RTOTD #655.1

Day 655.1

To go along with the Application from the other day... for those that didn't read Deay 653 (or whatever it was when I came up with this ridiculous bullshit)... the Instructions & Submission Guidelines for the Application. This is page 1 of a double-sided application.

Enjoy

Random Thought Of The Day #655

Day 655

Gay or straight. Conservative or Progressive. Religious or atheist. Color blind or not.

It doesn't matter.

NOBODY can get pissed off about an Oreo with 500% more creme filling as before. It is impossible.


Much love in the fight for equality.

Unless they don't have any milk. Then... well... that would suck.

Wait... is that a 6-layer regular Oreo or a 6-layer double stuffed Oreo. Cause if it's double-stuffed... that's like...an alotta-stuffed Oreo. I don't know what the term for twelve is...

But does that make it a sex-stuffed Oreo if it's the normal Oreo? Cause the double-entendre there is kind of amusing.

Random Thought Of The Day #654

Day 654

You all are some uncreative bastards... stealing my application to use for yourself. Well, maybe not stealing cause I'm kinda just saying "yeah sure, take it" But you're still a bunch of uncreative bastards.

Though I will laugh my balls off the first time one of these gets handed to me or sent to me if it really does become a "thing" in the kink world. Seriously.. how else do you respond to something like that?

"Yeah, I'm not filling that out"

"why not?"

"Because I fucking invented that. I wrote the original"

"no you didn't"

"The original referenced it not counting when you got drunkenly ganbanged by 14 frat guys in Cancun but don't remember except for some sore holes in the morning. And I demanded they also do my laundry. I'm not filling out a bastardized and not nearly as funny version of my own application. But you can fill mine out if you want. Though I don't think you really have a shot. Maybe you prove me wrong with your answers. Good luck"

and hand her a copy of my own application as I walk away.

How I managed to be the first to create a play-partner application form is beyond me.

Oh, right... it's because I'm fucking amazing. And you can't compete.

How the fuck that shit was NOT Kinky & Popular, I have no idea. FetLife is using alchemy to run that shit. Turns shit into gold and ignores the gold that's out there.

I do have to say though, the only downside of being the center of the internets for a day is that nothing else happens for me to write about the next day. Except my own awesomeness. And while I have no qualms about that, and I know you love reading about your betters, it gets boring for me.

Oh... and on an entirely unrelated note.


wait for it...

wait for it...


I'm going to be self-publishing an eBook. I'm not 100% sure which service I'm going to use yet. But most of the stories I've been telling recently and a few more that I won't be posting here will be in it. As well as a few select previous writings that I think were my better work. And some other totally new material. I'm not sure exactly when... but soon is the goal. I have decided that I really do want to pursue this writing thing a little more.

And I already have a working title:

Hold My Beer and Watch This: and other stories of a life gone horribly weird

I hope you buy it. I need to afford to keep drinking to excess and hosting parties while being a belligerent asshole. It'll have some of the stuff I've already posted, new material, and some really obscure stuff that I love. Because I never posted the story where "Here, hold my beer and watch this" became known as the "famous last words".

Plus, I know what spellcheck is. So it's already better than like 75% of the other self-published e-books out there.

Maybe that wasn't entirely unrelated. My awesomeness is always related.

RTOTD #653.1

Day 653.1

Here is the application. Posted it since I've already gotten a good bit of demand for it.

Random Thought Of The Day #653

Day 653

I'm still finding fucking sand everywhere. And I've vacuumed twice. A sand pit is probably not the best idea for inside of a house.

Also, I'm starting a "Lost & Found" box that will be sitting out in one of the rooms. Because I keep finding more shit in my house that people left there.

And on an entirely unrelated note, I've decided to actually start looking for a potential rope bottom to play with on a semi-regular or regular basis. Those interested should contact me and I will send you the application.

Because fuck you, I'm awesome enough that you should have to fill out an application to apply to be a regular or semi-regular rope bottom.

Please include the following in your application:

A photo of your face. A minimum of 2 full body photos. One clothed, one in underwear/bikini or the like or less. And none of those stupid myspace downward angle holding the camera 4 feet over your head and zooming the fuck in kissy face bullshit pictures that you had to take 37 times to get 1 that was even properly focused. Anyone with one of those will be immediately disqualified.

