WHAT I'VE LEARNED : SUNDAY EDITION
If you're anything like me, you're an idiot and you've been more than aware of it for nearly 40 years. Accordingly, you try learning as much stuff as possible as a means to mitigate what might in fact be the result of an extra chromosone. You'd also be a narccissitic asshole with a blog, the quality of which has been slipping steadily for a week or so. That being the case, you'll want to learn stuff about yourself and write down what you've learned for a vast world-wide audience.
This is important because I'm getting an increasing number of hits from the Middle East lately. Frankly, I'm shocked that the Iranian and Saudi governments still allow their citizens access to my little corner of Al Gore's Internet. Those are pretty conservative regimes and I would suspect that being greeted with beautifully large knockers might be off-putting to them. But they apparently aren't. Go figure. We each spread democracy in our own individual ways, I suppose. Mine just happens to smell more like tuna than others.
Oh, I'm rambling again, aren't I? I'd apologize for my "spreading of democracy" continually popping into public view, but I swore that I wouldn't until President Bush did first and I'm nothing if not a man of my word.
I was thinking of making "what I learned" into a regular Friday feature. Honest, I was. Then something got in the way. I was violently hung over on Friday and even the thought of learning made my skull throb. So I wrote about fucking Jenny McCarthy instead, which made other parts of me throb. This leads me to the first thing I learned;
- Cumming all over yourself repeatedly when you're hung over isn't as unpleasant as you'd think.
I was going to keep that one to myself, but I'm far too giving of myself for that. You'd never think that this is true, but it's been my experience that if you had so much to drink the previous night that your teeth hurt the next day, inducing an orgasm will make you feel great. Granted, the feeling is only momentary, so you'll have to make yourself cum pretty much constantly until the hangover goes away. This could prove problematic if you suffer from joint pain, senstive genitals or a job that requires you to leave your home every day. But that's why you good folks drink responsibly and only on weekends, isn't it? You're a smart bunch. It's much better to leave all that daredevil shit to me. - I'm getting much kinkier than I ever thought I would in my advancing years
This was more shocking to me than all but a very few of you can imagine, but it happens to be true. As my longtime readers might have noticed, I'm a pretty horny guy. And when I say "pretty horny", I mean to say "possessed of more carnal desire than any 23 of you combined." Some of my female friends thought it was a "cute joke" when I would say that I masturbated anywhere from 7 to 12 times a day. It was only after learning that I wasn't kidding that the restraining orders started. Hey ladies, here's a helpful hint; if you aren't going to be flattered to learn that a man pleasures himself "furiously" whilst thinking of you - including the description of just how many of his fingers he can fit into his ass as he does so and how deeply they reach - don't fucking ask, okay? It's really getting to the point where I can't afford all of these goddamn lawyers. We don't give a shit how platonic you think our relationship is, men jerk off thinking about how you'd be in the sack. And you know that guy who says he doesn't? He won't admit it because he's thinking of doing really revolting shit to you. Feel better? Good, now grow up and deal with it, mkay? Thanks. Anyhow, my already demented libido has recently escalated from merely crazed to outright maniacal. This is due to the Beautiful Young Friend of mine that I've mentioned recently. She has me thinking and feeling things that I not only didn't think were physically possible, I'm pretty sure that they're not legal in most civilized jurisdictions. I'm limited about what I can say about her because she does read this blog and is smart enough not to want to be publicly associated with me. There are a couple of things I can say about her, however. When I refer to her as beautiful, that's a deliberate understatement. My beautiful young friend is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Were you to see pictures of us side to side, you would associate it more with a kidnapping than you would anything resembling consensual sexual attraction. The contrast in our appearances is truly disturbing. My Beautiful Young Friend is not only the sexiest woman I've ever known, she's the sexiest woman I've ever heard of! The things this girl is capable of saying and doing are enough to make an otherwise centered individual question his very sanity. I've known my share of sexual women in my day, but none has ever made me feel that my head, heart and crotch would explode simultaneously. And that's just the superficial stuff. My Beautiful Young Friend is also very smart, incredibly sweet and one of the most brilliantly gifted writers that I've had the pleasure of reading. This woman's words literally bleed emotion. She can make you laugh, cry and run off to sexually satisfy yourself, and she can often do all three in just three or four paragraphs. She's an all around amazing person and I'll always cherish her friendship.
However, I do recognize that my world-wide audience expects - no, demands - that I focus on the superficial. And I'm not one to disappoint, at least not deliberately. And to that girl who's eye I mistook for her mouth, you really should forgive me. It was a whole week ago, for Christ's sake! Holding a grudge this long causes stomach cancer, you know. Just to make it up to you, I'll buy you a pizza. And swimming googles My Beautiful Young Friend also has the eeriest voice I've ever heard. Firstly, she's from a geographic region that demands that she speak with an accent, and I love accents. Secondly, her voice is pitched at a level that makes her sound approximately seven years old. If you have a penis, I needn't tell you just how insanely sexy that is. This might be the single most embarassing thing I've ever admitted in public, but the first time I heard her voice, I physically shook with glee. Come to think of it, I've never admitted that to her either. Opps. As if her voice weren't enough to pledge my eternal devotion to her, she's capable of saying the most unbelievably filthy things with it. When that happens it's hard to tell which is making the louder noise; my heart breaking, several hundred brain cells melting in unison, or my testicles rattling like fucking marracas. I frequently find myself terrified that she'll interrupt the dirty talk to ask, "What's that noise?" The reason I bring this up (and she'll read this before any of you do) is that I now can't interact with her in any way without hearing her voice. Most of our communications are by instant message, but lately I hear her messages more than I actually read them. And regardless of what we're actually discussing, the heart breaking, brain cell melting and testicle rattling starts all over again. I have very little doubt that she'll actually kill me, but I can't think of a better way to go. 
