I come to you from the great State of Wisconsin. Yes, I know. I haven’t really gotten very far. I have noticed that traveling alone isn’t all that it is cracked up to be. I mean, I am having the time of my life, but the driving part can suck. Going through Chicago was such a joy in this oversized station wagon. I am currently holed up along the shores of “Castle Rock Lake” here in the land of cheese. The peeps are very friendly and everyone is treating me great. I have staked out different spots around the lake. For the past few evenings I have been throwing a few back over at “Splash Waterfront Bar and Grill”. I suppose that I should be heading out soon, but the scenery is wonderful and it really is a nice place.

OK, I am not sure what it is like where you are, but here in the armpit of America known as the Midwest it is hot. I am not talking about the “Can’t walk barefoot on the asphalt” sort of hot. I am talking full on “breath taking, ass crack sweating, god help us all hot”. It is like a freaking sauna and I for one am not digging it. Can anyone tell me what the hell the “Heat Index” is? Some dork on the weather here was trying to explain the calculation between temperature and humidity levels and BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. I am sweating profusely and for the first time in my life have had to powder my balls. I always thought that was an old wives tale. Folks, it works. There is nothing I hate more in life then sweat. It makes me feel nasty, dirty and miserable. So, if it is nice and cool, that being below 90 degrees where you are, I think that will be my next stop.

I have six days left to make it to Sturgis. I think that I can make it! I will leave you with some of the beautiful scenery here at “Castle Rock Lake”.

ADIOS

I am officially free from all responsibilities. My plans? Well, with my new found freedom I have decided to fulfill a lifelong dream of seeing the country. I always had pictured myself old and grey, wearing depends making the trip, but as fate would have it I get to do it now. So before I change my mind or talk myself out of it, I am off.

My first stop will be Sturgis. I hear that it is one of the biggest parties around. It kicks off on August 7th. I am not sure how long it will take me, but I think that I can make it in a comfortable time. From there, I’ll plan the next leg of my trek.

I bought a new, non-Dell laptop. I am still working on how I will get Internet service. I have a few options in the works. But if all else fails, I will pull up next to a hotel and borrow their wireless just long enough to post and say hi. If there are any of you between here and Sturgis, drop me a line.

Be good!

Peace Out!

P.S. If it is Rocking, Don’t come Knocking!

guest post

story is totally true. (At least that is what the email said)

It’s gross, so don’t say I didn’t warn you!

The last two days of classes are the most stressful every semester. Not only do we have finals looming ahead of us, but we also have to deal with the fact that 99% of the professors will assign their papers due the last day of class (either Thursday or Friday). With two papers due the next day and finals next week, I’m dead smack in the middle of a double-whammy.

My body reacts to such stress in two ways. One of which is an elevated sex drive. With my boyfriend hunkered down in the library with his own papers and me cozy at home, I knew the most efficient way to finish the job would be to do it myself. I have a small apartment and a nearby roommate, so I decided to take a waterproof vibrator (thank you, Goodvibes) into the shower for some fun in the (loud-to-mask-my-own-sounds) water. I hop in the shower with the trusty vibe and get warmed up under the spray of the shower. Ahhhh, things were feeling good. I face away from the showerhead, prop my foot up on the corner of the tub, and start to have some fun. After a minute or two, with the thoughts of term papers completely out of my mind, I felt my body tense up and release some of that built up tension. Delicious!

Then I remembered the other way my body reacts to stress. I felt a warm mass between my butt cheeks and realized I had done something I thought only infants and folks in nursing homes do. I had shit myself. You see, the second way my body reacts to stress is through diarrhea. The loose stool, low in my bowels, saw the opportunity to escape during my orgasm and totally went for it. Fucker! After realizing what happened, I had no choice other than to put the cum-covered vibe up on a shelf and clean my fecally incontinent ass down. Imagine standing in a shower and wet blobs of poop hitting your feet and running down your leg. Not to mention that, but while soaping up (3 times), I had to beat the intact pieces of shit clogging the drain down those little strainer holes as they were causing the water rise up to my ankles. So I was literally ankle-deep in my own watery shit.

