I Want to be a Drug Dealer When I Grow Up!

We never hear kids say that but I’m sure some kid out there has said that after watching Breaking Bad because he has shitty parents who isn’t supervising him, or worse – if they are supervising him and letting him watch it.

… I actually don’t have much to say on this topic. I wanted to write an entry but didn’t have anything that I wanted to write about so I’m just coming up with random shit here. Hopefully one or two good lines will come out of this…

Growing up, I knew very little about drugs. Actually, I knew nothing about them for the longest time. Until high school, I couldn’t even name you any drug other than cigarettes. That’s not even one right answer because it should be nicotine. In grade 9, they taught us about all kinds of drugs in health class and how they’re all bad and we shouldn’t take them. I don’t think I actually learned any of the names. The only thing I learned was that there was a difference between physical addiction and psychological addiction. In grade 11 English class, I forget what the assignment was but we had to write some shit and then peer edit them. I remember getting some crazy girl’s paper and she wrote about shooting up heroin but it was implied and because I knew nothing about drugs, I wrote a feedback saying that the whole story made no sense to me. She was outraged and showed the teacher. She probably wanted to get me in trouble for… for what exactly? For not understanding drug culture? The teacher was cool and didn’t think I did anything wrong. In fact, he was really cool because he was probably supposed to report her for writing that kind of shit but he was cool about it.

Until a couple years ago, I hardly knew anything about weed. When I was 19, I was at school hanging out with a few guys and then this random dude walked past who reeked of weed. I didn’t know that it was weed and I asked my friends if they also think that that guy had defecated himself. I know so little about drugs that it’s almost embarrassing.

…Okay, I guess I really didn’t have anything interesting to say on this topic. As for the title, I don’t really want to be a drug dealer, but only because I don’t want to talk with random drugged up people. I’m still very ignorant of drug culture. I assume drugged up people would be similar to drunks and people are already annoying enough when they’re sober. I’m kind of curious about smuggling though. If it pays well, why not? People who’ve read enough of my blog might think that I just want to stick stuff up my ass. I’m not interested in that and I think denying it just makes me sound like I’m in denial…

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Silliness of Nudity

Nudity is silly. The only reason this word even exists is because we clothe ourselves. The power of nudity is completely controlled by whatever society deems appropriate. In north american culture, a woman can pretty much show everything except for the nipple and pussy. Because of that, I tend to look for porn with nipples and pussies. There no real reason I should be seeking out nipples more than the boobs themselves. It makes no sense but that’s how I’ve been wired by society. There are middle eastern men out there who’ll jizz their pants when they see a nude face. Society shouldn’t have that much power over our bodily functions.

I’ve been living with my girl cousin lately and I noticed her bathroom has a low window. It’s right behind the toilet and I noticed it after taking a shit and wiping my ass and realized that I was pretty much putting my ass on display for the world to see. When I take showers, I feel like I’m putting myself on display. I don’t mind it since I’m a dude. I’m so lonely, I almost wish someone’s looking. But I wonder what my girl cousins think about that window. I don’t think they close the blinds and they’ve lived here for many years so they must’ve noticed the window there. Maybe they checked and made sure that when you look at the window from the outside, you only see a reflection. Maybe they decided that people don’t get a clear view and with the abundance of porn on the internet, there’s no need for people to peep. If they’re that open about it, they should show me the goods. It doesn’t cost them anything and it’ll be such a thrill for me. It’s silly that they would want to hide their nude bodies from me. It’s silly that I want to see them. Everything’s silly.

In an earlier post, I mentioned that I should probably stop talking about incest one day. I guess today’s not that day.

Shit Stories Part XV: Ass Sweat

Generally speaking, ass sweat isn’t that bad. As far as I’m aware, it doesn’t actually smell so I consider it “clean sweat”. For the record, I’ve never actually tried to smell ass sweat up close so I don’t actually know that it doesn’t stink, but I know that it doesn’t stink from a safe distance. At worst, ass sweat is just a bit embarrassing when I sit down after a long day of sports and the sweat pools on the seat and an ass imprint of sweat is revealed when I stand up.

 

Well… that was the worst ass sweat can do outside of a shit story. The realm of shit stories is a whole other world. We all know that shit is disgusting and we all try to pretend like we’ve never touched shit before. But let’s be honest here, most of us have probably touched shit before, hopefully by accident. If you haven’t touched shit, you haven’t lived life. For me, it happens when I take an untamed shit and it seems to have splattered around my asshole quite a bit and I accidentally smear some on my hand when I wipe. It’s nasty, but it’s not a big deal because I get to clean it off right away. This happens often enough that whenever I wipe my ass and feel my hand-skin touching something wet, I expect to see shit on my hand when I un-reach it from my ass. Just prior to writing this, I was taking a shit, felt something wet as I wiped, and feared the worst. Turns out it was just ass sweat so don’t worry about any shit particle transferring from my hand to my keyboard, through the internet, and into your eyes.

That’s it for the shit story. My plan to start a podcast is still on track so keep an eye and ear out for that. Hopefully I’ll have something up in a week but I’ll definitely have something up in two weeks by the latest.

