20160 Minutes

Two weeks is a long fucking time. 20160 minutes to be exact. For two weeks I can't work in the garage, can't ride my bike and worst of all; I can't have sex.

Walking out of the hospital yesterday I crumpled up my Percoset prescription and threw it away. I'll be dealing with the pain of testicular surgery without painkillers, as I have with every surgery since I quit dope.

So...no sex for two weeks. Yeah, I can't even jerk off. This is going to be a long two weeks. You see I fantasize constantly; about women I talk to, ones on tv, ones I see in cars, ones I know and ones I used to know. The problem is that now I have no release for the pent up sexual energy that boils in me at work, home and while I'm out. It has been only 24 hours and I can already feel it. I have to release them somehow or they will drive me insane. I will be writing a lot more sexually charged stuff for the next two weeks, so don't get all worried when I don't write some depressing shit for a while. Although I'm sure I'll find something dark to write about, I always do.

Ok so...Pandora's Box

You shouldn't have done that, you are a troublemaker. I know you like to watch men squirm, I'm not stupid but I am no exception. I don't mind...I like squirming. Don't forget that I play the same game; admit it or not...you squirm as well. It hasn't been long, but I am really beginning to like the idea of opening Pandora's Box.

Given the opportunity I would not be gentle, not at first anyway. I would shove you onto that ledge, your head hanging over; staring down at the huge drop before you. You would feel your skirt being hiked up and your panties being yanked down to your knees. One firm push and I am in, I put enough force behind it to make you think you are going to go over the edge. You gasp slightly, but realize I wouldn't let you fall...not in a million years. Each thrust thrills you, the danger excites you. Your breasts are smacking the edge of the building and I can hear the traffic passing by unknowingly in the night. Imagine if someone was watching, would you like that? Oh, I already know the answer. Me too?


She has been watching us the whole time and has just now slowly moved up behind me, pressing her breasts into my back. She reaches her hand forward and feels me sliding in and out of you, sliding one of her fingers into you as I pump. I think I want her to feel good too, it is her turn now. I push her down onto the ledge next to you and slide myself in.


Now I am fucking you. Poor baby, I know you were watching us, but it is your turn now. Your lips are now locked with hers, her cheeks still flush from the fucking she was just getting. I pull your hair back, just how you like it and pound away, one hand reaching down to play with her pussy. One blond goddess on my left. One black haired goddess on my right. I am in heaven. I feel myself start to lose it...going over the edge.


I sit naked in the chair, slowly growing hard again while I watch you two go to work on each other. I can barely stand to watch this sight, it excites me beyond belief, you two are the definition of the word sex. I want to jump right in the middle of you two, but it would be like jumping onto a still wet canvas. I could not ruin this masterpiece. You look over at me and see me fully hardened again. "Come join us," you beckon, how could I possibly resist.


Our three bodies are intertwined and we are each looking around to find needs to satisfy for the others. No one is selfish and no one is jealous, we are intimate in our trinity, becoming one. The sounds of slapping, sucking and moaning hang in the musty smelling air. The sheets are sticky with our cum and our sweat coats the others. Our moans fill the room.


Hours must have passed, but time has eluded me. I am lost in a feeling which has no timeframe. I have no idea how many times I have cum, I recall falling asleep a few times only to be awakened by you two...again and again. I can feel another orgasm squeezing its way out of my body. I don't know if I can take anymore. That feeling, however, is constantly overpowered by my insatiable desire to be in you. We collapse into each other; completely exhausted and spent. My whole body is tingling and I feel like it is totally seperate from my mind. The feeling is exquisite and lucid.

"So what do we do now?"

"Let's get drunk and do it again."

"I've got the first round."

I watch you two get dressed and tuck away yet another bulge in my pants. The lights of the city blind me as we step out the door. I can still smell both of your sex in my beard. I can't wait to get back...

Story Time Part 3 / On Older Women

So now that I have had a few drinks I think I can finally put this story into words. I’ll be short and to the point.

Last night I was talking to TBF about the weekend and about hooking up with the Bridesmaid. Now, TBF knows most everything that I do, and he asked me what was with my obsession with older women. I honestly had no idea; all I could think of was this story, which I have never told before. I don’t think it even explains the problem, but I’m going to tell you anyhow.

I am going to tell you a story. But it isn’t the same kind you are used to hearing from me. This story is about a woman named Diana.

When I was about seven or eight years old I had this babysitter named Diana. I really don’t remember how old she was, I am fairly sure she was in her early 30s or late 20s. She watched me and my brother, J over the summer when our parents were at work. J was five or six at the time so he was too young to remember, too young for her to take interest in. He was too young to remember.

Diana was a different from your typical high school girl who you called to babysit. She lived down the street and had known us since we were kids. She didn’t work and had babysat us since we were toddlers. Like I said, however, she was a different kind of babysitter. I can still remember the time she was pulling me down the street in a wagon to get ice cream. I had complained or something like that, all I remember was that she made the wagon tip over going around a turn, on purpose. I got my first stitches in my chin and had a pebble stuck in my forehead for a few weeks. I was a kid but I still remember that like yesterday.

Diana was a different kind of babysitter. When J would lay down for a nap, she would turn off the TV and she would turn her attention to me. She would take off her shirt and make me play with her; I didn’t even know what it meant when she groaned. She showed me her “happy forest” and made me put my little hands into her. I didn’t know what I was doing, I was just a kid. We would have, “happy time,” it always felt so awkward, but she told me it was what big kids did, and I didn’t know the difference. She would threaten me if I didn’t play her games like she wanted. She touched me where my parents said only the doctor should touch. She gave me the “feeling,” as she called it. It wasn’t quite an orgasm; I was far too young to cum. I didn’t know what she was doing, I was just a kid.

I never felt right about it and I never knew why. I told her that I wanted to tell my parents about it and she burned my arm with a match. When my parents got home she told them that I had been playing with them and burned myself after she tried to stop me. My parents yelled at me, told me never to do it again. I never had the guts to tell them what she would do to me when J would take a nap.

I didn’t know what was happening; it is all a confusing blur. I remember the shame I felt when I sat naked on her lap, touching her. I was uncomfortable, but she told me it was ok, that if I was a good boy I would do this and not tell my parents. I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know what was happening, I was just a kid.

By the time I finally realized what had happened I was much older. I was not a kid anymore…now I knew exactly what had happened. She was long gone, but I still felt that shame…I will never forget that shame. I’ve never been keen to label it child abuse but I just don’t know what to think about it. The memory of events…the record, continues to fade but I can still feel her.

I thought about Diana for the first time in years the other night and I was legitimately disturbed by the reaction I had to my thoughts. I would kill her. If I ever see you again, Diana, I will kill you. I was just a kid…I didn’t know what I was doing and you took advantage of me. She was supposed to care for me and she did the exact opposite, I have always wondered what I did to provoke it, I mean I had to have done something wrong…right? People just don’t do that, do they? I have been confused and this has fucked my head for too long.

Let me assure you that you are not speaking to EZ, Cheese or P…you are speaking to all of us. I assure you when I say that if we ever see her again I will wrap my hands around her throat and I will pull it out of her neck. I will watch her die and I will enjoy it. You see, at the time I was just a kid…I didn’t know what I was doing. I had no idea why I cried all those nights, no idea what she had done to me. The only reason I haven’t gone to look for her, to torture her, is because she never hurt J. If that would have happened I would have cut her heart out and eaten it. I would have mutilated her body and made her suffer. You see, since I realized what happened, I have no time for pedophiles…I will kill them all. She fucked with my head in ways I couldn’t possibly explain. Someday…I…will…kill…her…

No, I am not crazy; I have just been bottling this up for almost 15 years, never told anyone. That question from TBF set it off…why am I so attracted to older women? Maybe she has something to do with it…

Edit: This needs to be added

Something has to change.
Undeniable dilemma.
Boredom's not a burden anyone should bear.
Constant over stimulation numbs me and I wouldn't have it any other way.

It's not enough.
I need more.
Nothing seems to satisfy.
I don't want it.
I just need it.
To feel, to breathe, to know I'm alive.

Finger deep within the borderline.
Show me that you love me and that we belong together.
Relax, turn around and take my hand.

I can help you change tired moments into pleasure.
Say the word and we'll be well upon our way.
Blend and balance pain and comfort deep within youtill you will not have me any other way.

It's not enough.
I need more.
Nothing seems to satisfy.
I don't want it.
I just need it.
To feel, to breathe, to know I'm alive.

Knuckle deep inside the borderline.
This may hurt a little but it's something you'll get used to.
Relax.
Slip away.

Something kinda sad about the way that things have come to be.
Desensitized to everything.
What became of subtlety?
How can it mean anything to me if I really don't feel anything at all?
I'll keep digging till I feel something.

Elbow deep inside the borderline.
Show me that you love me and that we belong together.
Shoulder deep within the borderline.
Relax, turn around and take my hand.

"Stinkfist" by Tool

Forty-Six & 2

Thinking about evolution on the way home...

