Phew, it's dusty in here. And what is that smell?!

Whatever

So... what are we going to talk about? Ever have one of those moods when you seem to really crave telling someone all you have to say, but just can't muster the energy required to write it down? That's me. You know what would be nice right now? A beer with someone that makes me laugh. I guess I've been a bit blaaaa lately and that's not normally me. Whatever. Maybe the problem is that my brain feels like there's so much banging around in there that I can't focus on any one thing long enough to say all about it that I might normally.

My alternative would be to sit here and blather on about "stuff" in my life, a-la "today I had soup for lunch and it was really good soup even though I'm not normally into soup.." blah blah blah, yeah, I'd suffer a narcoleptic episode just writing it, so I can imagine what you'd think reading it. The fact is I've got a ton of things on my mind, from my recent surgery to the one I think I'm going to have to have sooner than I'd thought (and it's got me a little worried, honestly); from trying to get beyond the ex dating the one person to whom I'd object to trying to figure out how to look at women without wondering "when would she fucking leave"; and even what on my "bucket list" I'm going to do next. Eh, I'll figure out something. I suppose what I'd really like is to feel like I belong to more than just what I can do for myself. That sounds stupid, doesn't it? What I mean is, to share; to feel; to be excited about a person again. As it is, I'm excited about what I'm doing for me, sure, but have no one to share those experiences with. You know what I mean. And while I'm excited about those things I've begun, I'm apathetic enough about people to figure no one gives enough of a shit.

Besides, c'mon, we've all seen those blogs that go on and on about general events in the author's life that, since we don't know them, we have a hard time reading. I don't really want to be that kind of blogger, if I can actually make claim to being one in the first place. You want to hear something funny though? I've got dozens of entries in the works that should be all the mediocrity you come here to enjoy; I just lose interest too quickly to finish them.

So let me open up the mailbag, where by "open" I mean holding it open so you can toss your questions in there. Someone help a guy out here. Anyone have a question? Comment? Or perhaps an opinion about how much shit McCain gave Obama for his lack of experience, then turned around and picked a running mate with only marginally more experience than my cat? No? Nothing? Fine, then dare me to do something.

Anyone? Anyone?

Buehler?... Buehler?...

No longer a virgin

So guess where I've been the last couple days?


I'm borrowing the wireless connection from someone who obviously has a generator and believes internet access is a vital necessity. Lucky me.

It's early in the morning Saturday and I'm sitting in a lawn chair in the brick enclosed cubby of my front porch, where I'm almost entirely shielded from Ike, writing this. The rest of the house is sleeping, after having spent the night waiting for the windows to cave in. Everyone's fine, cuz I know you all were supremely concerned, right? Now I can say I've experienced my first hurricane.

Not what you expected from the title, no?

Lock Up Your Daughters, People

So I'm out visiting the Lounge, and Miss Oki revealed to us that she's only "barely evil"; a mere "twisted." Personally I think that might be a bit generous, but hey, I didn't design the test and hey, she could have lied.

And lying on these tests is something I know a lot about. In an attempt to ensure that EA remains the same boring display of mediocrity you've come to lament (it's not just any rediculous collection of drivle; it's THE collection of drivle), I'll often take and retake tests of this nature in an effort to find the funniest result. Or just the result that makes me more interesting than I am in real life.

Oh, don't beleive a word of it; I'm damned interesting in real life. But that's not the point here.

The point is that tonight, as I read that Keri is only slightly evil and could, in fact, change her ways if she chose to, I decided I'm in the mood to answer the quiz in as honest a way as possible. Yes, folks, I decided to give an accurate picture of EA for once.

Why? Because eventually I'm going to date again and I don't want that woman to read this blog and run screaming for the hills. Or, perhaps I'm just lazy tonight. After all, I am in Disneyworld with FlyBoy and the Puffinator and we did walk about 40,000 miles today, so cut me some slack for crissake.

So I took the test. And I figured I was going to fall somewhere in the middle, much like Miss Oki. I mean, I've always considered myself somewhat of an average person: better than some, worse than others, so why shouldn't I end up in the middle? It asked a bunch of benign questions, like my favorite movie genre and the kind of music I listen to. Add all that usual trivia to my "kinda good/kinda bad" personality and I thought I'd be somewhere in the high point of the bell curve.

But no.

How evil are you?

Look how far that freaking arrow is to the side of evil! I'm so fucked. No wonder normal, lovely women don't like me. I guess all that's left is animal sacrifice and starting a plague during the Barney and Friends Revival on Ice.

Now if you'll excuse me I have some puppies to drown and meth to sell to pre-teens. I wonder if Dyck is hiring....

