But, I have solid reasoning as to why I am as miserable as a male dog recently severed from his clockweights.

Winter is here in a major fashion. And I hate winter, with a passion. Fuck wit’ me, I’ll be a-slashin’, homeless folk on they gub’ment ration…(had to do it…)

Now, I am a social person. I like to strike up conversations with people I don’t know in all sorts of situations. Situations like waiting in line, sales calls, being in a drunken stupor at a tavern soliciting nice looking blondes with great legs, or urinating in public.

The lady I was approached by at the local “Dirty Urinal Convenience Store” this morning feels otherwise. I made sure she had a crappy Friday.

Yes, I was at a store this morning purchasing my obligatory annual cup of joe that I never get unless it’s cold when, while waiting in line for the rectal thermometer in front of me to complete his purchase of a pack of gum using debit Mastercard, I was followed by a middle aged woman that was much too happy for my taste on this “testicle hiding” winter morning. I just looked at her like she had a penis growing out of her forehead when she chimed in with, “I’m so excited that it’s going to snow tonight. Aren’t you?”

Now, on the inside I was saying, “Are you fucking nuts? Do you realize that it will not stop snowing here until May, and when it gets snowy and slick out on the roads that every person around here starts driving like they are an 89 year old handicapped person, stroking out, looking for the nearest Perkins?”

On the outside, all I could muster to that query was “Absolutely not. Winter sucks.”

To which she said, “How can you not be excited! The holidays are coming, it’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, the holidays come around this time of year world wide. If I had a palm tree I’d decorate the thing if I knew that on December 26th it would be 70 degrees and I’d not have to step outside and freeze my ass off.”

“That’s crazy” she cleverly stated. “You need to move away from Michigan. Why are you here then?”

Gee…never heard that one before, Plato.

“Well, because my parents decided that it would be a great idea if we moved here from California when I was a kid, hence I am stuck here and I can’t move out of this god forsaken piece of frozen earth out of extreme guilt of leaving everyone I know and love just because I am a selfish ass.”

“Well, sorry to hear that,” she replied.

“Meh”. Yeah, I am sorry too. Now give me my Hot Carmel Cider Fruitista Monkey Spunkachino. Nay, my Venti Hot Carmel Cider Fruitista Monkey Spunkachino

I’m a regular Ebenezer Scrooge, damn it. Old man winter can lick my ball sack. Even if his tongue freezes to my hanging fruit bowl like a frozen pole (pun totally intended).

Here’s the deal: When I was 8, my parents and I moved from California to Michigan in the middle of February. The day we arrived it was -10 degrees with a foot of snow on the ground. Upon entering the state, I literally puked. My first memorable experience with snow, ice, cold and winter, I was the “chunder king”. Mile marker one on I-75, in the state of Michigan, I yakked all over my folks 1980 Chevy Citation hatchback, my Joe Montana jersey and my Peanuts comforter.

Poor Pigpen and Snoopy were never the same. It’s been a hate/hate relationship with winter ever since. (In retrospect, I might have had the flu, but, still…)

So, the next person that gives me shit about my not loving winter, I’ll not be nice, and I’ll simply state that I would kill for 90 degrees with 99% humidity and mosquitoes as large as god-damned Buicks because anyone that loves such cold as to wear fourteen layers of clothing and still shiver mercilessly, and smile, is fucking crazy.

Civilization began in the desert. I am simply following suit.

And THAT is why I am the prick I am this lovely day.

Any questions? Good.

Don’t eat yellow snow, igloo lovers.

So why do I love Survivor so? Simple… It is the most racist and ageist show on television. Not only that but there are so many “lessons” that they are trying to teach us.

Every season Survivor finds new ways to insult entire groups of people. Usually one of the first people voted out of the game is someone that is old. Only on very rare occasions do you see older people making it far into the game. The perception is that they are weak and are unable to contribute in physical challenge. Yet the always keep one attractive girl around that has the physical abilities and coordination of a toddler.

The lesson learned is that tits always beat experience.

Discrimination against old people still isn’t as fun as the stereotyping of African Americans that usually happens. Every other season there is an African American that is really lazy around camp and doesn’t do shit. If that character isn’t on then there is one that is just too dumb to see everything develop around them.

The lesson learned here is that while we might have a black president most of America still wants to see black people as dumb and lazy.

Of course the people that do the most conniving and planning are gay people. They are smarter than the average person and cannot be trusted because they are always looking out for themselves. Every season there is a gay player or someone that you can assume is gay and they are the always doing the backstabbing or leading the way.

The lesson here is that gay people are inherently evil and untrustworthy.