My shadow's Shedding skin and I've been picking scabs again. I'm down digging through my old muscles looking for a clue. I've been crawling on my belly clearing out what could've been. I've been wallowing in my own confused and insecure delusions for a piece to cross me over or a word to guide me in. I wanna feel the changes coming down. I wanna know what I've been hiding in my shadow. Change is coming through my shadow. My shadow's shedding skin I've been picking my scabs again. I've been crawling on my belly clearing out what could've been I've been wallowing in my own chaotic and insecure delusions. I wanna feel the change consume me, feel the outside turning in. I wanna feel the metamorphosis and cleansing I've endured within my shadow. Change is coming. Now is my time. Listen to my muscle memory. Contemplate what I've been clinging to. Forty-six and two ahead of me. I choose to live and to grow, take and give and to move, learn and love and to cry, kill and die and to be paranoid and to lie, hate and fear and to do what it takes to move through. I choose to live and to lie, kill and give and to die, learn and love and to do what it takes to step through. See my shadow changing, stretching up and over me soften this old armor. hoping I can clear the way by stepping through my shadow, coming out the other side. Step into the shadow. Forty six and two are just ahead of me.

Forty- Six & 2 by Tool

Edited to add: Here is a link to the song. There is no video for it, so this is as good as it gets. HERE

Fine Bitch, Don't Call

I really didn’t say much during the drive up there, probably weirded out my brother J,. We made the drive pretty quickly with the windows down, music blasting, heads banging and smoke trailing out behind the car. We hit traffic in Chicago on the way up to Milwaukee to picks up his girlfriend, D, but we still made good time. I didn’t say much, just did a lot of thinking about a lot of shit. My choice of music was depressing, I think he took the hint and just shut up after an hour or so. Just thinking about a lot of shit.

We left around noon the next day and headed to downtown Chicago for the wedding. J and D rode in the backseat, yes the backseat, douchebag, and were making out in my fucking rearview window the whole drive down. I love my brother, but he is an idiot, D is the first girl he has ever been with and she OWNS his ass. I must say though, when you can’t stop thinking about your girlfriend, or I guess at this point ex girlfriend, who hasn’t called or texted in a week, seeing them in the backseat made me want to choke them. Inconsiderate asshole, whatever I made him pay for the gas.

After the ceremony, J and I were standing outside the church when I my cousin Ott and the Bridesmaid came walking out. Ah, the Bridesmaid, I had not seen her since she was a bridesmaid at Ott’s wedding four years ago. This time she was just attending and after getting rid of my brother, we went for a cigarette behind the church.

See, at Ott’s wedding she was the bridesmaid who ended up getting really drunk and giving me head in her hotel room…when I was 18 years old. So I thought, “This shit is going to be awkward,” seeing as she is now 39 years old and just got divorced a few months ago. Honestly it was the exact opposite, we talked about my career plans…I bullshitted, and about both of us losing someone recently. The conversation was fluid, unforced and natural…she understood.

I crushed out the cigarette with the heel of my dress shoe and told her I would see her at the reception, she said I owe her a dance. I asked for what, she said, “For the last time one of your cousins got married,” I’m pretty sure I was blushing.

J, D and I went to Friday’s to get food and a few drinks before the reception. I ended up putting down a few long islands, fuckin $4.25…strong as shit…go to Friday’s, great deal, and having to have J drive to the reception. Needless to say, my drunken navigating got us lost but, eventually we found the place. We had a few glasses of bourbon with the parents and went down to the reception.

Walking in I found my place card and went to go put it on my table, lo and behold who did my Fer (bride) put at my table: the Bridesmaid. Now you might say that is only a coincidence, but you don’t know my family. The cousins are close and they, besides y’all, are the ones who get the most honest and sincere version of me. They know my problems and always do shit like this to cheer me up. In any case, I hit the bar, “Maker’s on the rocks and a vodka cranberry.”

I was smacked, dancing around the floor like a fucking idiot. I don’t dance, see, except for one type of event…weddings. After a while of pretending to catch people with fishing rods, stirring the imaginary pot and raising the roof I went out to smoke a cig outside. I listened to the message that mystery girl had left me and I left one in return. I think I rambled but I don’t remember. I sat out there for and while catching my breath, my fears caught up to me. It was like she was on a timer because the BM (not bowel movement fuckheads) came out and sat next to me. “What are you thinking about,” she asked. “All kinds of shit.” She asked if it was scary and I told her it was. She said that it was scarier when you are older and that I still had time to figure it out. I was young, she said, she was not so lucky. She started crying. It was one thirty in the morning. “Do you want to come up to my room, P?” “I would love to.”

We talked for a while, lying on opposite beds, until she came and sat next to me…I put my arm around her. She had told me a lot of things, things I can’t remember now because I was so drunk, but I know the feeling she left in me. That I can remember clearly, I can feel it right now. Whatever she said, she convinced me to hold my head up and play the hand dealt to me. We were way too drunk to fuck; I just laid there holding her until she passed out.

I woke up Sunday morning to a mother fucking headache and wiped the drool off her left breast, grazing her nipple. She woke up slowly and rolled on to her side to face me. I stared into her eyes and leaned in to kiss her. It was like waking up next to each other was the most natural thing in the world, like we had been doing it for years. We saw, in the other’s eyes, the person who we had lost and needed to see one last time. I rolled her over onto her back and climbed on top of her, rubbing my dripping cock against the entrance of her pussy. I looked down and stared into her eyes, moving in for a kiss as I gently pushed my way into her. Her lips parted, but nothing audible escaped from her mouth, as if she was moaning in a frequency only she could pick up. I closed my eyes and drew my breath as I thrust my way fully inside her, lifting myself up with my arms.

I grabbed her legs and spread them until I heard her hip pop, penetrating as deep as my body would allow. I started to slowly thrust, still no sound coming from between her lips. It was as if we had been lovers for years, despite the fact hat I was only now becoming acquainted with her body. My thrusting picked up pace and she finally began to moan ever so softly. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and I felt her pussy clamp around me, squeezing and sucking my cock. I felt her legs start to shake and she grabbed the pillow behind her head, suddenly letting out a loud cry of relief. I put my mouth to her nipple and sucked away as I pounded into her, completely lost in the sensation of her body. I felt myself start to go. Her lips locked with mine and I pulled out, splashing cum into puddles under her breasts. The power of my orgasm had my ass clenching and my toes tingling. It was all the pent up energy and frustration being released onto her chest. Not only was it a powerful physical release, but one of a mental nature as well. I fell down into her chest, completely relieved. We laid there for a minute in our juices, before getting into the shower and going down for breakfast.

When we walked into the hotel lobby, all three of my cousins as well as my parents and one aunt were sitting down having breakfast. The BM and I, with that just fucked look and smell about us got some food and sat down. After we ate some cereal and talked for a second she got up to go talk to Fer about her honeymoon. My dad came over and sat down at my table. “You don’t look nearly as rattled as ya did last night,” he said in his fading Irish accent, “I knocked on yer door this morning but ya didn’t answer; now I know why.” “As long as your mother doesn’t discover your secret, I think we’ll be fine, I hope you feel better.” I told him I felt a lot better but that this conversation was fucking awkward. I laughed to myself as he walked away.

When BM and I went back to her room to get my suit, we ended up naked on the bead again, my face pressed between her thighs. I fucked her again, slowly this time, paying attention to every nuance of her sensitive body. She swallowed my cock and I let go in her mouth, leaving her licking her lips and grinning.

We packed our cars and I pounded her one more time (I think we both came to the conclusion that we might be experiencing some unwanted celibacy in the near future) before getting ready to go. She walked up to my window, leaned in to kiss me and dropped a piece of paper on my lap. “You know, you have grown up a lot since the last time I saw you, call me if you are ever in Minneapolis, or…if you just need a friend. Goodbye, P.” I pulled away, J and D giving me pats on the back and such. I felt like I had lifted a weight off of my shoulders.

I had much more to say on the drive back, but after I dropped J and D off I lit a blunt and thought about my current state of affairs. I was feeling so much better than I had in the past few weeks. I had gotten off and gotten my head straightened out. I thought about the BM, about mystery girl and about Meg, and I came to the conclusion that I don’t care if she moves on. I listened to mystery girl’s message one more time as I pulled into the driveway of my building.

You see, Meg, I am moving on, just like you. When I landed the New York account today I didn’t have the urge to call you and tell you like I used to. See I don’t care if you call, I am moving on. I emailed some friends and told them the good news and the boss bought me lunch. As I sat there drinking my bourbon and eating the steak he bought me, I realized…I kind of like being on my own. So you see, Meg, I don’t need you anymore, I have good friends and a strong will to survive. In short, my dear, I am moving on.

Reintroducing the Subject to His Natural Habitat

Let me tell you that I fucking love Chicago. Growing up in Milwaukee, I always had older friends who went to school in Chicago...let's just say I have had my fair share of wild nights there (I pooped on the statue of Shakespeare in Lincoln Park while I was tripping on acid in high school...thought it was SOOOO postmodern). See how cool I am? All jokes aside, Lake Michigan was my first lover, she comforted me every time I was down. I love that lake...closest thing we have to an ocean in the Midwest. In any case, my cousin is getting married there this weekend so I am returning to sweet home Chicago.

