2012 Diary: Summer’s Over
11 Feb
image stolen from nationalgallery.org.uk
Summer’s over. Maybe I’ll get fat. Not walking around with my shirt off sunup to sundown every weekend. If you’re not in shape, try being in shape. Pussy just falls on you. I used to think girls liked my personality. Now I’ve come to the horrifying conclusion that I’m physically attractive. This means everything I think and believe is bullshit. My mind is merely tolerated. At least I don’t have a big wang. Continue reading
Important Message
9 FebThe phone rings. An automated message in Spanish. The only words I understand are “mensaje importante” and “escuela.” Important message from school. I get these twice a week. I press buttons. Nothing makes it English or puts a person on or gets an answering machine. Call back, get an 18 minute outgoing message about which dates free school lunch applications are accepted in person. Friday… July… 18th.. from…. 12…PM…to… 2… PM. 20 of those and then again in Spanish. The mailbox is full. Continue reading
The Jerk at the End of a 7 Day Nofap
6 FebMany suitors, but I chose “Surprise for Sleeping Sister.” A woman lays on her stomach. You mostly see her ass in multicolored panties. A man strokes his angry red penis for 90 seconds. Squeezes a halfhearted load in her ass crack. She does not wake. You can hear a Family Guy episode in the background. Mr. Spock wins the lottery and tells the rest of the Enterprise to go fuck themselves. McFarlane doesn’t try to sound like Spock. The niggardly load coughed up onto the sister’s plump ass cheeks barely registers. It will be harmlessly absorbed into fabric and unnoticed. There will be no surprise. Continue reading
Diary: Bright Shiny Morning
1 Feb(Note: the title of this piece is stolen from one of James Frey’s fake memoirs)
All right, good morning. My boss had a migraine today. This means she’s leaving the company. My job will go away. Bills will pile up and up. I will never have money, never have a wife, children. I’ll die alone. I will trip on a crack in the sidewalk and break my jaw and walk around with a cracked mandible half hanging off my skull and swelling like plastic grocery bags full of lard. My penis will shrink and my balls will grow and I’ll be raped and cut to pieces in the street but I won’t die. I’ll live and live while the pigeons peck at my eyes. I will never feel better. A clown will be there and he will laugh at me.
My anal abscess will come back. I will be broke. I will not get unemployment. I will not get another job. Who would hire a man with an infected ass. I will never travel, never fall in love, never again have a girl stroke my back with her hot palm, kiss my ear. No more Isla in her little panties. I’ll never write anything good. The cat will die. My ass. Did I mention my ass. The bills and tickets and taxes will stack up and the city of Los Angeles will send a mounted death squad to my home to take my cock as payment. I will shrink, turn ugly, I will be a retarded Stephen Hawking; I’ll live in a mechanized wheelchair and shit in a bag that’s attached to me by a plastic hose and my penis will break out in boils and everyone will see it and know. The Xbox will break. The car will break, fuck man– my ass really… it doesn’t quite hurt yet, it just feels like there’s a tooth in it. A molar. I did eat hot sauce and Brussels sprouts last night. Maybe that’s the issue.
Diary: Going to a Baby Shower
22 DecMaybe I’ll meet someone at the baby shower. This is the sort of shit my sponsor would tell me to look for women at. The sort of shit that normal men, men who talk like sitcom dialogue, would tell me to meet women at. “That sort of shit drives chicks NUTS, man,” says a balding potbellied actuary who has never fucked a woman after a baby shower. These will be normal girls, accomplished girls with a slight artistic bent who dress well and are friends of friends. That’s how Brown University Mini Cooper driving girls over 28 get their dick– friends introducing them. You should meet Jake, he hang glides and has a great job. My friends, all the girls they know are ugly. Or my friends who know hot girls never invite me places. Why would you.
The girls at the baby shower have boyfriends. Probably someone they met at a previous baby shower. Whatever, just go and congratulate these people on their stupid baby. I want to have kids some day but god help me I don’t want to have a stupid baby shower. I have to bring a stupid baby picture of myself so they can project it on the wall and play a guessing game. Which adult is which baby. God, they will think– what the fuck happened to his face. Wonder if I have one in a drawer somewhere. No, just some diaper fetish hooker’s business card.
Diary: I Hate Women and God
16 Dec
image stolen from wikipedia
I hate my first ex who broke my heart. I hate the girl I lost my virginity to, for then telling me she had a boyfriend. I hate my mother for teaching me to respect women. I hate capitalism. Every job I ever had made me so I could have money to get women. Money isn’t so I can eat, sleep in a building, etc. It’s for women. Jobs aren’t even for money. You just have to have one because women ask: what do you do. Continue reading
New Book
delicioustacos 