It is absolutely hilarious to me to watch this unfold before my eyes every season. Along with the other typical story lines that take place like…. People want to be lead but they don’t want someone to be bossy. Men/women are easily fooled by the opposite gender when there are romantic entanglements. (It rotates who is the weaker gender season to season.) And the most important one… If you keep your mouth shut, buddy up to the right people, and fly under the radar you can go far in life.

And really isn’t that the lesson everyone wants to learn? Why lead when you can just leach on and ride a wave to success?

What lessons do you learn from TV Shows?

He’s kind of like Finstock on here, really, minus the brown shoes and fascination with Asian chicks and blumpkin porn.

Anyway, for years I have lived vicariously through T.D. The man has never been married, has no kids, and aside from his balding, roly-poly type body, has always seemed to pull the wool as well as anyone I have ever known. He is what I call a serial dater, and his tales, which can be long winded, border on the absurd, and make me shake my head in total disbelief. He is also the best Frogger player I have ever known and, to steal a line from 40 Year Old Virgin, has more video games than a teenaged Asian kid.

So, T.D. calls me up with what he deems a “moral dilemma”. “Oohh, this ought to be a good one!” is what I’m thinking, since the man has no morals that I am aware of, yet somewhere in the deep recesses of his sub-cockles, some morals were jarred loose by some hottie he was trying to slay.

“Go ahead good sir. What’s is it?”, I said.

“Well, I was on a date with this blonde with (names every body part and prefaces it with “killer”…what a d-bag), and it was going really well, and we ended up back at her house. We were listening to music and laughing when out of the blue, she says, ‘you’re a guy so you’ll appreciate this. There have been times when I’ve gotten myself off while driving on back roads. Perfect timing, in my mind. Seclusion, vibrations…you know?’ and Matt, I tell you, for the first time, I was stumped as to what to say to her.”

My first thought was, “nice segue on her part.” I imagined them talking about the latest Guns N’ Roses release or the upcoming Holidays when she chimes in with the old, “I like to rub the nub in public” switcheroo.

My second thought was, “Well, did you get any?”

I told him to please tell me that he sealed the deal right then and there with a comment like, ‘I’ve jacked it twice already tonight to the mental image I have of your Facebook photos’. Or Phoebe Cates in a pool.

He did not, he said. He couldn’t seal the deal. They talked a little more and parted ways with a kiss and vowed that they had to see each other again…soon.

Poor guy got blue balls is what happened, but that’s not what is important here.

I have to know. Is a womans masturbatory preferences a good topic for a first date? I mean, as a man, if I were to go out with someone and break out the, “Hey, I think Vaseline is a little too gooey and too hard to clean up when I toss my schmack around. I prefer Eucerin when I am firing off knuckle children to pictures of Jamie Lynn Spears…”, that might come across as, well, “creepy”, right?

Whip it out in the car while driving? That’s what I call, “jail time with buttsechs”. So if a woman comes out and lays her prefrences on the table, is that a good thing?

I think it is, but…wait…I just answered my own question.

Disregard. Go and play with yourselves.

That’s fuckin’ teamwork.

1) Be on Taxicab Confessions

I want to be goaded into telling a ridiculous story by a complete stranger driving a cab. Diving into the most personal shit and talking about something that is only fitting for late night pay cable. Then at the end of the ride when they ask me to sign a release (for which they will give me a free cab ride) I will flip out and look at the camera asking, “Is that really a camera?”

It is the simple things in life that make me happy.

2) I want to cook a meal and….

Have an enormous black man stand up and proclaim, “That is some good shit right there.” So I am either going to need to start hanging out with NFL players or work in a prison because it would probably increase the odds of this happening.

3) I want someone to give me a satisfactory answer….

To the question, “Why do adults brag that they have read all Harry Potter books and/or the Twilight series?”
Unless you started either series as a teen and finished them in your early twenties you have no excuse. Pick up a real book and mentally challenge yourself. Actually you can cross this off the list because there will never be a satisfactory answer.

4) Be let ahead of someone in line at Target when I have fewer items….

I just want one person with 75 items and 15 price checks to allow me to go ahead of them when I have 3 things…. Just.one.time.

5) I want a certain piece of my life explained by a crappy montage with bad music.

Instead of having to tell a long boring story explaining the events of something I would just like to pop open a portable DVD player and play a montage of everything that happened that led up to said event. You know like my epic rise through the All Valley Karate tournament.

What is on your list?

(Note: She did make a comment earlier in the conversation about her being in her prime. It was in a joking manner. Apparently that is what spurred this on.)