Fer, well call her, has been seeing her man for something like 16 years before they got engaged. I am very close to my cousins, and being the youngest, besides my brother, they all look out for me. They are all much older and every time I go visit them they take me out with their friends who mostly consist of single 30-40 year old professional women. Sometimes, you know, certain things happen with said women. Fer's sister, Ther talked to me for like an hour and a half after meg left and told me that she is getting me laid this weekend even if she has to do it herself. Yeah, that's what I thought too, "Thanks for the offer, Ther, but I'd much prefer your friends." She laughed and said that this weekend she was "reintroducing me into the wild." I am so ready to be done moping about and let Cheese take control this weekend. Although I do wonder how my mom will react to seeing her drunk son hitting on women only ten years younger than her. We shall see, more on Monday...

"Sometimes...

...when I look down at my shit floating there in the toilet I forget I'm not looking into a mirror."
-Jake

The Cast of Characters

Id, Ego and Superego. Interesting theory Freud had there, since it applies directly to us. In a sense the way we behave seems to fit roughly into his theory. We exhibit the same characteristics of the id, ego and superego and it is a constant battle. You have met the ego and the superego, but have only briefly glimpsed the id.

There are three people who live inside of our head and our names are P (me the real me, the ego), Cheese (the smart ass, best described as superego), and finally EZ (the id). When we would get really out of control, our good friend Boo Ya would try...we repeat try, to calm us down by saying, "Eeeaaaaasssssy Cheese," when we were about to lose it (Yes Cheese really is our nickname in real life). From that point on EZ became a sort of alternate ego to P, our true self and our beloved ego. He was the personality that led us into trouble. He was the one that begged us to live dangerously. EZ is the one who shot up, who tried to hang himself from a ceiling fan, who sold cocaine, who carries a gun, who drinks until sickness. EZ is the enemy, he always has been, but until now we have never known his real name. EZ is the one who puts his hand through drywall and wakes up on the kitchen floor. EZ takes pain and turns it into anger and aggression. He throws punches and spews curses. He is a monster.

You know P and Cheese from the tales of hopeless romanticism and confident swooning, respectively, but you are only beginning to get to know EZ. He isn’t around much, he doesn’t need to be. His operation is swift and quick, his damage is done with efficiency. The truth is, I…er P, we mean, has absolutely no control over EZ. EZ is his exact opposite, the yin to P’s yang. He is the kryptonite for P’s Superman…he is unstoppable. EZ comes in times of turmoil, when shit has hit the fan and simply won’t stop coming. He sees the pathetic P lying around drowning in his sorrows and it disgusts him. He tells P to pick up the bottle and when P doesn’t give in, he takes control. It is frightening because P watches it happen, as if someone else is operating his body by remote control. P, however, has no control. EZ will tell Meg she is a cunt. EZ will threaten his friends. EZ will drive drunk and laugh when his friends tell him to take a cab. EZ is the enemy and he always has been. He thrives on suffering; it is fuel for his fire. He doesn’t leave until the pain is gone and, like a shark to bloody waters when it returns he comes back to feast. He is a monster.

Now Cheese on the other hand is the guy who charms people. He likes everyone and he wants to be liked, he is the life of the party. He cares dearly about his friends and it hurts him when he sees them in pain. He will do anything for his friends, he would lay down his LIFE for his friends and he fucking means it too. He knows EZ well, he wants to see him tortured, and he tells P that EZ is a worthless cunt who should be crucified. P knows this, he isn’t a fool, but his pain clouds his judgment and his lean towards the bottle only weakens his defenses against their common enemy. You see, Cheese is the smart one, the clever fuck, the witty one and he knows what is going on...he always knows what is going on. You have to be fast of your feet to keep up with Cheese. It is his advantage; he is always striving to be one step ahead of the game. He tells P to light up a joint and devise plans, plots and schemes, “keep that mind working, until you figure it all out,” he demands. He knows what makes EZ tick; he is not blind, for he feels the same pain that the other two feel. It makes them brothers. He hates to see P with his head in his hands crying, but what he hates more is seeing EZ in control, careening down the freeway drunk at 2:45 in the morning. Believe us when we say that if it wouldn’t kill him too, Cheese would put a gun to our head and pull the trigger simply to kill EZ. That however is not how Cheese works, he is a superhero not a villain, and he is forever plotting.

Like we mentioned before, Cheese knows what makes EZ ticks…he is the smart one. EZ operates with his fist and his mouth whereas Cheese operates with his mind and his wit. Therefore, luckily for poor P stuck in the middle, Cheese is always one step ahead of EZ. See, he knows about EZ’s appetite for destruction and he knows that pain makes P weak and susceptible to EZ’s influence, this is why he plans. He plans to not be hurt, he strategically places his words and calculates his moves with brutal efficiency. Cheese will talk you out of your panties, and he’ll make it worth your while, too. He is a master at getting himself out of tight spots and wants to makes sure the pain never comes. He gets us laid, he wins our arguments, he defends us in the morning after EZ went ballistic, and it is he who is the only one who can save us from EZ.

The reason we are telling you this is because when we woke up on the kitchen floor yesterday, we knew he was back. His calling card is a bruised fist, from epic battles with inanimate objects which we always seem to lose. When Meg didn’t call today and when she didn’t call yesterday, we felt his grip. EZ was back, we knew it when we threw up across our bathroom yesterday…he was laughing. Giddy, like a little kid, simply because we were suffering again. He saw P cry on the way home from work, he saw him fall into his bed and hold his head in his hands. He saw him weeping, weakened and broken. P doesn’t show people this side of himself, he is embarrassed, but when EZ smells blood it is all over. He made this painful for us to type. He wants us to spit beer in girl’s faces and call them sluts. He wants us to curse our friends and burn our bridges. He, unfortunately, is alive and kicking this very instant. We can feel him rattling around inside us, but tonight we can’t hear him. We are stoned, chilling, listening to Jay Z, writing and drinking tea…yes we are drinking tea…AND IT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE BOURBON IN IT. Believe us; we are as shocked as you are. The point here, and the glimpse of hope, is that Cheese won tonight.

Cheese spent all day today on the prowl…planning. Believe us, he is not devious and he never wants to see anyone hurt. Cheese wants a good time and he wants everyone around him to be having a better time. He will go out of his way to make you feel at home, to make you his friend and to show you fun. If you look at him the right way he will kiss you. He will take you home and make you feel like a lady, shit, or a nasty slut, whichever gets you off. Cheese wants to get you off, to make you cum…it makes him cum and therefore makes us cum. See, he knows what things make P behave like a strong man…shit; P needs to get laid just like everyone else. He sees the future drought coming and he, always two steps ahead, is already plotting. In fact he is responding to one of Jen’s text messages as we speak…or type, whatever fuckheads. Cheese thrives on good times and pleasure and he sincerely has P’s best interests at heart. Unlike EZ, he doesn’t want to drive 90mph drunk off his ass on the highway, unlike EZ; he actually cares that it could kill us or someone else. Besides, Cheese figures that maybe he could help that cute girl he’s been talking to all night with her cab fair and get a drink at his place. See, Cheese is always thinking. This is his slow and sexy way of killing EZ and the destruction he brings to our life. We love when Cheese is in control. Cheese makes it possible for P to love, he makes it safe and he encourages it. He only wants P to be happy and he would lay down his life to do so…if only it didn’t mean laying his down as well, ya know?

Text Messages

Two text threads for y'all to read.

Numero uno: Last night to Meg

Me: I hate this. 20:45
Me: I love you. 21:18
Me: Fuck you forget it you bitch. You won't even check to see if I am ok. I not I punch thru drywall and driink your wine. 01:47

No response yet.

Numero dos: To my good friend, call him Ike.

Ike: Any word yet bra. 07:12
Me: Huh on what honky. 07:12
Ike: Ur nut sack. 07:14
Me: I'll prob know this morn. 07:15
Ike: Cool this is weird i never thought id be concerned for a mans bag...especially yours. 07:23
Me: haha ok asshole I'll let ur bitch ass know. 07:25
Me: Cancer free for sure homie g spot on a cot tying a knot hoping not to get shot. 08:57
Ike: we're getting smacked a noche fag tag. 09:01
Me: Word up stupid fuck. 09:01

Too Late

Well it seems not everyone on this earth wants to watch me squirm around on my kitchen floor drunk and crying in my misery. I didn't tell you this but on Friday I went to the doctor and found out I had passed my kidney stone...he also found a lump in my nut sack. Yeah...a lump. I had to have a biopsy in the afternoon and have been freaking out about it ever since. I got a phone call this morning as I got to work...

"Cheese, we have your test results. They are negative."

"OH FUCK YEEEEAAAAHHHHH!!!! Pardon my French."

"Cheese, it happens every time...congratulations."

Edit...if you were reading early this morning you know now my real name, before the lovely Sinful informed me of my dumbass mistake and I changed it. If you did happen read it..SHHHH you mother fuckers.

Apparently the best cure for a hangover is to find out you get to keep both of your nuts and you don't have cancer. Well, I guess that is one less thing to drink about tonight. Ok enough feeling good...

Against the wise advice of my friends, parents, brother and a few bloggers, I hit the bottle hard last night. I woke up in the kitchen on the floor with a splitting headache and a fresh hole in my drywall from where my fist went through. Five empty bottles of Crane Lake Merlot are on the table and I have red stained teeth. My hand is throbbing and it hurts to grip my toothbrush. I have marks from the linoleum on my face and my knees are shaking. My eyes are swollen, probably from crying them out like a baby. I finish brushing my teeth only to throw up in my bathtub. I brush again and head out the door. Starting up the car I turn on this song...

