Finances

One thing I hate beyond all else is money. I hate having to deal with it.

I'm not a greedy guy. I like nice things but I don't NEED everything. I've been sleeping on the same mattress for 12 years. If you don't lay in just the right place you will be sleeping on a bed of coiled nails, mind you. I am still using the sheets on this bed that I was using 7 years ago. They were replaced because it was "finally time" to give up the Super Mario Brothers and Legend of Zelda sheets I had since, well, since I was 9. Now these sheets are literally so thin at parts you can see the texture on the mattress right through them like they were a veil. If it weren't my mom giving me a pair of sneakers every couple of years I wouldn't replace them until I could feel loose change on the sidewalk. I don't like changing my toothbrush, even though you're supposed to every six months. (I did get an electric one in order to encourage me to get new bristles because I don't have the physical sensation of throwing away a WHOLE toothbrush.)

I don't like budgeting. What happens happens. But this is no way to live. Pretty soon I'm going to need a static budget. Right now I'm doing alright, but I need to understand that programmers typically get $10K more a year than what I'm earning. I put up with this because it's experience. It's experience in a field that I went to school for. I am currently exploited according to salary.com, but I'm going to have to deal with it for a while.

I didn't have a whole lot of fun in college. But that's going to be a post for another day. What I did get out of it was a degree, at great personal cost. Nobody paid shit for me to do anything. again, other post.

Anyway, I asked a girl out on Friday. It was my umpteenth time going to this supermarket and the third time I ran into this cashier. She was kind of nice, made more girly small talk than I'm used to, so I jumped at it. There is a small Japanese restauraunt near that supermarket that gets no business because it's in the dark corner of a brand new commerical neighborhood. In my head I figured out what it would cost me to go out on a date with her. And normally I wouldn't even have bothered but my beard is coming in nicely. Nobody I know approves of how it looks but that's ok... I was after more than just someone to know, after all. And she's gotta get off her shift sometime, right?

She declined. Office Space this is not. But that's ok. I turned around, went back to Kendall, and bought myself Taiko Drum Master. If I can't have fun with someone, I'll have fun aaaaaall by myself.

*sniff* Oh, nevermind that tear. It's just awfully dusty in here today. *sniff*

But the point is it didn't matter how much anything really cost, I could suddenly afford it, regardless of whether I can or not.

So since you're wondering, here are my expenses.
$240/mo -- Car. I love my car. She is so good to me. I repay her loyalty with regular maintenance I perform myself. Because nobody will love her like I love her. I three more years, you will be mine all mine. Y
$190/mo -- Insurance. I just turned 25 years old three weeks ago (surprise) so it's supposed to go down. And it is likely that it would have if it weren't for a $300 speeding ticket 7 months ago.
$180/mo -- Gasoline. I literally drive 120 miles each day. I'm sorry, Car.
$55/mo -- Banana Phone. My crappy cell phone problems have been partially solved. Nobody wants to own up to whose job it is to fix the speaker problem, but I chucked it in a freezer for 6 hours and it seemed to do the trick. Although I think it has more to do with it not getting signal than it did for the deep freeze.
$10/mo -- Porn. It is a very low amount compared to a year ago, and occasionally I'll splurge. But I've got a subscription that I can't bear to give up.
$200/mo -- "Manx Tax". My household has 4 people, every single person works fulltime. My father just got a major promotion and it making a lot more money. My parents, in fact, got themselves a brand new car: a Volvo. Expensive vehicle. I don't want to drive it, I'd be cheating on my car. But I'm paying for phone and electricity for everyone regardless of my consumption. I guess it's not so bad since I don't pay rent, but it's not like I'm helping because it's needed. I'm helping because it's Time to Exploit Me.
$200/mo -- Food. Part of working long hours and driving a long way to work means I've had to eat out every single meal each weekday. And I only get to eat garbage. It sucks. It's expensive. It cannot be avoided.
$100/mo -- Computer. I bought a laptop some time ago so I could have one when I go places. But I'm too nervous about taking it everywhere with me because I can't avoid leaving it in a hot car (bad thing to do). I got one year to go before it's paid off.
$30/mo -- Video Games. How good I am at video poker determines the ratio of arcade to home version games.
$30/mo -- Media. I needs me my CDRs and DVDRs. I do NOT delete anything. And those who know me know that I collect shit like crazy.

