Self Induldence with a Lil Sugar on Top

This is the way that everyone who considers themselves an individual should think (please dont take this as me preaching to you, if you dont want to live this way, fine! This is merely my opinion):

Whatever works best for you in any situation is the way you should live your life, but that comes with some rules. Thinking in terms of the greater good is important, if your decision harms at least one other person or person's property in any kind of way, what you think is best for you is moot. If you harm any person, or person's property, you deserve to be punished. This gives you the freedom to do what you want, when you want, but also puts a lot of pressure on you to allow for others to do the same.

Believe in what ever religion you want, but dont put pressure on others to accept your beliefs. I have a real problem with people trying to convert others into believing their religion. Those folks who go to under-developed countries and try to convert the locals are complete assholes! They are taking people with their own traditions and cultures and pushing Christianity or Mormonism (is that what it is called?) on them in such a way that eventually these new religions take over! Jehovah's witnesses do the same thing, but they are too lazy to go on a mission over seas, so instead, they focus their intentions on me. Too bad for them that I accept them into my house and carry on a conversation just so I can kick them out when it is all over. See, I am taking one for the rest of you, so you dont have to deal with these special folks!

Believe in whatever political party that best fits your lifestyle, and just like everything else, dont push it on others. You can have a heated argument over politics without having to resort to calling the other party completely wrong and all those that believe in that system morons (in my experience, both democrats AND republicans have their equal share of morons).

Enjoy whatever sex you want and if not that, enjoy whatever sex you can get;). If you love pussy, then fuck all the pussy you can get. If assholes turn you on, by all means keep plowing away. If jerking off to tables floats your boat, then keep dropping your seed on that lovely formica (just keep it to yourself). And if you just love the cock, then please, PLEASE, keep seeking it out. Just dont tell me what I should or should not be fucking, and while you're not telling me what to fuck, dont tell anyone else either! We should all be as sexually deviant as we want without having to worry about what other people think of us.

Most importantly, have fun with your life!

Continuing Saga

We all know that I see crazy shit when I drive around; I have documented that on these pages. Let's just say that it happened again. As I was sitting in traffic on the expressway Monday morning I looked over to the car to my left and saw what looked to be a sand person from the star wars movies, however, this "sand person" was covering its mouth and nose with what looked to be two pieces of cardboard held together with duct tape, that formed a V. I tried to get a picture, but the traffic started to move in my lane so I had to go forward. I have attempted to draw what I saw, so here that is:



If anyone notices someone dressed similarly, please let me know. And if you have an explanation as to why this psychopath a) is allowed to have a license, b) isnt getting pulled over at every intersection, or c) is dressed like this, please let me know forth most.

Fall

The white crept through the trees making everything seem colder than it actually was. The ground was soft from all of the moisture and each blade of uncut grass had a little drop of dew resting atop its stalk. The few remaining leaves that were on the nearly bare tall oak trees were losing their battle against the gusting wind that swirled amongst the branches.

The stable off in distance was open, although I am sure I closed it last night. I walked towards it and as I got closer I thought to myself that I need to paint it again as it has been years since I put on a fresh coat. The paint had begun chipping away years ago, but I had more important things to attend to: the sudden death of all of my animals, the tragic accident where I nearly lost my life, and the fire.

I grabbed the sliding door by the handle and closed it, but when I grabbed for the lock to secure it again I noticed that it was gone. I reopened the door and entered the dark room that once housed five beautiful Tiger Horses; all five living up to the Spanish conformation and not one having the affliction of having a rat tail, which is acceptable for the breed, but thankfully not common.

I reached for the light switch to my left, but it didnt work. As I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness I began to get the feeling that I wasnt alone. Fearing that someone else was near I moved away from the door so that I wasnt so easily seen. I crouched to the ground and slowly regained my sight.

Remebering that I kept a flashlight on my desk I quietly made my way to the other side of the stable while still crouching. The creaking noise made by the boards of the floor that I crossed over was masked by the creaking of the entire stable as the wind hit it. I felt my feet stick to the ground in a few places, but I assumed it was due to the rain from the previous day.

Upon reaching my desk I stood up and then sat down in my chair. I tried turning on my desk lamp, but much like before it didnt work. I opened the second drawer from the top on the lefthand side of my desk and went through it until I felt the flashlight. I turned it on and gave it a few good shakes. Finally I had some light, although it was fairly dim from years of not being used. While this light was hardly visible, Im lucky to have any light at all.

