so i get to dress up like james friggin bond on saturday.
ill be a penguin for ten hours to keep the lights on here at my cramped kitchen apartment.
a country club, full of cunts, no doubt, but what else am i gonna do? maybe i catch a break and get to tend bar and get loaded for free.
i have apps out for "real" jobs with bennies and that will be a welcome change from this week to week temp job purgatory.
i'm overqualified for most jobs i apply for because with my esteem the way it is i consistently aim low.
That's what the rock breaking job was all about. that's my speed these days
i view employment as punishment for being too lazy to make my own way in the world, for not having it together enough to start my own porn empire, cafe or landscaping business.
the cafe would be all about vegetables and whole foods and soy and maybe some buffalo chili. soups and shit like that. hi protien soy cakes and concoctions for affletes. athletes with ethics
.com, yeah.
affletewho do dumb stuff like rugby and punish their aging carcasses on a weekly basis and need to recover.
fuel for their rage machines.
the landscaping firm would be earth friendly. working name, "brute force landscapers inc."
no machines. a real ludite operation. to maintain your lawn we'd have a fleet of push mowers and rig a few to be bicycle powered for the huger accounts. maybe get you a good deal on a sheep rental. hand tools, no gas engines, manual labor in the extreme. i'd hire only really good looking men so as to also take 15 % pimping fee for the loneliest of suburban haus-fraus.
both ideas would be a much better use of my time than toiling for the man at an agreed upon hourly wage.
being a failed business man has such a nicer cache' than degenerate, drunken gambling rugby thug. at least it sounds nicer to the ladies, like i am at least trying to make a go of it in this shit sandwich we call existence.
yeah, baybee, success is right around the corner, i can taste it.
the foul bitch goddess of fate is finally turning her eyes away from me and onto more hopeful sorts.
her job is done. my soul and spirit have been ground into a fine patina. all that is left is for some equally foul demon to see me and snort me up and wonder why he has a migrane for the rest of his milennia because i am that ornery. i won't dissipate in his nervous system, just as i refused to blow away in the winds of change.
oh yeah, i refuse to be blown alright.
the current blowjob i am experiencing is 24 years long and still seeking completion.
i met her at community college of philadelphia. short, cuted, freckled and graced with mammary glands they write poems about. somehow she took pity on me for my confused state of mind. at 19 and still a virgin and saying no to drugs because my parents were quasi-hippies and i was a rebel, you know. I'd yell at her for geting high or wanting to and maybe she was feeling generous one evening because she spent about an hour late one evening with me in her mouth to no avail. at this tender age i had yet to discover onanism, nor had i been able to fit my fat lil fella into my virginal high school girlfriend. ah, young love, two awkward stone sober intellectual teen virgins in a cornfield.
but thats a story for another day.
anyway, 18 years later i run into her at a union meetiong for the philadelphia school district. as she tells it my "... face lit up." she had done the marraige thing, the divorce thing, and the getting stalked by her ex boyfriend thing so she was super cagey and cautious about contact info. her stalker had done a number on her so she took my info and for the next few years she'd call me every month or three and we'd talk late into the night. every now and again we'd meet up but she had a man and was very into being lifelong pals.
during some of these latenight conversations we'd talk bondage, another chick and one or the other of us would mention marraige as the imperfect solution to all our problems, but it was always in an offhand way and used just to scare the shit out of each other when the conversation got dull. her boyfriend was a fairly constant prescence in her life but every wednesday she'd ship her girls off to the ex husband and meet me at a bar. i get very sexy when i drink and one thing led to another and soon we are making out in a cab. then talking about it on the phone and about what a good kisser i am for a guy and how impressive taht was to her. it was like being in highschool again with a new advance each week in the game of love. when we have progressed to groping i was feeling shitty about the whole deal when i thought about it. especially considering that she was buying all the drinks. especially considering that the conversations werent always only about kissing, but also about whether or not this was cheating and how we were bad people and about what a good boyfriend she had.
he cooked for her.
drove her around. that was a fight tere. she said "of course you know youre gonna have to get a divers license to drive me all around when we get married" and i laughed at her and said no way baybee, ima bike riding principled environmentalist. the auto industry is run by the man baybee, no friggin way. and she got mad at being lectured or for not being catered to or some other female horsepuckey.
at any rate i decided to blow her off one wednesday when i recalled the conversation from a week earlier where she was extolling his virtues as a boy friend, a great boyfriend, who one day she heard hammering outside and it was him putting up the christmas lights and thats kinda hard when youre in a wheelchair. boy did i feel like a dick. so i did the right thing and blew her off.
and my door buzzer rings. i peek my head out. shes smiling on my doorstep. never been over the place before. looked up my address in the whitepages and here she was.
being unemploed i sometimes forgo basic personal hygeine for a few days and enjoy the manly funk that follows me around like the dirt lines surrounding pig pen on charlie brown. it really pisses off my sister in law. my niece picked up on it and ever so adorably said, "harry mells" aww, kids, they're so precocious.