I don't like saving. I know I should, but I've been really slack on the discipline required for saving.

My financial goal in life is to have enough money to not have to think about it, but not so much that I don't have to work. If I won the lottery I'd probably continue to work not breathing a word about it to anyone. It's important to feel vital and useful, you know.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to bang on a latex coated plastic drum instead of go shopping for latex phopholatics which will cover an object that I would use for banging. It's funny how one little question with two answers can each have similar outcomes.

My Crappy Phone

Dear Samsung:

You guys are pretty k-rad most of the time. My parents hate their new DLP bigscreen but that's because they are plebians that don't know quality when they see it. (I like it and that's all that matters, although I don't watch TV much at all, so I guess it sort of balances out.) I also like your LCD displays very much (although I will never use one until the access time is under ISO 3ms, since you guys all lie about access times and certain color-to-color shifts can take as much as 3 times your claimed delay. Ok, so maybe I don't like your LCD displays very much). Oh, and your Progressive-Scan 5-disc DVD player + 600 Watt 5.1 Dolby Surround Sound Home-Theater-In-A-Box is the easiest I've ever seen to set up and has neat features like flash memory to store custom backgrounds for the menus. (Although the menu doesn't offer much else in calibration, and your included antennae for the AM/FM stereo leaves MUCH to be desired.)

One thing I've got is a cell phone. I'll admit I got it because it was cheap. $30 after signing a two year agreement with Sprint, getting an out-of-state phone number, promising to paint your fence if I cancel early, getting upcharged for "rustproofing", left a deposit of sperm in lieu of a first born son, and bent over and grabbed my ankles (the least they could have done is a reach-around. It's only polite).

Now it's cool and all. I am rather upset that you guys intentionally disabled the functionality of the datacable. I can't synchronize contacts with a computer nor can I upload cool wallpapers and music into the phone and instead have to email them to myself and pay something like $9.95 per half kilobyte or something as rediculous (ok ok, so I exaggerate a little). I mean the cable is there! I can use your phone as a modem so the communication works! Why don't you just stop being jerks and flip the switch to "Not Evil"?

Anyway, that's not the point. My question is why you feel it is necessary to make my phone ring every 30 seconds when there isn't a call on the other end of the line? That was funny for the first hour but then just became embarassing. Now, you could say that you warned me, but fixing it so that I could hear the phone ring but cannot open it up and hear anything anyone has to say unless I use a headset is hardly a warning.

Now, I'm an honorable guy. I hardly ever steal from the collection bin unless desperately need to get the latest Lords of Acid CD. I always leave 100% real pennies in the take-a-penny-leave-a-penny at the 7-11 (they're Canadian, but it's still 100% real). And it's been 4, maybe 5 hours since I've poisoned anyone. And I only sell ground pencil shavings as pot not to make money, but only to teach others a lesson about not doing drugs (although it IS really funny). And the only reason I'm doing hits for the mob is because they've got some rather compromising pictures of myself, several woodland creatures, and a single season's harvest of corn that I'd rather not discuss right now. I'm just not used to your deceptive business practices.

Please fix my phone. Thank you.

P.S. I'm far too excited about writing for NPC. I swear I have never done any of those evil things up there.

Cookie

There was a period of days in which I could not shut up.

This is not one of them.

Fortune Cookie: "Smile when you are ready."

Go, cookie, go.

-- edit
I was wrong. I just was completely able to shut up here but I kept going and going elsewhere. And now it's late. It will absolutely suck to be me on Monday. No, I don't have it off. Because I work for some unpatriotic* bastards.

(* They are unpatriotic because I don't have the day off for an American holiday. But I also demand to have off the holidays of other nations. When those days come, I will refer to my bosses as uncivilized bastards, anti-semitic bastards, infidel bastards, and anti-Groundhog-Day pagans.)

DID YOU KNOW, the first time I heard that song by The Presidents of the United States of America, Lump, I thought it was about Lum from Urusei Yatsura? I'm planning to go you Jacon again this year. Provided there is some vacancy at the official Jacon hotel. If there is, I'm totally there AND I'm going to enter an anime music video (or two or three) in the competition. I don't have the footage available or the time to make a high quality Urusei Yatsura AMV with that song (and it would be kind of hard to match some of the lyrics to parallels in the series), but if I do good this year I'll be very inspired to go again.