I stand up and focus the light on the floor which I just crawled over, only to find that what I thought was normal moisture from the previous days rain was not water at all. Clearly I had crawled through pools of blood.

I focused the dim light on the closest pool of blood and followed the trail it left on the wooden floor. The trail led to two dirty, formerly black dress shoes that led to a pair of dingy gray dress pants. I quickly brought the light up to where the head of this body should be and saw a quiet, yet screaming face whose eyes had been ripped out.

I jumped backwards and while doing so noticed that this body wasnt the only one in the room. I moved the light quickly all over the place, left, right, behind me and up and saw that there were bodies hanging from all over the place, all of them quietly screaming and missing their eyes.

The lights in the room came flashing on, allowing me to see that every inch of the wall was covered with bodies and the fluids that the oozed from them. Each corpse was hung from the wall by a hook that protruded from each body's chest cavity.

Just as quickly as the lights came on, they went off again. I made a dash for the door that was still open, but as I got close to it a dark shadow stepped in front of the doorway. I stopped and yelled, "WHO ARE YOU," but before I could get an answer I felt a cold shiver go down my spine and I was suddenly on the floor.

I was on my side, facing the door and the light, but I couldnt move, I couldnt speak, I could just see.

The wind from outside stopped, but I still couldnt hear anything.

The shadow moved closer and then nothing.

Nothing.

Spiders Should Die

When it comes to being a man I usually think of myself as a manly man, although not so much so that I am not in tune with my feminine side, because I surely am. I deal well with mechanical things, I am very good with my hands, I played football, and generally I am not scared of anything. Then again, I almost got kicked out of a Macy's today for pretending to give him head while we were on the escalator. The women at the make-up counter saw my tom-foolery and thought we were being serious. I think one nearly passed out before I told them that I was merely joking around (Ok, fine, here are the details: we were on the down escalator, I got in front of him and midway down turned around, bent over and buried my face in his groin, mouth ajar). Anyway, that story has nothing to do with anything....

In all my masculinity (*wink) I despise bugs. Even worse, I HATE spiders. They creep me out like nothing else, and I truly dont know why! I do remember seeing the movie Arachnophobia (which advertised itself as the first "Thrill-omedy," although I am fairly certain that it was also the last), but that sucked bull balls (and not the kind that you hang from the back of your truck you red neck), so that couldnt be the reason I fear them.

Whatever the reason, my hatred for them exists, and I hate them all, from those little red ones that are no bigger than a small dot to those big hairy tarantula fuckers that look like they just want to bite my face off. I say kill all spiders. Yeah yeah yeah, they kill other bugs. Sure, they are handy at getting rid of other nearly as creepy bug, but you know what else does the trick? Fuckin RAID! Or a nice giant bug bomb! Fuck the environment; I want my house bug free, goddamnit!

And please tell me why they have to have 8 eyes? And why the hell are they all looking in the same direction? Is it so that they can still see even after you have given them two fingers to the eyes just like how the Three Stooges used to handicap each other? Wouldnt it be more beneficial for the spider to have some eyes on its ass as well, or perhaps an eye next to each leg? Then they couldnt be surprised. Or do spiders see in 8D?

They should all go back to the Hades from which they came.

I STILL See Crazy Shit

So as if last week's bought with a suicidal umbrella shaker wasnt enough, yesterday as I drove to work I saw another crazy thing! I was sitting on the expressway, slowly making my way to our main office (staff meeting every monday morning, sacrosanct - whatever the fuck that means) when I hear this loud blast from behind me. I look in my rear view mirror to see the final moments of a hood being blown off its latch on the car behind me, followed by a plume of smoke that quickly arose from the engine. The hood slammed back shut and the smoke then billowed out from the space between the hood and the car body, and from the wheel wells. As the smoke cleared I saw a head peak out from behind the dashboard. Once he noticed everything was alright the man got out of his recently exploded vehicle, slammed the turquoise door of the 1973 Oldsmobile, and walked toward the engine with the composure of a cowboy who just finished riding a bull in a rodeo. As he mosied onward, I left the scene and continue to work unfazed.

