My personal policy has been to just buy the cheapest thing possible and get the hell out of their way. They feel happy because they pushed some crappy stuff on me and I feel okay because I boosted their spirits so that they can be told “no” for the next two hours.

This was a pretty harmonious balance until Saturday when it all got messed up.

The Boy Scouts have deployed a new technique that I don’t approve of but it totally work… Yup, you guessed it, station the one MILF out of the entire group of parents to work with the boys.

On Saturday I went to the supermarket to pick up a few things so I could stay glued to the couch for the remainder of the weekend convalescing. After grabbing what I needed and breezing through the self checkout line I was giddy that I was going to get home to watch the start of college football when I was approached by two kids. In fact that kids didn’t really say anything, they just kind of stood there and looked awkward while the MILF came in and started pitching me popcorn.

Her slightly unbuttoned shirt and rosy demeanor wasn’t something I was expecting or prepared for. In fact it was overwhelming. Within two minutes I was buying $25 worth of microwave popcorn that I could probably buy in a supermarket for under $10.

As one of the snot filled kids handed me the box, probably giving me H1N1 I stumbled out of the store not knowing what hit me. With each step I took to the car I grew more and more upset. The kids didn’t sell me or even ASK me to buy anything it was the MILF and she was using stripper-selling techniques.

Stripper selling techniques 101

1) Shove tits in face

2) Smile

3) Talk in a sexy voice

4) Get guy to buy you anything you want

How did I fall for this? How was I blinded to what was going on? It boiled down to the fact that her breasts were utterly fantastic and they were deployed in an area where I wasn’t expecting them. In a strip club you can resist the stripper selling techniques, in a bar with some trashy girls you can as well, Vegas… sure. You expect cleavage to be shoved at you. Outside of a supermarket on a Saturday morning… well that is just a sneak attack.

So Boy Scouts of America I have to say it is on. Next time a scout comes to my door to sell me anything I am pissing on them from the second floor. That is of course unless you send a MILF out with them. Bastards.

-discord in a relationship

-someone to lose political office

-a police officer to be embarrassed

-the discovery of someone’s secret porn career

Now at the event that shall not be named I was told that I was, “running for the governor of the new south” because I was being extremely sociable, buying drinks, and….

-paying for body shots off of people of the opposite sex

-leading a recreation of a donkey show I have seen in Mexico

-staging a reenactment of the Miggs greeting Clarice scene in Silence of the Lambs

-dancing to the greatest hits of Loverboy

I am disappointed that I am not allowed to talk about it. Personally my favorite part was.

-having a “sword fight” while taking a piss

-paying for a fat stripper to distract my friend while taking a billiards shot

-telling Matt LeBlanc I loved him in the monkey movie

-disproving everything about Mormonism

So you can recreate what you think the story is and know going that no matter what you chose it wasn’t as great as the actual event.

Now I am not saying that you need to be some hard core guy all inked up, a rap sheet a mile long, and clad in leather to own a bike. What I am saying is that if you have ever watched the movie “Wild Hogs” for even thirty seconds (which is coincidently the entire amount of entertaining shit contained in it) you understand that when you are going through a midlife crisis the last thing you should invest in a motorcycle.

Sports cars? Why not… It is good for the soul and good for the economy.

A 23-year-old girl where you act as her sugar daddy spoiling her while she sucks you dry? Sure…. It is good for your penis and the luxury brands.

How about some trip to some exotic local just to recharge your batteries? Sounds like a plan….

Hair Plugs… uh… strike that from the record.

You see the thing is the items above, which are typical of a midlife crisis, are understandable. In fact they even make other people around you envious. While they know you are going through a midlife crisis they tip their hat and say, “Well if you are going to do it that is the way to do it. It looks like he is having a ball.”

When the same person sees you on a motorcycle they say, “I can’t believe Ken is doing that. He looks like such a douchebag and it probably going to get himself killed. What a shame that he is going through a midlife crisis, I hope he doesn’t hang himself when he realizes he looks like an idiot on that thing.”

That is a massive difference in people’s perception of you. We need to be honest here. While most of us don’t care what other people think the reason you are doing this is to make yourself feel good and get a reaction from other people. You don’t do something so public if it wasn’t a cry for validation and praise.

This is why I have decided to call my shot for my midlife crisis. I am going to recreate “Leaving Las Vegas” minus the drinking myself to death and the living with a hooker that was brutally anally raped by frat boys … oh and staying in that shitty motel and… Wait maybe I am just going to go to Vegas and go on a bender. Wait I am already going to do that next month. That is pretty uninspired. Back to the drawing board.

I guess I am just going to buy a motorcycle.

How do you imagine a midlife crisis?