YAH! It's even later than it was 10 minutes ago! Somebody throw some sleeping powder at me. Not the face, please, as glitter is really really tough to get off.

My Favorite Magic Combo = T.T

So out of curiousity I picked up a tournament pack of Kamigawa. In perspective of well over 10 years of existance, now I can say I'm old school even though I didn't know the game prior to Revised.

Oh, if you don't already know (you should), I'm referring to Magic: the Gathering. The grandaddy of all collectable card games, developed by mathematician Richard Garfield. He is my hero, don'ch'aknow. M:tG represents the most multi-faceted of the bunch, with good reason.

Represent.

Over the years rules have been phased out and revised to streamline it. Of course, if you want to be a rules jockey like me you've got to be familiar with everything. Some rule changes make a lot of sense, like unifying Mono Artifact and Poly Artifact to just plain Artifact and letting the rules text on the card determine how it works. Some rule changes remove layers of complexity, like removing Interrupts and merging Spells, Instants, Fast Effects, and Interrupts on a unified stack (GUTS: Grand Unifying Timing System). Counterspells were interrupts, and you nobody could cast an instant until the interrupt stack resolved. This had a complexity bonus in which you could have a very clear distinction between an Instant that, say, returns a target permanent to your hand and an Activated Event that could do the same.

A rule has been changed to break my favorite combo.

There are two cards which make me feel funny on the inside. First is Unnatural Selection, an enchantment that can make any creature any type. No big deal, right? Well, there's another card called Empress Galina that lets one take control of a legend or legenday permanent. The combo is simple. Since Legend is a creature type, just turn any creature into a legend and gain control over it forever (well, for as long as it remains in play).

Not to mention the inherant powers of being able to make creatures Legends. Two Legends of the same name cannot coexist. It used to be that the one that's been in play the longest gets to stay while others go to the graveyard. They updated the rule that all copies now go to the graveyards. Which makes this trick a little more powerful, yes? I should be happy, no?

Nope. The rule now states that Legend is no longer a creature type and instead describes an attribute of a creature. I can't use Unnatural Selection to make normal, ordinary creatures into Legends. Which kills this combo.

While this isn't the only trick my favorite deck has, it is an important one. I use Pure Reflection combined with Unnatural Selection to flood my play area with a bunch of Reflection tokens that are conveniently changed to something-not-Reflection whenever a creature spell is cast, and my opponent's creatures are wiped out as they all of a sudden discover themselves to be Reflections complements of my trickery.

But I'm still sad at it. T.T

For $ale

Ok, so I mentioned it before in a very tongue-in-cheek manner. Time to be serious.

"Am I capable of being serious?" You ask? Well screw you! I am most certainly capable of serious thought and discussion.

This time it's going to be about Barney the Pink Dinosaur. No, wait, no. Got nothing to say on that. Although, if I tried I probably could. And it would be nothing positive.

I've mentioned Prostitution before. Here's the official Manx endorsed opinion. I will write this while listening to classic Disco Italo tracks. No relation to the link, mind you.

I had a female friend at one point in time who I can quote as having said "I'd have sex for money. What do I care? It doesn't degrade me, it degrades him." I remembering asking what she'd charge. The answer? "Whatch'a got?" While I've managed to loose touch with all my friends of ancient yore, every so often I wish I hadn't. For the record, I'm "really very sure" she was kidding.

Before you think poorly about this girl from yesteryear, consider this. Is it wrong to use your body to make money? Give me an answer. Now. I demand it.

Ok, I'm going to assume you said "Yes," meaning it is wrong to use your body to make money. Then, through that assertion, bodybuilders, who work there bodies to near freakish proportions, are wrong. Athletes, similarly, put themselves hard to the grindstone to get paid unreal amounts of money, and are also wrong. Those who practice Reiki, a holistic healing practice that involves touching those who heal, are also wrong. (I never took Reiki seriously until my ex-girlfriend did some on me and turned me into a believer. She even showed me a thing or two and it was totally unreal the kinds of spiritual things I felt.) Surgeons, who not only have to be smart, but skilled enough to manipulate their instruments with precision, use their bodies and skill to make money, and heal people in the process, are also wrong, apparantly.

