Sunday, December 19, 2010


Check this ****ed up **** out. My buddy went to Europe for two weeks and hired this stoner bitch to watch his Border Colie for him. The dog was old and needed to be walked and fed and loved. Anyway, he comes home and his dog is ****ing GONE!! He asks the stoner hippy bitch what happened and she breaks down crying and tells him this story!!

She said that she walked in one afternoon to feed Zeke, and found him laying dead on the kitchen floor. She called the Vet and asked what to do and they told her fo $500.00 they'd pickup poor Zeke and dispose of him. She said she didn't have $500 and started bawling. The Vet say's bring the dog down here and we'll do it for $100. Well, the broke ass bitch doesn't even have a car so she throws the dog in a ****ing suitcase and jumps on the L-train to take it in.

As she's goin down there she starts crying on the train. This Black dude comes up and asks her if she's allright. She doesn't want to admit she's got a dead dog in a suitcase so she tells him her boyfriend just broke up with her and she's upset. Then, the doors open at a stop and the bastard grabs the suitcase from her and RUNS OFF THE TRAIN!!! WTF??!! Do you believe that ****!!?? He gets away Scott free with Zekes rotting assed carcass.

My Buddies not sure he believes her but MAN!!! Who could make that **** up?!

Sunday, December 5, 2010

The Sunday blues...

First let me give you a brief history... i am 16 and my brother is 13. We live in a New York suburb which is very nice and protected. We have a very nice life and our parents provide for us what we need. My brother constantly makes my family look like white trash trailer park ****. He is a wigger and I ****ing hate that. He has been suspended from school 5 times. He got my parents in trouble with social services once because he left the house when he was left home when he was 12 and faked sick. My dad can't afford a babysitter and neither my mom or dad can afford any more days off from work because of having four kids to watch after sometimes the days add up. When I was 12 and was left home sick I stayed in bed and watched tv/did hw or whatever. He left to go get candy and a cop saw him and brought him to school. My parents have this permanently on their records now. All he does is ****ing lie and steal money. He hangs out with aa crowd of dirtbags and wannabe ghetto little punks who I could kill by myself at one time. Let me give you and idea of how much of a ****in liar he is. He got called down to the office and my parents were told that he supposedly dared a kid to scream penis as loud as h could in his spanish class. He dared him for 60 bux. My brother does not have sixty bucks to bet. So, he steals my dad's wallet and three days later it coincidentally shows up in my dad's pocket all of a sudden with 60 bux missing. Up until this point nobody knew that the dare was for 60 bux, but only that a dare was made. Now, I am talking to my friend's cousin on aim who is in my brother's class and he tells me when is your brother going to have the money? I ask him what money and he tells me about the dare. I confront my bro (at the time I did not know that my dad's wallet was ever missing I just found out about the bet). I fiure I set him straight by telling him I found out and if he gives any money 2 any1 I will find out and I will also tell my parents what he is doing. He tells me he won't do nething. keep in mind he swore up and down on his life that a dare was never even made at all. He only admitted it to me in private we I confronted him. Last week we get a call home from a cop saying that he slapped a kid at a barmitsva (sp?) and that if it happens again he will be arrested. I don't care what type of situation it is- you do not hit a kid at somebody's private party where they spent years and thousands of dollars to prepare. This makes you sseem like a piece of trash and scum of the earth. It also represents your family. Can you see why I am mad? Anyway, I am not just posting cuz of this- these things are bad so far, but tonight takes the cake. Over the years my brother has stolen $100's of dollars from my parents (taken from wallet or if he was only allowed to spend a certain amount at a place he spent all of it). My mom's three cards were missing since yesterday. My dad gts a call today from a local shoe store owner that my brother and dirtbag friends frequent (being wiggers they must look at the jordan's and air force ones and try to be thugs). Anyways he is just confirming the transaction made between my brother and him. He is confriming that my bro bought threee pairs of shoes- 1 for himself, 2 for 2 friends with a credit (debit type) card. My dad asks why he accepted it from a 13 year old and the guy says that they gave him a cell phone number to call because my brother said "his mom won't be home til eleven." On the cell phone the guy said that it was somebody acting as his mother and saying that he was allowed to spend up to $400 with the card. Since the person was an adult, the guy accepted it and made the charge for the shoes and they all left. My dad told him that it was fake and it was not my mother who he spoke to. We cannot return the $370 purchase because the little ****ing ***s wore them out of the store already. My dad agreed to pay it. He then went and screamed at my brother and I beat him up a bit by slamming him to the floor and twisting his arm and punched his head like 5 times. My dad tells him he wants to disown him. Can't get any worse right? WRONG. He goes on to check the bills and he finds out that an AOL account was charged to his bill too. He then flips out and screams more at my brother telling him to leave and ****. My scum trash dirtbag "brother" denies it and his lil wannabe thug self is gasping for air as he cries like a two year old girl. To top this all off I have two very important test tomorrow- the Spanish and Math 3 Regents which I MUST do well on. It is not just these few mentioned events- he comes home and doesn't do ANY work, gets in trouble in school, acts like a punk to me and my family, and actually makes and EFFORT to be like trailer park trash. To make this story shorter, my brother finally leaves when my dad says he will call the cops if he doesn't come with him to the precinct to be arrested. I follow him and rip his backpack of his arm (I don't want him thinking he will get far or that he can walk away with stuff my parents have bought him). Anyways, they are out now looking for him. He's probably at the school sitting on the roof or playground. I really do not care if he gets hit by a car. If my parents weren't here to stop me I'd have punched him in the face and broken his teeth and nose and probably a few ribs. I honestly do not want him as a brother. You can only take so muc and have so much faith before you lose all hope. His punishments are way past due and I hope he ends up in jail as some hardcore thug's boyfriend with a dick up his ass and a razor in his throat. I would not care if he got raped or murdered. I really wouldn't. My family would be perfect then. My other little brother is really funny and he's cool. I can tell he's gonna be a good kid. My sister is very sweet and shy. She never has any problems with other girls and she gets fantastic grades. I have my flaws to, but I do not make an effort to endanger and hurt myself and others. I do not ever get in trouble in school and I do not ever steal money and I never have and never will. When I do something I shouldn't have I speak to my parents like a man and acknowledge what I did wrong and accept the consequences. I really hope my parents do not go easy on this ****. If it were up to my dad he would have been cuffed andarrested by the cops. My mom is just really sympathetic (mother's love i guess) and she told him not to call the cops on him. Have any of you felt like this? I am not kidding about this ****. I would honestly not be sad if he got killed or never came back home.

