You Ever Feel Like

24 Feb

Your whole life is just that moment when you’re trying to leave a voicemail, and you hear I’ll record your message at the tone. When you are finished, you may hang up, or press “pound” for further options.  To send a fax, press– and you’re like, OK, fuck this.  You press “1” to get straight to the beep.

But the voicemail woman cuts you off, and suddenly her tone is somehow much smarmier.  I’m sorry: “1” is not a valid option.  I’ll record your message at the tone.  When you are finished, you may hang up… and it goes again, from the beginning, through this whole long litany of options you have, such as somehow implausibly sending a fax to someone’s mobile phone.  Because unbeknownst to you this is one of the approximately 40% of phones where pressing “1” will not get you straight to the beep.  Instead it will trigger a stern-sounding non-apology from this woman, where the voice actress completely nails the tone of someone ostensibly apologizing to you for some inconvenience, but who in her heart is only sorry that you are too retarded to know that pressing “1” will avail you of nothing.  It will only force her to patiently repeat the many options she has already taken the trouble to lay out for you very clearly and now has to waste her precious time explaining again. Continue reading →

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Dear Nicole: The Future Wife

23 Feb

Here’s what happened.  As you know, Nicole, I despair of ever finding a mate and hate & resent that you have a live-in boyfriend.  In fact I hate and resent anyone who can find a relationship.

Anyway, I was driving home Thursday night and despairing about this.  I actually resorted to prayer.  I said, please, God, let me meet my future wife.  And I had this kind of premonition that said: if you go to the Short Stop tonight, she will be there.

Normally I would dismiss this sort of thing, but it felt different, and realer than my other crazy thoughts.  Also, last time I actually prayed, it was “please, God, just let something good happen to me tonight,” and I went to the Short Stop, and a hot girl was actually there, alone, and I took her home and boned her.  So God has come through for me at the Short Stop before, seriously.

So I went.  I was tired, and had shit to do, but I went, just in case God was sending my future wife there.  The idea was that if I sat down and had two drinks, I would meet her.  So as soon as I walk in I start scouting out the talent.  Fat Mexican chicks, ugly girls— one cute girl but clearly a Lesbian…. nothing.  But as I’m ordering my second drink I see a really cute but just flawed enough that I might actually have a shot type chick, with a dude who is way better looking than me.  I assume this is her boyfriend.  But just as I’m getting down to the LAST SIP of my second drink this girl comes up and stands next to me, and asks me what I’m looking at on my blackberry. She needs to stay by the bar to give the dude, her roommate, space to hit on a chick.

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When Women

22 Feb

say they “like nerdy guys,” they mean a guy in an indie rock band who gets laid more than Tiger Woods, but wears the black glasses like the Central Casting nerd. And when you take them off, it’s like when the “ugly” chick takes off her glasses in that Freddy Prinze Jr. movie. In other words, they’re not talking about you.

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Molly

21 Feb

She got on fucking birth control for him. Fucking right away. And she told me it was— she told me she had to go to the doctor and it was some medical condition but that’s fucking bullshit. She did it for him. She did it for him and she wouldn’t do it for me. Fucking twat. She’s going to get fat. She’s going to be fat with small tits and she has horrible teeth. Her incisors splay out on top of her— what the fuck, her other incisors, Jesus— this is hard, I’m not a fucking dentist. Her two very front teeth splay out on top of her two second-from-frontmost teeth, they kind of—they collapse toward each other in the middle. It’s like an old paperback book open in the middle. And they’re yellow. She’s really white and her teeth are really yellow and she gets zits sometimes and she drags her teeth when she blows you and I don’t understand why this dude is going out with her. And she doesn’t fucking drink and is extremely doctrinaire about Alcoholics Anonymous and is constantly going to meetings and then has to come home and be with her hideous, annoying pets and her house smells like cat shit. I have one cat, and he’s quiet, attractive and sleek. And he shits outside. If your pets are ugly I feel sorry for you. But then, maybe this new guy is my cat and I’m her cat, in terms of attractiveness.

She’s fat and stupid and I hate her but she has such pretty eyes. And a great sense of style. And she’s just generally fun to be around. And if her being fat bothered me I guess I wouldn’t be boning a bunch of other much fatter chicks.

Anyway, she got on birth control for him. Because she loves him and she didn’t love me. She probably sleeps with him all the time; she would never sleep over here. Fucking twat. Die, die, die, you horrible stupid twat. Also, get back together with me.

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Celebrity Sighting: Julia Roberts

20 Feb

So I hershey squirted on the way to work this morning. Just as I got on the freeway. Couldn’t turn around. I just sped to work as fast as possible with my ass clenched thinking: I’ll pop in the (shared) restroom and rapidly clean myself up, throw out the boxers, and commando it at work. Should be fine, as long as I’m alone in the can.