Also, if you are taking a mirror picture and it is taken using a tablet, you will be immediately disqualified. An android phone is already big enough, how do you even fucking 1-hand balance a tablet to take a picture? I mean, you gotta hold onto the thing and then hit the "take a fucking picture" button or whatever it is with one hand. With the same hand. How do you do that and not drop the motherfucker? Is it that hard to just grab your little Nikon or your phone and take the picture? What, you think you're going to prove something by "hey, look, I'm taking a half-naked picture AND I have an iPad. I'm awesome!" no,  you look like an ass taking a picture with a thing as big as your head. And while bimbo is hot, anyone with 2 firing neurons should realize that mirror-picture taking with a tablet is a stupid fucking idea and you probably can't even hold a conversation about your hair color, much less anything more substantial.

Bonus points will be given to anyone with my usual caveat of preferences for body modification. Including, but not limited to, tattoos (they will be critiqued and graded on design and compositon), piercings (they will be graded on quantity, size, and appropriate placement) and fake tits (which will be graded on how ridiculously fake they look. The faker, the better). Also, anyone proficient with a stripper pole, please be sure to note that in the "additional skills" section. The more whorish you can present yourself as, the better your chances. So whore it up, ladies!

 

Also, bonus points if you want to do my laundry.

I will begin sending them out in the next few days to the thousands of potential applicants that are bound to inquire. Good luck.

RTOTD #652.1

Day 652.1

I just described my ideal girl as the following:

has enough ink on her torso to qualify as a billboard, enough metal to be lifted by a magnet, hair color found nowhere in nature, and enough saline in her chest to be qualified as a small sea.

In a word, fake. Unnatural. Built, not born.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

I really am kind of a chauvinistic pig. Or just really fucking picky on appearance.

Here's some porn.

Random Thought Of The Day #652

Day 652

I have never been much of a picture-taking type person. I don't dislike pictures, but I also don't really care enough to bother with them. Is it a guy thing? A generational thing from growing up when digital hadn't taken off yet? Or just a me being my typical odd self thing?

Do you know?

My best guess is the same one I've used forever... photographs are evidence. Evidence is bad.

But it's strange... Out of everyone that I've ever dated, fucked, or the dreaded "Hung out with", to the best of my knowledge, there are at most 1 photo of us together. And it's often a pretty attrocious picture. Then again, I'm a pretty mediocre looking guy most of the time.

Explain again to me how I manage to get so many attractive girls to want to be around me and let me do horrible things to them?

Oh yeah... it's because I run this track between self-deprecating to 100%, pure, unadulterated "id". And because I'm the awesomest man alive.

Or just because I can eat pussy like a lesbian.

But getting back to the point here... um... fuck. I forgot what the point was.

Maybe if I re-read what I already wrote, I'll remember.

Hm. Nothing.

So yeah... I'll just conclude by saying that I need a soundtrack to my life. And I'm working on it. Now, just to find a way for it to be constantly playing around me no matter where I go. So that everyone hears it. It just follows me around. In the air. I want REAL airplay. Where the air around me plays music.

Or guns that float around my head controlled by my mind. Either way.

Random Thought Of The Day #651

Day 651

Let's see... a slip n slide, tropical paradise beach basement suspensions, a stripper for a birthday who ended up asking if she could hang out at a party when she was off-duty, squirt gun battles, someone doing their damnedest to see if the motor on the hitachi would run out before they died of dehydration from too many orgasms, me somehow NOT lighting myself on fire while wearing a straw hat and grass skirt and grilling about a half a cow, a couple of chickens and a good chunk of pig. How did nobody end up in the hospital? Or jail? Or trying to find a fire extinguisher to put me out while I burned alive from pretending to be a walking brush fire? and when the fuck did I take off my pants?


Fucking wizardry is all I can come up with.

There was nothing good about any of these ideas. The only thing that would have made it a worse idea would be if I had made some Death Juice (151 or higher proof clear alcohol, rum, vodka, a shitload of juice and Gatorade) to go with it and replaced the water in the squirt guns with Everclear.

An for the record, I'm going to be finding fucking sand in my house for the next ever. It's second only to glitter when it comes to herpes comparisons.