Not sure why I went on that rant. This isn't what I planned on talking about, the good things in life aren't planned.

Monday, October 25, 2010

So you want to date a stripper?

So you got a stripper's phone number, huh? Called her up and chatted about this and that and had a nice little conversation with her, huh? What's her name? Cinnamon? Going out with her for lunch on Saturday, eh? Very Nice. Here are a few tips ? because dating a stripper is a hazardous affair and the only thing you're going to get out of this insane ride are bragging rights for the rest of your life. This article is based on information gleaned from my brief stay in Stripperville.

First of all, you've got to have a destination in mind before you embark on this venture. What do you want from the Stripper? A few fun evenings out on the town with a little hottie on your arm? Sex? Free passes to the Titty Bar where you met her? Everlasting true love? Handjob? Look ? walking into this without a goal is certain means for failure, because she operates on her own terms and if you let her manipulate you and lead the show, you're sunk. She meets 50 guys a night who are potential dates, so she's just playing the odds with you. She's thinking she just might meet someone who can handle her, but no one can. Trust me. No one can handle her. You'll never change her or pull her out of Stripperville. Remember that and keep your eyes on the prize.

Several points to consider:

1. You're not Special.

You're one of 18 guys she's juggling right now, and one of a hundred who witness her naked glory every night. It's her job to make guys feel like they're the only one she's interested in. She gets paid handsomely for that skill. That sultry stare she's giving you across the dinner table with those piercing green eyes is the same look that forces 75 men-a-night to fumble for their wallets and jam fistfuls of green into her G-string even though they're six months behind on child support.

2. She makes more money than you. Get used to it.

Keep in mind that she pulls down more than most corporate attorneys (who also represent a large portion of her clientele). She's ripping 2-5K a week tax-free, and you shouldn't expect her to pay for anything. It's not in her nature. Guys fawn all over her every single night and offer her stacks of crisp Benjamins in an effort to get their knobs slobbered on in the parking lot behind the club (something she'll claim she's never done, but the other girls at the club have ? right ? she's done it at least once).

