The Worst Movie Ever Made ...

Being a member of Netflix, I have a long list of movies I'm waiting to see. It's gotten to the point where I'm just picking movies left and right just to keep my cart full (I think I'm set for about the next year). But the original Dawn of the Dead has got to be the worst movie I've had to suffer through. I was watching it this morning and had to stop, I was laughing so hard.

Like the remake, a group of "survivors" hold up in a shopping mall. The cast of "dead" characters ran across the board, from business men to mothers to children. From cops to janitors to--my favorite--a Hari Krishna!

As bad as the movie was, whoever came up with the idea to include a bald, robe wearing, flower toting corpse was a genius!!

"Would you care for a flower?...No?...Then I'll have your BRAAAAAAAAINS!!!"

Memory Games ...

I was on a crowded bus this morning and I noticed a woman standing beside me in the aisle. Actually, sitting down, I couldn't help but notice her because of her oversized booty in my face threatening to let loose a killer explosion of fumes which would tear the fabric of her tight fitting jeans and possibly give me an irreversible exfoliation equivalent to that of being dipped into a vat of acid. But there was something about her that was trying to force a buried memory to the surface in my mind. It had taken me a few minutes until my eyes were drawn to her long bleached hair, more distinctly the hundreds of tightly wound braids that looked to be quite painful if a strong enough wind were caught up in them. And it was a very uncomfortable feeling I sensed as I studied the tightly wound strands of hair growing out from her scalp, obvious that it had been hours--possibly a over a few sessions--of painstaking labor as this woman sat in a vinyl chair infront of a mirror at the Weave-o-rama Hair Salon and Nail Painting Emporium.

Still the memory was lodged in my mind, hiding under the surface like a shark in the Florida waters. I continued to study this woman's hair. Wound as tight as Juan Valdez on crack, the braids cascaded from the top of her head in long uninterrupted strands towards her protruding denim stretched ass. The tips of the braids were coming undone, giving more of the impression of a horse's tail. Upon closer inspection (she was only standing six inches from me. It wasn't like I intentionally had my face in her ass) each strand of unbraided hair looked like a stiff straw of hay, possibly brittle to the touch. It sort of reminded me of and old frayed pillow, it's stuffing poking through a broken seam.

Seam? Pillow?

Slowly, the memory...or at least an image...started to emerge. Like Michael Jackson's face on a humid afternoon, layer upon layer began to peel away, revealing what lie beneath. And it suddenly dawned on me, what I thought was this life altering realization that had been blocked in the depths of my mind, was nothing more than a recent visit to the Burlington Coat Factory and my pure hatred for the Christopher Lowell Home Fashion Collection it carries.

A while back, I went to the Burlington Coat Factory in the Gallery at Market East here in Center City to look for sheets. I had no idea what I was about to walk into as I stepped onto the up escalator and headed for the Home Department. As my head crested the 3rd floor, I was floored by the garishness that spread out before me like like the Vegas chorus girl costume graveyard. Everywhere I turned I was assaulted by gold satin-like fabrics on pillows, sheets, curtains, lampshades...all with burgundy accents...and tassels! tassels on the edging of the pillows, tassels dangling from the lampshapes, tassels on the bathtowels, tassels on the sheets, tassels on tassels! Tassels tassels everywhere!!! So many choking hazards for the children of the tacky people who actually like this crap!!!

Christopher Lowell--the Grace Adler of cable-tv--where any interior decorating problem can be cured with four simple words: "Tassels and Up-Lights".

They hung from shelves like the dying fingers of the martian emerging from the space ship in the last scene of War of the Worlds (the original version). they glittered like tentacles of some creature in an underwater drag show.

As I cautiously made my way down the aisle, hoping to discover plain white sheets somewhere among the glittering tassel-filled world of Christopher Lowell, I avoided the shelves as if touching one of these horrible accessories would send me whirling into one of those Caligula-like sets Christopher Lowell's always dreaming up on his set. His commercials used to be on every station, playing every hour. But he had soon disappeared off the airwaves and out of my head...until now!

And here I sit, weeks, possibly months later, and it all comes rushing back to me now, thanks to the tightly woven braids of a woman riding the bus.

The Shower Heard 'Round the World ...

What can I say about Chris Meloni?...

Siiigghhhh......

This is TOO FUCKING FUNNY!!!!!!!!!

Penguin Video

Ho-Hum ...

I'm bored shitless and I'm going through some of the other blogs on here (just the ones where the writer's actually saying something, not those who's blogs are nothing more than dozens of links on how to treat that unsightly rash beneith your balls.

