Me Said, She Said

When I do finally get laid next, this is what the conversation might go a bit like:

Me: Wow, I can't believe this is finally happening. It's been a long time.
She: Yeah lets get this over with.[Takes off her top]
Me: Put away those fiery biscuits.
She: What?
Me: Oh, nothing, it's just a Mighty Boosh quote. Lesbian ham.
She: Is that something to do with your threesome fantasy? I told you I'm not interested.
Me: Okay, nevermind, come take my engorged sausage.
She: You like that dirty talking then, eh? Yeah, put your sausage in with my mash.
Me: Oooh, yeah, oooh, sausage and mash, sausage and mash, brussel sprouts baby.
She: No, that's not doing it for me.
Me: Yeah, it is a bit silly. I know what will change the temperature a bit. Just close your eyes and wait here.
She: Where are you going?
Me: I'll be back in a minute...
[After coming back]
She: Aaaaaah. What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck was that? That's fucking freezing.
Me: It's a nice trick I learnt from my mate. He told me going down on someone with crushed ice in your mouth is rather arousing. I couldn't be arsed to find some ice and crush it, so I used ice cream. Karamel Sutra. Thought it would be appropriate.
She: Oh my God, that's disgusting. It's all sticky and stringy like mozzarella.
Me: Yeah, maybe that wasn't such a good idea.
She: You think?
Me: Okay, while you clean up, can I put it in your armpit?
She: WHAT?
Me: Well, at least I'm not asking for back door action.
She: Okay, fine, I guess.
Me: Oooh, how many days has it been since you shaved under there? You've got a bit of designer stubble going on. It's feels nice though, like smooth sand paper.
She: You can stop that now, it feels a bit weird.
Me: You confuse me sexually.
She: What, just because I don't want you to carry on in my armpit?
Me: Sorry, that was another Mighty Boosh reference. You know, in the live show, when Bob Fossil's making his entrance...
She: I don't give a damn. I'm all cleaned up down there now.
Me: Sweet! Can you do something for me? Can you bite on my pecs?
She: Biting? You like that shit?
Me: No, not really. Just do it, then you'll see how rock solid they are.
She: You're fucked up. Why are you so obsessed with your pecs?
Me: Cos they're there. And I've worked fucking hard for them, and endured a lot of ribbing - people calling them tits and the like.
She: Okay, nevermind lets get on with things.
Me [getting on with things]: Oooh, yeah, oooh, Nenna...
She: What? Stop.Who's name did you just call out?
Me: Erm...mama, I just said "Oooh mama". You know I suffer from a touch of the Oedipus. That reminds me, I was meaning to ask you, is your mother open-minded?
She: That's it. I'm fucking out of here.
Me: Can you leave your panties behind?

Colons and Religion

Just a short one today, seeing as I'm feeling rather bloated with all that ice cream I ate. It's nice and warm indoors, so it was good to consume four-fifths of a large bucket of Caramel Sutra. I'm rather dissapointed at the harted I've received in response to "My Blog 2". No fewer than THREE people have called me a loser. What did I do to receive such admonition? I just thought I'd share my general feelings on how this dating book's going, thought you guys wold like to know the emotions inside my head, the glorious words that come tumbling forth when I've got nothing better to do. If that ends up with you judging me, so be it. But, let me say this...let the person who has sinned cast the first stone. Cranfield has taken up witing a blog too, I noticed. His is exactly what a blog should be, the intricate processes that goes on inside a man's head. It is an accurate refection of his personality, and I respect his for that. For if his mind contains nothing but bunny rabbits and biscuits, flawed arguments and emotional insecurites, who are we to taunt him? So, I'm reposting the comments I made in response to his blog, so others can read it too:"Seems like I've started a trend...Indeed, Tom's colon is so massive it could probably house all the Palestinians, thereby bringing peace to the Middle East. But since he's vegetarian, it's too windy down there, so although the Arabs don't mind a bit of sand being whipped around, they'd rather not have the stuff inside his colon going into their eyes. How did his colon get so big, I hear you ask? He likes being sodomised by large black emos. Also, in response to the junk you've written about God being pissed off with the world, God doesn't feel hatred to His creations (except during Noah's time, but that's different). He shows equal love to all His children, except the gays and the Jews, and allows all humans to live out their lives on their own, with a little guidance from Him if they so desire. He cannot be expected to take care of all the riots, suffering, unfortunately sized colons and poor grammar all across the world. He's got other things to do, like look at Jessica Alba in the shower..."Peace out mah niggas.

Dating

Someone has recently been telling me that I really need to get a girlfriend. He very kindly offered to help me out with this project, but I just wasn't ready. It didn't seem very manly getting a mate's direct help with this kind of thing. So, I decided to purchase a book called "Dating for Dummies: the ugly retards' guide to getting laid". I must say it has given me a whole new outlook on life in general, and women in particular. I wish I had that book with me now every time I went out. But, rule number one from the book is: Don't take this book out with you when trying to get lucky. Damn. So, I'm trying to memorise the important aspects of it, but it's not as easy as it sounds. Maybe I'm just thick. I got a neat little trick that helps me with it though. I put bookmarks in certain pages of the book, and write the main points down on there. Blue bookmarks for the tips for guys, pink bookmarks for the tips for girls. Hey, the bit for girls is really useful as well. It helps you think like a girl. And once you start thinking like a girl, there's nothing stopping you. I must make sure I don't try those lines on a guy again though. I just got a little confused. Too much ice cream straight to the system, gave me brain freeze. A neat cheap shot to take at a hot girl is to go up to her, pretend you're foreign (which I can quite easily do, being a bit ethnic), put on a heavy accent, ask her if she's English, and (here's the lady-killer) ask her "What is it called when man and woman get together....?" making the appropriate hands rubbing together gesture. It hasn't worked for me yet, but I should probably stop trying the European accents. No one's mistaking me for a Frenchman or a German anytime soon. Maybe an Indian accent. I've heard some women find that quite sexy.

Fascists

I'm bored, so I'm writing a blog lol. Hope you enjoysssss it xXx :-)Today I am supposed to do something, but I just can't be asked, you know? I can't stand it when people are always telling me to do things. Don't they understand I'm my own man? I don't listen to anyone else. Why should others supress me and my inner creativity? It's like I have all this raw energy inside me and it's bursting to come out, but society just doesn't let it happen. Take my advice: choose freedom, choose open-mindedness (is that really a word? I don't care. I've just stopped caring about a lot of things these days).Also, I'm soooo bored. It's like there's nothing to actually do in this world. I went and had an ice cream today, but it's rather cold outside, so it was a bit rubbish. It reminded of when my sister said "This ice cream's too cold, can't we warm it up a little bit?" lols. But that brings me to another point. Why can't we all go back to the time when we were all so innocent like children. Growing up has made me so dissillusioned. You don't know who to trust. Especially the media. That's the place you're supposed to get your truth from, but all they're doing is just feeding their own agenda, kissing the arses of the government. Being told what to do. It's just not fair what society has placed on our young shoulders.I saw some Irish chavs today. They were sitting near my table in a cafe. I thought, "That's just fucking great - the two of my least favourite demographics, all in one family. It's as if God thought "Hey, what would be better than cider swilling trailer trash? I know! Cider swilling trailer trash that like to drink even more! and eat potatoes" " For fucks sake. As if this world isn't messed up enough. Wouldn't it be awesome if we could just hire snipers to take them (the chavs, not the Irish) out? I should so totally be made Prime Minister. Anyway, I'm off to the club to go play some tennis now. Maybe some ice cream after will hit the spot. I'm still rather peeved at not having enjoyed that ice cream earlier cos it was too cold.