3. If you get emotionally involved with this girl, you're in for a hurricane of pain.

Your future with this chick: broken dates, shattered windows, holes punched in doors, a slew of ex-boyfriends and husbands, a thousand "friends" calling all the time, an encyclopedia of restraining orders she has out on said exes and a couple customers who stalked her for six months. Her apartment is littered with soggy G-strings and cheap 8-inch heeled shoes, along with empty tubes of body glitter, mascara, prescription drugs, zit cream, Aqua Net and Polaroid pictures of her and her "friends" engaged in some drinking and dancing on St. Patrick's Day last year. The Polaroid pictures of her and her stripper friends getting nasty for the entire bar are still circulating around town because one of the guys she dated last month stole them out of her nightstand when he sensed the end was near and he wasn't going to be getting any more Cinnamon Love.

3. She has more guy friends than you had all throughout high school and college, collectively.

Sometimes they'll just drop in when you two are hanging out and you're thinking it might get romantic. The guy friend will ask her ? right in front of you ? if she wants to go to Happy Hour at the Knick Knack Paddy Whack Lounge and she'll look at you with bright eyes and say, "Yeah ? let's go to Happy Hour with Tim here ? it'll be fun!" And you, still gripping on to that glimmer of hope for some pussy, will say yes and you'll spend the next three hours in a simmering rage while you quaff watered-down Bud Light drafts, because she's the most popular girl in the bar and every person with a penis in there is looking to hop on the Stripper Wagon that is blazing through Stripperville at a very unsafe speed.

All of those "guy friends" started out just like you, chief. They saw the Promised Titty Land and thought they could get there, too. Once they tired of the bull**** and drama, or she found someone else, they were relegated to "friends." They could've bought a ****ing sailboat with all the money they blew on young Cinnamon, and now they hang on to some last vestige of hope, thinking that she may just get drunk enough some night and let them put their spit on the slit. You guys could all get together and swap the exact same stories about wasted nights, full-blown disappointment, and confused, desperate whack-off sessions when you all found out that dating a stripper is no different than trying to debate Nietzsche with a Dalmation.

4. Her life is a flurry of activity selected at random.

This stimulates her sub-par self-esteem. At 10am she will be rocketing down the freeway at 130mph on the back of some guy's crotch rocket. By 1pm she's already at some different guy's house, swimming naked in the pool with him and his Great Dane named Robo. By 5pm she's doing "X" at some other guy's house, and from there she goes home for the five-minute shower and gets ready for work.

5. She'll blow you off for three dates in a row.

When you keep calling, she knows she has you. That Saturday night dinner and special room you've secured at the ****ing Ritz will be vaporized after she tells you she's going to Mexico with some of her "friends." Her whimsical trip to Mexico will forever after be known as Cabo Wabo Orgy 2002, and you'll likely come across some digital pix of her fellating two guys on the beach in Cabo while you're scanning some amateur porn site on the Net.

It's a crazy affair, for sure, but just remember these do's and don'ts and you'll be fine:

DON'T ever call her and not announce your name. Her phone rings more than all of the lines at the New York Times combined. Don't put her in the precarious position of trying to guess your name. "Is it Steve? Rick? Mike? Dave? Javier? Justin? Michael? Chris? Matt? Juan? Adam? Alex? Roberto? Ed? Brian? Eugene? Tim?" She'll make it quite clear that she has many suitors, which excites her to no end, and puts you in a bottle of bourbon all alone by 9pm that night. Try to sound upbeat: "Hi Cinnamon, this is Greg, I was just walking through Tiffany's, looking at a $900 sterling-silver ashtray and thought of you." (She smokes. They all smoke. She'd gush over an ashtray from Tiffany's. Don't buy it, though. Make her think you would've bought it for her, if only there was a rose engraved on it.)

DON'T ask her about her ****ing tattoos unless you want to look like one of her customers.

DON'T go see her at her job unless it's absolutely necessary. A necessity would be getting her condo key so you can go feed her cat. If you get to that point, FYI, you're now one of her "friends," and you can wrap up the sexual fantasies you have of her by beating off right on her pillow after you throw the cat some Meow Mix.