Anyway, when I first started writing here, I was under the impression that I should be telling stories or some such shit. My story-telling is not too shabby and several people have told me to try and take these postings to the next level and actually put something down on paper. I don't think I've reached that plateau just yet, but damn it would be a fantasy-come-true to be able to wake up whenever I open my eyes, roll out of bed, sit down with a big cup of java and my friends, Blanche, Dorothy, Rose and Sophia, until I decide to sit down at the computer and write a little ditty about something that I believe has significant meaning in my fucked up life. Continue writing until my fingers ache from tappin' on the keyboard (or until I'm parched), then head off to the watering hole for some liquid energy and a few bills in the poker machine. All the while, some high-falootin' New York City publishing agency is sending me checks to support the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed. Coffee, Golden Girls, smokes, writing, beers, poker... day in and day out...

I guess, looking at it down in text, it could get pretty boring, but not nearly as boring as some of the posts I've been reading from other bloggers. Granted, I'm not saying my writings have the ability to pull you into my world like the demented and torturous storytelling of Stephen King, or the finger-me and touch-me-there-ooooh-I'm-hot-now style of Jackie Collins, but come on. At least with most of what I've written, I've written for a reason and there is a purpose. There's also a beginning, middle and end to what I've said. Some of the things I've written about were funny as shit, while others were alittle more serious in its topic, but with all of them, I've opened myself up a little bit more each time, allowing you, the reader, whether a close friend or a complete stranger half a world away, into my head and my life with each post. I'm not exactly proud of some of the things I've written and I wish I could talk about things that I've done or travels that I've made, but I lead a very boring life, all around. Still, some of these other bloggers...

"Today, my coffee tasted like almonds and I thanked my wife for the special treat, since I usually don't like her coffee and I tell her often on how to make it correctly..."

--HEY BUDDY!!!! Clue yourself in! The taste of almonds is ALSO a sign of cyanide poisoning!

"Saturday. Me and Buddy and Amy went down to the Bijiou to check out the new marqee. Buddy says that it's not new, but me n Amy thinks it is..."

HUH?!?!?!?

I guess it's just my bitterness shining through again. Maybe I should just be like my old Cheech & Chong 8-track and talk about how I spent my summer vacation. (background chatter from the infamous "Sister Mary Elephant" skit)

On the first day of my summer vacation...I woke up.
Then I went down-town to look for a job...
I did not find a job...
So I hung out infront of the drug store...

On the second day of my summer vacation...I woke up.
Then I went down-town to look for a job...
I did not find a job...
So I hung out infront of the drug store...

On the third day of my summer vacation...I woke up.
Then I went down-town to look for a job...
I did not find a job...
So I hung out infront of the drug store...

On the forth day of my summer vacation...I woke up.
Then I went down-town to look for a job...
I found a job...
Keeping kids from hanging out infront of the drug store...

Exciting, huh?

FUCKIN' YAWN!!!!!!

Falling Bono ...

This looks so painful, but yet hypnotic...

Volunteerism vs. Being Dicked Over ...

I wasn't going to really say anything about the following situation on here, but I'm bored and, quite frankly, kinda pissed off. So here it goes:

Last Saturday night, I went to my regular stomping ground for a few drinks. I was off on Sunday, so I figured I can go out and slam a few back without the thought of keeping an eye on the time and making sure I get enough sleep before having to get up for work the next morning (like that really ever stopped me before). I got there about 9:30 and sat down for a drink. I was in a halfway descent mood and was chatting it up with the others around me while I sipped my beer.

The back bar is supposed to open at 10:00, but by 9:50, none of the workers (dancers, bartender or doorman) had arrived. Seeing how nothing much ever changes in that place, I was inwardly wondering if I were sitting there on another night, when the back bar wasn't even open. I kept my mouth shut about the time (except when it was time for me to get another beer).

About 10:05, the phone rang and the bartender (I'll call him #1) answered. After a few brief words, he hung up and said that the doorman had called from a cab and was on his way in. He then asked if I had seen the other bartender (#2) who was supposed to work the back bar. I told him no and #1 said he hoped that #2 was in the cab with the doorman and they were both on their way.

A few minutes later, the doorman arrived...alone. #1 asked if he'd seen #2 and the doorman shook his head. #1, knowing full well that he could potentially be screwed grew increasingly nervous as he called #2 only to get his voicemail. He left a message, wondering where he was and hoping he was on his way in but, as the minutes passed and 10:10 became 10:20, it was clear that #2 was quickly becoming a no-show.

Now, the doorman had just finished up a bartending course and had worked the bar one or two times during slow periods so, if #2 remained missing, the doorman could fill in, but there still remained the question of who was going to cover the door at the back bar since there was a $5.00 cover charge to get back in there (there are dancers on Friday and Saturday nights).

#1 turned to me with a nervous smile: "Do you wanna work the door tonight?"

I looked down at my beer. "No."

"Please? It's a quick 50 bucks."

"I really don't wanna do it."

"I don't know who else I can get right now." He turned to the guy sitting next to me, who quickly declined, stating that he had been there for the better part of the day and was going to be heading home soon.

