Monday, April 29, 2013

Schizophrenia

Today at work we got in a heated debate about whether you would rather fuck an average Coachella raver or a Stagecoach boozer. Stagecoach is the country western version of Coachella, same location, same set up, one weekend later. Valid points were made on both sides. But you have to take the good with the bad. For every molly popping sorostitute, there is a armpit hair bearing hippie. Conversely at Stagecoach for every jeanshort, white tank blonde from the midwest there is a redneck who is wearing that outfit unironically. For me it all comes down to who is less likely to have pubic hair. Is that taboo still? Danny Boyle's new movie Trance I'm fairly certain is about a guy who will only fuck girls with waxed vaginas. That's it. That's the entire plot. The whole subplot of the New York Times Best Seller Gone Girl is about a girl who goes insane after trying to put on the persona of "Cool Girl" her whole life. I'm pretty sure the straw that broke the camel's back is the fact that "cool girl" has to get her "pussy waxed raw once a week so it's optimally fuckable" (I paraphrased) But if talking about the state of a female's pubic hair was considered off limits before today, I didn't plan on being the first, but I'm glad I could start the conversation.

Yes I think that dude is actually gay, but he seized the opportunity to go down in history not as a 5th man off the bench who averaged 3 points per game for his career, but the Jackie Robinson of gays who will become one of the top 10 most famous athletes of all time.

He'll also become a folk hero and very rich. He knew what he was doing.

But Coachella vs. Stagecoach, whoyagot? Well as much as I prefer beer drinking blondes to strung out raver girls, the fact of the matter is that no one at Coachella is over 29...and stagecoach attracts lots of adults. I'm pretty sure all females stop waxing at 30 so odds are better of getting a clean one at Coachella.

That said it's going to be sweaty gross tent sex so does the issue of well kempt even matter? What is the policy on tent fucking by the way?

It's not like you can make your buddy go sleep on the couch. Do you shamelessly rail her in the sleeping bag not 6 inches from your sleeping friends, do you boot them to the car? Maybe you just go find a random secluded area, get your nut, and then go about your day. This issue did not come up this year at Coachella. However, in my younger and more vulnerable years I was quite adept at Indy 500 camping. I twice had sexual experiences in the famed coke lot. One with a girl I had been dating on and off throughout the year and another that was totally random.

She puked mid-hookup.

I wish I could say that is the only time anyone every puked in or around me mid-hookup. It also happened once during the middle of a shingles post-tailgate party during parents weekend. I'm fairly certain several of the superfrat parents watched me get dome at 2pm. But why the vomit? It would be easy to say that I just routinely hook up with girls that are WAY too drunk, but the truth is, I have a penchant for punching women in the stomach when I near orgasm.

That's a lie. But the vomit part is real, I didn't clean it up for 3 days. I threw newspaper over it bought 5 cans of Febreeze and when I brought a different girl home later that night I said there was a dead animal in the intersection of 7th and Indiana. Roadkill. I am a terrible person.

Speaking of being a terrible person, I often wonder if I came up in the game Marry/Fuck/Kill. I think I was likely either married or killed routinely. But maybe I got a fuck once or twice, but I'm pretty polarizing and when you are polarizing you either get the "marry" option because she loves you so much as a friend, "you're great" all that bullshit.

Or.

In real life you fucked her or her friend and inevitably dicked them over and now they have a neverending vendetta with you, in which you will hitherto be killed in all future games of Marry/Fuck/Kill. Even though I would prefer to be chosen as the fuckee in almost all scenarios, it probably represents a fairly nonchalant opinion about someone. "I would let them inside of me, but like only once because they aren't fun enough to marry or loathsome enough to kill."

Let's be honest, I almost always got killed. Maybe a couple marries from the Tri Delt girls in like late 2008.

I was driving down the street today and I saw this very bizarre left turn only sign. I was coming out of a Trader Joe's and it was clearly in my best interest to go right. Like left led to eternal doom and trafficy frustration, right led me through this perfect little neighborhood short cut...and I immediately realized that the sign probably existed because some cunt of a mom was afraid that if too many people became privy to said short cut that one day her child would be playing in the middle of the street and get straight up Rabbit Hole'd.

The death of a child is a tragedy, but so is 1 more second in the car than I absolutely have to be.

I turned right.

Those overprotective mothers remind me of those stupid fucking child at play signs that people used to put out in my neighborhood when I was about 16. These people would literally go to like Toys R Us and get these non-legally binding "Stop, Children at Play" signs and they would be appalled when I would roll through them like it wasn't fucking nothing. APPALLED! I'm sure I was brought up to the Geist Harbours neighborhood association for failure to observe FAKE traffic signs. It ought to be illegal to have these! Honestly, and this gets back to me being a really awful human being, but every time I saw those, for a split second I wanted to fucking Grand Theft Auto the shit out of that intersection (whether you interpret that as me wanting to just drive recklessly or actually treat playing children as bowling pins is up to your demented mind to figure out) but really at the end of the day I'm not an overly fast or reckless driver, I'm just a guy who is confident enough to drive with his knees and throw emotes to chicks at the same time.

Last thing.

After I left said Trader Joe's I drove back to work in Hollywood and I saw a girl in a beat up Acura with Ohio plates. The license plate read "FIDM GRL." I couldn't help but think of the failed Hollywood dream. This chick drove out here in her 1992 Acura legend probably listening to Sheryl Crow's Tuesday Night Music Club on repeat and is just about at that point in her life when she realizes that not even blowing a producer can guarantee her a spot as the costume PA on his latest independent feature, and now she has 100 grand in debt, an associates degree in Fashion Merchandising and a moderate cocaine addiction.

Mine's basically the same story except my license plate reads KEL E BOI.

Just kidding...but seriously, all this talk about dicks in the mainstream media today (not on Fox, they chose to ignore it) when some guy/girl has gauged ears does some erect cock somewhere fuck it? It doesn't seem pleasurable at all, but the idea that you could legit ear fuck someone is enticing to me. I just watched the Sopranos episode when Artie Bucco has his ear ring ripped out. Do you think anyone has ever been ear fucking and ripped through that thin layer of cartilage keeping the lobe connected to the rest of the ear.

Oh, it definitely has.

No comments:

Post a Comment