Little did I know that this would not be the end of my story for the day, as on my way home I saw another incident, one which nearly led to the demise of a little fuzzy pooch. As I was making my way through the back roads of Chestnut Hill (one of the more upper scale neighborhoods in Philadelphia) I stopped at a stop sign to allow the other vehicles that reached the intersection before I did the opportunity to pass (as is customary in this part of town. In North Philly stop signs are optional). The car to my right went, followed by the car to my left. Finally, the mini-van that was sitting across the intersection from me made a right hand turn, however this driver didnt account for the extraordinarily high curb (honestly, this curb is about a foot high) and the mound of concrete that some dullard put next to the curb to make the curb "handicapped accessible." I used quotes there because you would need the arms of Hulk Hogan to be able to climb this mountain of a handicapped ramp in a wheel chair. Anyway, this mini-can momma drives up the mountain, scraps the bottom of her vehicle and continues to drive over the curb, finally dismounting back onto the paved street. It was finally my turn to go through the intersection and as I was pushing the gas peddle down I notice this old woman with an utterly shocked look on her face. Her arm was extended and holding a dog leash. On the end of the leash was a black, fuzzy mutt who was standing next to the curb. Apparently, mini-van momma came within inches of running this poor old dog over. Once passed the intersection I saw that the old woman wasnt moving, and for all I know she is still there now, still in shock, over the near death of her beloved lil' doggy.

You Have a Red Light Mr. Cocksucker

As further evidence that I see some of the craziest shit while driving home I submit the following story which happened to me no less than 15 minutes ago while driving home.

If you know the lay out of Philadelphia then when I say that I was driving down Benjamin Franklin Parkway, you know where I was (and if you arent from Philly, the Benjamin Franklin Parkway is the road that leads from the Philadelphia Art Museum, where Rocky ran up the steps, to City Hall, where Mayor John Street lends new meaning to the phrase "running a corrupt government."). As you get to the end of the parkway the Franklin Institute is on your right hand side, at this point in the road many people who walk across the parkway end up having to wait on the median. This was the situation today, as there were at least 5 people standing on the median for their turn to walk across the street. This is where the story officially begins.

I was flying (metaphorically speaking, as I really wasnt flying, I was driving with excessive speed) down the parkway in the right-most lane (there are three lanes on each side of the parkway) as I normally do because if I get up to a certain speed I can time it so that I make every single light, including the 4 menacing lights that are meant to impede my progress around the utterly annoying Logan Circle. As I approached the median with the small crowd of people waiting to cross the street I notice one small, gray and white haired man who decided to make a run for it. His tanned skin clashed with dirtied yellow shirt (complete with holes in the armpits). His tiny little legs looked much longer than they actually were due to his ridiculously small and wrinkled khaki shorts. His feet were propelled by gray tattered sneakers with green socks pulled half way up his shins to protect his paws from blisters. His running style was more of a shuffle than anything else as he was barely picking his feet up off the ground. He cleared my lane and nearly made it to the sidewalk when (and this is only speculation as I am not able to read the minds of the insane) he must have decided that my speed was meant to impact him. Instead of climbing up on the curb, this scumbag decided he would confront me and my moving vehicle. He walked back into my lane and while practicing his best pirate stance he shook his black umbrella at me while shouting some unintelligible nonsense which was left non-descript by my non-discerning ears (I couldnt understand what he was saying).

I swerved into the middle lane to avoid this suicidal maniac and since my window was open due to the hotness of the day I yelled, "You have a red light, cocksucker," but because of the doppler effect I am sure he only heard, "mumble, grumble, red, grumble, mumble." I then swerved back into my lane and enjoyed the rest of my ride home.

Just another story to add to the craziness that usually accompanies me while I drive around; old men waving canes, tractor trailers pulling down power lines, bumpers flying off mini-vans, cars running into poles that start electrical fires, gun shot victims laying in the middle of the street, too many accidents to count, and now crazy old men trying to kill themselves with my speeding car. I better check to make sure my premium is paid.

Quick Question

Do cats think, "Why am I the only one wearing a bell?"

Jesus Juice on the House

Normally I dont like posting about popular topics because they are usually too played out, but I cant resist today, so I must join the masses and post about how unbelievable it is that Michael Jackson is allowed to walk the streets, albeit sheltered by hulking security guards and whatever facial mask he decides to wear.

WHAT THE FUCK!

I dont know what I am more disturbed by, the fact that a multiple times sex offender is free to offend more young boys or the fact that as soon as I would attempt to pour red wine into a pepsi can and call it jesus juice the cops would pound down my door, toss me naked in the clink and throw away the key!

Maybe I am disturbed at the inefficiency of the Los Angeles District Attorney's Office who just cant seem to get anyone with any kind of money put into prison. OJ, free; Beretta, free; Michael Jackson, free, twice. If Phil Spector is deemed not guilty I am going to start a fucking petition to get LA removed from this country's protection as they clearly follow different rules than the rest of the country.


Is this the face of the next freed bad guy?