He looked back at me with pleading eyes and I finally gave in with an overly dramatic slam of my bottle of beer onto the bartop. He thanked me and took me into the back to get me my money and tell the regular doorman that he was now bartending and I would be doing the door. It wasn't exactly the way I wanted my Saturday night to go, but it was not really a big deal either.

So, one by one, people slowly started making their way into the back bar and I collected the money. #1 was being his normal trouble-making self and flashing me with a flashlight, requesting ice for his bar up front. For the most part, it was an easy night. I collected money, made small talk with those who entered and sat on my ass in the doorway.

Close to midnight, #2 had called saying he had overslept and was on his way in shortly. This was, on one hand a relief and on the other a disappointment. I didn't really want to sit there for another two hours, but at the same time, I was talking with many people whom I wouldn't have if I had just been sitting at the bar. About 12:15, #2 came in and took over the back bar and the doorman moved into his normal position, leaving me to go get another beer. I headed up front and told #1 that I was officially off-duty. He thanked me and I purchased another beer (he didn't even comp me one).

I ended up sticking around until closing and the subject of pay was finally brought up (not by me). I didn't expect the full $50 since I only worked a few hours, but what transpired that evening and over the next 5 days was what eventually started to really piss me off.

The regular doorman had left after the bar closed and #1 came out from the office and said: "Did (the doorman) give you money?"

"No."

"Oh," He answered. "He was supposed to."

"Well, you can give me money."

"But you said you'd do this for free."

I was floored, but shrugged it off. #1 can always be a dickhead. He's been known to fuck with me from time to time, so I just put this off as one of those times and eventually made my way out of the place.

Monday, I stopped in after work and brought up the subject of pay again. Again, he gave me the run-around, telling me first, I had volunteered my services and then, when that didn't work, I needed to speak to the owner to get paid. I told him that the owner wasn't the one who asked me to work. The owner wasn't the one who I helped get out of a last minute bind. The owner wasn't even there Saturday night and #1, being the manager of the bar, should also be responsible for handling the situation. I became angry, but held my mouth and left the bar.

Yesterday, I stopped in and #1 arrived later for the shift-change. I had told the daytime bartender what was going on and I wrote a note for him to stick in the register so that #1 will see it right away: "Where's my money? - Chris".

By now, it wasn't even an issue with getting paid. I mean, $20 bucks or $25 bucks for half the night was no big deal. The issue I was having was the fact that I've been going to this same bar for years. It's a hang-out with many many regulars of which I am one. I'm just a beer drinker, but I do have a few whenever I'm in there. But there are also people who are regulars and drink $10.00 martinis. There are many regulars who have, throughout the years and the ups and downs that place has seen, kept that place afloat. There have been times when things were so bad from the previous owner that there wasn't even enough money to purchase more liquor. But we still kept coming. It wasn't for the atmosphere. It wasn't for the decor. It was mainly for the other diehards and the good times we pretty much have in each other's company.

But do you think, in appreciation, anyone would get a free drink from time to time from the manager? Or at least a discount?

NO!

That place has been in business for close to 30 years and there have been people who have been going there for that long, all the while paying for pretty much each and every drink they've consumed. Hell, even on those times when I've been there when the owner was there, he would buy a round for all present at the time (if it wasn't too busy), but even he slapped money down on the bar (even though he gets it back).

#1's philosophy: He charges everyone to drink, but if he'll see you out at a bar, then he'll buy you one or two. Unfortunately, pretty much the only time you'll see him out at a bar would be at one of the after-hour clubs. So, if you want a drink from #1, you need to be out at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning in the hopes that he would show.

All that bullshit aside, the issue here is appreciation. If #1 had asked me to help him out voluntarily with the door, I probably (although very reluctantly) would've obliged. But the fact remains he offered to pay me. Again, it's no longer about the money, it's about being a dickhead and beating around the bush, trying to either be funny (which it's not) or trying to avoid the situation altogether.

For at least seven or eight years I've been a regular there and I've never caused trouble. I'm well liked by the staff, owner and most of the customers. It's amazing how something as petty as this is enough to make me think twice about a place I've been going to for so long. Maybe it's time to think about another watering hole.

Criss Angel - Mindfreak ...

Every illusionist that comes along tries to outdo the last. Criss Angel is NO DIFFERENT!!!! All I can say is

WOW!!!!

Not to mention that, except for the hair, he's drop dead georgous; sexy lips, hypnotic eyes and an incredible body.

But his illusions have put all others to shame, seriously. I was watching it tonight and this guy swallowed 5 needles and about a yard of white thread (all infront of a street crowd and unedited cameras). Then proceeded to lift his shirt and, one by one and threaded, pulled the needles out of his belly button.