i funktastically explained the predicament to her and directed her to the local bar, telling her id be there in 15 minutes. we do the bar for a solid five hours, ordering pizza when the tulamore dew is starting to affect my speech, her in constant search for cigarettes to "bum" and giving the requisite amount of conversation for each smoke or handful thereof. me, at the bar ordering more shots, having somehow landed a job and celebrating my first paycheck in months. on my left, nest to her empty stool was a bricklayer who might get me a union job. on my right were cooki chefs, one of which was in a bad relationship, her firend urging her to consider my hot-ness.
we wind up back in my place and it looks like ive been robbed, empty beer cans, plastic whiskey jugs and laundry all over the place. newspapers in piles and plates on every surface it looked like i wasnt expecting company ever. which was true. she turned a blind eye to the wreckage and sain a recently cleared cahir, beckoning me to come over and kiss a lil. one thing leads to another and im naked in my bed and shes finishing the job she started 23 years ago. but something isnt right. i made up the deficits in my sexality in spades when i stayed in college those six extra years. i have had perfect, giving women in my life. this situation was turing painful, a toothy assault on my tenderest of areas.
i tried a little gentle coaching, but as intelligent as she is, she was offended and insistent that she is great at this particular action. not wanting to halt the festivities i offered what guidance i could between grimaces and grunts of pain which she may have mistook for pleasure. after an hour and a half of this torture she is looking for some in kind payment. some quid pro quio. shes easing my head towards her goodies and this is when i started getting ornery. i was already quite horny and she had rebuffed my attempts at mounting her. she wasnted me to get down. i toyed with the idea of biting her back, to teach her a lesson, but i was too drunk to be subtle and real injury could result from such an attempt.
so i got up and got a beer. and she started yelling. i blew the candles out. she threw the phone at me and told me to call a cab. there was an hour and a half wait. she asked me to hand her her bra. i handed her her bra. she slammed my apartment door and stormed out into the night, but not after slamming my front door five violent times. i went to sleep. she didnt seem as mad as i thought she'd be the next time she came by and again faild to complete her 20 year mission, but thats another story and im pretty sure shed be mortified to read this little missive so i must reflect upon the wisdome of making this shit up. this is a work of pure fiction. no one really acts like this in real life. im an accountant for crying out loud, i work for allstate instructing my representatives to deny, underpay, avoid all clients whenever possible. its rewarding work
ill be a penguin for ten hours to keep the lights on here at my cramped kitchen apartment.
a country club, full of cunts, no doubt, but what else am i gonna do? maybe i catch a break and get to tend bar and get loaded for free.
i have apps out for "real" jobs with bennies and that will be a welcome change from this week to week temp job purgatory.
i'm overqualified for most jobs i apply for because with my esteem the way it is i consistently aim low.
That's what the rock breaking job was all about. that's my speed these days
i view employment as punishment for being too lazy to make my own way in the world, for not having it together enough to start my own porn empire, cafe or landscaping business.
the cafe would be all about vegetables and whole foods and soy and maybe some buffalo chili. soups and shit like that. hi protien soy cakes and concoctions for affletes. athletes with ethics
.com, yeah.
affletewho do dumb stuff like rugby and punish their aging carcasses on a weekly basis and need to recover.
fuel for their rage machines.
the landscaping firm would be earth friendly. working name, "brute force landscapers inc."
no machines. a real ludite operation. to maintain your lawn we'd have a fleet of push mowers and rig a few to be bicycle powered for the huger accounts. maybe get you a good deal on a sheep rental. hand tools, no gas engines, manual labor in the extreme. i'd hire only really good looking men so as to also take 15 % pimping fee for the loneliest of suburban haus-fraus.
both ideas would be a much better use of my time than toiling for the man at an agreed upon hourly wage.
being a failed business man has such a nicer cache' than degenerate, drunken gambling rugby thug. at least it sounds nicer to the ladies, like i am at least trying to make a go of it in this shit sandwich we call existence.
yeah, baybee, success is right around the corner, i can taste it.
the foul bitch goddess of fate is finally turning her eyes away from me and onto more hopeful sorts.
her job is done. my soul and spirit have been ground into a fine patina. all that is left is for some equally foul demon to see me and snort me up and wonder why he has a migrane for the rest of his milennia because i am that ornery. i won't dissipate in his nervous system, just as i refused to blow away in the winds of change.
oh yeah, i refuse to be blown alright.
the current blowjob i am experiencing is 24 years long and still seeking completion.
i met her at community college of philadelphia. short, cuted, freckled and graced with mammary glands they write poems about. somehow she took pity on me for my confused state of mind. at 19 and still a virgin and saying no to drugs because my parents were quasi-hippies and i was a rebel, you know. I'd yell at her for geting high or wanting to and maybe she was feeling generous one evening because she spent about an hour late one evening with me in her mouth to no avail. at this tender age i had yet to discover onanism, nor had i been able to fit my fat lil fella into my virginal high school girlfriend. ah, young love, two awkward stone sober intellectual teen virgins in a cornfield.