But did anyone take any pictures of that? Sorry... I'm still amused at myself for thinking "hey, a tarp, some play sand, and an inflatable palm tree sitting in my basement makes it fucking tropical.". I never bothered to take a picture of it before people started playing on it.

All we needed was a kiddie pool filled with KY or jello and we could have really made it a day at the beach.

I'm just thankful the weather cooperated.

So thank you to everyone that came out, everyone that brought food or beverages, and everyone for having some fucking fun and indulging my "let's make Joe's house into a beach party!" momentary delusion.

One of these times at a party, I'll actually be able to take the time to try to play. It seems like every time, there's more play, more fun, more insanity, and virtually zero problems. Let's keep that shit up.

Random Thought Of The Day #650

Day 650
I'm trying to decide if the inflatable palm tree should just be filled with air or helium.

Because what we will need for a Bikini Beach Party is flying inflatable palm trees.

Also... I hate to disappoint you all, but the Slip N Slide is only rated for children ages 4-12. So we're kinda all fucked. Let's hurt ourselves and laugh at each other instead.

Speaking of slip n slide... A number of years back, a few friends and I got an ingenius idea.

My friend lived  in a house that was kind of down in a valley. I think I've told you about the sled-riding-cases-of-beer story. Or maybe I didn't.

Well, if I haven't, then let me give you a little bit of a visual here. His driveway was about 1/4 mile long. And steep as fuck going down. The house was sitting at the end of the driveway, on the one spot on the property that was mostly flat. Thoough the front yard was only about 20 feet deep before you hit the house and the back door in the basement was back at ground level, so obviously the ground started sloping down more about 2/3 of the way thru the house. And sloped steep.

Well, this made for a lot of fun stupid shit we could do and some huge fucking parties in the winter. Cause this was the middle of god damn nowhere. Because it was in the middle of the damn woods too.

Pretty close to the same slope.

Well, as it happens, right next door to the house was where a fire-lane was cut. For those of you too city-centric to know what a fire lane is, it's a 100-or-so foot wide swath of trees cut down entirely. It's to prevent forest fires from spreading too quickly and to kind of "box them in" when they start. We stopped being allowed to do it in national parks in the early 90's and by the late 90's, our epidemic of annual west-of-the-Rocky-Mountains wildfires began. There's a connection there. I don't care. Also for running gas lines thru wooded areas. But whatever... But think grass paved freeway-width roads cut right thru a forest. It's the fucking Deer Interstate.

They need to replace those Deer Crossing signs with Junction: Deer Highway #7 or whatever on the roads in western PA. It might cut down on the fucking deer that we hit.

But so, there's this wide, steep, and long-as-fuck path of smooth grass cut going down this hill. And one day, while sitting out on his deck and looking over at it, I got the greatest idea in the history of ever.

I get up off the deck and start walking towards the thin tree-line the seperated his property from the fire lane and start looking up and down it. I'm looking up the hill and down. Noticing that the slope starts to get more shallow on the hillside about 85% of the way down the hill and I start pondering the situation. I look up and down the hill a little more and start walking back over towards my car.

My buddy looks at me like I was fucking retarded and asks "are you high? What the fuck are you looking at?" as he's walking towards me. I ignore him. Genius doesn't need to explain itself. And I was only kinda high.

He looks at me like I'm even more crazy as I just get in my car and drive up his driveway, thinking that I'm leaving. And he's still standing there confused when he sees me start pulling down the fire lane on the other side of the trees. I had a Jeep. I could drive cooler places than you. And pretty much wherever I wanted to. Because I'm better than all of you. Signs with fancy words like "no tresspassing" and "prosecution" and "no automobiles" didn't impress me.

And as he watches me drive down and drive most of the way to the bottom before starting my slow journey back up the hill. Hey, I might be able to drive cooler places than you, but I still have to do it properly or else my jeep would have been just as useless as your toyota trying to get up that hill. Except I would have still gotten there eventually and if I rolled it over in the process, I could just get out, flip it back over onto it's wheels and keep going again. Try that in your honda.

Soon after, I'm back in his driveway as if nothing had happened. I get out of my jeep and have the biggest grin on my face. I pull my phone out, make a call to a friend of mine with a bobcat and tell him to bring that shit over this weekend. Cause I need a couple foot deep hole dug and a little pit made. We're gonna have some fucking fun!