Another segment shown really freaked me out because, again, the camera wasn't altered in any way. Walking down the hall in a hotel with his camera crew, Criss came upon two couples. He had one couple stand off to the side to "be the television audience view" and asked the other couple to concentrate on an episode of Deja vu they have had in the past. As he continued encouraging them to concentrate, he paced the hall and walked up towards the camera (still running unedited). He said think about deja vu and it'll happen...(then he quickly passed infront of and looked into the camera)...NOW! When he stepped out of the camera (no more than the smallest fraction of a second), the couple was about 50 feet further down the hallway.

Illusions, I know, but this guy is AMAZING!!!

You can catch him on A&E on Wednesday nights at 10pm.

A Little Serenity in the Middle of a Nuthouse (Philly) ...

Some pictures of my backyard This was last year's landscaping project. Unfortunately, I don't yet have pictures of this year, but I'm hoping someone will lend me their camera so I can get some...

When I first moved into this place (I can't believe it was 8 years ago), the back yard was a plot of weeds and a carpet of ivory about 12 x 15 feet. I discovered this brick pathway and well (in the corner) after 3 days of ripping up the overgrowth.






The well. I wanted to make this look like an old, broken down wishing well, so I travelled around the neighborhood looking for broken bricks to build a little wall.







Close-up of the well and its occupants. This (2005) is the 3rd summer for the fish. They've been frozen solid during the winter and only one (unfortunately my favorite) had died. The others have gotten twice as big as in this picture, but no babies after all this time. I guess I'm the proud owner of the first gay fish club.





The patio. Once again, I traveled throughout the city and my friend and I came across a burned out shell of a house. We took a few trunkloads of brick to lay out this little patio. With a weave pattern, the worn and sometimes charred bricks made for a surprisingly interesting effect.

Talk About a Couch Potato ...

This is kinda interesting, but my GAWD someone needs even more of a life than ME!!!!!

The Simpsons' Map of Springfield.

Another Sign of Middle Age ...

When did The Gap turn into the generation gap?

I used to think I was hip to all things around me; new technology, lingo, television shows, music, pop and movie stars. Now, I'm slowly realizing that I'm becoming my parents, spouting out lines like "When I was your age..." and "Back in the day we actually had to walk across the room to change the channel..." I am keeping a full bottle of pills by my side for the day I yell at some kid, shaking my fist high in the air and calling him a young whipper-snapper.

I went to the movies the other evening to see War of the Worlds. I was excited about this movie ever since seeing the first preview during the Super Bowl. I was at the Post bar with a bunch of people and I fell into a silent awe at the sight of mahem and destruction on the screen. Then, when the title appeared at the end of the commercial, I turned to my friend, Mike (who wore the same fascinated expression on his face), and we both uttered at the same time: "We are soooo there!"

I always liked the original version, as campy as it was, and I suspected this newest sci-fi would be completely turned around and loaded with so many special effects that there would be nothing similar between it and the original except for the title. I was therefore glad to hear that the storyline for this version was even going way back to H.G. Wells' novel from nearly 100 years ago.

When I arrived at the movie theater, the earlier show was letting out and I listened to the verbal reactions of those who were exiting. I was saddened to hear comments like:

"I can't believe that's how it ended...."
"That was the stupidest movie I've ever seen...."
"They should've ended it this way...."
"Tom Cruise shoulda blown those things outta the sky...."

What saddened me about those comments was the fact that they were coming from people who were recently allowed, by law, to purchase alcohol. They not only had no clue as to the actual story, but they have probably never even heard of H.G. Wells. They probably thought that The Time Machine, out a few years ago, was also an original storyline, or something stolen from an episode of Star Trek, the Next Generation (and I bet they have no idea where "the next generation" even comes from).

The Posiedon Adventure is being filmed and will be out next year. I am really looking forward to this, since the original is one of my all time favorite movies...

"Where the devil did you come from?"
"From my cabin, Sir. Robin Shelby?"
"Master Shelby, you've picked a particularly strange time to visit. These waves don't bother you?"
"I've surfed up to 18 feet, but these look more like 30."
"35 to be exact..."

Or the more classic dialog:

"Mike, I saw a young officer on deck the other day. And he looked pretty damn familiar."
"So? So he recognized you. So?"
"Well doesn't that bother you?"
"If it bothered me, I wouldn't have married ya."
"Well first you arrested me 6 times!"
"Well I had to figure out some way of keeping you off the streets 'til you married me!"

And the abuse poor Shelley Winters had to take:

"Well I'm going next. That way when old fat-ass gets stuck, I won't be caught behind her..."

The remake (due out next May) will feature an entirely new set of characters. Unfortunately no fat old former swimmers, no teenage girl with a deep crush on her priest, no washed up hooker trying to better herself while keeping a forked tongue and spitting out some of the best one-liners to hit the big screen. The cast includes: Kurt Russell, Josh Lucas, Emmy Rossum, Andre Braugher, Jacinda Barrett, Richard Dreyfuss, Kevin Dillon, Jimmy Bennett, Mike Vogel, Freddy Rodríguez.

