Diary: More on the Dogs

21 Jun

I threw a bucket of water on those dogs again this morning.  They were barking, or at least the one was.  They have been starting at 6:45 AM for several days.  Their bark volume is exactly high enough to still be audible over every fan in the house turned up to the maximum setting and placed in my bedroom, along with the loud guttural motor from the bathroom blower.  The next move is to turn on the AC on “fan” mode so no cold air is blowing from it.  In total this creates about the same amount of white noise as standing next to a jet engine.  And still,  still, you can hear the fucking dog: bark bark bark, bark bark bark.

So I got up this morning and filled a five gallon bucket with cold water and went to the bottom of my driveway and listened directionally so I could tell which of the 12,000 unruly dogs on my block was the one doing the barking.  I surmised that it was the border collie two houses down who either stands on his high porch bark bark barking or, if a person is walking by, runs down the stairs with his little white terrier friend and maniacally circles over and over again while bark bark barking and occasionally trying to bite through the gate.  I stood in front of his house; he and his buddy came down, and I dumped the water on them. Continue reading →

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I Am a Crab

20 Jun

and then… and then I clatter out from behind the piling, over the barnacles, and I find that a sea worm or other large benthic invertebrate has perished and washed up on the shore, and I drag it away with my disproportionately large right claw to a secluded area where my fellows cannot covet my succulent briney flesh-hoard. And I greedily munch it down with my little paired-mandible apparatus and generally wallow in the stink and decay of the sea. Delicious!

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STD Diary 2006: Tales from Non-Gonoccocal Urethrographic Oceans

20 Jun

I hope this is my last STD news until the warts show up. Negative for gonorrhea and chlamydia.

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Ooh— you little motherfucker. New job, new bathroom, new stage fright story. This disease makes me piss every fifteen minutes. My prostate is inflamed and it gets all swollen with urgency at these times. And so I go in there to take my piss and there’s a guy— nerdy, nebbishy looking guy, obviously a screenwriter, and again, I go in, give him a cursory head-nod, and he gives a subdued “hi.” Nothing wrong yet. Except now I’m about to piss and he starts going to town over at the sink, riding the fucking soap pump like it was a slot machine and activating— they have those stupid laser-activated sinks, and they give no hot water, and only this stingy one-second burst— and he’s waving his hands in front of it again and again. And then he grabs about fifteen c-fold paper-towels out of the dispenser and rubs them over every hand surface with great vigor, and then REPEATS the process— so at this point it’s clear that he’s an obsessive-compulsive. Continue reading →

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STD Diary 2006: Non-what-the-fuckal What-the-fuckitis

19 Jun

Non-gonoccocal urethritis.  The parking ticket of STD’s. Or if gonorrhea is the parking ticket of STD’s , this is the jaywalking ticket of STD’s— a good metaphor because you don’t even have to get in the car. I got it from a blowjob. FROM A BLOWJOB! When I was about to bone this chick the first time I was about 75% hard and she blew me , briefly, so I could get the condom on properly. There are ironies there I don’t even want to get into. But that’s how you get “NGU,” I guess. It’s a bacterial infection– ok, wait— who gets an STD FROM A FUCKING BLOWJOB? Continue reading →

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STD Diary 2006: Gonorrhea Gonorrhea Gonorrhea

18 Jun

NOTE: This is from 2006.  Do not read this, if you have had unprotected sex with me in the last six years, and think that I gave you some STD.  I did not.

Gonorrhea, Gonorrhea, Gonorrhea

Actually I think it might be chlamydia— the discharge is transparent, not all chunky and creamy and green— but whatever the fuck it is, it’s getting worse by the second. Chlamydia chlamydia chlamydia. Papilloma… these are really nice sounding words. I want to go into Planned Parenthood tomorrow and say “hello, i’d like to be tested for” (thick italian accent) ”Papilllllomaa… Gonnorrrrhea…” anyway, at least I had to get fucked to get it. The chick was hot. She was Filipina, which is an ethnicity I’d never fucked before, although I hate how people are all creepy about that. I hate guys who are “into Asian girls…” it’s like the white chicks who only date black guys. There’s always something wrong with them. But anyway, I have gonorrhea! Gonorrhea gonorrhea gonorrhea! Continue reading →

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Bio from Me & Nikol’s Aborted Internet Dating Advice Column

17 Jun

Cornelius J. Tacos is an underemployed drunkard living in squalor in an undesirable area of Los Angeles. He has no money, no ambition, and his face looks like it got hit with a shovel.  His car is the color of primer, and the A/C is busted and the windows don’t roll down.  And YET he still gets tons of dates, sex, and relationships, often with not bad looking nineteen year olds, off the internet.