I could blame the jury for the acquittal, however it was up to the DA's office to select a jury that they thought would produce a guilty verdict. Did that happen? Of course not! And dont tell me that the DA's office didnt have enough money to fund a decent case, because while they didnt have the same kind of money that the defense had, they certainly spent a lot of taxpayers money to get this creep and they failed!

Really, the kid must have been asking for it with his innocent, cute, bald, cancer-ridden face and his soft, silk-like skin. Come to think of it, Michael Jackson has it all figured out, he keeps his kids covered up at all times so that other pedofiles cant have the opportunity to spoil his children! So listen up any parents or soon to be parents, cover up your kids! I suggest a full body sized burlap sack. Sure it will be hot, but it sure will keep ole' Zebra-cock away.

And speaking of fancy dressing, does anyone have any idea why Michael Jackson wears a maroon colored arm band with gold borders around his right bicep? Does he think that he is part of an army and that is his war decoration? Will he get a new arm band to signify that he has outlived another "war?" Perhaps he should be given the pink heart, which signifies that he was hurt by these legal proceedings, but that he survived! Did anyone notice that along with his arm band he also wore blue colored jammy bottoms to court yesterday?

To continue on with this crazy talk, why on earth was that bitch releasing doves? She looked about as sane as Phil Spector. Such a shame that it wasnt hunting season.

Ah, enough bitching about this, just remind me to go to LA whenever I want to rape a young boy or murder my wife, or do just about whatever (except j-walking, they fuck you with j-walking in LA!).

My secrets

This post was inspired by this blog: Postsecret

Go there if you want to see something that is really interesting and insightful.

Here are some secrets that I have kept and others that I probably havent:

I used to have a stuffed lion in the center of my floor. It used to scare me at night when it was dark. I thought he was going to bite my leg off as I went to the bathroom, so I always kept my distance.

I stole duplo building blocks from my sister at the age of 4. She didnt know what she was building anyway.

I used to love lincoln logs. I think I should purchase some now!

I have a lego collection that is way too large for a 28 year old man.

Light Bright pieces annoy me. They also dont taste too good.

I think I am always right (yeah, that is a deep, dark secret that NO one knows about...)

Ive killed (and not just bugs), or at least I think I have.

Ive nearly died, more than once.

I often wonder what my attempt at humor is really hiding.

I desire to be known.

Writing is my true passion, but getting started is scary.

I actually do work while I am at work;)

I prefer the night time.

I enjoy at porn (shocker, I know, but how many of you will openly admit it, even though you are probably more perverse than I am?).

I miss high school. I miss college even more.

I watch American Idol and have picked the winner two years in a row after hearing them sing for the first time during their audition.

Ive seen Hal Sparks take it in the ass in Queer as Folk and thought to myself, "this is a good show, I should watch it again."

I have never watched Queer as Folk again.

I think my parents might have been a little too strict with me and my sister, but at the same time I constantly thank them for allowing me to become who I am.

I fear the death of my parents.

I have saved someone else's life.

Old Men With Canes!

I have a relatively new fascination! It began a few months ago while I was driving home from work and noticed not one, but two old men, seperated by many miles, who both frequently waved their canes in the air. I have built a new blog concerning this fascination and urge you all to take a look at it and hopefully one day contribute! I need to know that there are many old men out there who wave their canes proudly, as I, one day far down the line, plan to be an old man who waves his cane! And yes, I intend that cane to be a bull penis cane!

Old Men With Canes

Good Ole' Tree Branch Arm

If you are a female and you are missing your left arm and you get engaged, do you wear your engagement ring (and eventually your wedding ring) on your right hand? Or do you put it on a prosthetic? How funny would it be if during the wedding your fiancé/husband is trying to put the ring on your fake left ring finger and all the sudden your arm falls off? Your all dressed up in a long, flowing white dress, trying to hold back a tear of joy so as to not fuck up your make-up that took hours to apply and in the next instant your future husband - who is looking quite debonair in his black tux - is standing there with your fake arm in his hands, mouth akimbo, looking at you while wondering what to do. What if all you have is a hook? Do you put the ring on the hook? Im glad I am not missing any limbs because that would surely suck!

If I had to live life without a limb I really dont know which one I would take. I guess I would need my right arm since I am right handed, although it would be fun to watch people try to decipher my left handed writing. I suppose that I would like to have both of my legs, just so I can get around, but having a motorized scooter would be cool, at least in the beginning, ya know, as a novelty. But after a while I am sure it would get annoying. I guess I am trying to say that my left arm is the most expendable of all of my limbs.

