format
this playlist of posts is now set to shuffle.
i save the entries to my hard drive as i write them, and i post them when i feel it appropriate -- not necessarily in the order they were written.
the result, dear reader, is intended to entertain and confuse you.
get fucked.
i mean, thank you.
SWM (Stupid Wimpy Moron) seeking SWF (Sexgoddess With [dork] Fetish)
This is what's got me worked up:

Were it not for the fact that blood is being routed away from my brain right now, I'd blow a blood vessel in my damned forehead right now. Were I simpler man, I could just enjoy the boobies and get on with my life, but I'm way too caught up in the fact there's a guy out there with a ridongculously hot girlfriend who will dress up in a sexy retarded penguin outfit for his little video game website. I'm so drunk with jealousy right now that I could just spill the blood of the innocent, or slam my genitals in the bathroom door. Motherfucker. Aarrrghh.
I don't have to guess this is the scenario, because I know its true. I've met them both so many times. This is how it goes down:
We meet at a party or a bar, whatever, and I notice her come in, and my brain is like "HA HA HA!! YOU? and HER?? ...BWAHAHAHAAHA!!" So I avoid eye-contact for awhile, because the visual and the dialogue together make it seems like she's the one laughing. I stroke off my ego with thoughts of how she's probably a real bimbo and likes guys with big muscles, fast cars, and no brains, and then I forget about her. Ah, but fate, cruel bitch that she is, is not done with us. We are introduced somehow and begin talking, and that's how I learn the damning truth that she's actually incredibly smart. I find myself engaged in discourse the likes of which I've never thought possible. She has personality, intelligence, wit, ideals, a sense of humor, bottomless eyes, and the most amazing lips. Oh my god. I could --
Wait. Who's this guy. Is your that little brother? ...oh, I hope that's not your brother. You're not supposed to kiss your brother like that. "This is Chris", or Chad, or lets give him my name for that extra special ironic flavor.
"He's.."
Ready
"..my.."
Aim
"..boy-"
Fire
"-friend.."
If this guy looked like Brad Pitt, I could sleep at night, because I understand that. I've been exposed to that all my life. But I could kick this guy's ass, and I'm a waif. And I sure as hell didn't fall out of the Calvin Klein underwear ad in Vanity Fair, but I'm better looking too. And he just made a math joke.
Scuse me, dream girl? Where's the bathroom? I need to slit my wrists.
Thanks.
Every time I think I've lowered my sights enough to find happiness in reality, I come across this happy couple, and then I want to eat a gun.
When. When is it my turn to date way outside of my means?
Damn you all.
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