Nikol Hasler is a twice-married single mother of three who lives in a decaying stucco house in Van Nuys with a cadre of rude drunks.  She is an alumna of the Wisconsin state foster care system—the Harvard of child sexual abuse—with all the self–esteem issues, broken sexuality, and lifelong substance abuse that that entails. AND YET she still meets and dates tons of handsome, funny, and rich men off the internet. Often they are of above average height with penis girths up to one and one half standard deviations above the norm. Continue reading →

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Remember

17 Jun

Whenever you jack off, all your dead relatives are watching you.

And they, too, are jacking off.

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Diary: Back to the Pussy War

16 Jun

OK, now I am back to wanting an actual girlfriend.  Like, I want one.  I want to get married, settle down, have kids, etc etc. So I gotta find one now.  What a fucking pain in the ass.

I mean, seriously.  I have tried this.  We have been through this.  And I failed.  But apparently you are not allowed to simply fail– if you go through twenty years of trying to find a nice girl to get married to, and you come out of it beat up and exhausted and you just, you’d like to enjoy a couple months of just sitting on the porch with your cat and a nice room temperature glass of inexpensive pinot noir on a  Friday night instead of let’s go out to bars where girls used to go, look at the girls, and be too scared to talk to the girls—you can’t do it; some mechanism in your glands fires off after a few weeks of defeated but relaxing non-activity and says “OK, good halftime, let’s get back out there.” Continue reading →

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The Crustaceans

15 Jun

When I was a kid, I used to always have this vision, this sensation, that there were these slimy black crustaceans, kind of like a crayfish, visible only to me. They lived underneath everything. And whenever I would touch a wall or a chair or something they would latch on to my hands and fingers with their knobby little black pincers, first a few and then more and more until there were thousands of them swarming up my arms fast as fuck and eating me. They had prickly little pincer-legs, glossy black eyes on twitchy little stalks, rows of serrated little mouth-feelers rippling up to a weird spiny-armored alien mandible– and I would basically have to shake the shit out of my hands to get them off, so hard that my thumb would snap into my fingers and make a loud noise. That was the whole point: my mind wanted to make me do something loud so that other people would notice and I would be embarrassed. When I saw that other people could hear it and were looking the sensation would only get worse, more vivid. I could feel their sharp little serrated mouths chewing into my skin, and the urge to shake them off would just fucking amplify… and I would just be standing there like a dick, everybody looking at me, with my arms kind of hanging out by my sides like a crippled bird, shaking the shit out of my hands and snapping my fingers and thumbs together. This was from like 10 to 13.

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OKCupid: Poly People

14 Jun

Anyway, poly people.  I agree with what they’re saying, when they explicitly outline the tenets of the poly lifestyle, or movement, or whateverthefuck it is on their profile.  And they always do.  There is always an apologia– I’m just doing what your husband is doing, but I’m doing it honestly.  There is always a knee jerk paragraph pre-empting some boilerplate criticism with their boilerplate response.  And that’s what sucks about poly people– their put-uponness.  Their humorlessness.  Same with the “S&M subculture” and all this other shit– I like fucking a bunch of girls; I like pulling their hair and maybe throwing a forearm into their neck once in a while, but I don’t like how much people who self-identify as liking these things talk like some tiny marginal religious group constantly bitching about how they just want to be left alone on their compound.  Trust me, people do not give as much of a shit as you think and it would just– it would just make you easier to be around if you weren’t so god damn touchy.  It’s like this with porn stars too.  Every conversation with them, they’re so guarded, so conscious that they’re going to be held in contempt– they’re nerds, these porn stars.  They’re nerds sitting in the AV club constantly bitching about the jocks, who are everyone who doesn’t take a load in the eye for a living.

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