Now my skin is dried out from the violent and repetitive scrubbing. My shower is soaking in bleach, and I’ve lost an hour I could have used for my papers (for the actual event and writing this post).

At least I’m not horny anymore.

o I am back. Not one person has been like “How have you been”, or “How are things with you”? All that I have heard today (from most) is “What about the HNT”, or “Where is the HNT, you jipped us”, etc… and BLAH fucking BLAH! So, I have decided to say “Fuck it” to “Osbasso” and the whole “Half-Nekkid Thursday” crap and say if you want naked, if you want nude, if you want cock or ass in your face, this is the place to come. If you would rather have my sweaty balls on display than read something comical that may or may not have happened in my life, fine. If you would rather see me wearing “Victoria” Secret” panties rather than reading about my misfortunes, that is cool. It is all good. Just know however I will grow old, and that my balls will shrivel and my skin will wrinkle to the point of which you may reconsider your choice for coming here. Yet, all the while I will still imagine, still exaggerate and still hope that I am hot enough to score. We all know that reality blows, so enjoy!

{{ EDIT}}

And BTW, I am just playing! Thanks for the emails!

It is said to be goodluck

It is to be one of my greatest days. I had spent several days preparing. I would vindicate myself and walk away proud, my head raised high. Some might say that I had sold out, settled rather than fight, but with all of the recent events in my life I saw this as a second chance, a new start. Not many people get this opportunity, and I was finished with questioning and second guessing what I knew in my heart was the right thing for me.

I awoke early and went for a jog. The air was cool and refreshing as I ran though the quiet neighborhood. I arrived back home, showered, ate and dressed into the recently pressed and tailored suit. I stared back at myself in the mirror as I knotted the tie around my neck. I laced and tied my shoes and took one final look over the entire outfit and out the door I went.

The sun was rising and people were out and about. Cars passed me with men and women hurrying to make it to their place of business on time. I took my time and enjoyed the drive. I had only one place to be and after this day, I would no longer work to anyone’s schedule or timetable but my own. It felt right. I felt alive.

I arrived and retrieved my ticket and parked. I gathered my notes and zipped up my bag and swung the strap over my shoulder. I hit the switch and my alarm chirped indicating that all was locked and set. I crossed the street and went to the massive marble steps to begin my ascent. I took the first step upward. That is when it happened. That is when the day changed. That very moment my confidence faltered and I began questioning my motives and myself. That very moment, as if a message from above, a lone scout, out on reconnaissance spotted me and took aim. From the heavens above it dropped its payload and hit the target. As I climbed the steps a thick, wet and greenish load hit me from the skies. I had just gotten shit on. On this day that was supposed to be my best, the accuracy was such that it missed the outer jacket, and my white shirt and tie which I had knotted so perfectly took a direct hit. Not thinking I attempted a wipe away which only smeared the warm goo further. I entered the building. My task before me.

It was to be one of my greatest days.

I will be posting sporadically for a while until I have a plan of action. Between the problems with “Blogsome” and all of the other drama I have going on I had opted to just let “I’m not touching you” fade away. But all of the emails have convinced me that it is still fun. I do still enjoy blogging and all of the visitors, even the Canadian. With that, I am hoping that while I may not post daily, some of you will submit posts that I will put up with links back to you, to fill in the gaps. Either way, enjoy and I will see you all soon!

What the F***-HNT

here I am away from home and all of a sudden I remember it is Thursday. Yes HNT. What to do? I am not prepared? I look at the clock, it is still Thursday here. Shit, I have no way, no means of….. Wait. Oh yes. Could it be? See, Gmail, the email service I use for personal crap saves everything. A few months back when I was doing the “Truth or Dare” thing, I actually did a dare picture. Would the email and picture still be there? I searched, and there it was. So I present to you this weeks HNT. Don’t ask, it was a dare and never meant to be shared. So feel priveledged and enjoy. Happy HNT.