Why Budget Charged Me for the Damage Waiver

So one of the things I enjoy doing when I'm out of town is taking road trips in my rental cars. I have unlimited miles and often upgrade to the more exciting vehicles. On that note, though, if anyone from Budget Rent-a-Car is reading this, can you please, for the love of Christ, tell me why, when I upgrade to a premium car, you think that means I want something that screams "old" and "conservative?" In other words, why do you always insist on trying to rent me the Grand Marquis or Buick Lucerne after I've just walked past row upon row of more sporty, sexier choices? I mean, do I have a sign on me that reads, "this guy must want the fat, middle-aged, conservative car that..." wait. Nevermind. Anyway, road trips. In northern California, road trips are simple, relaxing, and fun. There seems to be no limit to the places one can roam once you get out of the hustle and bustle of the bay area. In southern California, this is much more difficult. First of all, everyone and their mother -and sometimes even someone else's mother - is on the road, making something so simple as going down the street for a gallon of milk a major trek. When going anywhere in L.A. there are three levels of time that apply:

• A quick jaunt. This is for trips of under an hour and would apply to such activities as checking the mail, walking to the bus stop, or starring in a show on the WB's fall lineup.
• A hearty adventure, meaning commutes to and from work, trying to get anywhere downtown, or perhaps starring in NBC's fall lineup. And finally,
• Packing a tent and hiring a Sherpa, because you're going to be gone a while.

Normally I shy away from the road trips when I'm in SoCal because I hate having spent two hours on the road and still not having reached the city limits. Last week was different. I heard Drew Barrymore was accepting applications for her next husband and I'd always had a thing for women with tattoos and brown eyes, so I ventured out, even though it meant traveling the ever-nightmarish 405. Still, I figured what the hell, when I lived in L.A. some years ago, Drew and I exchanged pleasantries and smiles while sharing a pump at a gas station in Malibu, so surely I've got a leg up right? Right? You can imagine my surprise when I hit the freeway en route to my next wedded bliss, my Sherpa, Lapka, resting a protective hand on my North Face tent, and found the southbound 405 completely deserted. It was just me and Lapka in my rented SUV, with a full tank of gas and a dream, venturing down the empty freeway toward my next true love. The only thing that could have made it more perfect would be a Rascal Flats song. Lapka can't sing, just so you know.

The point is, we'd found Nerdvanna: an empty freeway during Los Angeles rush hour. Here's why. Maybe some of you saw the news coverage. Oh, and as a side note: can you believe AA sent me a bill for $25 for being a checked bag?

*EDITOR'S NOTE: No I don't know why the sound didn't load with the video. Fuck it.

*EDITOR'S NOTE II: Ok, now the sound works. Clearly I'm either my computer's possessed or I'm being punked. Go figure.

Blogger Sux, or, What Happened to the Checked Luggage Post

So I had this funny and true story all prepared. Just like all my posts. This one, however, contained an embedded video that according to that little button riiiiiggght up there that I can see right now as I type this, I should be able to load from my computer.

However...

Despite the fact that all appears to be all good and well when I upload said video clip of the coverage, publishing the post and subsequently going out to click on the icon to play said video produces a blank box that simply buffers away endlessly until you finally can't take it any more and bail. Much like several jobs I've had and, humorously, the way I'm sure several women have felt about me.

Anyway, without the video, the story makes little sense. And if I'm going to maintain my superior- er, I mean substandard position in this blogosphere, I thought it best to remove the post until I could fix the issue. Although, now that I think about it, posting it as is might actually help aid my standing more.

So, there you have it. Patience, people. heh.

Some Meme Time

So I'm into lazy blogging again. I'm sure it seems that I'm doing it a lot lately. But my plan is to run my last reader off asap, much like I do the women who express a shred of interest in me. My excuse today is that I'm in the airport yet again on yet another odyssey for The Man and don't want to drag y'all from your internet porn search for very long.

Despite the fact that something like fifteen of my last twelve posts have been memes, I'm nothing if not methodical when it comes to hammering out my to-do list. It took me forever to read those 700 entries on my RSS feeder and damn, some bloggers can really fill up page after page with what can be said in a few sentences. I should know; I do the same.

Now that I have them all read, I've got to catch up on a couple tags. This one is from this Phat Kat, that vixen from down under who could post about the size and consistency of her last bowel movement and 40,000 people would ping in to read. Plus, it's a meme about one of my favorite subjects: sex. Well, maybe not my favorite, but it's right up there with... oh, who am I kidding, it's basically my favorite.
I still have one more lazy blog (aka, meme) to complete and I'm sure I could just as easily claim that being having such an average mind, I forgot, but since it's been tasked me by a woman with a rack that just screams "motorboat," I'm going to put forth the effort to complete that last meme in a pitiful belief that it'll be so moving to her that she'll want to show me said rack. Yeah, and monkeys might fly out my butt, right?

This is more of a "get to know you" kinda thing. So just feel free to read on and discover why I'm not expected to get any action for many moons to come.

1. Sex in the Morning or Sex at Night? Considering how long it's been, I'd take it anytime, anywhere. But I'll admit sex in the morning is a fine way to start the day, especially if the previous night ended with getting laid. I'm also partial to middle of the night barely awake sex, boning in the shower, stairway sex, a quickie in the coat closet during the Christmas party, and the ever popular "nooner."