DON'T try to keep up with her. Don't skip work to spend the day with her. She works nights and you work days. Keep your job. Her days are spent at tanning booths, Frederick's of Hollywood and chic outdoor caf?s where her and her stripper "friends" eat poached salmon salads with dressing on the side.

DO carry lots of hundreds in a money clip. Make sure she sees you strip off the bills when the dinner check comes. Or better yet, whip out the Corporate Amex and toss it on the table like you're folding a bad poker hand. Clasp your hands behind your head and lean back into your chair after you make the Amex toss, as if to say, "See that? Unlimited credit, baby."

DO kiss her on the cheek when she shows up at your place for the nice dinner you're going to cook her, and knock her fishnets off with your ability to handle the cuisine and wine. At some early point in the evening though, you're going to have to find her cell phone in her purse and steal the battery out of it, because that thing will ring incessantly and she will eventually find something or someone better to do. Pull the battery or she's going to get some call at midnight, when you've got the Miles Davis playing lightly in the background, and the candles illuminating the room in a soft glow and you think you're about to "storm the beach." This call will undoubtedly be from one of her "friends" who is going to an after-hours party at some country bar and all of the sudden she'll squeal with delight and jot down the address on her hand and say to you, "Let's go Two-Stepping at the Country Bunker with John and Kevin!"

DO remember this: strippers are more ****ed up than The Who was during their 1973 U.K. "Quadrophenia" Tour. They're a bad lot to hang out with, because there's so much freedom and money in Stripperville. They've got it all and they don't need you or anyone else. All they need is their Xanax and Raspberry Stoli on the rocks and their job. Yeah ? the job. That's what fuels the lifestyle and you're never going to pry her from it. Don't even suggest it.

If your goal from the aforementioned list is "sex," you need to understand that it's going to take at least five dates. At least. Figure $250 per date. Compound that and it's a nice little used Hobie Cat or a decent house payment. While that fine body, devoid of tan lines, might fuel you to the fifth date, I'd recommend looking into escort services in your area. With an escort, you're getting what you want right off the bat, and it'll likely cost you half of what Cinnamon is charging.

Good luck in Stripperville. It'll be a short stay, but something you'll talk about for years to come.

No regrets.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

What a week

I used to be scared to death to **** at school back in elementary school because teachers would take their whole class on a bathroom break and if anyone was ****ting then the whole class would form a line and peek through the cracks in the door to see who's ****ting and then laugh at you and spread it around school. One time my class was in the bathroom and kids started to form that line and the kid in the ****ter stuck his dick (yes tiny) through the crack in the stall and started barking at us so we wouldn't go look at his face. needless to say, we never found out who was taking a **** at school that day.

it also sucked because the ****ing kids at my school would have like an internal clock that would go off if you left the room for too long to use the bathroom and then they would accuse you of taking a ****. so my trick was to sign out to go to the bathroom and then i would walk VERY VERY slowly out the door and stop and look around a little bit then VERY VERY slowly start heading towards the bathroom making sure that everyone saw how slow i was moving. then i would HAUL ASS to the bathroom and **** my brains out and wipe super fast then i would BOOK ASS back to the room and right before getting to the door way i had to walk REALLY REALLY slow and stop at the door and look around again and slowly walk in and sign out my name because i knew everyones clocks were going off alerting them that i was probably taking a **** but once they saw that i was dilly dallying they would brush it off as someone just wasting time..... not taking a ****. rough times in elementary school i tell ya, but im still here today which means i survived it.

Now for the good stuff. The time has come (returned, rather) for me to get my skinny ass back into the gym. I've spent the last few months in basic training losing weight and running like a little bitch only to lose everything I've worked for in the previous years of lifting. Time to get it back. I have a lot of free time anyway.

So, to the gym it is. Daily schedule:

I'd REALLY like to be in the gym at 8PM, but I'm on a meal plan, eating in a dining facility that closes at 7:30. The peak hours for gyms as we all know is 4-530ish.

Gym 6-7ish pm
Eat 7ish pm
Fap 7:45-8:00pm
Study 8-10

Realistically I could study right after class, and I've heard that's best for information retention, but we'll see how this goes. For a healthy educational life you MUST have a near equal lifestyle outside of a classroom/textbook. That's my philosophy on the matter

So a bankroll budgeted, a gym schedule organized and a dick not in use, things are starting to look pretty damn good.