What do you call a
What do you call a really fucking beautiful woman, with a great personality, a winning smile, good fashion sense, a badonkadonk butt and great skin?
Coworker.
And then you punch yourself in the testicles.
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What do you call a really fucking beautiful woman, with a great personality, a winning smile, good fashion sense, a badonkadonk butt and great skin?
Coworker.
And then you punch yourself in the testicles.
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I'm not saying that this happened to me, but if someone were to sprain their shoulder masturbating, that would be a sign that that person needs to get laid pretty bad.
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Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I am covered in fucking cat hair. I have had three fucking hours of sleep on a couch not meant for sleeping, covered in cat hair. With a cat hair pillow and a cat hair blanket.
I fucking hate cats.
I also fucking hate that town. And the travel associated. And the _six fucking hour_ rest stop at the fucking casino. I hate casinos. I hate Americans. Tonight, I am full of anger and hate.
Spacebaby, it was nice to meet you. Sid, don't _ever_ drag my ass to that fucking town again. And tell She Who Yadda Yadda that I saw not a single hot straight chick, and her "bi leaningnes" is either total bullshit or she needs to put her money where her mouth is. Well, my money into her mouth or however you'd like to put it.
I missed a party full of my friends for this. I'm going to leave this here and try to calm down before I rupture something. I am... displeased.
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External: Train tracks. Day. View down the tracks of the plains as far as the eye can see.
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External: Train tracks. Day. View down the tracks of the plains as far as the eye can see in the other direction.
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External: Conductors eye view from locomotive heading East
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External: Conductors eye view from locomotive heading West
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Overhead: Two trains on verge of impact
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Instant message last night, where ⤦she whose codename sid is too paranoid to write⤠indicated that it would be⤠in my best interests, considering my birthday wishes, to come to the party.
CUT TO
Carnage.
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I'm so fucking easy.
All I want for my birthday is a really good blowjob from a beautiful woman.
How complicated is that?
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Reason tonights date was cancelled 3 hours beforehand?
"My sister was just diagnosed with meningitis, I'm going to see her."
That's two cancels for her, one for me.
Take it personally/keep score, or assume sis is deathly ill?
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Went on a Nerve(TM) date last night.
Lame.
She was bad-dork type computer geek. I expected a pocket protector.
Every geek group has one chick that hangs around and this was her. Not my type.
I kept thinking of the Cuban.
Am I in love with her, is that the deal? Or just obssessed?
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I haven't been missing a la Jarvis, Blogger was giving me a fucking 503 error.
It's good to be back. I have much to say, my flock. Specifically on why I didn't want to be a lawyer, why I love the work and tolerate the people, and why I want to lobotomize my parents.
All that and rumors of a new castmemeber on here today!
PS - did we ever add Seven to the "About" section?
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Fuckwit Amateur. That's what I'm saying to myself right now.
As at least one reader pointed out in her weblog, I cruise Nerve and Match. New York can be a lonely city. So I cruise. Sporadically, I even respond to ads.
Astute readers of Boy You Must Be Trippin' (*EDITOR'S NOTE: Now A BAD MAN IN A BAD PLACE) will remember that I'm in the tail end of heartache over a certain Cuban girl.
So, I answered a few ads on Nerve. A few were more promising than others, I like my women motivated, ambitious, bright, intelligent, attractive, etc. I like a challenge. Dumb women who can't do anything to their credit other than throw their legs over my shoulders need not apply. So I found the most interesting women I could and answered their ads.
I've been emailing with one for about a week. She gave me her number and told me to call her. At 11:15 this evening, I did.
We had a very good conversation about movies, career, porn, our lives, the city, our living environments, etc. At 11:35, I said to myself "get the fuck off the phone, Bad Man. Make a date for Sunday and get off the damn phone, you're taking too long, you're about to become a 'friend.'" 11:40 rolled around and I was grinning about something or other she'd said. 11:45, and the phone made the unmistakable background-anti-hiss that signals call waiting.
Her: I've got a call. I'll be right back. *hold*
Me: [thumb over mouthpiece] FUCK
Her: [returning] Hey, it's a very important call for my roommate - can I email you tomorrow?
Me: Please do.
Her: Ok, will do.
Me: [after hanging up] YOU FUCKWIT.
Boys, if you're out there - always end calls first and get a date before you can drag the conversation on too long. At 11:45, her roommate is getting important calls? Damn.
