Wednesday, June 15, 2005


yesterday's post was like chernobyl. i droppped the bomb and women in my office went crazy. some accused me of hating romance. some accused me of being a "commie." some said they hated and loved the post. some said nothing but tried to carve my rib cage apart by shooting vengeful little daggers from their eyes. one woman, who has been my friend all year said, "i feel sorry for your girlfriend."

shit. i hadn't thought of that. in my pursuit to rip the masks off relationships i forgot that i was in one. my words could kill me. it wouldn't be the first time my mouth signed a check my ass couldn't cash. maybe i should delete the post before my balls are ripped off by my girl's raptor claws and thrown on the forman griller.

but i can't pull punches now. it's too late. the ship is going down. the giant squid has already wrapped his sucker-laden tentacles around your boy and is heading straight for that hard, strange black beak that squid have...(why do squid have beaks?)

this is my girl's response to yesterday's post:

my girl: that's not bad baby. it's cute. just put a blurb in there about how women are like that except for your girlfriend.

me: see? (sidestepping the blurb request) you're offended.

mg: i'm not offended.

me: yes you are.

mg: no. you know what it is?

me: i'm sure you're going to tell me.

mg: i'm not offended, it's just that ou men don't want to date the slutty one. you're predisposed to conquer. you pursue the woman that's hard to get.

me: that's because you women are already being hard to get. what you just said is based on the female's policy of an economy based on "restricted-use vagina."

mg: you want to fuck the whore and date the lady.

me: guys don't want to date anybody.

mg: you can break with me right now motherfucker.

me: i'm blogging that. that's going into the blog. that was a perfect reaction. see that? already you're applying "mons venus pressure."

mg: you got 2 months motherfucker.

me: see. pressure on the court. full court press.

mg: laugh all you want jokey.

me: [laughing]

mg: you weren't laughing when you'll crawled back to me. (my girl's impersonation of me is in falsetto voice, i don't know why) "i want to date you. it's either me or ryan." why don't you blog that? why don't you put your balls on the line. tell them about how you crawled back to me.

see that? this is how my girl applies "pressure." already she's threatening to take away her vagina. some of my girl's favorite lines are "mark my words," or "you should thank your lucky stars you met a girl like me." she also predicts in the future that if i don't act right that i will be all alone and reminiscing about the good old days when i was still with her. that i'll be holding my johnson and dreaming of her. the sad victim of losing the "best thing that ever happened to me." this doom forecast is a favorite of women. they love to convince men that there's nothing better out there. this is a fear-based con, often imployed by insurance agencies and carsalesmen, "this is it. top of the line model. oh you can look for a btter deal, but you won't find it."

mg: let's see motherfucker. let see if you keep me past september 6th.

this is my girl's favorite threat. the FRENCH THREAT. on september 6th she's going to france for awhile. the implication is that if i don't "lock her down" or "marry" her by september 6th, then i will lose her to some super-romantic french guy. i laugh at the french threat. that's when i know i won. if my girl has to threaten me with another country on a separate continent then i know she loves me. this is my response to the french threat.

me: go ahead. go to france. good luck finding a man over there. what are you going to do, date a mime? i'd love to see that. you know you can't take a man seriously who's wearing a beret. besides the french don't bathe. that's what the stinky cheese is for. they need that filthy cheese to cover up their body stink or they would never have sex. there's no heterosexuals over there, only bi-curious at best.

i don't spell check


Blogger ninabit said...

when impersonating an ex boyfriend, or in some cases, a current boyfriend, all women use the falsetto voice, or the deep "i'm slow" voice. it's also the same voice we use when impersonating asses and nimrods.

AND, i wouldn't worry about French men. it's those Irish men you need to worry about. Holy God!


1:45 PM

Anonymous cruster said...

I'm so friggin' proud to be Irish right now.

2:04 PM

Anonymous Anonymous said...

the hooch says

Sept 7th and im bringing in Harvard

Get movin

8:40 PM

Blogger Bunker said...

I find your teachings interesting and would like to subscribe to your newsletter.

11:06 AM


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