This is a totally hypothetical situation that has not occurred to any of my friends recently (as in the last week). So here is the situation, you go to a party after a night out at the bar and one of the females that attended the party left their purse behind. In order to obtain the identity of said female one must go through the purse… only to find a used vaginal cleansing wipe in the side pocket of the purse. She also happened to be the date of one of the people that attended. (uh… hypothetically speaking)

Now some men just recoiled in horror, some women just said, “what’s the big deal…” Of course others have no idea what the hell vaginal sanitary wipes even existed. (I must raise my hand on that one.) Really do you know how many vaginal cleansing products exist? It was a mystery to me. There are fewer styles of cereal than there are feminine hygiene products.

Anyway, after the traditional ball busting about the wipe being in there to my friend including remarks such as:

“I’d want to wipe after having your dick near me as well.”
“You don’t seem so fresh today, perhaps you need a quick cleanse?”
“So what does Massengill taste like?”

Someone through out the idea that you would actually want to see one of those in her purse because it shows that she takes care of her stink ditch.

So I leave the question to you…

Finding a used vagina cleansing wipe in your dates purse:

a) disgusting
b) reassuring

What do you think?

First I should probably give a bit of a back-story to this. A few Fridays ago I went out on a date where we grabbed something to eat really quickly and then went to a concert. Now that doesn’t sound all that bad but let me add into the mix that we went and grabbed a burrito really quickly before we headed to the show and at the show we drank a ton of beer. (Now everything is rounding into shape. You can see where the poop part comes from now I need to establish the “making an ass out of myself.”)

After the show we headed out to a few bars where I continued to drink my face off. At the first bar we went to my dated pointed out the host of the channel 7 morning show… actually the pre morning show that starts at like 5am. I wouldn’t have been able to pick the guy out of a lineup because I don’t watch any local news, especially anything that comes on at 5am. Of course it didn’t stop me from going up to him while my date went to grab a round of drinks and say, “Hey I really like your work, my date didn’t want me to come up to you because she watches the assholes over on channel 5. But whatever… we know what’s up right?” (Why I felt the need to do that or what it means… I have zero idea.)

We didn’t stay at that bar very long and ended up at another establishment down the road. At this point I knew the night was coming to an end so I decided to broach the topic of our sexual relationship and I decided to tell her that I felt like we had no sexual chemistry. (Which really is what a woman wants to hear at the tail end of a date.) This turned into a discussion about how I make her nervous and how we can improve things, the discussion turned into a furious make out session in the cab.

Once we got dropped off outside of her place I felt a familiar rumbling in my tummy. It wasn’t that I was hungry; it wasn’t that I felt nervous; it was the international symbol for I am going to have to spend a fair amount of time emptying out my intestines.

So we started kissing at the corner by her house and I said, “Uh, well I had fun, I will see you later.”

A look of shock and bewilderment hit her face. I felt like I owed her an explanation so I proclaimed, “I have to poop really bad and don’t want to do it at your place.” I then turned around and walked away.

I wonder why I am still single?

The lessons were held at a community center outside with a dance floor and a DJ for the advanced performers and a little section for the newer people to learn off to the site. I kind of sat back on the bench and observed the audience; it was a pretty diverse group of people with different ages and races taking part. However there was one major thing that I noticed.

1) There were some really attractive women there.

2) Every single guy there was horribly ugly. (I of course don’t count because I wasn’t dancing.)

In fact you had a wide group of characters including a William Hung clone, the really fat guy trying to be hip by wearing a fedora, and there was even a guy there that looked like a cross breed between Buster Bluth and Kramer. Basically it was a living and breathing pamphlet for genocide.

The disparity between the looks of the two sexes was mind-boggling. I couldn’t think of a time in history where such a gap existed. The end of the “Revenge of the Nerds” suddenly seemed totally plausible.

As the night wore on some of these men displayed their skills on the dance floor, while some where more impressive than others it was completely clear that the fact that they had some ability allowed them to dance with the hot women. In fact some of the dancing was downright erotic. This led me to create a patented theory to go with such winners as:

-Fat chicks give the best head

-If enough white guys sleep with Asian women it would kill off Asian men.

-If you have a coexist sticker you are either a pothead or fat

Now on the list is…. If you are an ugly guy you should learn how to dance because it is the only way to level the playing field… besides obnoxious sums of money.

I’ve even taken the time to reach out to Rupert Grint to see if this holds true.

Does a man who is light on his feet make your heart swoon ladies?

Of course all this was happening while Beth was standing in the door watching. Now if this a porn movie, Beth would have playfully scolded me and then joined in. However this wasn’t a porn movie, this was real life and I had just committed the biggest cardinal sin next to sleeping with someone’s sister and getting caught.

Life Lesson: Having another girls vagina in your face does not endear you to your girlfriend, especially the vagina belongs to her best friend.

