Looking To Get Fucked From Online Dating

As a virgin, I spend many nights feeling lonely. I constantly cruise around dating sites and craigslist, looking to get fucked basically. I’d like to think I’m classier than that, but I ain’t fooling anyone. If sex isn’t on my mind at all, I would just call up my guy friends to cure the loneliness. Although I’ve never found sex, I’ve gotten fucked by online dating… more than once…

One time I went as far as buying condoms and brought wine to a stranger’s house and it turned out to be some kind of prank or something. In retrospect, I was a total dumbass for not calling and doing a voice confirmation first. This is one of those few times my cheapness bit me in the ass as deep as it possibly could. When the prankster told me that I didn’t need to call “her”, instead of being suspicious, I was thrilled that I wasn’t going to have to waste 25 cents per minute with the call but I ended up wasting ~$10 on condom and gas. This happened about a year ago and to this day, those condoms remain unused.

With my cheapness, I’m also cheap with my internet bandwidth usage. I was on a dating site once and decided to turn off all Adobe Flash features to save on whatever tiny bit of bandwidth I would save. As usual, I had no luck that night so I resumed working on my Flash games. At the time, making Flash games was my top priority in life. All of a sudden, my game didn’t work properly anymore and I had to spend hours and hours debugging it. Turns out, the feature I turned off on the dating site affected the Flash Player I was working with. Once again, no sex but I got fucked good.

Bored With Words

I got bored and decided to play a word game with myself. The goal is to use homophones and homonyms and whatever homo shit to form the most retarded phrases I can imagine while maintaining grammatical correctness.

Q: Cue the queue.

A: Okay, the cameras are rolling so you should tell the background actors to get in line.

Q: Unflatten my flat flat.

A: You should fix your home to make it livelier. Give it more depth, more dimension.

Q: Plant the plain plane on the plain.

A: You can’t find any airports or roads so you have to land your ordinary air-bus on a grassy field.

Q: Gay gay

A: What do you call a happy person who has a life partner.

Q: Chipped Chip chip

A: A damaged gambling currency made from potatoes.

Q: Crispy crisp

A: What do you call crunchy potatoe chips.

Q: Faggot faggot

A: Cigarettes made for homosexuals.

Q: Fake it, faggot.

A: Telling a gay person to pretend to be straight.

Q: There there, they’re there.

A: What do you say to comfort someone who is worried about people not arriving at the designated area.

Q: Man, man the manhole. Amen.

A: You give a tired prayer in hopes that they fix the sewer.

Q: Ho ho ho. Hoe’s hoes and hose.

A: The name of a shop that sells gardening and farming tools and the owner happens to be a prostitute. And say it in Santa Claus’ voice.

Q: Three free Friezas.

A: A chinese person advertising giveaways of a dragonball character.

Q: The pit’s a pizza.

A: You explain that you marked on the map the location of the hole with an Italian pie.

Q: How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.

A: I ran out of orginal ideas and decided to become a fuckin’ copycat.

I call this game Homophrase. See if you can come up with more.

Shit Stories Part V

Sometimes at the end of a shit, I try to squeeze out one last piece and I can feel it kinda sorta come out but it won’t detach and I just know that it’s going to be a bad wipe. It’s the complete opposite of a clean shit that doesn’t require wiping. Moments ago, I was taking a shit and it felt like one of those. I stood up and looked in the bowl. Nothing intense: I wasn’t staring or holding up a magnifying glass or anything. I just casually took a glance to see what kind of shit came out of me. I know that it’s perfectly normal behavior but somehow writing it out in words makes it sound perverse or some shit. Anyway, I looked and saw that the shit had pretty normal color and texture, not (black) diarrhea or anything. I wiped with mental preparation that it’s going to be a messy wipe and sure enough, there was… substance. With these lingering shit wipes, it’s always mushy or wet. If it were dry, it would just plop out and not stick to the asshole. So the substance felt a little wet. At this point, everything is still within expectation.

I'm mentally prepared too.

I’m mentally prepared too.

When I felt the moisture during the wipe, I thought I had mistakingly taken too small a piece of toilet and wiped shit on my hand… again… It was turning into a bad day because I hate getting shit on my hand. Then I looked at the toilet paper to see what I had wiped. (Again, I know that this is perfectly normal behavior but it still sounds so fucked up when described.) First off, no shit on my hand, phew, but what I saw surprised the shit out of me. (By the way, it’s kind of retarded that I can’t even tell whether I touched shit or not.) Bear in mind that the crap I just took was painless and normal looking so I wasn’t expecting anything crazy. What I saw on the toilet paper was… pure blood. There was no blood in the toilet bowl, but I wiped blood (with no shit) from my ass. That has never happened to me before. Blood wasn’t oozing out or anything, but there was enough that I felt it through the toilet paper when I wiped with my back turned. The blood was also pretty light colored, almost pink. First I have black diarrhea and now I have pink blood. I’ve been taking some pretty colorful shits.