Therefore, no reasonable person could say that it's wrong to use your body to make money. So there's got to be more to it than that to make people so adamantly opposed to selling sex.

Is it the sex itself? That would be the easy answer. But, no, that doesn't seem to be it. Pornography is mainstream these days. Who hasn't heard of Jenna Jameson? She is a poor example of the best the industry's got to offer, but I only know that because I'm a certified pervert. I mean, nobody is putting those people in gleaming lights of approval, but the only people opposed to this in an active fashion of getting laws passed and things like that are kooks.
Besides, everyone wants a love with an insatiable sexual appetite. (Think I'm wrong? Someone I know got married right out of high school and stayed married for 10 years in a relationship where he wouldn't touch her AT ALL. And she marks that time as the saddest in her life.) So it isn't exactly the fact that there's lots of sex going on, right? Is it that someone is getting paid for it? See point #1.

Well, the only real problem is the way it's implemented. Here's where I agree it's horrible. Girls get kidnapped and sent to faraway lands to prostitute in bondage to earn money for their criminal "owners". Or, domesticly, runaways turn tricks to earn money that would otherwise be impossible to make and would therefore leave them homeless in the street. Many put themselves at risk and don't take precautions or anything and get a death sentence. Then there's the pimp structure. Guys who "rescue" these ladies, give them a place to stay, which seems ok at first but soon enough they get them hooked on drugs and keep them as permanent endentured servants. It's subhuman bondage. And that just makes me sad for humanity.

The other side of that coin is the market. There's obviously a demand for paid sex. Numbers, obviously, aren't kept. But, married men and those in relationships shouldn't even think for a moment of partaking in those services. And if you want to, you best involve your lady too. If you want to think you've got an open relationship, that's cool and all, but if you try and hide it then it's not so open after all, now is it? Then again, the same argument is made for cheating in general. No special adjustments, no epicycle changes needed.

If it were legal, so many problems would disappear. Regulations make sure food is prepared in a hygenic manner. Regulations make sure your car doesn't spontaneously burst into flames. Regulations would make sure that workers protect themselves from contracting and spreading disease, not to mention prevention of pregnancy which opens a whole slew of additional concerns. And while managers are probably going to stick around, they won't be hitting the independant contractors formerly known as "His Bitches". Everything out in the open, suitable for inspection and critique.

Some say it'd be cool to legalize it because we can tax it. I don't necessarily believe the motivation should be exclusively to tax it. That would be a sin tax. And like other sin taxes (cigarettes, alcohol, etc.), it makes the government income reliant on sin and the goal is to let responsible people do with their lives what they will, not to eventually create an environment that encourages people one way or another. Which is also a good reason for separation of church and state.

And so, with that, I'm going to put away my soap box. Oh, wait, there's a question? I didn't know I was answering any. Yes, you in the back. With the funny shaped head. Kinda looks like a lopsided pear.

"Would you?"

Hmmm... would I pay for it? Nah, I don't think so. The kind of money I'd be willing to spend is well below the money I'd be willing to spend on just going out on a date with a cool girl. I value the notion of a nice date with a nice gal well above the value of a "sure thing". And that lower value of money can't get me anything good these days. And the whole illegal thing kind of creeps me out, as does the potential that I could unknowningly support modern day slavery.

Plus, right now, more than getting rocks off or anything, I want to go on a nice date. I want to smile like a dork with something stuck on his gums, try to hold hands and take a minute and a half to fit my fingers correctly, and whisper something from the depths of my soul casually that, unknown to me, makes her heart melt. It's been a long time. I miss it. And it gives me an excuse to eat out instead of the junk I've been shovelling down my maw.

*kick soap box*

Besides, after we give each other our respective bills, I don't think she's going to take kindly that I'm deducting my fee from her balance due. Hey, baby, don't get mad: I've got a business to run.

 > Link < 

Whatever.

Valentine's Day should be the new Thanksgiving. Give thanks not for what you have, but for who you have.

Blah.