My friend is still confused as shit. He has no idea what I'm planning. I start asking him for things like "duct tape" and "plastic sheeting". And he's finally realizing that I have a plan.

Not the actual product. But damn close. Think more patchwork
plastic sheeting and a LOT fucking longer.

I look at him as he's putting the pieces together in his head and grin at him before screaming right in his face:

"World's Largest Slip N Slide, Motherfucker!"

And we did. Well, maybe not the actual like world record or anything like that. And only like 3 people rode it before someone finally got hurt. But still..

This is what you find when you google image search for
slip n slide and drunk.

almost 1/4 mile long, about 30 degree downword grade. And a really fucking big hose attached to the neighbor's house. I might have forgot to ask permission to do that... but whatever. I dont' care. We dug the pit at the bottom and put some plastic in there to fill it up a little with water so it didn't just turn into a mud puddle. And it was only like 5 feet long and 2 feet deep or so. But it's ok. Cause we were fucking brush burnt long before we hit the water and had slowed down significantly from how fast we were going at the top and 1/2 way down.

That was an awesome idea. Especially drunk.

RTOTD #649.1

Day 649.1

Seriously? ANOTHER hot blonde 20-something school employee fucking a male student?? This one in a place actually called Shelbyville! That's right next to Springfield! I wonder if it was Bart's cousin or something?

This one was an assistant cheerleading coach though. So even hotter than just the run-of-the-mill hot teachers that have been nailing their students for the past decade or 2.

Where the fuck were these broads when I was in school???!!?!?!?!?!

Random Thought Of The Day #649

Day 649

I'm already on my 3rd cup of coffee and I woke up late today after having fucking insomnia last night.

So basically, today pretty much feels like Monday normally feels.






And I hate you all. One of you bastards is to blame for this. I don't know who. I don't know how. I don't know why. But one of you fuckers is to blame.

I hope you all get liquid nitrogen poured all over you in the middle of a steel mill. And then shot with a shotgun so that you shatter into a billion pieces.

Oh... that was the T-1000.

 I still hope it happens to you.

Random Thought Of The Day #648

Day 648

A number of years ago, I was fucking this chick pretty regularly. She was a complete trainwreck. I was 24, and she was 42. But god damn, was she good in bed. And had a really great body. A little worn in the face, but hey... she was a smoker and a drinker. But the rest of the body was awesome. The definition of MILF. Not how it's used now for 24-year-old club girls that have a 3 year old. No, I mean the chick that's got kids 4 years younger than you or that you might have even went to school with or drink with. That's what MILF is. Fucking amatuers and thinking that any chick with a kid is a MILF if she's hot. But lemme tell you, that chick fucked like my dick had the antidode or something in it. s

Yeah, cheesy line... but I don't know how else to put it. I hadn't seen that kind of enthusiasm to do all of the work as she could in order to get me off with anyone else I had been with before or since. She would be screaming and cumming herself, but would not stop until she got me off.

For the record, if you ever hear me refer to the Dead Ex... this is that one. Do you really need to ask?

Regardless... thankfully, this broad could cum from looking at her sideways, so that meant I could be as selfish as I wanted and didn't have to even feign attempts to care about whether she got off or not. Granted, I didn't. But still. With some girls, you have to at least pretend to care. With some, you don't even have to pretend. This was one of those. So of course, I went out of my way to really not care.

Well, one weekend we're fucking at some hotel.

I have no god damn clue why were at a hotel. I think it might have been because she was married and her husband wasn't ok with her fucking other guys. Of course, this made it funnier to me. I bet her really wouldn't have liked the time my buddy and I Eifel Tower'd her. I don't know if she ever told him. I would have loved to see the look on his face. He was a cop and REALLY didn't like me. I thought it was great.

But so we're fucking at this hotel and she's going to town. She's on top, riding... and bouncing. It was like she was fucking riding a god damn pogo stick. How she's bouncing that high, I have no idea. My dick isn't that big. But she's not doing that bend/break thing girls can do if they sometimes get to into it and go at too odd of an angle where you gotta stop and smack her to be a little more careful to not fucking break the damn thing. (cue the outrage for saying "smack her" in 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. *SCREAM*... was that fun? I probably don't care) But so she's going to town.