She said meet me at the gates at 8
Leave now don't be late
She said one day she'd walk away cos I was always late
Thought things were ok
Didn't care though anyway
Say sorry babe, I had to meet a mate, tempting fate
We first met through a shared view, she loved me and I did too
It's now 7:50, getting ready, better be nifty
Do my hair quickly, step out it's cloudy
Mate bells me to borrow money, I got two Henry's and a dealer to pay
Call up on geezers to rip these green trees in my reeking jeans
Got a you think I care air outglaring geezers stares
I'm here and I'm there
Couldn't see past the end of my beer
What was getting near, all the silence after the cheers

I didn't know that it was over, 'til it was too late
But if I ever needed you, would you be there?

She said meet me at the gates, don't be late
But pretty soon the day came for change
And I was glad she never walked away
So Im choosing what to wear, doing my hair with an hour to spare
When my life went pear, she'd been there with a thick stare
Big wheel climbed to the top, geezer stares bounced off
Standing at the top of this huge mountain, smiling and shouting
Spring flowers sprouting, not one inch of doubt in my mind as I reached the gates
Came round the corner at a rate
Risked her love but Im gonna set things straight
Never again am I gonna be late
Never again am I gonna be late
Never again am I gonna be late

I didn't know that it was over, 'til it was too late
But if I ever needed you, would you be there?

I said meet me at the gates
Leave now don't be late
I waited for a while listening to her voicemail, mind set sail
Then the facts turned me pale, wind rain and hail
My fears unveiled, for my fair female
She'd walked away, too little too late
I step up the pace, walk past the gates, rain runs over my face
Spirit falls from grace
I purchase a hazy escape at the alcohol place in the chase
Sat down I got a fat frown
Weaping and drowning my senses
For this love game's expensive
I walk in a trance
Got a wounded soldier's stance
And the everyday geezers stares throw me off balance
Now nothing holds significance
And nothing holds relevance
'Cause the only thing I can see is her elegance

I didn't know that it was over, 'til it was too late
But if I ever needed you, would you be there?

The Streets

"I Think We Need to Take a Break"

"So does that mean you aren't going to my cousin's wedding with me next weekend?"

"Yeah."

"Oh ok, uh...alright, look...I'm gonna go I really don't know what else you want me to say."

"Me either."

"Goodbye Megan."

"Goodbye Cheese."

Its weird, doesn't hurt as much as I though it would. Don't get me wrong...it still hurts. I apparently said some pretty nasty shit to her on Saturday, more than I even imagined. In no specific order the topics of our conversation last night went like so...

I don't want to get married right now (maybe ever)...she does.
We both confessed infidelity.
I drink too much.
She is threatened by every girl I know.
Her hypocritical attitude about everything.
The, "You aren't good enough for me," comments she makes. Joking or not, doesn't matter.

Ok, yeah, the more I think about it, the more it hurts. Not because she is gone, but because we could have fixed it so long ago if we would have tried. Things would be ok if we would have just talked away our problems instead of fucking to make up. You know, earthshaking sex always seemed to hide problems we had, guess I thought with my cock for way too long. "I'm tired of this Cheese," she said. "I am too, but in the same sense I am not. You know I love you and I need you, right?"

"I'm not so sure anymore."

Christ, that hit me right in the chest and took my fucking breath away. I need a drink. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. Don’t let her hear you cry. Don’t. Fuck me, what have I done. I guess this is what my honesty gets me. I had lied to her for so long about trivial shit that when I finally pulled the wool off her eyes, she couldn’t take it. She didn’t cry, though, she had known all along. “Look I don’t want to lose you, not forever,” I said, “Just give me some time to think,” she replied. What choice did I have?

There was so much said in that conversation that I don’t even know what to write. I sit here in my office staring at the screen, just plain not knowing what to say. I don’t want sympathy and I don’t want pity, not what I need. I don’t really know what I need right now, except her back with me. I honestly thought she would put up with my shit forever, what a fool I was. I tried to text her this morning that I loved her and was sorry but she said, “This isn’t how a break works, Cheese.” I guess she’s right. She said she will talk to me when the school year starts again and she begins teaching. I guess this is my free pass to go fuck anything with two legs and a pussy, but I just don’t have the urge. TBF said he was taking me out tonight and buying all my drinks, at that rate I might not be breathing tomorrow. I think I should stay away from bourbon for a while, but when I get home and I get that little itch I know the first place I’ll go for support is the bottle.

In the words of the hooker from How High…”Who da bitch now, bitch.”

Me...fuck.

Even More Fun

Here is another fun tidbit for you...

there was something you said that i can't talk about here...

.....and then also something i would really like to know cause you said this on the back porch when we were all sitting there and i had never heard you say it before, making it news to me. i didn't expect it and it was super awkward since you said it in front of everyone (once again) and i didnt know how to react, since i didnt know. we were talking about how crazy it is how everyones getting married and then how people have been asking us about us and you said "i dont want to get married until im least 30!" you said it so matter of factly. i, um, had no idea that you wanted to wait that long. that kinda makes me feel weird and i dont know how to react.

The Result of Heavy Drinking

After a weekend dominated by fighting with M, I am emotionally and physically drained. All the arguing and then making up right away was nothing short of exhausting. On Saturday night I apparently exploded like a fucking car bomb. M didn't say much in the morning and none of our friends would tell me what I said to her. TGF finally told me I need to apologize to her, that I said some horrible shit. Trouble is I can't remember anything from Saturday night. Yesterday was weird, I'll explain more later, but coming in this morning I see this in my inbox...

i think we really need to talk tonight cause this weekend made me realize some things...and i think we should talk about it if we're planning on taking our relationship any further. cause like i said yesterday...you said some stuff that i don't know if you actually meant or wanted me to know and i know now and we need to deal with it before its too late.

Great...just great.

The Thin Red Line

I was going to start this new weekly section for Fridays today in which I will be reviewing various albums, movies and books that have in some way changed my life, but. This post needed to happen, so it will have to wait until next week. So with out further adieu...

Take a breath. Exhale.

Whoa.

Another. Exhale.

Whoa.

What happened?

Nothing.

What happened?

Nothing.

You crossed the line, didn’t you?

Yes.

You can’t go back now, can you?

No.

If you could, would you?

No.

Did it feel good…to cross the line, I mean?

Yes.

And would you do it again?

Yes.

Was it dangerous?

Yes

Was it worth it?

Hell yes.

A line was drawn in the sand. So clear yet so vague. Transparent yet ever so visible. Real and yet so very imaginary. The line in the sand...the thin red line.

Thin red lines on maps mean you have crossed into a new state, maybe even a new country. In a sense they hold no significance, nothing changes when the line is crossed. Maybe a name, language or currency, but in essence nothing has changed. The sand is no different on one side than on the other. The trees grow just as tall on one side as they do the other. Nothing changes and nothing has changed.

And yet everything has changed. This is…was, rather, the point of no return. This slope was slippery and now we are sliding. Was it really unexpected? Was it planned? Did we want it? Why resist? Why deny the inevitable? I have no expectations and I have no hopes. I see no commitments and I see no sacrifices. Do you? Take my hand; I will not betray you…remember that I did not do this on my own. Crossing this line was an intentional accident, a planned failure. It was not a conspiracy, it was a co conspiracy. Again, no expectations, this I swear to you…

If you could read this, if somehow you do read this, you would know what exactly it is that I mean; it would steal the very breath from your chest, because you know…these thoughts are not mine alone. These are my thoughts, my dear, but they are also yours. We have crossed a line, I know and so do you. It is plain to see and utterly pointless to deny. We can never return, can never go back now, can we? Take my hand, are you scared? Let me tell you a secret…so…am…I.

But it feels good, doesn’t it? Makes you feel alive, right? Don’t you dare deny me! You cannot lie to me, just as I cannot lie to you. Admit it…it felt good, didn’t it? And I’d be willing to bet it still does.

This is a whole new game, isn’t it, my dear?

Game on.

There Goes My Hero

Ok sorry, the real post for today is below, but this shit is driving me crazy. Brett Favre is my hero and I am a die hard Packer fan. I am not going to weigh in on this entirely retarded situation but all I gotta say is, fuck. Everyone from the entire state of Wisconsin feels for me here and I feel their pain, the rest of you can go to hell. Fuck.

Cheese(head)

Just a Reminder

Something I wrote a while back.

Wanna remember what it feels like to get fucked? Well, put your hand between your thighs and close your eyes (actually keep them open, it might be hard to read)...

You can feel the strap of your dress sliding ever so delicately down your silky shoulder. Your stomach starts to get light with butterflies, your breathing shallows. You moan ever so slightly as I kiss your neck. I pull you in tight and press my hardness into your back. Your hand reaches around to grab it, "No," I whisper into your ear. Tonight is going to be all about you. Oh don't worry, I'll get mine. Don't argue with me, it has been too long for you, hasn't it? You need to be treated like a queen. I want you to get what you need, what you deserve. I deserve the satisfaction of giving you satisfaction.