Hah, coloful.

Hah, coloful.

Shit Stories Part IV

Have you ever played a lot of tennis or badminton or anything else that exhausts your forearms? It’s always amazing how simple actions become harder with tired forearms. I once discovered that after playing hours of badminton, sticking up my middle finger became impossible. Who would’ve thought? And amongst these difficult tasks is wiping your ass. If you keep up with my blog or know me in real life, you would know that I’ve spent the past few months being unemployed and worthless. I do nothing with life and don’t even exercise. But one day, all of a sudden, wiping my ass was as difficult as if I had exercised. I coined a term with my friends where I label my (lack of) actions as next level laziness. I hope that my next level laziness doesn’t make me stop wiping. That would be beyond next level laziness. And even beyond that would be not even bothering to shit in a toilet. Hopefully, I can maintain two levels away from voluntarily shitting my pants.

I play tennis all day and I can still reach my ass.

I play tennis all day and I can still reach my ass.

I have a few theories on why I might have had a difficult time wiping my ass:

Theory A

Maybe I’ve been eating and shitting so much that the repetition of having to wipe has become an exercise.

Theory B

Maybe I jerked off too much. This theory applies because jerking off exercises foremans; not to be mistaken that there’s any relationship between my masturbating and my asshole.

Theory C

Maybe my body just decided to disintegrate and I’m reaching a point in life where I can’t even wipe my own ass or jerk myself off.

You call those theories?

You call those theories?

I try to have more than one story for each of my blog entries and keeping right on track, I have a second shit story. That’s right, I didn’t write that last story for a few days because I was saving up for a second story, not because I’m a lazy shithead who doesn’t work and can’t even keep up a blog. I’m wrapping up the second story right now and it turns out that both these stories are lengthy enough to be their own entries so I’ll publish them separately. If you love these shit stories, buckle down because the next story will be coming up in a few minutes if it isn’t out already.

I can't wait.

I can’t wait.

So You Think You Want To Do Stand Up Comedy

I’m an introverted internet hermit but I did stand up comedy once, over a year ago, and I’m going to describe my thoughts and feelings on that experience. If you’re reading this, you’re probably someone who’s thinking about doing stand up but you’re not sure yet and you decided to look on the internet to see what people have to say about it. If that doesn’t describe you, then I don’t know how you came across this. Maybe you followed my blog after reading one of my many random topics. …I’m just going to keep writing with the assumption that you’re the perfect audience.

I don’t ask for much in life but at the same time, it’s pretty hard to get me excited about anything. The experience of being on stage and getting a laugh is very exhilarating and you just have to do it to know how it feels. If you think you would like it, it will only exceed your expectations (assuming you do well).

The first thing you should do is check out the open mics around your area. I watched several open mic shows before I did mine just to get a feel for the room. You don’t even need to think about performing; just go and enjoy a cheap show. When you see certain people do really poorly, it’ll help build your confidence knowing that you can at least do better than them.

When you feel the urge to write comedy, start writing them right away. When I was in the mood, I was writing page after page of material. They weren’t all great, but I was able to generate a lot of material to choose from. If you tell me to write comedy now, out of the blue, I won’t be able to write shit. So take advantage of your comedy moods and write down as much as possible.

Different people will have differing experience in performing. I had no experience and even though I practiced my material for hours and hours on my own, it’s very different to be talking in front of an audience. Even when I was performing it for just my friends, I was having a much harder time than when I was rehearsing in my room. If you’re not the kind of person who can just jump on stage and riff, then you need to practice until you think you’re ready, then do it ten more times.

…As of this moment, I just got bored of writing this so I’m just going to end it without any kind of conclusion. I never cease to surprise myself how lazy I can get.

Hoes Before Bros

The saying “bros before hoes” always annoyed me because of how untrue it is. My closest friends have blown me off without a second thought for a lot less than a hoe. And I would do the same to them. (Somehow, “blown me off” sounds really wrong but I don’t think I misused that phrase.)

If there’s promise of hoe, then the “bro” would not be a bro to expect the hoe-bounded bro to abandon the hoe. What would the “bros” have done anyway? If you choose the bro over the hoe, that give the bro a HUGE expectation to basically do something that’s better than sex. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty gay to me. Either I’m just an asshole surrounded by other assholes, or the saying should actually be hoes before bros.