The First Amendment- you never met a mother fucker quite like me

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances”.

I will keep this short and sweet as I am on vacation in an undisclosed location. Today I gathered with family and headed to a “Chain” sort of restaurant and gaming facility. It was casual and I opted to wear a tee I had gotten at a recent concert. The Shirt was solid black and in the front it read “You Never Met A” and on the rear of the shirt it says “Mother Fucker Quite Like Me” along with the band info. There I am with family, having a good time and all and this piss boy of an assistant manager comes up and tells me that my shirt is unacceptable because of profanity. “What” I replied? (Remember, Mike has anger control issues) He tells me that I will have to remove the shirt or leave. I take the shirt off and continue. “Excuse me” the dweeble said and had the nerve, courage or audacity to put his hand on me, in which I snatched up in a firm grip and asked him “What”. He told me that it was required that I wear a shirt while in the facility. I tell the guy he just had told me that I needed to remove the shirt or leave. I removed the shirt. What is the issue? There was talk of calling the police and shit. Frankly, I do not need that sort of exposure at this point so I left my family there and exited the building.

So, to all of you conservative, Bush loving, Bilble thumping , Rush fans, and to all of you mindless sheep watching our country being taken by us, on a path to dictatorship, FUCK OFF! I am on a new mission. I will get into politics. I am running for something that will end in me being a presidential candidate! This country needs and enema. As a nation, we have forgotten the most important three little words; “We the people”. That is what it boils down to.

Good Night!

Have I fallen for the "Geek Squad" Girl

After several attempts and much frustration, it had gotten the better of me. I am not a patient person by nature, and it is a wonder that the thing isn’t in a million little pieces, but after the fifth attempt of reloading and yet crashing once again, I knew that this would call for an expert if I were to rid the demons from my Dell. I am convinced at this point that Microslop and Dell are in cahoots together to provide shady products they no longer make mega profits on so that they can rake in the cash from service items and repairs. I needed an expert. I was not going to call “Sangie” again in India for him to tell me to “reboot”. I have rebooted the fucker hundreds of times. I needed a plan. I took the advice of the blog world and as much as it killed me, I called the “Geek Squad”. The same little fuckers that I once tormented, harassed and cheated from in school, I would now call upon and rely on to fix my problem, to make things right. What irony.

I perused the yellow pages and found the number. I dialed the number, hoping that they would not recognize my voice (you never know). “Walter” answered the phone and I explained my problem. I inquired about pricing and that set him off on a geek tangent. He began talking hard drives, ram, gigs, boards and cards. My head was spinning. He continued on with trojans, exe files, worms and BLAH, fucking BLAH. I stopped Walter mid sentence with “How much to just check the thing out”. There was a pause. I heard the flipping of pages and finally Walter tells me the price for them to come to my house to check it verses the price of me taking it in. FYI, Mike is a cheap bastard and I told Walter that I would be in.

I carried the Dell into the “Geek Squad” location and up to the “Geek Squad” counter. I was greeted by an odd sort of girl. Her hair was dyed pitch black and although she sported the “Geek Squad” buttoned down shirt, the rest of her get up was comprised of a plaid skirt with black stockings and big ass chunky shoes. The ones with the 8 inch slab of rubber for a heel. Although she was odd looking and defiantly a “Geek Squader” I found her rather pleasant to look at. I explained my situation and frustration and how my exorcism had failed. We carried the Dell into the operating room and she opened it up. She stared loading discs and crap into it and connected it to the life support unit and went to work. I watched her work and noticed that this “Geek” had quite the rack on her, “The Guns of The Navarone”. She hid it well under the “Goth”, “pippylongstocking” look, but they were there. I was my usual self, cracking jokes and such and over the half hour I was there with her, we connected. She said that my mother thingie was something or another and a card was needed and so on. She said it would take about a week to get all of the parts and warranty stuff in, but would be no problem. I asked her jokingly if she could deliver it back to me in one of the “Geek Bugs”. Our eyes locked for what seemed an eternity and she smiled and said “Sure”. What day and time should I come by? Floored, with both feet in my mouth, never expecting that reaction, I stammered and stuttered and told her any time the following week. I gave her my number and told her to give me at least a 24 hour notice. As I handed the sheet over to her our skin grazed and again, time stopped as we stared at one another.