I've gotten way off track with my ranting here, but I just wanted to make it clear and to let these young folk know that Harry Potter was not the first movie to be made from a book. Take the Poseidon Adventure. Next year's release is a remake of a movie orinally released in 1972, which in turn was made from a book published in 1968, which (and many people don't know this) was written based on an 11 minute movie made in the early 20th century and was viewed by 2nd class passengers aboard (believe it or not) the Titanic.

But of course these young whipper-snappers these days probably think the Titanic was actually no more than something written for Leo DeCrapio.

Shit!!! Where are those pills???!!!

Like Sand in an Hourglass ...

Someone came a-knockin for me over this past weekend. And, like a Jehovah Witness armed with meaningless pamphlets, it was a very unwelcome visitor. Time paid me a visit. And before I could even grasp what I was witnessing, it marched over me like a high school band all hyped up on Red Bull.

It was my parents' 50th wedding anniversary party.

Through the years, I have pretty much become the black sheep of my family, seeing only my parents every few weeks or so and my one brother and his family at Thanksgiving and Easter. Of the rest of my siblings (two other brothers and a sister), it has been several years since I had last seen them and even longer for some of their children.

I'm the only one in the family with no children, so I'm really not into all the birthday parties and graduation parties or any of that crap. For me, those get togethers are nothing more than a chance to see what sort of an outsider I am to the rest of the family. Sure, we all get along, but when one has a family their lives are changed forever. Me, I'm still hanging out with friends and pounding back the brews, staying out late, sleeping in late, not answering to anyone but myself. My siblings...well, their idea of a good time is an afternoon out at Chucky-Cheese (and even that tires them out enough to have to load up everyone into their mini-van and head home for a nap afterward). So outside of a bloodline and some physical characteristics, I really don't have anything in common with the rest of my family, so going to those functions had become a reminder of how detached I was from them.

But the anniversary party was different. By that I mean it was a function that I couldn't miss. Besides, it was the kids (all 5 of us) who were paying for the whole affair as a gift to our parents. The guest list included all the kids, their spouses, their kids, cousins, aunts, uncles, and a handful of friends that my parents had known for years. All tolled, there were about 60-70 people at this party (only 3 who had been invited were not able to attend). Great turnout for my parents celebration and I'm sure they were extremely happy to see everyone under one roof again.

All in all it was a good time...once I got over the shell shock of seeing those whom I haven't seen in anywhere from 10 to 20 years. And 'shock' is an understatement. Take my nephew for example:

The last time I saw him he was probably about 7 or 8 years old. I have heard stories over the years about how he has grown, but I still saw him in my mind as that 3 1/2 foot little kid with the buzz cut. The only similarity between what I had pictured in my head and what stood infront of me the other day was the buzz cut. My sister-in-law said to me: "You remember Eric, don't you? Eric, this is your Uncle Chris." Like a slow motion camera, my eyes drifted up from his size 14 sneakers to the top of his buzzed head...a full six-foot-six-inches from the hardwood floor! Eighteen years old, this kid was, and looking like something out of the WWF!!! He had graduated from high school this year and was enrolled in Temple, majoring in film. And he already has had some of his films entered into international film festivals. I didn't get a chance to really talk with him because he was very shy and pretty much hung out with his older (and much shorter) brother.

All in all, I have 12 nieces and nephews and one grand-niece who had just turned 3. My oldest nephew is going on 23 or 24. He's a bartender and plays in a band. My niece is a few years younger and is a mother, was married and already divorced and had just graduated from West Chester University, where she had majored in psychology. Another niece had come to visit me at work last year, but I was off. She had left me a note saying she had stopped by and I wondered who she was with, my brother or sister-in-law. I had a hard time accepting the fact that she was nearly 20 years old and had already been driving for 2 or 3 years. My one nephew, of whom I still have a tape that I was going to send into America's Funniest home Videos over something he had done as a baby, is now being asked by his mother about college choices. The youngest niece is about 7 now.

I was just amazed!!! Most of these "kids" are adults! They have girlfriends and boyfriends, cars, jobs, college educations. Where the hell did the time go?!?!?

Then, there were the people who wondered what I had been up to and what I was doing. How depressing was that???

Here are my nieces and nephews, some having kids of their own, all doing what they really seem to have a passion for, and here I am, in a dead-end job, no one significant in my life, trying to make ends meet. The scariest part about it is that I can't remember what was in my head when I was their age. I can't remember what my life's dreams and goals had been back when I had graduated high school and was readying myself for adulthood.

All I know is it wasn't about writing my miseries down in a blog and wondering what the fuck happened with my life.