The Dude: There was so weird tension between us at my place. I figured it was because we both want to do each other, but can’t because I’m in a relationship to be blunt which is unusual for me.

I knew that’s what it was the other night, I think the whole room could feel the tension between us it gave me quite a lot of energy. I remember that one night when we were drinking at Hemingway’s and we got into a cab together discussed where we were going then as we turned the corner, you said Dude, “I’m not that kind of girl.”

So I said to the cabbie, stop the car. Too bad you weren’t in your prime then…

(Pretty harmless monologue at this point. The sexual prime reference was a bit creepy but otherwise this conversation just looks like a guy remembering the old days.)

So how do you handle yourself when you want to screw someone who’s in a relationship? I’m way past my prime, and it’s hard for me maybe you like teasing me. It’s a good thing we don’t see each other often.

(Starting to turn slightly creepy, not 100% creepy but if you were on the telephone you would be trying to hang up at this point by saying things like, “My house is on fire.”)

I need an outside perspective. Say I fantasize about sleeping with another woman… Is that natural, or is that a sign that I shouldn’t be in a relationship? Should I feel guilty about having these “fantasies” while in a relationship? Sometimes I want to act on the fantasy is that normal too? Maybe that’s what makes me question whether I should be in a relationship or not like when we were play fighting in my kitchen the other night…

(Note: Pam doesn’t remember play fighting at any point in this night. She may have punched him in the arm or something. Now the conversation has turned into full on creep mode. How much would you like to bet that he relieved himself while thinking about this play fighting event?)

Maybe I’m not wired for monogamy or maybe I’m just a man. See, now I’m turned on again too much tension if we could go back to that cab ride what would you do? I wasn’t suggesting that we have sex that night anyway… I was thinking mutual masturbation.

(And there it is.. A conversation with your ex-girlfriend turns to the topic of mutual masturbation within the first few minutes. What could possibly be going through his mind that him think that this would seal the deal?)

Pam : hold your horses there Dude…we’re friends, lets not forget that

Dude: I didn’t say we weren’t. You’re the one who said that you were in your prime to me… you got the ball rolling.

That is like a guy raping a girl and saying that it was because she was wearing red lipstick. Okay it is NOTHING like that but I couldn’t think of a good analogy…

What is the creepiest thing an ex has said to you after you have broken up for awhile?

The jist of the latest article on a “reliable news source” is to freak us all out by mentioning where there is the heaviest concentration of germs in our lives. And wouldn’t you know it? They’re everywhere. No shit. They range from the obvious (children’s playgrounds and airline bathrooms) to the, well, semi obvious (women’s handbags and the cesspool of used lipstick and half chewed tic-tacs in those damn things).

The article makes it a point to make sure that we keep germs away by cleaning stuff all the time, by using a hand sanitizer or washing our hands every time we touch anything and that we make sure that our kids do the same.

Now, I don’t know about you, but if I washed my hands every time I touched something, I certainly would qualify as Obsessive Compulsive, and I am sure that 100% of us would qualify as well. Therefore, I don’t wash my hands every time I touch something myself or others might have touched. Now, if I just finished wiping my ass and dribbling piss in a rest room before eating germ infested hot dogs with chili and cheese, then I consider it.

To me, the children of today, along with their unoriginal entertainment habits, are being raised as, politely put, pussies. And of course, it isn’t the kids’ faults, it’s the parents who insist on keeping kids in a tiny little enclave of a bubble, protecting them from everything from scrapes to getting sand in their ass cracks.

Now that I am a parent myself, I’m not in the business of attempting to protect my children from every little thing that could potentially harm them in life. Do I want them to run into heavy traffic or swallow marbles? No, and hopefully Darwinism won’t allow them to do that. But, I do want my children to learn as I learned, try things, cause and effect, trial and error. If you touch the stove and it gives you a little singe, well, I guess you’ve learned not to touch it again, right? Remember trampolines that didn’t have netting around them? Oy.

A quick biology lesson for you.

Our bodies are designed with what doctors and scientists call an “immune system”, a system endocrinologically (I made this word up, I think) able to fight off infection and build up immunities to said germs so that they don’t quite have the negative effect on us after being exposed to them a few times. This leads to, as we get older, getting sick less often, or if we do, it is much less severe.

Simply put, this is how after many years of life without hand sanitizers and anti-bacterial everything, we’ve survived.

Amazing we survived at all isn’t it?

Now we freak out about germs and “oh no! little Jimmy has a cold, quarantine him!” and we wonder why kids are always sick and have allergies to just about everything up to and including Oxygen (the element, not the channel, which I know I am highly allergic to).