Even money says I don't hear from her tomorrow. Pity, she sounded cool.
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I can't tell if Black is Beautiful, or if suddenly Black is what I see the same way that when I say "elephant" you suddenly think of an Elephant more than if I hadn't said it.
Suffice it to say that in the last three days I've had three incredibly beautiful half black women step into my life, and set me a bit on fire.
One is my exgirlfriend's roommate. See also: so cool she kicks your ass and doesn't bother learning your name. See also: former model. See also: in a different life, without my ex and her ex, I'd've dated her. See also: purrrrrrr.
One of them is a former blogger that I met for drinks one night. At the time I was dating the Dancer (not the Cuban, the Dancer predates the Cuban) who, to this day, is the sweetest girl I've ever met. So I didn't cheat on her with the former blogger the way I wanted to. The former blogger was one of those women you lay eyes on and suddenly go, "damn, yo, you can't possibly be online, you're way to fucking hot." She was. She emailed me that she'd dreamed the other night about me, her thighs and some Ice Cream. I emailed her back that it was a date next time I saw her. She admitted to regretting not giving me tongue when we kissed goodbye when we met. So now we've got a date to rectify that situation sometime in the future. Yum.
The last one is another great beauty, one of the women I cultivate so I can get good service at dinner, or so I can blow through lines at clubs. One of those girls who, when we're seen together, homeless men claim that we look so good together that I should be able to afford a hundred bucks for them. I asked her to go with me to a major museum function tomorrow night.
The conversation went something like this:
Her:Hello?
Me: Roommate's Name?
Her: No... who is this?
Me: Sarah? Hey Sarah [not her real name] - what's up? It's Bad Man.
Her: Oh, hey. We [her roommate] were about to have dinner.
Me: I see. What're you up to tomorrow night?
Her: [with a suspicious voice] Why?
Me: I've got to put an appearance in at this museum opening and I am bored with the idea of going alone.
Her: Really? My god, that sounds better than my plans.
Me: Good. Cancel them. You're coming with me.
Her: But there's a problem. I've got class until 8:30.
Me: That's no problem, I work until 9. I'll call you then, and you'll meet me there.
Her: Ok.
Me: Enjoy dinner. *click*
A few notes for the readers out there - women apparently react well to being led. Now, before you feminists get your panties in a bunch, I'm going to make a confession. For many years I let women lead things, thinking that I was being chivalrous. I allowed women to make decisions about things like when the first kiss would be, what we'd do in a night, and how seriously the relationship would be taken.
Through careful observation I've discovered the following: Women fucking hate that. Any one of them who claims differently is looking for another Average Frustrated Chump whose wallet they can drain and whose life they can lead. For some guys, that's totally good. For me, that's a load of shit. Women, or at least, the women I've met, are incredibly strong, probably stronger than me. Smart, too. But they hate it when they're forced to... it's not making decisions or doing the thinking, it's when men _don't_ do those things that drives women up a wall. Too many choices mean you're wishywashy and wanting a woman's approval. Go hire a damn therapist, don't try to date, if that's what you need.
Women like to be led. What a revelation.
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It's amazing how bad a reputation you can get in a few weeks with no advertising and just by writing about your life.
Between the chamm post and the comment on my last post (be a good girl and avoid the bad man? I've never dated a woman that regretted it yet) you'd think I was jack the ripper or jeff dahmer. Not a James Dean lookin' sweetheart.
Ladies, you have me pegged all wrong. Ask Sid. I'm a total sweetheart.
Now, about that fuckbuddy... I live in the East Village in New York, if that helps you self-select in.
I won't disappoint, I come with references. Literally. I've got women who are willing to take your call to ask whether or not it's worth coming to bed with me. Numbers available on request.
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It's amazing how bad a reputation you can get in a few weeks with no advertising and just by writing about your life.
Between the chamm post and the comment on my last post (be a good girl and avoid the bad man? I've never dated a woman that regretted it yet) you'd think I was jack the ripper or jeff dahmer. Not a James Dean lookin' sweetheart.
Ladies, you have me pegged all wrong. Ask Sid. I'm a total sweetheart.
Now, about that fuckbuddy... I live in the East Village in New York, if that helps you self-select in.
I won't disappoint, I come with references. Literally. I've got women who are willing to take your call to ask whether or not it's worth coming to bed with me. Numbers available on request.
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