable, thankless and non-remunerative hours doing, and now are trying to spend one of your scant free moments escaping from– WHAT IS THAT THING, I demand that you tell me immediately and spend several minutes discussing it by rote, either for some venal “industry” reason or because I am so completely unimaginative that I’m incapable of discussing any other fucking topic. And you try to steer them away from it, and they fucking INSIST. “No, but really– what do you do?” I’m the Senior Vice President of Go Fuck Yourself. Jesus.
What to Expect When You’re Getting in Shape
21 MarLabor, agony, tedium, deprivation. The shattering damage to your joints and tendons. The shattering damage to your social and leisure life. The horrible diminishing returns as you approach the goal– an unholy small percentage of body fat– getting down to like thirteen per cent is manageable but that’s a merely OK body. To have any real muscle definition whatsoever you need to be below ten per cent body fat, which requires a hideous self-flagellatory cardio routine that makes you unbelievably hungry combined with a stark bare food regimen so that you’re constantly obsessed with food; the smell of food is like a whiff of a teenage girl’s ovulating vagina and a commercial for cookies is like porn.
And then once you get there you need to maintain it with hours upon hours of boredom and pain that you NEVER slack off on, just in case someone should happen to see you shirtless and that one extra millimeter of body fat you’ve accrued is the fulcrum of their decision whether or not to sleep with you. Because you believe that the world is this way– that you will have lifted weights religiously for years and years and years and then suddenly the ONE time you slack off for a few weeks is the time it will matter. Suddenly a beautiful intelligent interesting woman will be nearby and you will be required to remove your shirt, perhaps for a tourniquet or something.
But You Know,
20 Marevery time you see a bunch of guys wearing some stupid thing, reflect on the fact that it is completely, 100% women’s fault. Because you once fucked some guy wearing flannel, one of the early adopters, and he then went and wore his lucky shirt out every weekend, and people said, hey, look, that guy who gets laid is wearing flannel, I better pick up some flannel myself. This is why we see so many Psycho-billy guys and all the other weird subgenre uniforms. Some girl who couldn’t get laid with the singer in a band fucked a guy with the same hair instead and now we all have to live with this. Dice tattoos, etc. Reverend Horton Heat is still getting dudes laid in Glendale and I haven’t heard from him since he was on Beavis & Butthead.
Diary: Steve Jobs Sucks Cocks in Hell
19 MarUgh, thinking about work. Thinking about work on a Sunday. Not only that, but I better get off this journal and go do some actual fucking work. On a Sunday. Because I am a white collar professional in the United States of America in 2012. Typically, in the past, a job with these sorts of demands would have a least paid you handsomely. But now, everything is in decline. Every industry. So we all gotta work harder, we gotta work longer, we gotta do more with less. We gotta hustle. So many people want your job that you are constantly auditioning for your job. And yes, I know it’s better than getting your hands chopped off in some Sierra Leonian diamond mine at age ten. My point is, only marginally. Continue reading
More on Porn
18 MarIt’s funny that the kind of porn I want to watch– young, attractive people who appear to actually like each other having sex in non-gymnastic positions until he ejaculates in her– it’s funny that this is a fetish. Specifically, if you don’t want to see a guy blow a fire-hydrant like load on a chicks face while she pretends to lick it up from around her mouth, you must watch “creampie” porn, which started out as just, you know, regular fucking except the guy blows his load inside her, and has devolved now into a whole subgenre where the girl lets the jizz dribble out of her gaping ass into a martini glass which is on top of a plexiglass coffee table so you can shoot from below, and then drinks out of the glass. Or it’s one of those fake “amateur” porns that reintroduces theatrical acting into the porn, a scenario where the girl repeatedly says “don’t cum inside me don’t cum inside me” and then he cums inside her, albeit holding his dick so only the very tip is in her to insure the jizz remains fully visible as the camera cuts to it oozing out before panning up to the girl’s face where she is cartoonishly slanting her eyebrows into an “angry” expression while berating him. You can’t just have a couple fucking and then he starts going a little faster, then suddenly grabs her real hard and pushes into her while holding her in a deathgrip like a koala bear on a eucalyptus and makes a dopey face likes he’s taking a shit and then relaxes. Which is all I want to do in life, you know, just cum in a chick and then relax. But you can’t see that in porn. Continue reading
Hey Everybody:
15 MarShut the fuck up about grammar. Especially shut the fuck up about “they’re,” “their” and “there” and “you’re” and “your.” And especially especially shut the fuck up about textspeak. We lost that battle. As a society, we lost the fight; in the future, we are all going to be using “r” for “are” and “u” for “you” and generally constructing sentences as though we were building a custom license plate.
Shut the fuck up in a general sense with grammar prescriptivism, because: the people who you think need your message most are never, ever going to listen to you. You are pushing Zionism to a guy wearing an explosive vest. You are pitching a Palestinian homeland to a guy who can’t turn the lights on on Saturdays and won’t touch a strange woman just in case she’s menstruating. You are never going to make even one iota of headway and there is nothing more irritating on Earth than a self-appointed copy editor.
STD’s
13 MarI had an STD once. It was “non-gonococcal urethritis.” This means- something is in your dick, hurting it, and we know that it is not gonorrhea. We don’t know what it is, but we know what it isn’t. Thanks science.
I took a bunch of antibiotics for it. It still did not go away. This was terrifying of course. I went to doctor after doctor, had my dickhole abrasively rubbed against microscope slides, had a guy milk my fucking prostate to test if some identifiable virus was lurking in the very most profound depths of my well of pre-cum— no. Nothing. I was terrified, but every doctor was just like: “meh.” Don’t worry about it. Sometimes this shit happens, and eventually it just goes away.
Really? Because I was told that if you get an STD you will carry it for life, infect everyone you ever look at, and then when the poor chick goes to have a baby 20 years from now its eyes will come out sealed shut with massive grapelike clusters of warts and the fucking thing will meekly flail its Chernobyl flippers before exploding and taking out 20 city blocks, and it will all be your fault. I was told that if you even think about sticking your dick in someone without a condom, a dental dam, spermicidal jelly, and the pill you will instantly get AIDS and impregnate the girl with a spider’s nest full of three-headed demons.
New Book
delicioustacos 
Dick Extender
7 MarI totally get why women get ridiculously huge breast implants. Because if such a thing existed for your dick I would get one immediately and it would be huge. A cartoon. It would be the dick some girls talk about when they are transparently trying to console you about the fact that your dick is not huge, the “you know, I don’t really even like huge dicks. Sometimes it’s just not even comfortable.” I would get that dick. Because she would talk about it. She would say to her girlfriends “you know, Jesus, it’s just too big; I don’t even want to fuck him sometimes because it hurts.” And the girl she was telling- it’s not like I picture her immediately wanting to fuck me, but maybe she would just want to see it. She would just be curious.
But the best you can do is something like this. Apparently if you hang those weights off your dick, or whatever this device does- basically this study found that certain kinds of mechanical penis enlargement actually work. They will extend your flaccid penis by a tiny but non-negligible amount after using the device for six hours per day for like six months. Continue reading →
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