I look up at one point and notice she's got her hands on the headboard. Balancing herself. Cool. It's actually a pretty good visual. And gave me easy access to her tits. So I'm down on my back, enjoying the ride. Cause hey, if she wants to do all the work and let me lean back and enjoy it and cum when I want? Awesome.

All of a sudden, I don't know what got my attention.. but I think it was something to do with her body positioning change on top of me. Like her weight distribution shifted slightly and her kickstand of using the headboard wasn't there anymore. Then it happened...

Not the actual picture. But a fairly close representation.

The fucking headboard fell on my god damn head.

It was one of those cheap headboards. It's got the design, but it's just hung on the wall and not actually attached to the bed. There's a wooden strip nailed to the wall and the headboard hangs on that.

But fuck me, that hurt. I even had to stop fucking.

Needless to say, a walk down to the front desk holding a headboard with a lump on  my forehead got me the room for free.

And granted, I still went back and finished by hate-fucking the shit out of this girl... but still. I was pissed. To this day, I still always wait for the damn headboard to fall on my head when I'm fucking in a hotel room.

RTOTD #647.1

Day 647.1

Have the special effects & score and all the other background noise got a lot fucking louder in movies?

Or am I just now suffering the hearing loss from a decade of way too fucking loud music in my car and going to a shitload of small-club punk shows?

I swear, it seems like I gotta turn the volume up just to hear people talking in movies & tv anymore, but when I watch older movies, I can hear them just fine.

Is it the modern film-making technique to make shit loud so you almost NEED the 7.1 Dolby Surround system to hear the damn movie/show?

Random Thought Of The Day #647

Day 647

There's nothing more sexy than administration and bureaucracy. I mean... I know it's turning me on right now. Parsing legal definitions and administering policy and watching people with imaginary authority muscles flex and pose as though anything they say matters. Fuck... I might cum in my pants right now!

*yawn*

Seriously... I can't be the only one the sees the humor in this whole thing. It's like a kabuki theater that thinks it is actually real. Or that any of it matters.

You know what happens if this whole little "community" disappears tomorrow?

Folks with a couple firing neurons (cause that's pretty much all it takes...) will get the bright idea of calling their friends and saying "hey, let's get dinner next thursday at X place. Invite some other kinky people" and all of a sudden... *poof*... new little munch groups pop up without all of this "authority" and "leadership" and other pretentious self-imporant pap and it replaces that void. Because you can't kill the kink world. All you can do is watch groups disappear. People won't stop being kinky. People won't stop gathering. People won't stop learning from one another and teaching each other. They will, however, stop paying attention to an establishment. And whatever paper authority it thinks it has.

Let me explain it to you a little differently..

Have you ever heard of the term "critical mass"? I'm gonna give you a quick physics lesson.

Critical mass is a term referring to quantity. A quantity of fissionable material required to create & sustain a nuclear reaction.

I know what you're thinking "but daddy, what the fuck does that have to do with anything here? And why aren't you wearing pants!"

"well children, if you would shut the fuck up and learn to listen from time to time, instead of just waiting for your chance to talk more, you might learn something. And I'm not wearing pants because I couldn't find them when I woke up this morning."

This NEED to centralize and consolidate and all that fun bullshit that's been going on for a while now, it's led to a near-critical mass situation. The people are the fissionable material. Especially when you start trying to open the tent big enough to drive a tank thru it. You end up with people that can't coexist on the same planet, much less in the same room half the time. They're volitile as fuck. And you're sticking more and more of them inside that tent. I'm not just talking about the idiot cause head crazies. I'm talking about people like me too that don't care to play nice and don't feel compelled to "not rock the boat".

And I'm also talking about the people that somehow decided that the kink world is their fucking therapy group like Ed Norton in Fight Club. The people that shouldn't be playing with ANYONE, and probably should be more fit for a number of psychotropic drug courses daily while hanging out in a white bouncy room than sitting at a munch. I'm talking about all of the severely damaged people that are populating this little fucking "community" with more and more and more varied and diverse damage. They're the fissionable material.

And you finally found enough in the past 6 or 12 months. You finally found enough to stick in one spot. It's enough to sustain the reaction. And all it needs is 1 spark. And you all are sitting there with fucking flint and matches and pretty much every other thing you can think of... oblivious to the conditions around you. Still playing with matches.