I get in– there’s no parking, but I figure it out. Get in the can. Lo and behold there is an extremely dignified elderly man in a bespoke London tailor type suit meticulously cleaning his contact lenses in the sink. So I have to go in the stall and pretend like I’m just taking a shit till he leaves.

This man was very fastidious about slowly cleaning his contact lenses. Finally he leaves. I clean up– situation is not nearly as bad as I thought. Boxers were not even streaked. But I’m still pissed, frustrated– now running late for a very important day at work. So as I’m leaving the stall I’m loudly cursing and muttering, “JESUS MOTHERFUCKING FUCK, OF COURSE, THE ONE DAY I FUCKING SHIT MY PANTS THERE’S NO GODDAMN PARKING AND FUCKING GEORGE PLIMPTON IS PERFORMING SURGERY ON HIS MOTHERFUCKING CONTACTS…”

And I leave the restroom. And standing RIGHT OUTSIDE the door is Julia Roberts.

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Birthday

19 Feb

My birthday.  I feel no particular anxiety about it.  Although I will now be closer to forty than thirty– who gives a shit, really.  I mean, you get concerned that your life isn’t going in the right direction, but, the only direction any of us are going is the fucking grave.

I have all my limbs and my family loves me and I have sweet wonderful friends.  So there you go.  I look pretty fucking good for my age.  My hair is turning gray but it actually looks kind of good.  My nut sack hairs are also turning gray.  One would think this would be horrifying but it amuses me.

I have noticed that I do not recover as quickly from drinking, weight lifting, or the stresses of work.  These are the early signposts of impending death.  I have  a great deal of difficulty achieving an erection when drunk, which is the only time an erection is truly useful to me. But this may have always been the case.  I still ejaculate extremely quickly when masturbating, and produce copious amounts of semen.

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Don’t Date Me

19 Feb

I have a shitload of ants in my house because I never take out the trash.  I put my cat’s food bowl in a plate of water  to keep them out of it.  And that’s all I’m going to do.   Otherwise I would have to research ant control products, figure out which ones are safe for my cat and aquarium, find them, buy them, apply them, etc. etc.   Which, no.  I already have a fucking job.

Every morning when I’m sitting on the toilet, a few of them crawl onto my scrotum and bite it.  It really hurts.  They have sharp, serrated pincers.  But still.  No.  No more work.  I’ll take the pain.  It’s the price of freedom.

Plus it’s funny that they’re taking tiny pieces of my ball sac back to the nest to feed their young.   Maybe it’s a special delicacy reserved only for the queen.

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It Would Mean a Lot to Me, Nicole

18 Feb

if you would move out from Steve’s place and move in with me immediately. I would give you foot rubs and bake you stuff all day. Ice cream for every meal. Unicorn rides. I’m not talking about some gross metaphor for my penis, either, I’m talking about a literal unicorn. I know they’re kind of played out as camp but fuck it, fuck what people think. Unicorn *and* pegasus rides. Uni-pegasus rides. Any shit made from a horse and some other thing, you can ride on it. Centaurs. Hippogriffs. The Sea Monkeys’ aquatic horse.
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Burger King

17 Feb

Ever since I can remember, I’ve had this coupon from Burger King. It was in my wallet for at least five years; now it’s in my glove box. It’s good for a free Whopper™ at any location and it has no expiration date. I haven’t used it because I’m never in a Burger King and remember about the coupon at the same time.

I often think about this coupon. The fact that it will never expire makes it special, almost magical. I almost feel like I *shouldn’t* use it. What if there’s a time when I need a free Whopper™ much more than now? What if I’m starving, and outside a Burger King, and my only remaining possession is the coupon?

I will give this Burger King coupon to my children. I will laugh from my grave as my great-great-grandson presents this eternal, unrenounceable coupon to the aghast heads of Galactic Burger King Incorporated in exchange for the last Whopper™ in the universe, valued at one hundred trillion dollars.

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Diary: An Actress

16 Feb

I need to jack off, to that chick (REDACTED), whatever the fuck her name was.  She showed up to dinner with (REDACTED)’s parents wearing dark gray yoga pants and when her legs hit the right angle you could see the outline of her vagina.

She is hot.  Skinny, in good shape, perfect bone structure hot.  In her youtube videos she looks merely “quirky hot,” like, her face looks a little fuller and her teeth look like a mouth full of jagged chiclets and she just, you know, looks like the kind of chick you would see across a room and think “that chick is kind of hot.  Maybe I have a chance.”

Then in person it is clear she is the kind of chick with whom you have no chance.  She has that sleek, lithe build like a lemur, or one of those whippet-looking marsupials that just went extinct– the thyalacine.  A thyalacine I want to fuck.

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