Going Out: To Be A Dick or An Ass

As a person living with his parents, it’s only courteous for me to let my parents know whenever I go out, and I’m fine with that. As a very flexible person who can let go of little things, my friends can make, change, or cancel plans up until the last minute and I don’t really mind it. But when you combine these things together along with my parents’ inherent craziness, I always have to wind up being a dick or an ass.

Did someone say ass? Come check out MY ass. me, Me, ME!

Did someone say ass? Come check out MY ass. me, Me, ME!

If I tell my parents I was supposed to go out that night and then it gets cancelled and I don’t end up going out, they make me feel like an ass. My dad’s basically an asshole and would just outright laugh at my face for having friends who bailed out on me. My mom would ask retarded questions and try to drag out the unpleasantness for as long as possible. She wouldn’t be retarded if that was her goal, but it’s not. After telling her the plans are cancelled, she would go on and on: “I thought you were supposed to go out?” “Didn’t you say you were going out at 7? It’s 7 now.” “Oh you’re not going out anymore? How come?” “Really? Your friends cancelled? Why?” You get the idea. There have been many times where a plan got cancelled and I just leave the house and do nothing for a few hours because that’s easier than explaining the cancellation to my parents.

Going out and doing nothing... kind of like this except I'm not a sexy girl at the beach. Okay, maybe it's nothing like this.

Going out and doing nothing… kind of like this except I’m not a sexy girl at the beach. Okay, maybe it’s nothing like this.

In order to avoid being an ass, I’m forced to be a dick. I can’t really control my friends cancelling the plans so that leaves me with one other option, to tell my parents about the plans the moment I leave the house. This makes me a dick because going out usually means going out for dinner and telling my parents last minute would mean they made dinner for me that I’m not going to eat. So I have to choose whether I want to be an ass 90% of the time (apparently I only trust my friends 10%) or be a dick 100% of the time. Because I don’t go out much and I’m a selfish ungrateful child, I choose to be a dick.

So many asses...

So many asses…

Oh and I just realized all this “going out” and “dick” and “ass” talk might sound like euphemisms for gay talk. It’s not. I swear, it’s not. Oh dammit, why did I even put that idea in your minds?…

Oh come on, Ted. Why are you being so homophobic when you love us lesbians so much?

Oh come on, Ted. Why are you being so homophobic when you love us lesbians so much?

Ass Scab Scars

When you pull scabs off prematurely, it leaves a scar. I call those scab scars and I’ve got ass scab scars.

Huh? Ass cab what?

Huh? Ass cab what?

A few months back, I remember lying in bed and feeling a little bump on my ass. I scratched it to see what it was. I think it maybe have started off as a pimple or something but I kept scratching it off and eventually I was scratching off scabs. I had thought that I was scratching the same spot but a few days ago, when I accidentally saw my naked ass in the mirror, I saw those ass scab scars, and there were 3 of them.

There are three of us and you have three of what?

There are three of us and you have three of what?

How does one accidentally see one’s own naked ass you ask? Prepared to be enlightened. I recently tried masturbating with moisturizer for the first time. Because this is new to me, I haven’t found a way to streamline the procedure yet. With plain old masturbation, I know my exact specifications but I still need more practice with moisturizer to perfect it.

I'm not accidentally seeing no ass in the mirror right now. ...I don't need to make sense, I'm hot.

I’m not accidentally seeing no ass in the mirror right now. …I don’t need to make sense, I’m hot.

In the first draft of this entry, this is where I started describing my experience losing my moisturizer virginity. I felt that it went too far off track so suffice to say my dick is moister than it’s ever been. Bringing this back on track, I didn’t know what to expect and wanted to keep my clothes clean so I ended up wandering nude around the house more than usual. It was then that I passed a mirror and saw my ass scab scars.

I looked kinda like this except I was more nude, had 3 ass scab scars, and a dick dangling out the front.

I looked kinda like this except I was more nude, had 3 ass scab scars, and a dick dangling out the front.

What was the point of this entry again? I don’t think I ever had one. I just wanted to say ass scab scars because it sounds funny.

Is that all you've got to say for yourself Ted? I'm going back to playing with my pussy. Too bad you can't see it with the cat blocking the view.

Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself Ted? I’m going back to playing with my pussy. Too bad you can’t see it with the cat blocking the view.

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.

So This Just Happened…

I don’t know if followers get email notifications for each new post I make. If so, I apologize for posting 3 entries in a row. Actually I don’t really feel sorry but I felt like it was the right thing to write. Anyway, here’s a shitty snippet from my life of something that just happened:

I’m buying a computer from a friend and my dad wanders into the room and was randomly cocky and condescending in asking me about the computer. He asked if my friend is charging me more than retail. That is the dumbest ass question a person can ask. What kind of response does he expect? “Oh shit I forgot to take that into consideration. Thanks for saving me a ton of money!” No.

I didn’t need to respond to that and then he continued interrogating me. Keep in mind that he’s a computer illiterate person who only uses computers to check emails. He asks if it’s faster than his computer and if it’s an hp or dell computer. I told him it was custom built. After hearing my answer, my dad got pissed and stormed out of the room. Yes, this is the kind of random bullshit I have to live with. Expounding the situation only makes it sound more retarded. My dad probably got pissed because he felt dumb and couldn’t sustain his unjustified cockiness. Why the fuck would a person even feel smart for naming hp and dell brands?