I ran the fuck away from that tent a long long time ago because I saw it coming. I knew that my own volitility would contribute to it. Fuck, I'm still contributing to it. Just from a distance. I just didn't feel like getting caught in the middle of it. And it's still coming. You can sit around and talk and come up with administrative crap all you want... but it doesn't change the problem. You're too fucking big. You're too fucking "centralized" while trying to open the door to too many people. I could care less if people like me (who am I kidding, there's nobody like me... I'm fucking better than everyone and I am the awesomest man alive) are the ones excluded. Of if it's the ones that would require a notary stamp on a signed document on a choreographed scene with a complete list of triggers and limits and actually call that the scene. Or if they push out the people that are more interested in hating straight, white, dominant-type males than actually contributing anything but politics.

I really don't give a fuck who stays, who goes, who does what. I just know that when you stick this many people together, and this many volitile people together, and then keep lighting matches around them, it's a matter of time before it fucking explodes. And you can't adminster that out. You can't make any policy to make it better. You can't DO anything to keep this environment and NOT expect the inevitable result. I can't tell you when. I can't tell you how. I can't tell you why. I can only tell you that it is GOING TO happen. And centralizing everything and expecting everyone to get along or even coexist is the primary fucking cause.

I just know I won't be there for when it happens. And I hope those that I care about run the fuck away too. But I might just be another voice in the wilderness... screaming that the sky is falling. And even though I've seen all of this shit coming (and written about it long before it did), you all keep ignoring it. Thinking there's another way. Sorry, kids... no such luck. It's gonna get ugly. And if your'e too close... you're gonna get burnt too.

Random Thought Of The Day #646

Day 646

Every day that I think humanity has reached rock fucking bottom and can't actually get any more retarded... well... something like this happens and makes me realize how oh-so-far down the hole we can still go.

I mean... seat belt standards for pets was pretty fucking low. But hey, it's New Jersey... it could have been a totally isolated incident of legislative stupidity. Well, isolted to the stupidity of New Jersey, that is. They have their own standard. It's unfair to stupidity elsewhere to compare it to NJ stupidity. That's a firehose blast of stupidity there. I think it might come from bronzer and hair gel, but this is just my theory.

But then I see the kinda shit that's going on elsewhere and it makes me just shake my head.

For instance, in Kansas, a couple got arrested for tying their kids up and leaving them in the WalMart parking lot. I mean... does it really need to be said that you CAN'T TIE YOUR CHILDREN UP in this day and age? And you really can't just leave them in the car, during the summer, at WalMart. I know we all fucking want to. We should be allowed to. Hell, put them on leashes and tie them to the fire hydrant outside the store while you go get your milk like you would a dog, for all I care. But do we really need to be reminded that we can't ACTULLY do it? And that if you DO tie your children up because they're being pains in the ass, then don't do it in the fucking WalMart parking lot.

Yeah, I know... you needed to go get some more Skoal for you and the wife. She needed the ingredients to make some more meth. It was a major shopping trip. I get it.

You still can't just tie your children up in the car.

But sadly, the walking lobotomy patients that manage to populate this planet still aren't done.

You think this kinda idiocy is confined to those extras from Deliverance out in fly-over country? You'd be wrong.

Because the deiziens of the wonderful pile of bloat & filth that is our nation's capital caused a like 6 hour traffic jam on multiple freeways because of what they THOUGHT was the military transporting a UFO. On the bed of a truck. In broad daylight. Thinking that this was actually the most remote possibility.

I'm going to give you a hint here... if the military was transporting a UFO, I guarantee that they will not be doing it on the back of a truck, through a major city, with only a thin tarp half-covering it, in broad daylight. And...

You know what... Fuck it... I just hate everyone. And I hope you all die after falling in an incinerator. I'm done typing now.

Random Thought Of The Day #645

Day 645

I think I've reached the point where my life is not much more than a very very complicated drinking game.

Not that I'm complaining. My liver and kidneys might be, but I ignore those whiny bitches. So fuck em.

Random Thought Of The Day #644

Day 644

Ahh... just when I'm at a loss for what to write about today, someone actually does something to prompt me to write. And because I'm better than everyone else, I want to make it about me and feed my fucking ego, so instead of posting in the actual discussion, I just write my own post about it.