The entire way home I had visions of “Geek Squad Sex”. Hundreds of scenarios played out in my head. By the time that I got home I had convinced myself that I had made more of it than what had really happened. I got home and noticed I had a voice message. It was her “Geekiness”. She confirmed the delivery of the parts and called and left me a day and time she would be over. She ended it with “Looking forward to seeing you again”. Can it be

To the lady at labcorp-HNT

This is from a friend and a true story. Cracked me up. Of course this is my take on his story.

First off the only reason I was there was to verify I had no live sperm.

My girlfriend wanted me to verify I was not shooting real bullets because I was tired of feeling like my shaft was stuck in neutral because I had to wear a fricking condom. I told her I was tied off but we both wanted to make sure I was not “live” before I ditched the $5 a box condoms.

I came into your Lab with a doctor’s order for a sperm sample. There were two other people behind me at the counter when you took the order from my hand and then asked me in a loud voice “When is the last time you ejaculated?” (I guess you wanted to know if I had enough spluge to give a good sample to run the test) WTF? Do you have to broadcast to the whole damn place that I’m there to shoot my load into a clear plastic cup? I told you that I should be good. You then have me go sit in the waiting room.

I sat down and rifled through a bunch of magazines and found a two year old Sports Illustrated. I read it from cover to cover. Then you came into the waiting room and handed me a cup to do my deed. You then led me back to the front desk area where the only bathroom in the place is 3 feet away from the counter.

Apparently I was expecting you to hand me a choice of porn material so I could get this done. But I now know that I will have to supply my own, in the future.

I went into the bathroom (aka sperm sample room) and took out my limp dick. I try to remember the girl on the front of Cosmo magazine that I saw briefly, and work to get a hard on when I hear on the other side of the door, a woman visibly upset that her insurance requires a copay for her blood work to be drawn. WTF? The girl on the cover of Cosmo quickly exits my mind as I am now listening to you try to calm this woman down. I turn the water on to try and drown out the conversation so I can shoot my load into the cup.

At this point, I am now stripping all the way down to nothing so I can feel like I’m crawling into the sack with my girlfriend. I manage to get a rod up and proceed to stroke but guess what? There is no lotion. I NEED LUBE! I am going like a bat out of hell with both hands to know avail. I then discover the liquid soap in the liquid soap dispenser and damn near empty the thing into the palm of my hand. (sorry for using all the soap) So now I’m completely naked, jacking off in a public restroom and pink soap flying everywhere. (I flush the toilet to try and drown out the conversation between you and a coworker complaining about how your husband forgot your damn birthday) So with all this all going on it really is tough trying to stay somewhat aroused to get this sperm from inside my body into this cup. So I call my girlfriend, who is a corporate trainer, to see if I can get her to have phone sex with me. But of course she’s training people and can’t help me out, at all.

After 45 minutes of front desk conversation, toilet flushing, and water running I finally getrdone. My heart is racing a hundred miles an hour, my arms hurt and I’m flat worn out. I rinse myself, wash the walls, get my clothes back on and take my sealed sample to you. You then ask me how’d it go? What kinda damn question is that? I smile and say great and then walk out the door. BTW, I have no live sperm and now can have proper intercourse with my girlfriend.

Thanks for all your help Labcorp lady. I hope I never have to see you again.

I would like to thank my fellow Blogger who suggested this. I had run out of ideas. I think that the steam blurred the picture.

Lastly, I wanna dedicate this HNT to the anonymous Canadian guy who lusts after my sack.

Happy HNT