Again, you feel fabric sliding against your smooth skin. This time it slides up your hip, I'm lifting your dress up, sliding one finger ever so slightly across the warmth your thong is hiding from me. I want it in my mouth...NOW! I shove you forward, you let out a little gasp. I said I wanted to please you, didn't I? I didn't say I'd be gentle. You fall face first onto the bed and I immediately yank your thong down to your knees. My tongue goes to your wetness like it was a magnet. You taste like desire. You taste like heaven. Ever so slightly I brush my tongue across your clit. You shudder. I can't seem to keep my hand off of myself as I'm doing this. It doesn't matter how hard I try. My pace has gained ferocity as the reward of your moans egg me on. My intensity is increasing. I want you to need this. I know you need this. I feel you start to lose it when I suck your entire sex into my mouth like I need it for survival. I do need it for survival. I can feel your wetness dripping off of my beard onto my chest, I can taste your sex. It tastes like heaven, have I told you that. I feel your muscles clench as you eek out the last few waves of your orgasm. I am delighted, I think you might be too.

Giving you one long last lick I slowly slide myself up your body to your lips. The sensation when I enter you is beyond pleasure. It needs another word to adequately describe it. We are one momentarily...it is exquisite. Your lips are locked with mine, you need me. You need me to fuck you. You need me to make you cum. I need to make you cum. I need to cum. The first thrust takes the breath out of my lungs and I pause before going back in, falling back into your chest. Your legs wrap around me with a firm squeeze, "its time dear, are you ready?" Stupid question. I couldn't slow down if I wanted to. I am not in control, my instinct has reign over my body. It forces me to pound you, to make it hurt. My hands are tangled in your hair. I pull back hard, forcing your mouth into mine.

Muffled moans creep from your body. I try to force them back into you with my cock, as hard as I possibly can. I cannot stop. It would be physically impossible. I would self destruct. The wet slapping sound from our hips overpowers the sound of the bed hammering the wall. I need this and so do you, we are one. I feel your hips start to shake as the sound of your moans drops to a more animalstic tone. I can feel the walls of your pussy gripping me. Sucking every last drop of my pleasure into you. The sight of your beautiful face locked in orgasm sends me over the edge. I fall back into your chest, your arms and legs wrapped around me, my orgasm begins. I feel my eyes roll back into my head and my toes spread apart. We are no longer on earth. Your cunt is milking my cock for everything it has, I can feel my cum spraying into you. The most amazing feeling washes over me. I feel our juices simultaneously joining and our orgasms simultaneously subsiding. I kiss you again and stare into your eyes, you are beautiful. You needed this, I can see it in your eyes. I am happy to oblige, I needed it too.

Remember now?

The Decision

You guys are going to hate me when I tell you this one. Honestly I know this would have been a good story, probably my best yet, but...I turned down the threesome. I just couldn't risk it. Besides I have one other threesome story I'll tell you some time soon, because you are so good to me.

TBF was kind of upset, telling me that I was the only one who she would do it with. I knew there was more to it than that, see I was right. This might be my ego talking, but I have always known she wanted me...shit, I want her too. Regardless of my dick's thinking, ever since the idea was proposed I knew it was a bad one. The trick is just getting my head to over power my cock for dominance of my decision making. I think this is one of the first times my cock lost. Don't worry about it though, I made it happy afterwards. Besides, M is coming back to town this weekend. One of my friends has gotten me awful hot these past few weeks and I haven't had nearly as much release as I need (ie twice a day inside her at the VERY least). My friends, I'm gonna tear her up.

Anyhow...

He asked why, I told him honestly I didn't want M to find out. He tried to close his sale being like, "well we won't tell." I explained that doesn't help, shit, you know how girls are. That would definitely end up reaching M, them being good friends and all. Then I told him I didn't want to lose them as friends and that this could seriously complicate things. He agreed but said we could work it out and make it comfortable. He couldn't think of any way to do that. "Do you not want to fuck TGF or something? You can tell me honestly," he then said. It took every ounce of energy in me to not blurt out, "Hell yes I would fuck TGF until she cried for me to cum in her." I just politely told him that she was beautiful and that of course I would sleep with her. I honestly don't think he fully understood where I was coming from. I got tired of explaining and just told him it wasn't going to happen and to get me a beer.

I really feel good about this decision. Sure it would have been fun and I am more than convinced that it would get what few readers I have mighty horny, but I don't do it for you guys. I know, I know and I am sorry. That is why tomorrow I am going to change Story Time Part 3 to a tale about two little girls named Cali and Starks and the little menage a trois we had in the back of the pizza place we worked at when I was 17.

Until tomorrow, my friends.

Cheese

The Makings of a Shitty Day / The Makings of a Lovely Evening

I am on my last legs at this job. I think I recall my exact words in the interview being, “No fucking sales work,” and yes, before you ask I did say “fucking” in the interview. Hell, when I accepted the job I asked the owner what I should wear, “I don’t care as long as it doesn’t say ‘fuck you’ or have a big cock on it.” Should give y’all a pretty good picture of the company I work for. I was hired to do operations and to be a mechanic, not to do sales work. Fuck, I don’t even make commission, where is the motivation there, huh? Whatever, I’ll spend this “sales time” prepping my resume and writing to you. Sorry, I’m bitching.

In other news, I have this horrible pain in my kidneys and a burning when I pee. No I don’t have fucking Chlamydia you assholes, I am a careful boy. Jerks. No, I have another kidney stone. Yeah I know this is gross, but you get to read stories about me fucking so I can throw in stories about my slowly self destructing body, as well. Last time I had kidney stones (3 of em); I was in the hospital for the weekend of Valentine’s Day and had to have surgery to remove two of them. Oh, don’t worry, though I still had the joy of peeing out one of them. It was about the size of a BB and looked like salt…yes, jagged salt. I cried like a little girl, you would too.

Definitely makings of a shitty day.

However, I had an interesting conversation with my best friend’s girlfriend on Saturday night. So The Girlfriend and I are good friends and she is good friends with my own girlfriend M. I flirt with TGF all the time and The Boyfriend never seems to care, anyway its nothing serious just joking, and have never had any intentions of hooking up with her. Does this sound like a disclaimer or what? So at the party we had been drinking all day and were out in the lawn playing cornhole, standing next to each other when she brought up an interesting topic. Side not: aside from the name, cornhole is the best game ever. Not sure if it is regional or not, but Wikipedia that shit or email me and I’ll send you blueprints to build your own set. “TBF and I have been talking about having a threesome,” I was shocked she was telling me, “Why tell me?” She said that she was just wondering what I thought of it. I don’t believe that shit for a minute, honey. She goes on to tell me that they both want another guy involved, which does not shock me (TBF has already told me this before when we used to live together). She then goes on to describe the guy they want as: someone who has a longer term girlfriend (so he doesn’t fall for her), someone who doesn’t mind fucking her while he sits there and watches, someone who can keep a secret, someone who TBF would be ok with fucking his girlfriend. Yeah, I fit into all those categories. I think she was asking without asking.

So last night over some pints and a game or two of pool, I straight up asked him if he put her up to it. He danced around it for a minute until I finally said, “You ain’t fooling anyone, dude.” He comes clean and admits that he wants to watch TGF being fucked by another guy but he is seriously worried about it because she is a hot commodity and he doesn’t want the other guy to fall for her. Believe me, she is a smoking hot farm girl with a bad attitude, I understand his concern. “Cheese, I don’t know how to put this but….I want you to fuck my girlfriend.” He goes one to say that he wants it to be me because he knows I could do it without falling for TGF (she is too close a friend [besides post-Maria we have learned some lessons]) and he knows I won’t tell (obviously M would be pissed she wasn’t invited). He said he wanted to set up a date for it, “That’s the dumbest fucking idea ever, TBF,” I responded. I told him if it ever did happen it would have to be spontaneous and might need to involve some alcohol to get over getting naked with a guy (although I did kiss a gay dude in Paris…Hey it was Paris who fucking cares). I told him that he definitely piqued my interest and I would let him know.

Now, what I’m not telling him is am totally down with this idea, but he is weird. I know it took a lot of courage for him to admit and ask me that kind of a question. TBF grew up in small town USA where boys seeing other boys’ pee pees is generally frowned upon, so I imagine he had to think long and hard to convince himself he wasn’t gay, which I know he is not…I’m just saying…small town socialization, ya know? I, on the other hand don’t really care, it might be weird for a second, but I imagine that once I feel a female wrapped around me, I’ll forget all about the other penis in the room. Besides I have always wanted to fuck holy shit out of TGF due to her amazingly gorgeous body. What could possibly go wrong? Ok, I know, lots of adverse consequences could take place, but you know me. I don’t do things the easy way. Easy is boring.

Definitely the makings of a lovely evening.

Confidence

Let’s talk about confidence, or rather, the lack thereof. I was always the smaller kid when I was younger, not a good thing when my other defining characteristic was being a nerd. So I got beat up a lot and made fun of constantly, really did wonders for my childhood self image. I would never dare speak to the girls my age unless they were asking to copy my homework, to which I would reply stammering, “Uh um uh ok.” No, reader, I was not always the suave, muscular, witty bastard who you read today (ok I’m still none of the above). Ladies and gentlemen I was a tool.

So confidence was never my strong suit, I made up for it in other ways. Sarcasm was my greatest ally along with this other awesome defense mechanism known as being cocky. Let me tell you, being cocky is a great strategy if you are really into getting the shit kicked out of you. Needless to say I am quite well versed in taking a punch to the face (clench that jaw!). By the time I got into my later teenage years I figured out how to get over all the small shit that bugged me out when I was younger and grew out of the cocky stage (plus I started smoking pot which chilled out my serious ADHD and actually made it possible to talk to me). I was getting there.

