Do you actually know / have been with any girl that will let you do these things that you write to her?

In ‘93, I met a bitch in a motel room and beat her with a discarded strip of wiring insulation I’d picked up off the ground somewhere. The next morning, we snuggled and admired both her stripes and the .357 she’d brought with her, just in case I’d turned out to be something other than her preferred brand of crazy. Silly thing followed me home after that, and never left.

Finding a girl who’s willing to be hurt and used is trivial; society cranks them out at a tremendous pace. The tricky part is finding one you can trust.

If I saw you on the street I’d grab you and take you into my car, pull your pants and panties down around your knees and shove my 12 inch cock inside you hitting your cervix hard until I shoot my large thick multiple loads inside you

sillysexystupid-deactivated2020:

You prob think this is so edgy & hardcore & that is sad lol

Is it just me, or does “large thick multiple loads” make it sound like he’s packing cottage cheese in his balls? That’s not so much edgy as a medical condition.

“Same Auld Ang Syne” — Dan Fogelberg

It was kind of cool, stumbling across this piece about Same Old Lang Syne. I wonder how many people have stories about how they discovered that particular song?

For me, I found it via an ex, around ‘92. It was winter, and our years-long relationship was almost over; it would have died naturally by the New Year, but as luck would have it, diamond jewelry has a way of dragging things out, and we survived until February.

But we still seemed a tenable couple in mid-November, when she asked me if I could remember that Christmas song about the old lover in the grocery store. She couldn’t remember the title (other than that there was “something weird about it”) or the name of the artist, but she knew it felt like the perfect song for the bleak holidays. (That, I realized later, was foreshadowing.) We wracked our brains, but couldn’t remember anything.

A few weeks later, I was unloading a shipment at work when I heard the truck driver warbling along to himself: “Met my old lover in the grocery store, the snow was fallin’ Christmas Eve…” I immediately dropped the box and asked him what the hell he was singing.

“Fogelberg, I think,” he said. “Same Old Lang Syne.”

I headed to Tower Records that night and dug around for a Greatest Hits CD. I knew the big songs in Fogelberg’s catalog (Longer, Leader Of The Band, Run For The Roses), but I had no clue about this weird Christmas song that everyone but me seemed to half-remember. As I listened to it at home, I found myself wondering how you could forget it once you’d heard it.

I mean, yeah, it’s wussy, soft piano-rock from the Land of Long, Long Ago, and Fogelberg made a career out of beating people to death with lush, sweeping sentiment… but that song?

It’s a perfect portrait of a moment, so vivid that I can smell the frigid night air and feel the snow crunching underfoot. More importantly, it was the first song about adult emotions and behavior that resonated with me as deeply as all the songs about fucking and rebellion always had.

We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to now
We tried to reach beyond the emptiness
But neither one knew how

That’s my idea of Christmas. Happy holidays, fuckers.

(Source: http://www.nytimes.com/)

I dont know why im telling you this but ive been feeling so empty lately.

All i want is for someone to beat me, toss me around and choke me until i pass out. I just wanna feel like i have a purpose.

You’re telling me because you need someone to listen. You need to see someone react to the truth of what you’ve become without minimizing it, or rationalizing it, or ignoring it. In your cowardly little anonymous way, you need to feel exposed and judged for the depths to which you will sink.

Consider your prayer answered, dear cunt.

Okay, so, apparently, some girls don’t find it flattering when they fish for compliments and you tell them that they remind you of a 1,000 year old red priestess who uses the illusion of beauty to hide the gnarled husk of a woman she is inside.

They’ll agree that your assessment is accurate, but they won’t find it flattering.

greedyagain:

So my program has all these young people and they were talking about baby names and I just want to warn you, the rising generation is gonna name their kids some crazy fucking shit. 

They’ll regret it. Giving one’s offspring a distinctive name just makes them easier to track online. If you’re going that route, at least name the little fucker something like 01011101; that way they’ll be harder to find, and they’ll be able to greet strangers with “Nice to meet you Sharon, I’m Bi!”

UPDATED: Okay, so nerdy dad-jokes aren’t good enough for you people. Fine, I shall not cast my pearls before swine!

Are you jealous?

At the moment? Not that I’ve noticed.

As a kid? Oh, hell yeah.

In general? Seldom, and less all the time. As an adult, I’ve found that I’m only jealous when I’m not being honest about what I want from someone, and honesty is one of those rare things in life that is 100% within my sphere of control.

If I’m feeling jealous, it means that I need to pull someone aside and put her in her place. If she refuses to stay there, then I need to let her go. The flowchart is pretty simple, and would have saved me a lot of nights in my late teens and early 20s, standing in the rain and shaking my fist at god over The One Who Got Away.

(Also potentially useful to my younger self: a time machine and access to Facebook, since I now realize she was really The Bullet That I Dodged.)