It is the people that have very little intelligence or the ability to read and digest what is and what is not urgent news who react to the fear conjured from reading these “sponsored by Purell” articles. They’re the ones gobbling this shit up and out there sanitizing their world, all the while their kids sniffle and cough their way into next summer, when god forbid they get into a pool!

So, for those of you sheep that buy into all of this crap, I’ll ask one simple thing. Keep your panty waste kids away from all of society. Yeah, that’s it. That way they can grow up “normal”. Then, make sure you save your hard earned dollars for years of therapy and this book:

In other words, knock it off.

Date- 3

What did I wear: Jeans, some sort of greenish shirt that I never wear but it was ironed, and a brown pair of shoes

Would I screw me? No I didn’t even really shave. I was going for a grunge look that failed miserably. Instead of looking like scruffy George Clooney I looked like a dirty Jake Busey.

(Don’t ask me where the Jake Busey reference came from.)

Odds of me getting laid: (0 means me looking for porn online when I get home and 10 means trapeze sex): 0

Date location: Started out in an Irish pub

First impression: Cute, she was Asian aren’t they all the same?

The date: We hung out and had a few drinks but in all honestly we landed on the single greatest people-watching event ever. As we sat there chit chatting and knocking back beer we noticed a group of people bringing in a lot of equipment into the back bar. At first we assumed that there was going to be a band. The equipment kept coming in though enough for it to be an orchestra. About a half an hour after the equipment got there a certain clientele was heading directly to that back room, I would call them a “comic book convention” type crowd. We asked the bartender what was going on and he told us that there was some role playing/gaming event.  Of course once I found that out I had to look for the key people that would without a doubt be there.  (Much like Matt always sees a certain type of person at the gym.)

1) The Fat Guy with the really funny t-shirt- There is always one fat guy at a geek event with a supremely funny t-shirt. You want to take that fat guy and make him your personal Hurley. I always wondered if that fat guy has a rival that is continually thwarted by him having a funnier t-shirt. I picture his rival frantically surfing the web split screened, with anime porn on one half and his web browser open looking for an ironic or sarcastic t-shirt. No matter what he finds and orders he is let down when the other guy has a better shirt at the next event forcing him to go back to the drawing board.

2) An Asian Girl- Of course this is the mousy Asian girl with huge glasses that speaks little or no English. She laughs like Chun Li in Street Fighter 2 and usually smells like Chinese food that has been left out on the counter for a day. Her lack of English speaking ability means that she is usually alone.

3) The “hot” geek chick- There is always one girl in a group of geeks that they all salivate over and in that room of geeks she without a doubt stands out as being attractive. However if you put her in a bar she is solidly in the middle of the pack. Not attractive but not ugly just kind of there. Usually she has two out of three things really wrong with her:

-Horrible teeth… A combination of bad genes and not taking care of them
-Slight remnants of horrible acne
-A horrible haircut that is dated and filled with split ends

Along with two out of those three things she can’t dress herself at all. Being a guy that can barely dress himself when I say someone can’t dress himself or herself it means they are one step above a four year old or a 20 year old with downs syndrome picking out an outfit.

Of course all three of these people were there and it pleased me to no end to see them filter into the bar.

We eventually left that bar for another and called it a night.

Results: Good time, I could set up a second date with her but I am waiting to hear back from date number 2 about candlepin bowling after her roommate discovered my blog last week.

What places or events do you go to where you know you will see certain types of people?

“I’ll show you my pixels if you show me yours.”

Ms. Taylor was apparently crushed by what she saw.  But it gets even more bizarre.  This wasn’t the first time Mr. Taylor had been caught fucking some hot, pixelated poon: “Ms Taylor’s suspicions were aroused in 2007 and she hired a Second Lifeprivate investigator. The virtual sleuth, called Markie MacDonald, caught Dave Barmy in flagrante and he apologised to his online and real world wives.”  She hired a VIRTUAL FUCKING SLEUTH my friends.  Like, for real.  My mind is reeling; I have sooo many questions.

• Can you choose your penis size in Second Life?
• Can you knock some hotty up?  Get an STD?  Are there condoms available?
• Is the sex realistic - in other words, is it over in less than 2 minutes?
• Who is the biggest loser in this story: 1) The guy banging Second Life characters 2) The wife for getting upset and divorcing him or 3) The guy whose character in Second Life is an VIRTUAL SLEUTH?

My money is on the latter.  What do you make of this story?  If you caught your spouse having a Second Life “affair,” would you be jealous?  And beyond that, would you be so upset that you would divorce them?