This morning was no different than most. At least it didn't start that way. We were chatting away and she mentioned that she would be visiting her grandparents today. This immediately triggered a depraved "Little Red Riding Hood" fantasy in my terribly, terribly wrong imagination. Because of the intense sexual frustration and truly remarkable levels of lust that this woman inspires in me, I'm not infrequently thrown into spates of physical convulsions by my desire for her. On Friday night alone I nearly bit my tongue into sixteen different pieces during one six hour conversation. One imagines that it is something of challenge to ignore such a physical response and to continue conducting oneself as a gentleman of learning. Well, I'm here to tell you that it's actually impossible. My Beautiful Young Friend sensed that something was amiss and asked me about it. I now had no choice but to reveal my demented fantasy to her. I guess in retrospect I could've lied, but, at the time, I thought that I was bleeding from the fucking ears with lust. That made strategic thinking one of my weaker qualities at the moment. After hearing a fantasy that was wrong on no fewer than fourteen levels and contrary to laws of both God and man, my Beautiful Young Friend did something unexpected. She sent me a link to this website (probably NSFW) and let me know that she would very much like an outfit like that. At that point, I knew that any hope I had of being a good man was forever lost. From that second forward, I am resigned to a fate of wanting to dress (and more importantly, underess) my Beautiful Young Friend in different outfits. Ye fucking Christ and all the dwarves in Disneyland, have I become a costume fetishist? Will I someday reach the point where I can only achieve sexual satisfaction with a woman in a smurf outfit? Will I have an irresistable impulse to go on a date dressed as Dick Cheney long after doing so is out of fashion? Will someone get shot in the face on those dates? How could it have finally come to that, O Lord? How could you let me fall to these depths? How could you allow me to become one of those guys? And how could something so desperately wrong feel so profoundly right? Of course, none of this has changed my determination to marry my Beautiful Young Friend and take her away to Chile with nothing but our outfits and the corpse of Dizzy Gillspie. It is there we shall breed our Unholy Army of the Night, and it is from there that we shall return to rule you all! The bright side being that never before will you have such smartly dressed overlords. Or rather, you would but for the fact that my Beautiful Young Friends wants nothing romantically from me. Thankfully, I'm a total man-whore and can accept being fuck-buddies. - I sometimes forget how beautiful Halle Berry is
My feelings on Halle Berry haven't been a particularly well-kept secret over the years. While you would be hard-pressed to demonstrate to me that a more purely beautiful has ever existed, I would respond that neither has a more asexual one. Halle Berry manages to be flawlessly beautiful without being remotely sexy. This is something of a major achievement. 
I have a theory on why this is. You see, if you're physically perfect in every way (overlooking, for the moment the possibility that Halle Berry might have six toes), you really don't have much to worry about from life. Everyone around you will kiss your ass right through life because you're pretty and you never really have to address the fact that you're an emotionally empty idiot. Being gorgeous is its own reward . Several scientific studies have demonstrated that your success in life is in large part dependent on how attractive you are. And as an ugly , emotionally empty idiot, I can't tell you how bitter I am about that. But that tends to work against you, at least sexually. If you happen to be super-hot, you know that the next piece of ass is just around the corner. You therefore don't have much of an investment in satisfying your partner. After all, why bother when you can be reasonably certain that you'll have a better looking one by the end of the week anyway? In my experience, the best sex is always with the most insecure people. Insecure people don't that they're worth your company, so they go that extra mile to impress you. I'm sure that every man has been with at least one woman who would cry if you didn't come so hard that his goo nearly shot through the back of her skull. And that's also why I always at least offer to go down on a woman for three weeks without a break. Insecurity makes you want to do a good job because you might not get another opportunity. Of course, you might ask;"What the fuck does skippy know? Who gives a shit about his stupid fucking theories?" And these would be valid questions. That's why I like having the facts on my side. Halle Berry has been married twice, and both marriages ended due to the infedility of her husbands. Do you seriously think that those guys found hotter women to fuck? Hotter than Halle Berry? Really? Oh, they found a hotter fuck than Halle Berry, make no mistake about that. But a more attractive fuck? I think not. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Halle Berry may be the single worst lay in human history. There's virtually nothing that you could do to convince me otherwise. Want to hear a secret? It doesn't matter. Christ, just look at her! From time to time I get so lost in my conviction that she's horrible in the sack that I forget how truly fucking gorgeous she is. I don't care if I could drag a better sexual experience out of a three day-old bologna sandwich I found on the sidewalk, I'd give BOTH of my balls to fuck her. And even if I didn't enjoy it, she could bet that sweet little ass of hers that she would. And those are the things I learned this week. Permalink
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