I lost my virginity to a girl named Amanda when I was 17…in my parent’s bed, creepy, huh? She was older, in college and she was…hot. Hot. What the hell was a hot girl doing having sex with me? Especially one in college. She told my friend Annie that I was great in bed; thankfully I had watched so much porn by that point that I knew my way around the wonders of a woman's body a bit. That one singular event put a smirk on my face that has never faded. It was the first bit of confidence I had ever tasted, it was powerful and it felt wonderful.

On a minor side note, stay tuned for “Story Time Part 3” now that you've had the teaser.

A few events over the past few years have shaken it and even lost it all together, but it always finds its way back. Lately, I feel more confident than ever; like a whole new me. I know for a fact that writing helps and there are certain people out there who give me a boost, regardless, I am confident. I was at the bar on Friday with a bunch of friends, glass of bourbon in one hand and cigarette in the other, having a fucking blast. All night I was shamelessly flirting with my friend Jen, grabbing her ass and whispering shit in her ear. I didn’t go home with her, partly because of the recent Maria fiasco, mainly though; I wanted to cause trouble and get drunk with the boys. Confidence leads me to believe that I sent her home with an ache in between her legs and a desire to fuck me, I am in no rush. Confident.

So later on a waitress at the bar came up and sat with us while taking our orders, she was damn good looking. My buddy Jack just got back from the bathroom and said, “Damn Cheese, who is this?” “Jack can’t you see she works here, besides she is way too hot to be sitting here with me,” I jokingly reply. Now the waitress, apparently missing (or just not fucking caring about) the compliment I sent her way, goes, “You should really be more confident, it makes you totally unsexy.” Now normally I would have been a bit irritated by this comment and would ignore it, but I was drunk and holding a great trump card. I wait a minute for her to enjoy the laugh she has just roused from my friends before...wait for it…wait for it….waaaaiiiitttt for it. Now. “You have terrible breath, want some Orbit,” is my response. The table erupts in laughter; she scurries away with a horrified look on her face. How is that for confidence, bitch? The bouncer made sure to mention he wasn’t very happy with my behavior as he threw me out into the street, I was still laughing.

The cabbie and I had a fucking blast on the way home, hollering at women out the window the whole ride back.

Waking up on Saturday morning I felt like a train just hit me in the face. I couldn’t remember shit. Where is my car? What are these bruises and scrapes? I texted TJ’s girlfriend, “When either you or TJ wake up will you please call me and tell me what the holy fuck happened last night, thanks.” They called back about an hour later and we laughed about poor behavior for a bit.

So, because of my confidence level I made two decisions Friday night which I get to ponder. First of all, leaving Jen all hot and bothered was a good decision. She told TJ that she was going to, “jump my bones,” next time she sees me. Which leads me to my next decision, Sully’s is her favorite bar. I am not necessarily welcome in Sully’s anymore. Let’s problem solve here people. I’m confident we’ll figure it out.

Trouble No More

Trouble no more

So I guess y’all been wondering what the hell is up with Maria and myself. Truth is that I have been too. I asked a few close friends for advice on what I should do. I guess I need to provide a back story explaining what happened on Tuesday night before I go any further.

Abridged version:
I went to the computer lab. She closed it an hour early. We went to her place and got high. We fucked. It was earth shattering. She said something along the lines of, “When are you going to admit you don’t love M and that you want me?” I bugged out.

Stop the fucking presses people.

First of all, I love M, regardless of all the low down “doglike” things I do to her (in the words of Riff). Call me an asshole for being a cheater, I don’t care. I love her and that, my friends, I have to prove to no one. Second of all, what the fuck? I thought she was the player, not me.

Alright…I have been writing this in segments…I am back home now. Alone and I am drunk, again…like usual. Sorry, I guess I don’t know how else to write this. I am going to tell you the rest of this story over a glass of Maker’s. Or two. Maybe even three, we’ll see.

Ok context: I responded to Maria’s all day text message barrage with, “We need to talk.” Yes I know that was not the best choice of words, hindsight being 20/20 and all, and besides, she said, “When can we be together.” Shit, she told me to leave M; I think I have a little ground to maneuver here. What the hell else was I gonna say? Do you want me to lie? I’m done with that. Honestly, (funny word, huh) a very good friend pointed out to me that this is my chance to finally be honest in my real life. It had to be done, kill the lying Cheese. Time to die you miserable fuck….pathetic piece of shit. So anyways, I got some good advice this week from some good friends. They all came to the same consensus; tell her the truth. Well, the truth is what I told her. It didn’t go so well.

At least I was honest.

She slapped me again; I can see tears forming in her eyes. “You used me for sex,” she said. What the fuck was I supposed to say? That I want to leave my girlfriend and run away with her? She knew I didn’t want that…she fucking knew. I am not in the business of hurting feelings; it has happened to me one too many times, but this…what can I say? The actual conversation happened like seven hours ago, but I still don’t know what to say. I didn’t use her. I mean that. I thought we both wanted the same thing. I thought she wanted me to make her scream; to make her cum. I never meant for this to happen, no way, dude. Am I really breaking her heart?

You know what? Fuck it. I am going to say this in the most inhumane way possible and fuck it if you think I am awful for it. Fuck it, people, fuck it. In the words of the Allman Brothers:

“Baby ain’t no trouble for me…anymore.”

I don’t always want to be the nice guy. I honestly never meant to hurt her. Shit, if anything, I thought it would be me getting hurt. I mean, seriously, that would follow suit with the rest of my life. What the fuck can I say? Does she want me to lie? Does it make a difference to her that I am being honest? I am telling her the truth, something that has always frightened me so much. For fuck’s sake I was honest, for once in my life, honest.

Enough stupid questions, asshole. Enough complaining, asshole. Grow a pair.

Just drink that care away. Just like every other night. Drink that care away. Keep on drinking shithead, that makes it ALL better. Really y’all, at this point I don’t give a flying fuck. God damn it, I just lied to you. I care so much it hurts, but it shouldn’t break my heart to break someone else’s, right? Right?

Well then, why the fuck does it hurt?

This glass with the brown shimmering liquid makes me feel better. That is sad to say and it is even more cruel and harsh to look at in print. Believe me on that one, I have been staring at those words for the past five minutes. I couldn’t function if I couldn’t drink my problems away. Tonight is nothing new, just another scrape that will heal in the morning, right? Just another little scratch. I won’t even remember it in the morning, right? Right?

I am running out of things to say at this point. Fucking no one is awake; I am doing this on my own. For God’s sake, I just need someone to talk to. Someone to tell me I am not a horrible person for trying to do this the right way. Fuck, why does it feel so awful to be honest? Isn’t coming clean supposed to be like lifting a weight off your chest? This feels like the exact opposite. Why don’t I just lie, huh, tell me that?

To make matters worse, M keeps texting me wondering why the hell I won’t talk to her. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, at least not to someone that I have to lie to in order to keep up with my previous dishonesty. "Oh yeah, M, sorry I'm depressed because I just hurt one of the other girls I'm screwing on the side." That conversation would be stellar. I am on my own island here, ain’t I? I set my own fucking dominos up here and now I get to watch them fall. You guys are the only ones who I can talk to.

The rest of this….the rest of this is just fucked.

You know what? Fuck it. Fuck it all. To quote the Allmans again:

“Ain’t my cross to bear.”

I have too much guilt already, I don’t need anymore. Ain’t no trouble for me anymore, remember? Am I being selfish here? Will someone please give me their opinion with out slapping me or telling me I’m gonna burn in hell? Actually, slap some sense into me, please! Seriously, what the hell is going on here? I never meant for this to happen. I really didn’t…I swear.

Damn dude, what have I done? In any case, thank God for the Allman Brothers Band, Maker’s Mark bourbon and Camel cigarettes.

Screw this I'm going to bed.

Dilemma

Because of the expensive cocaine habit I had two months ago.

Because I travel every weekend.

Because I drink every night without fail.

Because I take fuckbuddies out to dinner.

Because I smoke a pack a day.

Because I constantly buy new books.

Because I smoke entirely too much marijuana.

Because I work 30 miles from home.

Because of these things I now have a dilemma on my hands.

How am I going to pay for dinner tonight?

"The Science of Selling Yourself Short"

"The Science of Selling Yourself Short"

by Less Than Jake

I've come to my senses,

That I've become senseless,

I could give you lessons on how to ruin your friendships,

Every last conviction, I smoked them all away,

I drank my frustrations down the drain, out of the way,

So I sit and wait and wonder,"Does anyone else feel like me?"

Someone so tired of their routines and disappearing self-esteems,

I'll sing along,

Yeah with every emergency,

Just sing along,

I'm the king of catastrophes,

I'm so far gone,

That deep down inside I think it's fine by me,

I'm my own worst enemy

I could be an expert on co-dependency,

I could write the best book on underage tragedy,

I've been spending my time at the local liquor store,

I've been sleeping nightly on my best friends kitchen floor,

So I sit and wait and wonder,"Does anyone else feel like me?"

I'm so over-dosed on apathy and burnt out on sympathy.