Back by Popular Demand - When Good Cyber Sex Goes Bad (part II) ...

I'm surprised at the reaction I got from the last one and I appreciate it so, for your reading pleasure, here's another cyber-chat from our favorite strange sex demon...

sweet17: Hi

Bloodninja: hello

Bloodninja: who is this?

sweet17: just a someone?

Bloodninja: A someone I know?

sweet17: nope

Bloodninja: Then why the hell are you bothering me?

sweet17: well sorrrrrry

sweet17: I just wanted to chat with you

Bloodninja: why?

sweet17: nevermind your an jerk

Bloodninja: Hey wait a minute

sweet17: yes?

Bloodninja: look I'm sorry. I'm just a little paranoid

sweet17: paranoid?

Bloodninja: yes

sweet17: of what?

sweet17: me?

Bloodninja: No. I'm in hiding

.sweet17: LOL

Bloodninja: Don't f**king laugh at me!

Bloodninja: This s**t is serious!

sweet17: What are you hiding from?

Bloodninja: The cops.

sweet17: gimme a f**king break

Bloodninja: I'm serious.

sweet17: I don't get it

Bloodninja: The cops are after me.

sweet17: For what?

Bloodninja: I'm wanted in three states

sweet17: For???

Bloodninja: It's kind of embarrasing.

Bloodninja: I had sex with a turkey.

Bloodninja: Hello?

sweet17: You are f**king sick.

Bloodninja: Send me your picture

sweet17: why?

Bloodninja: so I know you aren't one of them.

sweet17: One of what?

Bloodninja: The cops.

sweet17: I'm not a cop i told you

Bloodninja: Then send me your picture.

sweet17: hold on

Bloodninja: Hurry up.

Bloodninja: Are you there?

Bloodninja: F**k you, cop!

sweet17: Hey sorry

sweet17: I had to do something for my mom.

Bloodninja: I thought you were trying to find a picture to send to me.

Bloodninja: When really you were notifying the authorities.

Bloodninja: Weren't you!?

sweet17: thats not it

Bloodninja: Then what?

sweet17: I don't want to send you the picture cause I'm not pretty

Bloodninja: Most cops aren't

sweet17: IM NOT A F**KING COP YOU A**HOLE!

Bloodninja: Then send me the picture.

sweet17: fine. What's your e-mail?

Bloodninja: Just send it through here.

sweet17: alright *PIC*

sweet17: Did you get it?

Bloodninja: Hold on. I'm looking.

sweet17: That was me back in may

sweet17: I've lost weight since then.

Bloodninja: I hope so

sweet17: what?!?

sweet17: that hurt my feelings.

Bloodninja: Did it?

sweet17: Yes. I'm not that much smaller than that now.

Bloodninja: Will it make you feel better if I send you my picture?

sweet17: yes

Bloodninja: Alright let me find it.

sweet17: kks

Bloodninja: Okay here it is. *PIC*

sweet17: this isn't you.

Bloodninja: I'll be damned if it ain't!

sweet17: You don't look like that.

Bloodninja: How the hell do you know?

sweet17: cause your profile has another picture.

Bloodninja: The profile pic is a fake.

Bloodninja: I use it to hide from the cops.

sweet17: You look like the Farm Fresh guy lol

Bloodninja: Well, you look like you ATE the Farm Fresh guy....

Bloodninja: Not to mention all the groceries.

sweet17: Go f**k yourself

Bloodninja: I was going to until I saw that picture

Bloodninja: Now my unit won't get hard for a week.

sweet17: I shouldn't have sent you that picture.

sweet17: You've done nothing but slam me.

sweet17: you hurt me.

Bloodninja: And calling me the Farm Fresh guy doesn't hurt me?

sweet17: I thought you were bullcrapping me!

Bloodninja: Why would I do that?

sweet17: I can't believe that cops are after you

Bloodninja: I can't believe Santa lets you sit on his lap..

sweet17: F((K YOU!!!

Bloodninja: You'd break both of his legs.

sweet17: You're a F**KING A**HOLE!

sweet17: I've been teased my whole life because of my weight

sweet17: and you make fun of me when you don't even know me

Bloodninja: Ok. I'm sorry.

sweet17: No you aren't

Bloodninja: You're right. I'm not.

Bloodninja: HAARRRRR!

sweet17: I'm done with you

Bloodninja: Aww. I'm sorry.

sweet17: I'm putting you on ignore

Bloodninja: Wait a sec

Bloodninja: We got off on the wrong foot.

Bloodninja: Wanna start over?

sweet17: No

Bloodninja: I'll eat your kitty

sweet17: You'll what?

Bloodninja: You heard me.

Bloodninja: I said I'd eat your kitty.

sweet17: I thought you said you couldn't get it hard after seeing my picture

Bloodninja: Do I need a hard-on to eat your kitty?

sweet17: I'd like to know that the man eating me out is excited yes

Bloodninja: Well I'm not like most men.

