Interlude

Ai, it seems that it's quite some time ago that I added a new story. I reckon work really cut in on my internet time seeing as creatively wise I have about four long posts swimming in my head. I just need to form it into a coherent structure. For now, all I can give you is a little story more a sort of conspiracy I found out about.

If winking is a gay thing, I've been hit on by a dozen men. I hope it's not just me, but it seems men wink randomly at me, especially the elderly ones. In my book winking still stands as a sign of comfort or trust if you will. 'No worries, kiddo. All is going to be squeaky clean.' But for all I know they are just trying to get in my pants. Awkwardly I usually laugh back at them thinking: 'How far is the nearest escape exit?' 'No way in hell is that old fucker going to outrun me.' I never really noticed this before or perhaps was bothered by it. Still with the monumental increase I am thinking more and more that my cherry will be cracked by a burly truck driver called Earl, who happened to think that me smiling at his winking was giving in to getting myself ripped a new one.

I think it's just me being paranoid.
Now excuse me while I go out to buy a chastity belt for males.

Behold! The rise of the drama queens!

With each passing generation it seems to get worse, guys who got more estrogen in their body than the average women. Any sober guy could tell you it's just their way of seeking attention/affection no matter how much the slobbering queers try to deny it. I know you're wondering why I care about such things, just ignore them and be done with it, right? Wrong. Because it just happens to be everywhere you look: on the back of my TV guide, on any forum, on MTV, etc. This whole world seems to thrive on oozing drama; a contest that aims at bragging how shitty their life is. Heh, a typical paradox. People who act like their whole life is filled with life changing events for the worse, just cue the emo bitch song and you could broadcast it on TV. Oh wait, they are already doing that.

You can't turn your back or some pansy is demanding your attention, reject and you're typecast as an antisocial, egocentric and coldhearted bastard. 'Why thank you, ma'am'. Nowadays, you have to dig real deep in society to find the male specimens that still have a spine and don't turn into gooey when stepped on. Even worse are the types that spill their emotions with the snap of a finger and then exclaim that they don't have any feelings left inside of them and are completely numb. 'No of course you don't, because you just spilled it all over my bloody shirt!' They have experienced so much woe - according to them not to the rest of mankind, mind you - that they feel like they're extra special in the everlasting line of attention whores. Well let me tell you, the only people who can truly claim that they don't have any feelings inside of them anymore lie buried, three feet under the ground.

I don't know when it became common good to blurt out every random emotion, but it's certainly pissing off the few good blokes who can still get a kick out of living. I wish we would go back to the times when emotions were still deep down inside where they belong and were only marginally shared with intimates and not with everyone and his/her dog.

Blogworthy!

There I was, just checking my cellphone for new messages. I don't use my cellphone frequently, heck I didn't even want one. I delayed getting one as long as I could, but eventually my parents decided I needed to have one so I could be reached everywhere. Like I want to be called when I am on the shithouse minding my own business.

Anyway, I actually received a new message. I was quite surprised, because I didn't recognize the number on my screen. I opened it up and read it, well let me just put it here to make this story more engaging.

Good morning,
It was good, I enjoyed your energy.
xxx

Like wtf? I am certain I have nobody in my list, because I am assuming this is from a girl, who could have sent me this. My reply could probably have been funnier, but I just typed a 'wtf' and hit the reply button. So there you have it, I am messenged by a girl who said she enjoyed 'it'. By it, I assume she got humped by some guy with a duracel battery pack strapped to his genitals. The guy who should have gotten this message probably is cowering in a corner right now, because his prestige in bed wasn't acknowledged and he needs to ask her the embarrassing question: 'Was I any good'?

Yeah energizer bunny you put that bitch down, real nice.