Editorial note: The below description, notes, thoughts and feelings are described by Che, not me (Michael). Enjoy…
I currently find myself in a bit of a quandary when it comes to my so-called “buddies”. I don’t really like any of them. I’m not sure when this began, but I find them to be nauseating. Maybe, I stepped out of the forest for a moment and realized the trees were all dead. Nothing new ever blooms from these people. It is a parade of monotony, with the walking mind-dead doing the broken-record dance.
I love push-ups. The push-up is a wonderful exercise. It works many different upper-body muscles quite well. If you are ever looking for a way to kill a few minutes, I highly recommend knocking out a few.
The blinker is a very underrated traffic tool. If people were to use their blinkers, like they were supposed to, we could eliminate 85% of all traffic accidents. I have no data to support that claim, but trust me.
Here’s a fucked up thought. Think about how much you love your wife/girlfriend, and how much you love her giving you the oral business. Now think of how many different cocks have been in her mouth. That’s fucked up, huh?
What is the real significance of the engagement ring? Is a diamond truly the symbol of how deeply a man loves a woman? More likely, the diamond has been the subject of an extremely clever marketing scheme by the De Beers monopoly. I think cavemen used to tie together the hands and feet of desired cavewomen to prevent escape. Once it was determined, by the juggernaut brain of homo-habilus or Neanderthal that the cavewoman would not run away all that remained of the bondage was a small string on one of her hands. I am not completely sure how accurate the previous two statements are, but I do remember briefly studying the latter in college. Of course, I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night. So, do you place that expensive rock on her left hand to show the world how much you love her, or to show the world how much you can afford to love her?
Do you know what annoys the shit out of me?…chubby martial-arts instructors. These guys are supposed to teach me how to be disciplined? Hey, I have an idea, when you can be disciplined enough to stop practicing munching tiger, hidden burger then you can teach me about discipline, fat-body.
I was looking at the moon tonight…a full, bright, cold moon being scratched by dark anonymous branches. It made me think of nothing, and it was comforting.
This is a tip for anyone who likes having sex. Watch porn. And, I don’t mean watch porn, jerk-off, and flip it back to SportsCenter. I mean watch it, learn from it, and improve your life. Sound crazy? Read on, my friend. Porn can be wonderful. Take out the ridiculous excuse for a plot, the poor production quality, the worse acting you’re ever likely to see, and what are you left with? Education, my friend. Sex Education. Not the horseshit they pretend is a class in junior high, but real Sex Education. The kind of education that enables you to learn what, why, when, and how hard. I learned how to perform amazing pussy-eating techniques by watching lesbian porn. It’s true. My first foray into the wet world of cunniligious was disastrous. I was completely embarrassed, but it made me want to learn. So, I rented lesbian porn for two weeks straight, and learned how to touch a woman…with my hands and my tongue. Of course, every partner you have will be different, but having a solid foundation is essential when you are trying to build your sexual tower of power. Let your ego chill out for a bit, and think about some shit. When you want to get better at basketball, you play all the time, and watch the league, and the NCAA as much as possible. Why? Firstly, because you love it, and secondly because those guys are the best at what they do, and you want to learn their moves and try to get inside their head to figure out what he was seeing, why he reacted the way he did, when he realized what he needed to do, and how he was able to find the open man, toy with the defender, squirt the pass between his legs, pull out the defense just so he could shoot the ball right in his man’s face, game over. Sex is exactly the same thing to me. So, I watch porn to figure out what he saw in her reactions, why he knew she wanted him to fuck her in the ass, when he realized that was what she wanted, and how he was able to find the opening, toy with her clit, squirt the KY between her legs, pull out his cock just so he could shoot his load right in her face, game over.
Just in case you were wondering, Cowbell is the only prescription for your fever. Believe it, bitches.
For some reason, I have this overwhelming urge to shit in a bag, and throw it at my neighbor. I don’t know why. I have never spoken to this dude. He has never wronged me in any way, given me a dirty look, or even checked out my wife’s ass. But, I want to drop a deuce in a bag, and not just any bag either. I’m talking about the brown paper bag you used to take your lunch to school in back in the day…with a fucking bright yellow smiley face on the front of it, that says “Have A Nice Day”, and launch that puppy right at his chest and neck. Oh god, I would laugh for years. That scene would be burned into my memory banks for eternity. He walks out of his garage and turns around, I say, “Hi, neighbor!” as I heave the brown bomb. That uncoordinated bitch would try to catch it (I saw him trying to dribble a basketball in his driveway the other day, and I swear to every God you’ve ever heard of that I laughed uncontrollably at his sorry ass, like when you used to watch those fucking geeks in gym class concentrating like a motherfucker, oh shit!…but I digress), and as his outstretched arms flail futilely at that bag of human feces, screaming toward him with hilariously bad intentions, the last thing his punk-ass will see is a bright yellow smiley face. Have a nice day, bitch. Splat!