but thats a story for another day.
anyway, 18 years later i run into her at a union meetiong for the philadelphia school district. as she tells it my "... face lit up." she had done the marraige thing, the divorce thing, and the getting stalked by her ex boyfriend thing so she was super cagey and cautious about contact info. her stalker had done a number on her so she took my info and for the next few years she'd call me every month or three and we'd talk late into the night. every now and again we'd meet up but she had a man and was very into being lifelong pals.
during some of these latenight conversations we'd talk bondage, another chick and one or the other of us would mention marraige as the imperfect solution to all our problems, but it was always in an offhand way and used just to scare the shit out of each other when the conversation got dull. her boyfriend was a fairly constant prescence in her life but every wednesday she'd ship her girls off to the ex husband and meet me at a bar. i get very sexy when i drink and one thing led to another and soon we are making out in a cab. then talking about it on the phone and about what a good kisser i am for a guy and how impressive taht was to her. it was like being in highschool again with a new advance each week in the game of love. when we have progressed to groping i was feeling shitty about the whole deal when i thought about it. especially considering that she was buying all the drinks. especially considering that the conversations werent always only about kissing, but also about whether or not this was cheating and how we were bad people and about what a good boyfriend she had.
he cooked for her.
drove her around. that was a fight tere. she said "of course you know youre gonna have to get a divers license to drive me all around when we get married" and i laughed at her and said no way baybee, ima bike riding principled environmentalist. the auto industry is run by the man baybee, no friggin way. and she got mad at being lectured or for not being catered to or some other female horsepuckey.
at any rate i decided to blow her off one wednesday when i recalled the conversation from a week earlier where she was extolling his virtues as a boy friend, a great boyfriend, who one day she heard hammering outside and it was him putting up the christmas lights and thats kinda hard when youre in a wheelchair. boy did i feel like a dick. so i did the right thing and blew her off.
and my door buzzer rings. i peek my head out. shes smiling on my doorstep. never been over the place before. looked up my address in the whitepages and here she was.
being unemploed i sometimes forgo basic personal hygeine for a few days and enjoy the manly funk that follows me around like the dirt lines surrounding pig pen on charlie brown. it really pisses off my sister in law. my niece picked up on it and ever so adorably said, "harry mells" aww, kids, they're so precocious.
i funktastically explained the predicament to her and directed her to the local bar, telling her id be there in 15 minutes. we do the bar for a solid five hours, ordering pizza when the tulamore dew is starting to affect my speech, her in constant search for cigarettes to "bum" and giving the requisite amount of conversation for each smoke or handful thereof. me, at the bar ordering more shots, having somehow landed a job and celebrating my first paycheck in months. on my left, nest to her empty stool was a bricklayer who might get me a union job. on my right were cooki chefs, one of which was in a bad relationship, her firend urging her to consider my hot-ness.
we wind up back in my place and it looks like ive been robbed, empty beer cans, plastic whiskey jugs and laundry all over the place. newspapers in piles and plates on every surface it looked like i wasnt expecting company ever. which was true. she turned a blind eye to the wreckage and sain a recently cleared cahir, beckoning me to come over and kiss a lil. one thing leads to another and im naked in my bed and shes finishing the job she started 23 years ago. but something isnt right. i made up the deficits in my sexality in spades when i stayed in college those six extra years. i have had perfect, giving women in my life. this situation was turing painful, a toothy assault on my tenderest of areas.
i tried a little gentle coaching, but as intelligent as she is, she was offended and insistent that she is great at this particular action. not wanting to halt the festivities i offered what guidance i could between grimaces and grunts of pain which she may have mistook for pleasure. after an hour and a half of this torture she is looking for some in kind payment. some quid pro quio. shes easing my head towards her goodies and this is when i started getting ornery. i was already quite horny and she had rebuffed my attempts at mounting her. she wasnted me to get down. i toyed with the idea of biting her back, to teach her a lesson, but i was too drunk to be subtle and real injury could result from such an attempt.
so i got up and got a beer. and she started yelling. i blew the candles out. she threw the phone at me and told me to call a cab. there was an hour and a half wait. she asked me to hand her her bra. i handed her her bra. she slammed my apartment door and stormed out into the night, but not after slamming my front door five violent times. i went to sleep. she didnt seem as mad as i thought she'd be the next time she came by and again faild to complete her 20 year mission, but thats another story and im pretty sure shed be mortified to read this little missive so i must reflect upon the wisdome of making this shit up. this is a work of pure fiction. no one really acts like this in real life. im an accountant for crying out loud, i work for allstate instructing my representatives to deny, underpay, avoid all clients whenever possible. its rewarding work
posted by bakeowski | 10:23 AM
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