Type something into a Google search and chances are it will pop right up. If you type something pornographic into a Google search something will pop up all right…your dick! Where the hell does all this free porn come from, and where do all these girls who are willing to star in it live? Seriously! There are so many lesbian sites that I swear one out of every five girls in the world MUST be doing lesbian porn to pay for vacations, college, clothes…something, there are so many. I keep thinking I’ll run into these models I’m jerkin’ it to at the grocery store or something but, then again, I wouldn’t recognize them because I’m not looking at their faces. I might recognize a well-trimmed beav though, except the majority of these chicks are totally shaved, bald as eleven year olds. And to that I say: That’s the way, uh-huh uh-huh I like it! Uh-huh uh-huh! That’s the way uh-huh uh-huh I like it! Uh-huh uh-huh!
Of course there a ton of dudes doing porn, but it’s obvious why they would do it: free pussy! They can’t be getting paid, unless it’s gay porn, and then maybe only some of the guys, the good-looking ones. The ugly guys will do gay porn for the same reason that regular looking guys will do hetero porn. It’s all about the blowjobs baby!
But I’m totally not kidding. Explore the porn site 89.com and follow all the lesbian links. It will take you all day and you’ll never see the same girl twice. Is there an alternate reality somewhere that is full of hot lesbians willing to have their photo taken while licking out another chicks ass crack? How do I get there? Geez, the lesbians I know, well, let’s just say Penthouse won’t be calling them any time soon. No offence intended, um, ladies…not to mention that they won’t let me watch, much less take pictures or videos. That in itself is a crime!
According to the Internet there are zillions of hot sluts out there ready, willing and anxious to rim another chick. Could this information be true? If I could somehow pry myself away from these sites and do some actual research maybe I’d come up with some answers instead of a box of empty Kleenex and a used up tube of Astroglide for my troubles. Maybe. Chances are I’d probably just give up and watch TV instead. Skinamax anyone?
Category Archives: beautiful women
I don’t know about anyone else, but I like to check my spam email because I get a kick out of what’s in there. Why, just today I found out I was wanted in court for charges pending in Aurora, Illinois, Anchorage, Alaska and Raleigh, North Carolina. Wow! I must have blacked out again from a combination of booze and Ambien because firstly I don’t remember flying to those cities nor do I recall perpetrating the crimes (which of course are not mentioned by name, only implied). What I have to do, prior to showing up at my hearing (that will go on in my absence I have been reassured) is download the attached file so that I may have all the proper paperwork in order once I show up. Is that all? Whew! That’s a relief. I was worried you might want some money or something. So, with this in mind, I have some questions:
Question #1: Is this working on anybody? I’ve been getting this type of email now for the last couple of months and am wondering if it is a virus (I’m pretty sure it’s a virus) or the perpetrators have found a way to extort money out of people via this method somehow. You know, like the messages you get from the Prince of Nigeria who has a billion dollars he needs to transfer into your bank account, all he needs is all of your pertinent info and voila! You are rich. Wow, was that easy. I should have done that a long time ago!
Question #2: Why do people waste their time with this shit? Really, you’ve got nothing better to do than to send out computer viruses disguised as phony lottery winnings (I’ve won every kind of lottery you can imagine, from the Google lottery to the Yahoo lottery to the Wells Fargo lottery…man am I lucky! I’m going to buy a Powerball ticket right now!) or some other ridiculous crap. Seriously, if that is your hobby, find another one. I hear making dolls out of earwax is all the rage right now.
Question #3 and final question: How come I keep getting messages from girls who want to give me a massage and then a blowjob but they don’t even say their name, who they are and how they know who I am? And how did they know that the key to my heart (a deep, dark secret that NO ONE could have known about me) is that I am sucker for a massage and a blowjob? Seriously, how could they have known?!?! Its not like I advertised it or something. I also like food and beer, but that’s another secret I don’t tell too many people about.