Beth basically hit a level of pissed that I had never seen on someone I was dating, and haven’t seen since. She grabbed Kristie and smacked her. Now this is what’s fucked up – Kristie suddenly went limp and played the, “Wow I’m really drunk at this moment card.” (Wow…way to make myself sound like a date rapist.)

Beth had seen what transpired, so I guess I had that going for me. I immediately went down stairs to where John and Lisa were sitting, crashing on the couch. Beth came down and continued to rip me a new asshole. I told John that we should leave, but considering we had been drinking for like, 6 hours at this point, it wasn’t the most prudent decision. John told me we were staying there for the night, which was the right thing to do… you know, so we didn’t die. (Although at that point it probably would have been better for my eardrums if we did.)

I decided to just profusely apologize. At this point, everything was a drunken blur and the bitching/ass chewing just wasn’t sinking in. In fact I was passing out as she yelled at me, which really didn’t win me anymore points. I may or may not have been slapped awake, like I said this entire incident is a bit blurry. So I headed back upstairs and climbed into Beth’s bed, she followed a little bit later, and we continued the “discussion” without the yelling. Not only did I continue to apologize, admit fault, but I talked her into having sex with me.

Personally, I think that should go on my resume. After getting caught with a girl’s best friend’s legs wrapped around my head, I convinced her to have sex one to two hours later.

Actually I don’t know what that says about me… do I not have any shame or moral scruples? About Beth… did she not have any self esteem? Or about booze…. does it just make everything better eventually?

Needless to say the next morning was a shade uncomfortable. Kristie had left, John and I were preparing to leave, and Beth just wanted to talk about if we were still together or not. (We dated on and off for another six months or so.)

That was the worst thing I have ever done to another human being… And I am grateful my cock didn’t get cut off.

Now you will have to excuse me while I go out and run over an old lady to top this.

Relationships…wait…I shouldn’t even say relationships…how about just “women”? Women were pretty disposable to me. Not because I thought I was better than them, or that I had the dick supreme (is that on the value menu at Taco Bell?), but because I wanted to screw with impunity to make up for lost time/missed opportunities. And that’s what I did.

After a certain point, though, I felt that being a male whore wasn’t right and I should enter into “relationships,” albeit with ones that I wrote the rules for. You know, rules like:

-Rule number 57: I can sleep with whomever I want and you shall not know about it but don’t even think about talking to a cute boy because I will go apeshit.

-Rule number 3: The desires of my penis outweigh anything logical or emotional.

In other words, I was a guy that was 20 years old.

I am totally going to have sex with you and forget that you existed.

I started dating a girl back home in Western, NY when I was back for one summer. “Beth” was just out of high school and getting ready to go to college in Rochester. I had just finished my sophomore year at Albany and was preparing to move into a house with two girls, one that just so happened to be my ex-girlfriend. “Beth” was loyal, caring, and overall a pretty cool chick, which meant that I could totally run over her and get away with it. (Meanwhile if she was demanding, high-maintenance, and a total bitch, I probably would have bent over backwards for her at that time in my life.)

Originally I was pretty loyal to Beth, driving back and forth to visit her in Rochester when I was going to school in Albany. For the most part things were going well, except for a few rare instances of me being a dick. You know, like wanting to drive to Buffalo at two o’clock in the morning while shitfaced because the bars were open for another two hours. (She cried and jumped on my hood so I wouldn’t go.) Or having her pick me up at a golf tournament where I had finished the tournament in my boxers. Then there was me convincing her to let me stick it in her poop shoot because she was on the rag and I was horny. (I did drive three hours to visit her… so that makes it okay right? ) You know, really sweet things that women appreciate.

All of that, though, paled in comparison to what I did one night over the winter. I had come back one weekend  when her school was on break. Beth had invited two friends over that she went to gigh school with, Lisa and Kristie. Lisa dated one of my friends over the previous summer and for the most part was a relatively quiet girl; Kristie was a girl that I had art class with in high school. We had a weird flirty relationship but nothing had ever, would ever, or will ever happen (she has ended up well out of my league at this point in life, albeit severely emotionally damaged). It was just an odd situation – there was some sort of attraction there but she was a train wreck and I was dating her best friend…oh, and I was a complete asshole. Along with her two friends, my friend John came up to visit from his college and we all planned to play some drinking games and hang out.

As the night progressed, we all got pretty sloppy. Asshole turned into circle of death…circle of death turned into truth or dare. Truth or dare turned into Kristie and Beth making out on the couch. When this happened, my friend John gave me a look as to say, “Holy shit this is really going to happen tonight with the three of you.” I returned the look with nod; I was on a mission to get Kristie naked and in a bed with Beth. At the time it sounded like a reasonable goal but looking back it is about as realistic as clean coal.