I feel really blah. I suspect I am infected with a nefarious disease. One with many many syllables, because we all know the greater the effort exerted to speak the name the more serious the malady. Sunburn doesn't help, either. Waking up at 4am without any sun also confuses my body and makes it go on strike.

"When things around me are ready to make sense, then I'll work like I'm supposed to."

I don't feel like doing a damn thing. I've got two loads of laundry to take care of. At least (and this is a big at least) I gave my Green Bean Machine an oil change. I felt absolutely dizzy doing it. I feel dizzy now, even. Dizzy dizzy dizzy. I blame it on one thing and one thing alone. Poor nutrition. Yesterday I ate a warm corn dog (1) and drank some rather middle of the road beer (my estimate, based on my estimate that my estimating skills are "pretty good"), approximately 80 fluid ounces, which is a pretty good idea on my part to get a variety that isn't particularly high in alcohol). And that's it. Total calories consumed? Again, with my fabulous estimation skills, I would say about 900 calories. For the record, I wasn't buzzed, but I knew my mind was being flooded with mostly the same thoughts as usual but just routed through different areas of my brain. You know, the scenic routes.

Yesterday went to a Renaissance Festival. Which would explain where my horrible eating came from. It was fun. I enjoyed the shows, the atmosphere, the people watching (oh yes, but those blue fruit [male] faeries needed to go away). Although it would have been more fun if it weren't a money grab at every turn. Why wasn't I hungrier? Nah, it wasn't that I couldn't afford anything, I just felt food conscious. Lots of nice looking girls there. And I felt very self concious. I made eye contact when I could, but I didn't feel very pine-worthy. Should I go back I hope that feeling manages to change.

Or maybe it was all the dirt kicked up in the air. I inhaled enough junk to probably put that total to about 1000 calories. Or maybe it was all the walking on uneven surfaces. Or maybe it was the sun. Or maybe it was the alignment of the planets. Or maybe it was the same force that denies my capture of Chansey.

I crave a Pop-Tart. This cannot possibly be a good thing. I need a fistfull of peanuts, stat!

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Creamy

So I want to look up information on pies. I accidentally use "cream pie" instead of "custard pie". Now, I was never innocent to begin with, but that was pretty funny.

I have a huge urge right now to write... but I don't really know about what. I possibly have a side programming job lined up, which will land me some nice cash. Depending on what needs to be done, I can expect about $3K, which I figured out by reading some e-mail I wasn't supposed to at work regarding how much the services usually cost. Then again, they need it fast fast fast and I've got about 14 hours a day reserved for work and the commute.

14 hours? Shit, I really do work hard. Even if I take out the driving time (4 hours), that's a 10 hour workday.

Well, nobody's gonna throw money at me for no reason. I gotta work for it. And I'm a professional.

A Professional. Wow. I've said it before, yes, but only kidding. You know, holding a football like Lucy from Peanuts. "No, I won't pull it away. Please, I'm a professional." Asking a friend (now known as One-Hand Pete) to hold the wooden plank steady while I saw through it. "Don't worry: I'm a professional." That brief stint as my alter-ego Dr. Pepper, gynecologist. "Don't be shy: I'm a professional." And that time when I caused her all those rope burns. "You've been bad, it's time to see The Professional."

Ok, I'm kidding in those previous iterations of "professionalism." Well, all except one. But I'm considerably more skillful with the ropes these days. Although I'm extremely rusty due to non-use. But nevermind that for now.

Today it's true. I've a college degree. I'm working in my field. I'm now a fucking professional. Wow. I am taken back at that.

A lot of my blog entires have been about what I want. It's been a one track mind for a while, but right now, right this moment, NOW NOW NOW, I want...

I want...

More than anything else...

Katsu-Don.

 > Link < 

Scaffolding

Yays! My site got a little face lift! Still nothing there, and the domain and hosting expires at the end of the month. I still gotta find a place to host it, though. I'm sure I'll get it done in time.

If I had a style, and I'm not saying that I do, that'd be it.

 > Link < 

Oops.

Oops. Took a nap at around 8:15pm tonight in my car. Crash from the down side of Dayquil. I forgot why I don't like taking medicines: because sometimes I get very sensitive to some of the ingredients. This time I think it was sugar, I sufferred symptoms similar to a sugar crash.

