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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One of My Dreams Is Coming True

14 Jun

My posts about fatties are getting torn apart in Jezebel comments, in a thread about a Hugo “let me take a break from preaching sanctimonious feminist boilerplate to try to kill my girlfriend and fuck a couple of my nineteen year old students” Schwyzer article no less.  Sadly the discussion is now in their “groupthink” area which is un-trafficked, but the ladies do not disappoint:

http://jezebel.com/groupthink/forum?comment=50609638

And you know, they are not wrong.  I am an asshole. I am a “Piece. Of. Shit.” with three periods.  I am a “sad little loser.”  I deserve to have my “balls shrivel up and fall off.”  I am “wrapped in a muscle suit of hate.”  A muscle suit, of hate. Continue reading →

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Celebrity Sighting: Busta Rhymes

13 Jun

From 2005:

I saw Busta Rhymes in the gym. He was with a whole crew. They stopped the regular gym music and put on… a fucking Busta Rhymes record, the one where he says “If you really wanna party with me/ Put your hands where my eyes can see.” The entourage was rocking out to it, and Busta started repeating the lyrics to them in weird primitive English, like: “it say: ‘put yo’ hands where my eyes can see!’” But speaking, not rapping. And they would laugh uproariously for some reason.

That’s how I want to travel someday- with a cadre of jewel-encrusted black men the size of tyrannosaurs, who laugh whenever I speak like it was the funniest fucking thing they ever heard.

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Protected: Inflatable Pig

12 Jun

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Delicioustacos, the President Urgently Needs Your Help

11 Jun

Fuck you, President Barack Obama.

And First Lady Michelle Obama, and Vice President Joe Biden, and fuck you Anne Marie Habershaw, and David Axelrod; fuck you Jim Messina, fuck you Mary Jane Stevenson; eat a fucking dick Julianna “Cock Destroyer” Smoot; choke on my balls Stephanie “Turd” Cutter; fuck youleta, Katherine Archuleta; Rufuckyou* Rufus Gifford, and on and on and on to all the dozens of jerkoffs who email me CONSTANTLY, EVERY MOTHERFUCKING DAY begging for money for Barack Obama.  A president whom I voted for and supported, but of course, my fucking VOTE doesn’t mean shit since I live in California and unless you actually skullfucked a baby on TV there is no way you’re not carrying this state.  So who gives a shit how I vote.  No, fuckface, your vote means nothing.  We need your motherfucking MONEY.

Fuck all of you because every five god damn minutes I look at my blackberry and see the red asterisk of a new incoming email and I think it’s a new comment on my blog or correspondence from a friend and instead it’s you god damn panhandlers finding some new excuse to hit me up for cash.  If I donate three dollars I get a chance to have dinner with George Clooney,  which– if I’m having dinner with George that’s work for me; I better be getting paid.  Or: RED ALERT! Mitt Romney has outraised Obama for the first time, in fact the first time Barack has been outfunded by an opponent since 2007– well shit, that second part is news to me; I thought you guys were the fucking underdogs.  Are you telling me you had MORE money than the Republicans this whole time? Fuck off then. Look where that got you. I should be marrying my male bride at the Satanic church before retiring home to my mountain of free insurance and unemployment payments by now. Continue reading →

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