For some reason the drinking games stopped and the girls wanted to watch something lame on television. John and I went into another room to watch the beginning of “Full Metal Jacket.” (Note I said beginning, because nobody wants to watch the whole thing.) Beth and Kristie came into the room about half an hour later talking about something that involved Kristie kissing me. Beth told her that she knew she always wanted to and that we should just get it out of the way this once. I was sitting on the floor and Kristie had to semi-straddle me to give me a kiss. Beth was a little upset and stormed off. As Kristie laughed and left, John and I did a fist bump. Everything was coming together without me even doing anything, except getting shitfaced and watching a  movie with a racist drill instructor.

Another half hour passes and Kristie came by the room we were watching the movie in to tell us that she was going to bed. She lingered by the door for a minute and walked into the room. I looked over at John, and he just nodded at me, because we both knew what that statement and linger meant. It came off as an invitation, opportunity, and a very calculated risk. (Wait… I could barely speak, I couldn’t calculate shit.)

What was I to do?

My Kickball Playoff Game- We played a team of all Irish young adults that clearly did not know the finer rules of kickball that one would learn in grade school or playing baseball in little league. It led to some arguments with the umpire, some trash talking, and me being able to drop Irish slurs for the first time in my life. (I am half Irish so it is okay, right?)

At one point they were arguing about a run that they felt should have counted and I was able to drop, “We’re talking about the basic rules of baseball our national pastime. If we were talking about U2, rampant alcoholism, and how to construct our railroads maybe you would have a leg to stand on.”

Okay I didn’t say that but I did make a Lucky Charms crack.

Lesson learned: It is really funny to break out some old school white on white racism every once and awhile.

Shooting at the Health Club- For those of you who don’t know a Pennsylvania man went into a local gym and opened fire on a bunch of women taking a class before turning the gun on himself. The guy kept an online blog detailing his frustration with the opposite sex and his plans to get revenge.

Apparently the shooter hadn’t been laid in 19 years which I contend drove him insane. If I go 19 days without getting laid I am pacing around my apartment figuring out the best way to jump out a window. At 19 months I would be flying to the Bunny Ranch in Nevada for a week long trip. At 19 years I probably would be… wait I would never make it to 19 years.

How bad of a social misfit do you have to be semi decent looking and not get laid in 19 years? Between drunk fat chicks, hookers, online dating, and craigslist there are ample ways for one to get laid. If the 40 Year Old Virgin didn’t meet Catherine Keener would the movie have taken a tragic turn with him gunning down women on the streets of LA?

Lesson learned: Don’t buy a weapon while on a dry streak.

Vanessa Hudgens- This picture has to be old because who still has a Razr? But these are allegedly “new” nude pics that have been released conveniently around the release date of her new movie. Why doesn’t she just pose in Playboy and get it over with?

Lesson learned: Young, barely legal girls + camera phones + whorish behavior= my interest in her new movie.

What lessons did you learn yesterday?

Okay. So apparently over the past few weeks of my absence, there was  a new Harry Potter flick released on the big screen. I heard something about it from somewhere, who knows.

Anywho, I took my kids to see the latest Disney blockbuster animated, “gonna market the shit out of this thing until there is a combo/Hannah Montana circle jerk” to this thing. I took them to see G-Force. I spent part of the equivalent of the federal highway stimulus package to buy tickets and a box of Jujubes, and it wasn’t half bad. However, one thing I saw irritated me.

Now, Finstock has destroyed the Harry Potter/Science Fiction movie goers on here a bit. Anyone with a comedic pulse has taken a shot at these fucking losers people at some point, but, I can’t resist.

In line witing for tickets, I met a young troll woman who was paying to see the Harry Potter and the Clown That Never Gets Laid for the, count ‘em…one, two, three…seventeenth time. Yep. Seventeen times. Who the hell does this?

I had to find out. So I asked. Apparently, this person also volunteered that she:

Loves Comic-con.

Has visited Japan to go to the Tokyo Anime museum…twice.

Openly critiques comic-to-movie screenings on blogs and websites (think Jay & Silent Bob Strikes Back “moviepoopshoot.com”).

Owns and collects Dragon/Demon figurines and uses them in role-playing games.

Met her boyfriend at the Renaissance Festival in Holly, Michigan and returns every year to repeat the events of said weekend…wait…

Boyfriend? Tell me about him. No need. Enter dork stereotype and you got it. Actually, before she said this, I was about to tell her that it was all over. Go…braid that pubic fur, wash your hair for the first time this decade and go and join Curves already, but…boyfriend?

Damn it. I guess I am the dork in this equation. At least she gets laid on a regular basis. My joint hasn’t been worked on in, well…you get the picture. Maybe I need some figurines and a regular spot on a Halo 3 blog?

Anyone see anybody like this recently?