So I woke up a bit later and went home. Now I'm not sleepy at all. Well damn.

After hearing rumors and hearing rumors dispelled and all sorts of drama going on around me, I have to look somewhere. And today, I look within.

One thing I can most certainly say I've never wondered before is if people thought about me. I always assumed "no" and that was that. As strange as it sounds, whenever someone thinks about me with a call or a gift or whatever I'm always caught by surprise. So evidently I'm wrong.

Tonight I wonder if there are any rumors going around about me. And, what they are. One can't really guess on their own. But I imagine one would be that I'm a closed off and unapproachable person. Which isn't entirely accurate, although I do not expose my inner workings very easily. It's a miracola that I do at all. I'm fairly shy. What I dreamed in the car was slightly relevant to why I wondered the next part, but I'll save that for later. I wonder what the girls there think of me? Creepy guy? Dork? Wouldn't touch him with asbestos gloves? It would be so neat if someone had a crush on me. Nobody does, even though I would love to be proven wrong.

I dreamed that I had just woken up in my bed. Not startled awake by anything, not a bad dream. I just opened my eyes and I was wide awake, not like the troll I normally wake up as. I sat up and rested my upper back against the headboard. At that time I hear footsteps approaching, but I'm not supposed to be hearing them. I recognize that I shouldn't be able to hear little pat-pat-pat of a barefoot individual behind my door, but I do anyway.

It was one of Lisa's friends. She was always so nice to me. She would always hug me and she would smile at me in a nice way. I would confide in her (among some others) my insecurities and she would always say something nice and, if she couldn't, she would do something to take my mind off things. She bit my elbow once, you know.

Anyway, she came in naked. I didn't really see it, all I saw was the silouette of her body. I knew it was her, though. They say good character design is when you can draw the silouette of the character and it's immediately obvious who it is. I guess you could say that she's got good character design, if she was a character.

She sat down forward on my bed next to me and I could barely make out her face. I felt her breath against my cheek as she whispered for me to shush. She touched me gently and nibbled on my ear.

I love my friends. I'm the type that can fall in love with people super easy when I open up and lower my guard. I'm a firm believer that proximity and familiarity breeds love. And I've never been convinced that love-in-first-sight is possible, nor that bars or blind dating is the way to meet a good lover. I put my stock in that the best significant others one finds in life start as friends. There is a rule, though. I don't open myself to the point where I can fall in love with someone in that way unless I know it'll be worth it. Unrequited love is just annoying and pathetic. If you don't believe me, check out the show history for Howard Stern... follow the link and check out "Turns out date rape is illegal..." heading and below.

So, yes, if I wasn't all amuddle from Lisa, I could have seen myself extremely attracted to Kristy. Although I don't think she would have been into me, it would have been intereting to see how things would have gone.

She stroked me and I started to get up so I could kiss back and she just kept her hand exerting firm pressure on my chest. She slipped under my covers and mounted me. I tried to sit up to embrace her, but she leaned down to keep my body down with hers. She pressed against me and it felt good. Real good. I felt her warmth and heat against my body, rhythm in the lower regions, and the whisping sheets as the motions drew in and out ambient air.

While it was going on and she was getting off, I noticed another figure come in. It was Lisa. Well, her nude figure anyway. She quietly went and sat in the chair in the corner. Street lamp light flowed in from the window and illuminated her face as she sat there, leaning forward, hands intertwined at the fingers, pointers and thumbs covering her mouth, staring intently.

We came, and she popped off me and gave out a "whew". She said if only she knew how nice my thing felt inside her she would have done me sooner. She motioned towards Lisa and said "Girl, you've GOT to try him!"

I sat up and tried to get up out of bed when all of a sudden I felt really bashful. I was still really hard. I dove back under the covers and looked. Another one of her friends, Vicky, came in. Again, nude, siloutte. She was a little more forward. She asked me to do her. "Won't you?" she asked. "Don't you like me?" she said.

Vicky, on the other hand, was always a little cold towards me. She never really had anything interesting to say. At least in conversation with me. Although it was so long ago I don't know if it was because she is as closed off as I am in the beginning or if she just didn't like me at all. The only thing she had going for her, as far as my attaction towards her (as if that means anything) is her height. I love love love love love short girls.