Shit Stories Part III

Let’s talk about the last time I soiled my pants. The last time that I had shit in my pants was when I was ten years old at the CN Tower (tourist attraction in Toronto). I actually don’t remember too much about that day. It would appear to be a repressed memory but it wasn’t THAT bad as far as I could remember. There was definitely shit, but not a lot. It was during lunch and I had to go to the washroom to clear the situation. I remember feeling a lot of shame because I felt I was too old to be shitting myself, especially in public. I don’t remember much else.

Are you hiding anything embarrassing? Are you sure you were ten?

Are you hiding anything embarrassing? Are you sure you were ten?

However, I can remember the last time I pissed my pants in full detail. I was six years old and it was a bed wetting incident. I blamed it to having drank a cup of water before bed and for a decade after, I would never drink anything within two hours before going to bed. I vividly remember the dream I had that night. In the dream, I was in a public washroom with four urinals. I was the only one there and decided to make a game out of it and pee in each urinal equally. I would pee in the first urinal for two seconds, stop, turn to the second urinal and pee in that for two seconds and so on. After the third urinal, I woke up and realized that I was actually peeing in real life too. I wonder if I was also peeing in two second bursts in real life. Since then, every time I’ve had a dream where I was peeing, I would wake up instantly and check if I’ve peed myself again. I was always surprised and relieved to find that I was dry. In a sense, I am a little disappointed that the two theories I developed at six years old about bed wetting (the pee dream and the water) have both been debunked.

I'm not hiding anything under these sheets.

I’m not hiding anything under these sheets.

For those who don’t know, I am an unemployed bum adult man-child. I’m pretty much at home 24/7. On several occasions, I’ve gone through the experience of being fine one minute and then urgently needing to shit the next minute so badly that I barely made it to the toilet before shit bursted out of me. I only had to walk 12 steps of the washroom and I always wonder if I weren’t home during these times, would I have shit myself in public?

Yes. Yes you would have.

Yes. Yes you would have.

Shit Stories Part II

Due to (singular) demand, I shall write the shit stories I have queued up in my head. Let me start with a disgusting little enigma I can’t quite figure out. When the seat is down, you know how there’s a gap between the rim and the seat? I wonder if there’s a word to describe that specific location. Anyway, when I have diarrhea, which is often, there is always somehow a shit splash under the seat in that gap I just described. When I wipe, my ass cheek is pretty clean but I don’t know how it always splashes so far to the sides like that. I’m not talking about fart diarrhea grenades here. Regular diarrhea still finds its way to that gap.

Gap.

Gap.

I guess I’m calling that area “the gap”. This gives a whole new meaning to people who wear shirts from the gap. The next story is a puberty classic about that gap. When I took shits as a child, I just sat down and did it. There was no need to worry about aiming because everything’s already pointing inside the bowl. But then puberty came and erections became more commonplace. When a guy sits down on a toilet with a full erection, he will clearly recognize that he needs to redirect his penis with all his might if he’s going to pee because he doesn’t want to pee in his own face. Then there are time when a guy will sport a semi and the penis seems like it’s in the bowl. But if he makes the mistake of peeing, there’s a specific angle that he’ll end up peeing right into the gap and urine will rapidly leak out of the toilet and he will panic while trying to stop urinating. That has happened to me exactly 5 times before I learned my lesson to always use one hand to point my dick down if I want to pee while sitting down.

Point down like this.

Point down like this.

This last story will be a description of when I told it to my friends the other night. Apparently, I tell shit stories during social gatherings. One of my friends threw in a non sequitur, asking if we know what a “shart” is, and then proudly revealing that it’s a shit and a fart. That sprung a shit story to mind and I decided to tell it. You know how sometimes you might think you have a fart and you take a gamble and lose? Well, one time, I did that but as soon as the fart didn’t seem right, I stopped it immediately. I rushed to the washroom to evaluate the situation. I wiped my ass and there was indeed shit. But there was no trace of shit in my underwear. It was one of my proudest moments in life to know that I was able to stop the shart before it was too late.

Really? That's impressive.

Really? That’s impressive.

Offensive Words

It always boggles me why people get offended by the sight or sound of a word, regardless of context. It’s ridiculous that someone can get offended when I tell them that I was making retard noises in bed. How else would you describe that noise? Go ahead, try. Plus, I wasn’t being a retard in anyone’s face or anything. I was just being retarded on my own. When did it become a crime to be a retard and be conscious enough to describe it as such.

The other word people fear is the word nigger. They fear the word almost as much as they fear black people. Unless you’re black, you can’t be offended by that word. White people don’t want to hear that word because it makes them feel guilty. Everyone else just doesn’t want to be in the same room when a black guy hears it.