2. Better Sex Music - Sade or Marvin Gaye? Well, I'm all for respecting the talent and influence ol' Marvin had on the world of soul and R&B, but really, it's hard for me to get into the mood while listening to a guy named "Gaye." Personally I think I'd prefer George Winston or some kind of tribal chant to the god of mysterious virility, Jack Nicholson.


3. Naughty Pics or Naughty Home Videos? Both, but I think the video is hotter. I'm all for live action. Or, we could just take a series of still shots and flip through them like one of those stick figure stories you used to draw in the 7th grade when you should have been paying attention in Social Studies.


4. Fabulous Sex With: Dr Doug Ross or Dr Greg House? Um, either of those choices would mean I'd have suddenly decided to go inboard. And that would be a big negatory. Now if you want to throw a little Eva Mendez or Jenny McCarthy or Nell McAndrew in there, then I'll say I'd give up one of my three testicles to have ten minutes with any of the three of them.


5. Vibrator or Dildo? Well, my answer to this presumes that I'm USING them on a woman, not having either used on me. So, that out of the way, let me say that I do this thing with a vibrator and my tongue that... well, let's just say I've had no complaints.


6. Bedroom Sex: Lights Off or Lights On? On. Definitely on. And if there's a mirror somewhere where having those lights on allows a different view... well, so much the better!


7. Word Preference: Pussy or Cunt? Honestly? I can't say I like either. But I really don't like cunt. I mean I really don't like it. To me that's a vulgar word that's used to demean a woman. Now pussy I can get into (heh, pun intended), but I might start giggling. How about Whisker Biscuit instead? Fuzzy Doughnut? Tube Steak Wallet? Geez, you're so picky.


8. Spanking Over the Knee or Spanking Only During Sex? Well, I guess I don't really care, but it might be hard for me to concentrate which someone smacking my ass. Or did you mean I'm spanking her?


9. More Exciting: Sex in an Elevator or Sex in an Airplane? Done the elevator thing. Never the plane thing. Also done the movie theater thing. And the park thing. Frankly, there ain't no way I'm doing it in an airplane lavatory. Have you SEEN one of those things lately? I swear every man who uses one just whips it out and lets it fly around like an unattended fire hose. And I'm sure some of the women I've seen go in there do, too.


10. Ron Jeremy or Peter North? Um, why would I care about this? Other than to remind myself that I'm so inadequate compared to either? Of course, Ron's just a sleazy pig anyway, so I think I've got him beat in just about every category except dipstick length.


11. Linda Lovelace or Jenna Jameson? Ugh. Do I have to pick only between these two? How about if I instead give them Ron Jeremy's dick and they can do each other? Besides, look at my choices here: one's a deadbeat, overexposed, corpse of a porn star and the other's Linda Lovelace. Frankly I'd rather nail Hillary. Ok, maybe that's a bit extreme, but you know what I mean, right?


12. Rope Bondage or Bondage Tape? What ever happened to the silk tie? Is this what the kids are doing nowadays? Isn't "rope" and "bondage" sort of redundant? Well, I suppose you could use rope to lash your beer cooler to your lawn tractor... Still isn't sex supposed to be fun?! Rope burns or uprooted hair when removing tape doesn't sound like much fun for her. Or me. Or Hillary.


13. Give Rim Job or Receive Anal Sex? Huh boy, another knee to the balls or stick to the eye question. (sigh). Wait, would I have to give the rim job with my OWN tongue? I think Bill O'Reilley's used to having his tongue up his own ass, so I'm sure he wouldn't mind.


14. Get Rich Stripping in a Skanky Bar or Get Rich as a Call Girl for Celebs? You can get rich doing either? Damn, where do I sign up?!


15. Which Threesome - Boy/Girl/Girl or Boy/Boy/Girl? Done the boy/girl/girl thing. I can't say I'd enjoy the boy boy girl thing, but if I had to I'd want to know I'm way hotter and better endowed than him.


16. Flavoured Oil or Tingling Oil? Flavored oil first... then tingly oil... then flavored oil.... then tingly oil.... then a poultice.


17. Pearl Necklace or Swallow? Based on my experience, a guy needs to give expensive jewelery in order to have a shot at the swallow thing. So maybe it should read "Pearl necklace THEN swallow." But what if she doesn't like pearls? Do I have to buy diamonds instead?


18. Sex While Strangers Watch or Sex With a Stranger? Well that depends. Are the strangers a gaggle of Hooter's girls awaiting their turn? Now that I think about it, that might make both options true, don't ya think?


19. Tied to the Bed or to a St Andrew’s Cross? St. Andrew's Cross? Is that some weird religions kinky thing? Since I'm apparently naive and don't have the guts to consult the Oracle on such a subject in a public area of the airport, I'm going to go with tied to the bed.

And there you have it, nineteen reasons why you, ladies, should avoid me like the plague.