I look towards Lisa. She's still sitting there. She leans back, puts her hands on her legs, and sits there. Legs not crossed, but not spread either. Vicky curls up behind me and squirrels into a position on my pillow. She claws at my back lightly, cooing and urging me to get going. I turn around and start doing my thing. I'm slow and deliberate at first, but I speed up in time. She's really loud, unlike Kristy. I started to look at her, but felt I couldn't. So I looked down on her breasts, watching them bounce with each thrust. That too, however, I couldn't look at for too long. I just closed my eyes and buried my face in her neck, licking it. I heard her moans out of one of my ears and I felt her legs wrap around my waist and grip me. I kept thrusting higher and felt her lower body lift off while my arms hooked under hers and pushed forward to keep grounded. She came, squeezed very tightly, and I delved deeply and came as well.

I went down on the bed next to Vicky and layed there. She weakly let out a "you were right" towards Kristy, who at that point was kneeling on the floor to the side of the bed.

Lisa still sat there. She stood up, and then I woke up for real.

Dream Kristy and Dream Vicky had a thing for me, but didn't do anything about it. They provided no signals, no intentions. Vicky wasn't even nice to me most of the time. But they held a secret. Was it in my interest to keep it? Was it because they were embarassed because I don't fit the mold of someone to lust over?

So, even if there are potential rumors and girl-talk about me, I doubt it would really go far. If someone does like me, I doubt they would ever be caught dead admitting it. And it's a shame.

...

Because of those that have had me in any extent, they've always been pleasantly surprised. Not trying to sell myself here. Ok, just a little. Looks like you caught me. Oops.

 > Link < 

10 Foot Pole

Believe it or not, there was a time in which I thought I was a normal, well adjusted human being. I had friends, I was comfortable, I was just starting to know my place in the world.

Then I had "sucker" stamped on my face and was shipped to Miami.

I moved here when I was 10. Torn away from everything I knew and was comfortable with. I entered the 6th grade, and, in my journal, one of the most prominant notes made about life in this strange hot land is: "People here are mean." One of the earliest memories I have of school was lending a pencil to a girl who immediately broke it in half and gave it back to me with a smile. She later grew up to be a porn star. I'm not kidding, either. Don't ask how I found her, but she's there. At that link. The name is "Betty", but her real name is Cheryl.

And yes, despite that I think I would. But that's not the point.

I was terribly unhappy during those years. Pencil breaking was the least of my sadness. You'll have to take my word on it. I considered suicide. It was easy. I fancied myself a chemist, and I knew that anything in large enough quantities would kill you. Doing it so that nobody would know what happened was an afterthought. It just had to get the job done. I knew I couldn't get ahold of exotic materials, but it would be simple enough to walk a block in a commercial district into a number of drugstores. I planned to go into the first store, buy the biggest bottle of Nyquil they had, and leave. I would find a place to stash it, go to the second drugstore, and get exactly the same thing. After a while I would have amassed enough to really go under. It'd go down rough, I figured, which would be a fitting way to go. Coughing up green foam from my mouth. Good end for a worthless nub.

Obviously I didn't go through it. One day I realized that killing myself is EXACTLY what those who hate me want me to do. They can then laugh at what a stupid fuck I was for killing myself. While I'm alive I'm taking up resources that they might otherwise get. I'm breathing. I'm eating. And I'm polluting their world. All of a sudden staying alive is more important than not living. It's arguable that my reason for living then became revenge. But since then I managed to just chill out. I live, do my thing, and I'm gone. I'm not clammoring for as much "air-time" as possible. I just gotta do what I gotta do. If I didn't have to do it, then I wouldn't gotta do it.

Sometimes part of doing what you gotta do means making difficult decisions. Sometimes it's allowing oneself getting caught up in the moment. Sometimes it's doing the honorable thing and realizing later than you're just dumb.

I have a habit of not asking questions I don't want to hear answered. And I'd like to think I'm pretty good at not throwing an opinion when it has high probability to hurt. But I am a straight-shooter so when you ask me something I'm going to spit it out without sugarcoating it. Sometimes you HAVE to ask questions of which you don't want to hear the answer. Sure I could just throw answers around, but I'm not touching that with a

Yeah, you get it.

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