I'll sing along,

Yeah with every emergency,

Just sing along,

I'm the king of catastrophes,

I'm so far gone,

That deep down inside I think it's fine by me,

I'm my own worst enemy

Let the meaning slip away,

Lost my faith in another day,

Self deprecation seems okay,

I never thought I'd make it anyway

I'll sing along,
Yeah with every emergency,
Just sing along,
I'm the king of catastrophes,
I'm so far gone,
That deep down inside I think it's fine by me,
I'm my own worst enemy

I'm my own worst enemy

Checkmate

Take a good look at that picture. Keep it in mind as you read this story.

Maria came over at about 7:30 last night, she was determined to fuck immediately. I had plans to make her squirm for what she did to me in the lab the other day. The chess game begins. Seems I am in the lead here. I told her I wanted to make her wait. I also had dinner reservations, didn't tell her that. Yes, my friends, I am taking her to dinner. I am a pussy. A hungry pussy...and thirsty too...I need a drink.

We went to this Italian place called Indigo in a kind of yuppie area by my apartment. I fucking hate yuppies. We sat down, got some drinks and ordered dinner. already, the game was on. She is a strong opponent, but I can normally beat her. Tonight is different. These weird things called "feelings" kept fucking with my head. I offered to buy dinner. Fuck! There goes a rook. She ordered wine, a bottle, and poured two glasses. She looked across the table and winked. I felt her foot in my crotch. Fuck, I was getting hard, "I've got you now," she said. Shit, I just lost a knight. This game is turning for the worst. She is maneuvering her queen, I can see it in her eyes. She will be going for the kill soon, I know her all too well. I need to play damage control. ASAP. My high ground is quickly eroding.


Fuck. That check was EXPENSIVE. Shit, I lost my other rook for that. Man oh man, I don't even wanna admit the price to you. I guess that's what happens when you order three bottles of wine. We walked back to my place, playing a little game of grab ass on the way. We stopped at the store and bought three more bottles of red wine. My pawns are falling by the wayside with every witty remark and sarcastic comeback. She is good. Or maybe I'm weak.


The steel door to my apartment slammed shut behind me. I only got two of my five door locks (yes I am that paranoid) engaged before she attacked me. It was all over for me, folks, I absolutely melted into her. Clothes were being ripped apart (literally I went looking for buttons this morning) and flying through the air. She knocked a glass of my counter which shattered on the floor, I slapped her bare ass hard for her clumsiness. That will leave a nice mark. Needless to say, that glass did not get cleaned up. Whew, I am DRUNK and she is taking advantage of me. How the fuck did I get between her legs. Damn her pussy tastes good. I pour a little wine right above her clit and watch it roll down, licking it up after watching it for a minute. She is squirming. I am in control...or at least I think I am. She has one hand on the back of my head and is literally pushing my face into her pussy while grinding her hips against my mouth. Ok, scratch that, I am definitely not in control here. There goes my first bishop. Uh oh, this isn't good. She has the high ground now.


She told me to fuck her. I complied. Climbing up her body I let my cock rest just outside of her pussy, nudging her clit with my swollen head. I was trying to regain some ground by teasing the shit out of her. "Nice try, fucker," she said as she grabbed my cock and jammed it into her. Oh my God, we both let out a simultaneous gasp and moan as I ground my hips into hers. It has been WAY WAY WAY WAY WAY too long since I was inside of Maria. WAY too long. I am definitely not in control here. She tells me to get on my back, "I want to fuck you," she says. OK there goes that other bishop. Shit, she is getting everything she wants. I am supposed to be the one in the driver's seat here. This was supposed to be my "get your swagger back" night, instead I am getting dominated by this extremely seductive woman. This game is going down the tubes. I really shouldn't have drank so much wine. She feels exquisite, my friends, I can barely handle it. She is killing off my pieces, one by one, and I am powerless to resist.


Maria climbed on top with a smile and said, "who's in charge now Mr. Confident?" Fuck, she has me by the balls, pun absolutely intended. I cannot turn my brain off, I am thinking things I should not be thinking right now, you guys...I am in trouble. Foxy little bitch. She stands my cock up and practically falls onto it, our bodies meeting with a wet slap. I can feel myself hitting her cervix, we have always been a perfect fit. She has a mean look on her face and is furiously fucking me, suddenly stopping with me all the way in. She was shaking uncontrollably and growling, I kid you not, growling like an animal. "Ready to go again," she moaned. "Bitch, I'm not going anywhere," I replied. It really didn't sound all tough when I said it, it just looks like it in text, it was more like an effort to get control of her wild desire. That other knight is long gone now. If you've been keeping score you know I'm down to just king and queen now. Fuck, I can't win. Look at her side of the board, she has most of her pieces left. Look at that smirk, she knows that I am fucked.


I have to try.


I put my hand on her shoulder and shoved her back, my cock falling out of her, leaving a very unsatisfying vacancy between her legs. She almost flew off the fucking bed. "Turn over bitch," I growl at her. "Oh my, what is on your vagenda?" "Shut up," I mutter as I grab her hair in my left hand and pull, arching her back as I thrust into her. There goes one of her bishops. Game on, bitch. I am pounding her mercilessly and pulling her hair to the point I am sure she is in pain. From the sounds coming from her mouth, she likes it. I pull harder. I feel her pussy quiver around me as she starts cumming again, at my command. I'll take that knight too, bitch. Fucking game on.

Flipping her over onto her stomach, I crawl back between her legs and send my throbbing cock home. We are both lost in ecstasy. My headboard is pounding into the wall, unfortunately, for my neighbors. It actually was chipping the paint and mashing the drywall, but I didn't care. That is what security deposits are for, one whole year to not give a flying fuck about that wall. I was absolutely destroying her, the sounds coming from her mouth were a mix between pure agony and pure pleasure. She is losing pieces quickly now, I just took another rook. The ante has been upped.

I feel it now, that little twinge in the top of my dick that tells me its time to go to heaven for a moment. I kept throttling her until I was about to explode; pulling out at the last second and painting her chest with my cum. I did not stop cumming. My legs were shaking and my toes were spread apart, reeling from the almighty orgasm pulsing through my flesh. My mind is momentarily detached from my body as I look to see myself screaming with pleasure, cumming all over her gorgeous body. I collapse into her chest, my cum sticking to us as we kiss. This is it. This is where the final move gets made. No hiding now. It is do or die.

"Cheese I think I might be in love with you again."

Check. My queen is taken. Now, I am in trouble.

"Maria, I think I always have been."

Checkmate. I watch my king fall to the board. Now, I am fucked.

Some Sins Will Never Be Forgiven

The other day someone commented that it seemed like I was sharing a piece of my very personal journal/diary. I mean it when I say that many of these stories I have told you and plan to tell you have never been heard by anyone, ever. I write them down partially so I don’t forget them, but also to help myself get a grip on what really happened. I also mean it when I say that writing these stories has helped me sort out my past, and therefore my future. I’m going to tell you another story that I really debated keeping bottled up until I found out its main character had died. This story took me a week to write. It is a gritty, raw and maybe even disturbing story. You have been warned, my friends, so don’t judge me. I am going to immortalize Jake.

Jake was a friend that I had known since my childhood, we had been friends since kindergarten on up. Let me just say that during that entire period of time that kid was absolutely crazy. Jake was the most in your face, argumentative, “I’m never wrong,” person you will ever meet. Take your most arrogant, abrasive and confrontational friend and multiply him by ten, now you have Jake. To make matters worse, we both read constantly, anything and everything that could possibly be of interest. We learned some weird shit about this fucked up world way before any of our peers. We wanted to make sure we were never wrong, it was that simple. When we first stumbled upon the drug culture we quickly became dangerously obsessed.

It was my fault.

By the end of freshman year of high school I was selling weed to a good number of my friends that I was getting fronted to me from this shady fuck named Joe John. That summer was also when I discovered that he sold heroin, which I tried for the first time within a few days of finding out. It was better than anything I had ever felt in my life, I kid you not. I remember it like yesterday, it still calls me to this very day. Jake found out and made me get some for him to try; it was at that point the story really begins. That exact moment was the beginning of the end for Jake, I issued his death sentence when I answered his inquiry with, “Of course, dude.” I came through, we got stoned and we were well on our way to the end of the story, when we met this past weekend for the last time.

Fast forward four years to the end of my freshman year of college. I had been slowly attempting to wean myself off of smack since New Year’s Eve (fucking resolutions) and was having relative success. I was back from my first year of college and was on top of the world. Two of my friends and I had planned a trip back in December (after a night of heavy cocaine usage) that would start with them flying up to Milwaukee and then leaving after two days and driving to Philadelphia. It was now June and it was time for our little adventure. I also hadn’t seen Jake in a while and needed someone to go with me who was from Milwaukee so I didn’t have to drive the 900 miles back from Philly by myself, since Tom and Jerry (no idea why I’m calling them this, first thing that came to mind) were staying in Philly, where Jerry was from.

The plan was that we would go to Summerfest in Milwaukee for two nights and then hit the road for Philly for three more nights. Now Summerfest is the largest music festival in the entire world and the two nights spent there were awesome. The days, however, were spent with the hassles of chasing down an ample supply of drugs for the trip. By the time we were ready to leave we had an eight ball of cocaine, three grams of heroin and a half ounce of prime weed. My mom actually found the weed but I told her if she didn’t give it back I would owe someone $200 for losing it. I thought that was oh so fucking clever. On the night we were going to leave Jake and I shot up while my friends unknowingly waited outside and then we hit the road at about midnight for Philadelphia and more good times, or so I thought.