Bloodninja: I get excited in different ways.

sweet17: Like what?

Bloodninja: Do you really wanna know?

sweet17: I don't know

Bloodninja: You have to tell me yes or no.

sweet17: I'm afraid to

Bloodninja: Why?

sweet17: cause

Bloodninja: cause why?

sweet17: well lets see

sweet17: you say you have sex with turkeys. You call me fat. then you wanna eat me out

sweet17: doesn't that seem strange to you?

Bloodninja: Nope

sweet17: well its strange to me

Bloodninja: Fine. I won't do it if you don't want me to

sweet17: I didn't say that

Bloodninja: So is that a yes?

sweet17: I guess so.

Bloodninja: Ok. I need your help getting excited though.

Bloodninja: Are you willing?

sweet17: What do you need me to do?

Bloodninja: I need you talk like a pirate.

sweet17: ???

Bloodninja: When I start to go limp... you say "HARRRR!!!"

Bloodninja: ok?

Bloodninja: Hello?

sweet17: You can't be serious

Bloodninja: Oh yes I am!

Bloodninja: It's my fantasy.

sweet17: this is retarded

Bloodninja: Do you want it or not?

sweet17: Yes I want it.

Bloodninja: Then you'll do it for me?

sweet17: sure

Bloodninja: Ok. Here we go.

Bloodninja: I gently remove your panties and being to massage your thighs.

Bloodninja: You get really juicy thinking about my tounge brushing up against them

Bloodninja: I softly begin to tounge your wet kitty.

Bloodninja: I run my tounge up and down your smooth c**t.

sweet17: mmmm yeah

Bloodninja: uh oh ...going limp.

sweet17: Har

Bloodninja: You gotta do better than that!

Bloodninja: Your picture was really bad.

sweet17: HARRRRRRRRRRRR

Bloodninja: Ahhhh. Much better. I feel your kitty get more moist with every stroke.

Bloodninja: I softly suck on your cl*t bringing it in and out of my mouth.

Bloodninja: Your juices run down my chin as your scent makes its way to my nose.

Bloodninja: I begin to feel empowered by your femininity.

sweet17: mmmmmm you are good

Bloodninja: I feel your thighs tighten as I suck harder

Bloodninja: going limp

sweet17: HARRRRRRR

Bloodninja: Mmmm I grab your swelling buttocks in my hands.

Bloodninja: You begin to sway back and forth.

Bloodninja: going limp

sweet17: this is stupid

Bloodninja: ...still limp

Bloodninja: Do it!

sweet17: HARRRRRRRRRRRRR

Bloodninja: I turn you around to lick your a**hole.

Bloodninja: I pry apart that battleship you call your ass.

Bloodninja: I see poo nuggets hanging from the hair around your ass.

sweet17: WTF?!?!?

Bloodninja: They stink really bad.

sweet17: OMG STOP!!!

Bloodninja: I start to get fed up with your ugly ass

Bloodninja: I tear off your wooden peg leg.

Bloodninja: I ram it up your ass.

sweet17: YOURE A F**KING PYSCHO!!

Bloodninja: Then I pour hot carmel over your head.

Bloodninja: And turn you into a f**king candy apple...

Bloodninja: I kick you in the face!

sweet17: F**K YOU A**HOLE!!

Bloodninja: The celluloid from your cheeks hits the side of the cabin...

Bloodninja: Your parrot flys away.

Bloodninja: ...going limp again.

Bloodninja: Hello?

Bloodninja: Say it!

Bloodninja: HAARRRRRR!!!!!

Next on FOX: When Good Cyber-sex Goes Bad ...

I came across the following chat recently. It's only one of several brilliant head games this guy had played on unsuspecting horny females. I was literally crying from laughing so hard. This guy is a genius!!!!!

Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?

Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels. I work out every day, I'm toned and perfect. My measurements are 36-24-36. What do you look like?

Wellhung: I'm 6'3" and about 280 pounds.I wear glasses and I have on a pair of blue sweat pants I just bought from Walmart.I'm also wearing a T-shirt with a few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner...it smells funny.

Sweetheart: I want you.Would you like to screw me?

Wellhung: OK

Sweetheart: We're in my bedroom.There's soft music playing on the stereo and candles on my dresser and night table.I'm looking up into your eyes, smiling. My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle your huge, swelling bulge.

Wellhung: I'm gulping, I'm beginning to sweat.

Sweetheart: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.

Wellhung: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse.My hands are trembling.

Sweetheart: I'm moaning softly.

Wellhung: I'm taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.

Sweetheart: I'm throwing my head back in pleasure.The cool silk slides off my warm skin.I'm rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.

Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a hole in your blouse.I'm sorry.

Sweetheart: That's OK, it wasn't really too expensive.