Yesterday it was revealed that Adrienne Bailon, of the irritating, Disney manufactured, trollop rearing group “The Cheetah Girls” claimed that “steamy” nude photos of her were taken from her laptop, which itself was heisted from JFK Airport in New York and ransomed for $1,000. Yay.

It was revealed all of forty-two seconds later by her douchebag (ex) manager, 19 year old* Jonathon Jaxson, that is was all a PR stunt and that it was designed to drum up interest in Bailon as a sex symbol, and like, stuff. And since her tour with The Cheetos Girls ends on December 22nd, they are apparently able to pursue other projects. Besides, Disney has a pretty strict set of guidelines when it comes to “maintaining a professional, wholesome veneer” when representing them, so bye-bye Adrienne anyway.

So in order to further a falling starlets career, why not do what the rest of the no-talent hacks do? Get the old camera out, pose naughtily into it, maybe bend over to show a little onion, and just leak a story about “stolen photos” to garner interest in those other than 14 year old boys that whack off into wrist bands. Sounds perfect!

(*19 year old age assumed, not verified)

The problem with this is two fold. (*Disclaimer: The following must not be taken as that I want the photos to stop…really. I enjoy fresh nudity way too much to disown it. I’m keeping my man card.)

One it this tactic is completely played out already. It’s been done before, and been done a lot better, too, I might add. I mean, which Disney starlet hasn’t been photographed nude and/or semi-nude by now? Lindsay Lohan’s crazy ass, Britney Spears giving a hummer, Miley Cyrus and her pre-pubescent above-angle shots, Vanessa Hudgens and her Vietnamese forest…been done.

In fact, what girl between the ages of 16 and 22 hasn’t, at some point, whether by a boyfriend or by themselves in a mirror, been photographed showing off their cans or pooter? I’ll say very few. It’s just the way it is. Don’t stop doing it ladies, I’m just saying… (The internet is an awesome resource for finding this shit by the way. Ladies, odds are, if someone has taken a photo of you nude, somewhere, someone will find you, especially if an ex-boyfriend took it. And 70% of the time, you will get jerked off to. The other 30% have no business being nude and only will be missile-launched to if someone finds fat rolls, cottage cheese and small cattle appealing. Guys, if you take a picture of your Kiwis and Banana, you’re a d-bag. Put down your shirt and kick yourself on the balls. Thanks.)

Two, nude photos or candid sex tapes will NOT further your mainstream film or professional career. Sure, you’ll get some press and what not, but, resorting to this is a last ditch effort before you go full out into prostitution, real pornography (with full fledged facial money shots and tea-bagging), alcoholism and/or drug abuse. Don’t believe me? Ask the following:

• Tiffany
• Dana Plato*
• Tonya Harding
• Tara Reid

• Samantha Fox
• Brenda Walsh…I mean Shannen Doherty
• Verne Troyer…

…wait. Scratch that last one off the list and, blech, give me some Comet and a Brillo Pad to cleanse that image out of my head. Gracias. *And Dana Plato is dead.

Anyway, I guess my point of all of this is that I’m tired of this being front page news. Big deal, so you’re nude. Great. Give me the link, some free time and I’ll go and wax the carrot to them and that’ll be that. News would be if you are photographed naked with a rubber fist up your ass. That’s news. That’s what I call “worth it”. No need to act all retarded and weepy saying “your career is over, boo-hoo what am I going to do?” If this happens and you planned it, well, your career got off the ground as much as my fat ass at a pick up basketball game anyway. Pack it in Toots. Crystal Meth is on your menu.

Is there anyone else that feels this is a played out stunt? Is there anyone that has been photographed/filmed nude? My email address is…(ladies only, please…hehehe).

Addendum: As of press time here, it was reported that Adrienne received a $100,000 offer to pose nude in Playboy in a pictorial of “stylish photos with full nudity in a sufficient quantity and quality.” Yeah, again, while I will more than likely flog the dolphin to them, she’s through. See above examples.

Chance that the owner of this truck has a mullet: 99.87%

Let’s face it, NOTHING gives off the aroma of masculinity like slapping a pair of balls on your truck, balls I may add that are minisculy tiny when compared to the size of said truck…and oh yeah also have no penis attached to them whatsoever.  MANLY.  And classy, too.  Women swoon as they watch the teensy balls swing back and forth as they envision the mink coats, diamonds, and fine wine that surely await them once they snare the owner of that truck.

Big balls: check.  Penis: not so much.

God bless America, where a black man can be elected President and synthetic nuts hang freely from our bumpers.  But in the spirit of equality, may I suggest the invention of a new product geared towards the women-folk: Car Clitz.