Tom did most of the driving on the trip because every time we stopped Jake and I would either shoot up or snort some blow. When I think about it today, I am surprised that my heart didn’t either explode or stop, or both at the same time, if that was possible. The two of us were so smacked up that we could barely function; much less drive a fucking car across the Pennsylvania turnpike at 80 mph. Surprisingly, as I’m sure it is, we made it to Philly unharmed and went right to bed upon arriving at Jerry’s house.

I awoke the next morning to Jake tapping me on the shoulder and quietly whispering, “Morning fix?” We went out on to the back porch before anyone was awake and had a shot for breakfast. We sat out there watching more and more of the sun rise. I had tears in my eyes because I was too stoned to blink. I was a breathing corpse.

Jake wanted to be Lou Reed, he wanted to fuck whores and buy drugs in NYC just like him. He also did not want to come back to Milwaukee, although I was not aware of this. So when we took the train up to New York City, it came as quite a surprise that he ran away. We waited for eight fucking hours for him to finally come back, “I left my sunglasses in your car in Philly,” he said. I had been sick to my stomach and was thinking about what the hell I was going to tell his parents. I could have killed him. We got back, after a completely wasted afternoon, and got high, before going to bed. When I woke up the next morning I had no idea it would be one the worst day of my entire life.

It wasn’t a good start, heroin for breakfast again. It took forever for my hand to stop bleeding, it was a bad sign. We fucked around for the rest of the afternoon before making a run to the liquor store to get 40 ozs of Steel Reserve, three per person, which would be our undoing. I guess that this is where the story really begins.

We went to hang out with some of Jerry’s friends on the west side of Philly. Jake and I were so fucked up I couldn’t remember their names more than five minutes after meeting them. We talked to them for a bit and Jake ran his typical “shock the shit out of new people” routine by giving them a tour of his track marks. They were shocked, of course, but that was his intention. It wasn’t going like normal, however, as this cute little girl named Leah was giving him hell about it. She had hung out with us the day before and Jake had told me how he had a crush. Trouble. He exploded.

If you have ever drank Steel Reserve, I don’t need to explain what happens to your brain after three 40 ozs. That shit tastes like motor oil and probably gets you just about as fucked up. I can’t remember a lot of the details of what happened next, but I remember how it felt.

After taking all he could from Leah, Jake ran outside, presumably to go shoot up. I chased him, but he only ran faster. He realized was running away, literally, for good. He ran out of breath and I caught up and just fucking laid into him. I was screaming at him on the side of a four lane road at fucking one in the morning, it was getting out of hand. I told him that I didn’t care about his desire to stay on the east coast, what the fuck would his parents say? He wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. I had enough.

I remember the decision being a conscious one; I thought it through so well. It was like all the Steel Reserve was gone and my thinking was crystal clear. I am going to kill you, Jake, just watch me. Lord knows I tried.

The first punch hit him square in the cheek; I felt the sting in my hand. It felt good, really good. It was an entire lifetime of aggression and anger towards him being taken out in one swift action. He didn’t move. He was in complete and utter shock. I hit him again and again and again. I felt his nose break and he spit out a tooth. I blacked out from this point.

My memory resumes as I am stomping his head into the concrete, blood is everywhere, coming from his eyes, mouth and ears. Tom and Jerry are trying to pull me away, but my strength is inhuman. I remember Tom finally pulling me away. I looked down and threw up when I saw the blood and little pieces of bloody matted hair covering my hands and right foot. I was covered in Jake’s blood and flesh. I blacked out again.

Waking up to that hangover was horrible. I didn’t remember what happened and I couldn’t find Jake so I went outside and shot up. I looked at my hand and was shocked to see it was swollen to twice its normal size. It was only my right hand. I got in a fight last night. Jake came outside a few minutes later and looked like a totally different person; it was slowly coming back to me. I was getting angry again. Now I remembered. He wasn’t mad; he knew why I did what I did. I woke up Jerry, I told him we were leaving…now.

The ride back was not a good situation. Jake needed to go to a hospital, badly. I didn’t take him. I didn’t care how bad he was hurt. I made him ride in the back and I didn’t talk to him at all unless it was to tell him to get a shot ready. I drove the entire distance and only stopped three times. I made Jake pee in a bottle the whole time. I was too angry to stop. It took me 15 hours of driving stoned off of my ass and angry as hell to get home, at times pushing 120mph. I had enough. He had pushed me for years with his craziness and I made him pay for all of them in one evening.

I didn’t sleep that night. I saw the lane lines going past in my head, torturing me. All I could think about was how I dropped him off and told him to never call me again. I told him I hated him. I told him I wanted him to die. He had told his parents that we got jumped in Philly, he never betrayed me. I found out later that I ended up knocking out eight of his teeth, broke his nose, broke both cheekbones, burst his left ear drum, fractured his left eye socket and gave him a concussion. I almost killed him, literally. I went on for the next week cursing him and wishing I would have finished the job. I was so fucked up in the head; twisted and sinister. I looked in the mirror and saw evil staring back.

A week later, on the last night of Summerfest I got what I deserved. I got jumped by three guys on my way out for running my mouth. Broke my cheekbone, nose, eye socket and I lost four teeth. I spent 3 months having facial reconstruction surgery and trying to get back to normal. My life was fucked. I was horribly addicted to drugs, which my parents found out from my toxicology screen at the hospital. I did the entire three months without the help of painkillers. They don’t give opiates to junkies, apparently. If they had it would have been a death sentence. It was the most painful experience of my life. I tried to kill myself. I cried all the fucking time. I was going through withdrawal. I felt like the worst person on the planet. I felt horrible for what I did to Jake, for what I did to everyone. I got what I deserved. It rebuilt me. It put the stare in my eyes, the pain. It made me a man.

I never talked to Jake again. He tried for about a year to contact me; I was too cowardly to answer. The next time I saw him, he was in his Sunday best, his eyes closed and he was dead.

Jake I am sorry I was not…am not…enough of a man to say I love you. I will never forgive myself for this. I miss you. I will never see you again. I wish I could have said goodbye.

EZ Cheese: The Katie Couric Interview

Katie Couric: My guest today is a notable nobody from Cincinnati, OH. Please welcome Mr. EZ Cheese. (thunderous applause).


EZ Cheese: Thank you for having me, Katie.


KC: So, Mr. Cheese...


EZ: Please, call me EZ.


KC: OK EZ, how was your recent "diplomatic visit" to Philadelphia.


EZ: It was wonderful, very good beer, cheeses steaks and great company.


KC: So did you get laid?


EZ: Um...no.


KC: Why not? Wasn't on your agenda.


EZ: Nah, besides I have a hot date with Maria tonight. I am patient and certainly not a player.


KC: Noble.


EZ: Hardly. I am still cheating here, remember?


KC: Point taken.


EZ: Katie, I may cheat, but I have never had any ambitions to be a "belt notcher," so to speak.


KC: I can respect that. So, tell us about what happened with Maria on Wednesday night in the computer lab.

EZ: Uh, isn't this a family program?

KC: Who cares? I wanna hear something hot. You aren't all that interesting otherwise.

EZ: Gee thanks. Well I went down to the computer lab to email someone and ended up running into her again.

KC: Ha, you went down to email someone? Let's be honest here; you went to see her, didn't you?

EZ: Busted.

KC: Details?

EZ: Well, we were in the lab by ourselves when she came over and sat on my lap, grinding her ass on my hard on.

KC: Why did you have a hard on?

EZ: Looking at her and writing a naughty email. But, yeah...she was dry humping me in the lab.

KC: Oh my.

EZ: I know, I know. After a minute, unfortunately, someone walked in and she jumped off my lap into the chair next to me. The guy sat in the front and we were in the back. She started rubbing my head through my jeans until a little wet spot appeared. My breathing was getting shallow.

KC: What happened next?

EZ: She took my dick out.

KC: In the computer lab?

EZ: In the fucking computer lab.

KC: Wow, she is feisty.

EZ: See why I like her?

KC: I do. Please continue. What happened next?

EZ: Well, uh...she gave me head. I was trying to keep quiet, thank God the guy in the front had headphones on. I asked her to go to the bathroom with me, she said she couldn't leave. She also said that she liked this better.

KC: Believe me, we do too.

EZ: I had about the most intense orgasm I have had in a few weeks. I was so worked up it was unbelievable, especially with the having to be quiet part. Completely exhilarating.

KC: Sounds like it.

EZ: So then she took me out of her mouth, kissed the tip, kissed my forehead, said something naughty in my ear and went back to her desk. She just sat there watching me catch my breath, occasionally giggling.

KC: So, what did she say in your ear?

EZ: Katie, my dear, that is a secret.

KC: There is more going on with this woman than you are letting on, isn't there?

EZ: I might be holding back just a little bit of info from you.

KC: What information might that be?

EZ: Wait and see.

KC: Ok, fair enough. Enjoy your date tonight and thank you so much for coming on the show today.

EZ: It was my pleasure, Katie.