So there it is, the wide, wide world of the Internet where faceless entities can send ridiculous messages around the world in order to spread computer viruses or try and hack into your bank account. I really wish I had that kind of free time on my hands, I truly do. If I did I could probably come up with a cure for cancer (or write a better blog than this one). At the very least think of a scam of my own that isn’t as silly as telling someone they need to appear in court in some city they don’t live in nor have ever visited (I’ve been to Aurora (hey Bob, how’s the wife and kids?) I DID live in Raleigh but that was in ’93, but I’ve never been to Anchorage (although I did have sex with a girl from anchorage, also in the ‘90’s…maybe she set me up!) Cassandra, wherever you are, I want my Soundgarden CD back! And can we hook up again? You might have heard, I like massages and blowjobs and you were really good at both of those. Ciao!
I’m standing in a club called ‘Excess’, a gay bar on Main Street in Green Bay, wearing zombie make-up and tattered clothes, wondering what the hell I’m doing with my life. The make-up artist and his girlfriend are on the dance floor shaking what they got as I lean against a wall and ponder my existence. First things first I did not choose this club; I agreed to come here because the drinks are cheap and nobody judges you, you are who you are. Gay, straight, zombie…none of that matters right now. I feel down because I wanted to meet someone tonight, anyone, preferably a woman, pretty, relatively young, but it is impossible because the make-up artist did such a good job that I am hideous. Beneath all this latex rubber and fake blood no one can tell what a handsome man I am, so I am drinking way too much and thinking about smoking a cigarette (I quit six months ago). Not that what I want can be achieved in this club; not more than two minutes ago I watched two chicks make out with each other in front of the bathroom while a guy in a full body leather bondage outfit lead another man around on a leash. The one on all fours was wearing ass-less chaps and a motorcycle hat Ala Rob Halford from Judas Priest.
My companions finish on the dance floor and we reconvene by the bar. We decide to leave, to go to the country saloon next door, and what the hell, right? Can’t get any worse.
We head over and people comment on the costumes.
“AAARRRGGGG!” I say convincingly, vomiting more fake blood by crunching a plastic capsule in my mouth that tastes like cough syrup.
As we navigate toward the bar I think about everything that has transpired tonight and it makes me more depressed. We started the evening at a party with so many beautiful women I was utterly overwhelmed. All taken, of course. And the guys they were with? Well, let’s just say there isn’t ad spaced reserved for them in Maxim Magazine for the next designer cologne. How did they get these gorgeous women? I wondered, and how did I get one? The world is soooo unfair.
No difference in this country bar: the place is wall to wall with smoking hot babes. Does the rest of the world know that Green Bay, Wi, is full of such amazingly stunning women? And here they are hanging all over beer-bellied guys in cowboy boots with obscene facial hair. I’ll say it again: “AAARRRGGGG!”
This leads me to believe that there is simply no point in carrying on, in continuing my useless existence. I give up, I’m throwing in the towel and calling it a night. I ask my friends what they want to drink and they profess to being drunk so I order a beer for me and two waters for them. The woman tending bar is nice to me but she outweighs me by at least sixty pounds. She is pretty though, and the fact that she is nice makes me smile. Hell, I could do worse than her. Maybe I should set my sights lower.
So I stand against a rail overlooking the dance floor, watching a guy dressed as the Joker strip a fur coat off of an otherwise shirtless, giant, hairy dude and proceed to lick his nipples and I wonder what they are doing here and why they aren’t at Excess. Is anybody seeing this but me? Yes, and no one seems to care. Do I care? No, not really, I just want to meet a nice woman who I can enjoy relaxing evenings with and have long conversations about nothing. I want to cuddle; I want to feel breasts pressed against my chest, warm, soft lips brushing against my ear. Instead I am alone, witnessing things I can’t erase from my mind if I want to, which I do, very badly
The evening comes to an end when the couple I am with decides they want to go. It’s probably all the hot women; he wants to get his girlfriend home and nail her. I don’t blame him. She’s a looker herself, all dressed up in a harlequin costume complete with zombie rotting flesh. I imagine they are going to have a mighty fine time, but I’m not, you know, imagining it. That would just be rude.
They drop me off at my place and we urinate (just the dude and I) on the lawn. Then they split and I give in to temptation and smoke a cigarette I bummed from someone at the country bar. Just another day in the life of a lonely man, a zombie all dressed down with no place to go…