Editor's Note: That's not true - I have an open cut on the bottom of my big toe that is not going to go away anytime soon. I guess I can't put my foot in any vaginas for the next week or two. Dammit.
But yeah, we were chillin and talking about my career. He asked me what I wanted to do with my life and kept presenting me different options, which all made perfect sense and even after waking up, still do. And even though we had just met, he seemed to have understood my humor perfectly. Lots of times when people have good dreams - as I've stated before - they typically wake up thinking, "Fuck! I wish that was real!" and are somewhat in a bad mood, as opposed to waking up with a sense of relief from a bad dream. Well this one kicked ass and put me in a great mood.
Anyway, I'm still recovering from the weekend. I went hard. That's what happens when I don't smoke weed...I become a fucking monster. No, I don't mean it like "someone who fucks a lot," but only because I haven't had the opportunity as of late - my libido has definitely increased tenfold over the last fortnight. Unfortunately they've all been limited to drunken hookups at bars, which are fun - but come on...let's turn some of that into weiner time. The Danaconda is too awesome for it to be wasted, and I mean awesome in the most literal sense, like God's wrath and stuff.
Editor's Note: This doesn't have much to do with anything, but I suppose nothing I write ever does... ... I was on a rooftop at a bbq on Sunday and I told this girl to tell her friend that I'd eat her out so good she'd get pregnant. I don't know...I thought it was pretty funny. She didn't.
I'm not really sure what you would infer from that headline. I guess it could mean a lot of things - it could mean I'm about to masturbate at work, that I'm turning to the darkside of gayness, or that I simply have my weiner out. I assure you it's none of the above...at least for the time being.
You know I haven't really been writing about my weiner too much recently. I probably should; I mean, isn't that what this blog's foundation was built upon? That and shit. And shitting on women. But lately I haven't felt the need to shit on them too often. It's like I'm starting to have faith in them and they're constipating me, only when you're constipated, eventually you do shit and it goes everywhere. I've never been constimipated but I would imagine that's what happens.
On another seemingly unrelated note, I'm going to Atlantic City on Friday with Ace and the Binghamton Crew. Those are the guys I went on a previous cruise with - click on that link if you want to read about their antics. If any of you guys are reading this entry, I highly suggest you read it for the sake of nostalgia. Maybe Bob shouldn't read it though...that hickey was narley.
So yeah, AC baby! Like I said to Rickey, and he agreed, "I want to go to the dirtiest strip club imaginable. If it doesn't smell like a farm, I don't want to be there." Gambling's always fun, don't get me wrong, but I'm not going to win money. I want to see inside-out buttholes; I want to pour beer on naked women while they're in a handstand position; I want to be covered in mysterious substances while I'm mysteriously wearing stiletto's; I want things to be done with a tobacco pipe that have never been done before. And after that, I want to see a therapist.