How I became who I am, or Self-Indulgent BS Through the Eyes of Self-Proclaimed Sophisticated Pansy

This is an ordered list of how I have grown as a person over my (somewhat) many years. Some of the ages are estimated, but I think they are all fairly close to actuality. Forgive the egotistical way that this might be perceived, that is not my intent, I am merely listing the things I have learned over the course of my life. Also keep in mind that this is nothing more than a synopsis, so dont expect anything more indepth at this present time.

Racism - Age 4 - I know it seems like an early age to get over racism, but it is the truth. My parents, in all their wisdom, hired a woman from Barbados (Angela) to help raise my sister and I, naturally she was black - that isnt to say that there arent white people from Barbados, she just wasnt (years later I found out that my hippy uncle got high and boned her one night! Hehe, nice!). Anyway, one day as my father was driving our old Orange Volvo sedan down Montgomery Avenue in Lower Merion, with Angela in the passenger seat, me standing up behind her (remember, I am 4, and back in 1981 it was alright for young children to stand up in cars) and my then 3 year old sister sitting behind my father. I remember asking if black people were good, and after my Dad and Angela looked at each other and giggled Angela said that all people were good, no matter what their color. I then asked about purple people. She said that even they were good! So since then, all people have been good, at least hypothetically.

Self Importance - Age 11 - I really dont know what made me start thinking about self importance, but what I realized was that other people can hurt in the same ways that I hurt. The example that I always use is the lump in your throat. Whenever your feelings are hurt, or you are sad, you get that painful lump right in the middle of your throat. Well guess what, I get that too! And so does everyone else! So that means that my actions can hurt you, just as your actions can hurt me. Man this world is a painful place. Why cant we all just get along? Oh yeah, then life wouldnt be fun.

Death - Age 13 - We are all going to die at some point or another. Essentially death is the only appointment we really have to keep our entire lives. Why I got over it at 13 is beyond me, but I am alright with dying, mainly because it is inevitable. I only hope that someone doesnt put me on a ventilator if it comes down to that - let me go out with some dignity, ok?

Sexuality - Age 14 - It is alright for people to be gay, in fact it should be celebrated. Yuck. It angers me that I havent always had this view. I cant believe that I actually once thought that there was something wrong with people who are gay. I am glad that I have grown up and learned to accept people for being who they are, not what they are. People should be allowed to be happy, and that should be the end of the story.

Driving - Age 16 - duh....

Religion - Age 21 - I have gone over religion ad nausia through this blog, so if you want to know my views on religion, just search the archive. Lets just say that at the age of 21 I decided that it was ok for anyone to believe what they want to believe and thats that. My religious beliefs have been updated though. At the age of 27 I also started to believe that what I believe can be completely wrong.

Temper - Age 17 - Believe it or not, as a child I had a horrible temper, and while it still rares its ugly head every once in a while I have learned to keep it under control. At 17 I learned to channel that energy into other things, previously it was football, now it is writing. As a little boy I used to bang my head against walls and the floor. Boy have I come a long way!

Politics - Age 21 - See religion, change all words having to to with religious beliefs to political beliefs. I came to this at around the same time that I found out that religion is personal and is best left that way. Although I am much more willing to argue politics than I am to argue religion, since there are actual facts involved (for the most part) with politics.

Greater Good - Age 23 - This is my theory of life, that the good of all should come before the good for one. Yes, I know it sounds a bit like communism, but my ideals dont go as far as compensation for work. I believe that each person should exist for themselves, but always be mindful of how their decissions and actions affect everyone else. The society as a whole is more important for the survival of humankind than is the individual. Eventually I will expand this blurb into a full post on my theory of the greater good, so keep an eye out.

Getting Old - Age 28 - Different from being able to accept death. I guess that I always thought I was going to be 22, but 22 came and went 5 years ago (yes, the math is correct, because it went when I turned 23!). Alas, in 2 years I will be 30. Getting old is inevitable, and while I dont like it, I have come to accept it.

While I have learned a lot over the years there are things that I still have yet to get over. It wouldnt be fair for me to not list those things, plus I do have to prove that I in fact do have faults as well:

Being Wrong - I really didnt want to list this as something that I havent gotten over yet, mainly because I am rarely wrong, if ever, but I am being honest, so I might as well include it.

Materialism - I enjoy owning things! Can you blame me? Things are fun to own.

Intelligence - Are there other people in this world who see things the same way I do, or as clearly as I think I do? That being said, do I overvalue my opinion of myself?