Wellhung: I'll pay for it.

Sweetheart: Don't worry about it.I'm wearing a lacy black bra.My soft breasts are rising and falling, as I breath harder and harder.

Wellhung: I'm fumbling with the clasp on your bra.I think it's stuck. Do you have any scissors?

Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly.I'm reaching back undoing the clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my breasts. My nipples are erect for you.

Wellhung: How did you do that? I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp.

Sweetheart: I'm arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your tongue all over me.

Wellhung: I'm dropping the bra. Now I'm licking your, you know, breasts. They're neat!

Sweetheart: I'm running my fingers through your hair. Now I'm nibbling your ear.

Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breasts are covered with spit and phlegm.

Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: I'm so sorry. Really.

Sweetheart: I'm wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my blouse.

Wellhung: I'm taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a plop.

Sweetheart: OK. I'm pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard tool.

Wellhung: I'm screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee!

Sweetheart: I'm pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.

Wellhung: I'm pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over, in and out nibbling on you...umm... wait a minute.

Sweetheart: What's the matter?

Wellhung: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I'm choking.

Sweetheart: Are you OK?Wellhung: I'm having a coughing fit. I'm turning all red.Sweetheart: Can I help?

Wellhung: I'm running to the kitchen, choking wildly. I'm fumbling through the cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?

Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.

Wellhung: I'm drinking a cup of water. There, that's better.

Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.

Wellhung: I'm washing the cup now.

Sweetheart: I'm on the bed arching for you.

Wellhung: I'm drying the cup. Now I'm putting it back in the cabinet. And now I'm walking back to the bedroom. Wait, it's dark, I'm lost. Where's the bedroom?

Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.

Wellhung: I found it.

Sweetheart: I'm tuggin' off your pants. I'm moaning. I want you so badly.

Wellhung: Me too.

Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately-our naked bodies pressing each other.

Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.

Sweetheart Why don't you take off your glasses?

Wellhung: OK, but I can't see very well without them. I place the glasses on the night table.

Sweetheart: I'm bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!

Wellhung: I have to pee. I'm fumbling my way blindly across the room and toward the bathroom.

Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.

Wellhung: I find the bathroom and it's dark. I'm feeling around for the toilet. I lift the lid.

Sweetheart: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.

Wellhung: I'm done going. I'm feeling around for the flush handle, but I can't find it. Uh-oh!

Sweetheart: What's the matter now?

Wellhung: I've realized that I've peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry again. I'm walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way.

Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on.

Wellhung: OK, now I'm going to put my...you know ...thing...in your...you know...woman's thing.

Sweetheart: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!

Wellhung: I'm touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your neck. Umm, I'm having a little trouble here.

Sweetheart: I'm moving my ass back and forth, moaning. I can't stand it another second! Slide in! Screw me now!

Wellhung: I'm flaccid.

Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: I'm limp. I can't sustain an erection.

Sweetheart: I'm standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on my face.

Wellhung: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, my weiner all floppy. I'm going to get my glasses and see what's wrong.

Sweetheart: No, never mind. I'm getting dressed. I'm putting on my underwear. Now I'm putting on my wet nasty blouse.

Wellhung: No wait! Now I'm squinting, trying to find the night table. I'm feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames and your candles.

Sweetheart: I'm buttoning my blouse. Now I'm putting on my shoes.

Wellhung: I've found my glasses. I'm putting them on. My God! One of our candles fell on the curtain. The curtain is on fire! I'm pointing at it, a shocked look on my face.

Sweetheart: Go to hell. I'm logging off, you loser!

Wellhung: Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo!

I Certainly Give Credit Where Credit's Due (Thanks, Michael) ...

A WEEK AT THE GYM: ONE MAN'S STORY

If you read this without laughing out loud, there is something wrong with you. This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into regular workout routine.


Dear Diary,

For my fortieth birthday this year, my wife (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing on my college football team 25 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.

I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My wife seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started!

The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.



MONDAY

Started my day at 6:00 am. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She is something of a Greek goddess - with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Belinda gave me a tour and showed me the machines. She took my pulse after five minutes on the treadmill.
She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attribute it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobic outfit. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring. Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around.

This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!



TUESDAY

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air -- then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile.

I feel GREAT!! It's a whole new life for me.



WEDNESDAY

The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying on the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals.
Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.

Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.

My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?

Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other shit too.


THURSDAY

Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl.

I Couldn't help being a half an hour late, it took me that long to tie my shoes.

Belinda took me to work out with dumbbells.
When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the men's room. She sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, she put me on the rowing machine --which I sank.


FRIDAY

x#>!! I hate that bitch Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleader.
If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps!
And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the M----- f----- barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.

The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?


SATURDAY

Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with my planner.

However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.


SUNDAY

I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my wife (the bitch) will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a vasectomy.