Oh look... it worked.

I think that some people need to learn to differentiate between fetish, kink, and recreational activity. There's a hierarchy here. They are terms that describe orders of magnitude. They are NOT interchangeable. And because a bunch of people seem to screw them up rather regularly, I figured I'd bring it up here.

Let's start with a fetish. Exactly how should it be defined? According to the dictionary, it's something that you NEED to get excited. Something that you NEED in order to get off. Not just something that's hot. It's a fucking requirement.

In many cases, this is actually something that could require professional therapy. It becomes overwhelming and sometimes detrimental. And sometimes even uncontrollable. Fetishes can sometimes cross a lot of lines. So you damn well better know you're in control of them or seek some fucking help if you're not. Cause a lack of control can lead to compulsion. And a compulsion can lead to you hurting others to get your "fix". Fetishes are dangerous if they aren't controlled.

I have about 2 or 3 that are borderline fetishes. Being on the borderline means that I can still go at it and everything even if this isn't present, but only when there's enough of my kinks met, then I'm good. But if there's not enough kinks present or one of my other fetishes isn't met, then no dice. Ain't gonna happen. One of them being a girl wearing heels in bed. I can't explain it. But it's damn near mandatory. That one is right on the borderline.

But the only one that is an absolute fetish is a girl that actually ACTS like a whore in bed. Not the kind that will let you do whatever you want. I'm talking about the kind that actually want you to treat them like shit in bed and all of that. An active participant in their whorification. That's necessary for me. Someone that's timid or doesn't really push back with the "you're not trying hard enough. You can do better." thing to push me to be even a bigger pig in bed? I just can't get into that. No matter how hot the girl is, if I can't get into treating her like a whore and her showing me in her words and actions that she wants to be treated like that, I just can't get into it.

So now... on to the next level down the scale. Kinks. What are kinks? Let's think about that for a moment. I think you can look at kinks in a couple different ways. There's the personal quirks side of it as well as the "what gets you hot" part of it. I think we can safely focus on the "what gets you hot" side of it. I think these are things that we really enjoy and that we need, similarly to the Fetish option above, but we don't need them as much. We need them available. We need them to be something that we CAN do but we don't really need to do them. They are things that are above "I like doing that" to "that gives me significant additional gratification". It's something that's a "thing" for us.

For example with me... Body modification. It's one that's way high up on my kinks list. More for the design aspect, but almost exclusively for an aesthetic reason. Girls with ink & metal? Fucking yummy. Fake tits? Even better. All of them together? Oh dear Jesus, that's hot.

That's a kink. I don't need it. But oh sweet Jesus, that's so fucking hot.

And finally... recreational activity. Shit, there's a bunch of ways that you can look at this, but I think I'll stick with the easiest way. It's something you just like to do. It doesn't necessarily even get you all worked up. It's just a thing. It could go hand in hand with sex, but it doesn't have to.

In this case.. smoking pot. Do you need pot to get wet and wild? Does having a toke get you in the mood all the time? I mean, is there a direct correlation between sex and some ganj? Oh, you just like to smoke and sometimes fuck while you're stoned? Oh, so you're just like every single other person that gets high. This is a recreational activity. Not a fetish. Not a kink.

I like to go swimming. Sometimes, I like to fuck in the pool. This does not mean that swimming is a kink or a fetish. It means that I can sometimes combine a recreational activity that I enjoy with another activity I enjoy. Namely, getting my nut.

Unless you have a weird Pavlovian response to smoking pot that directly creates the mental association of "herb = hard on", it's a recreational activity. And if you DO have that Pavlovian response... well, you might wanna get that checked. Or cut back on the green. Cause that's probably costing you a fuck ton of cash.


And here's some bonus slutty girls. Because... you know... Why not?

Random Thought Of The Day #643

Day 643

You know what's a fun game? Go back in your memory to ex-partners and think about how drunk you would have to be in order to go out with them again. Or maybe that's depressing. Or maybe they're the same thing to you.

I know that a few of them, I would be perfectly fine to spend time with them totally sober. And I would enjoy almost every second of our interaction, but I also know that the vast majority, I would have to be belligerently inebriated and on the verge of getting picked up for disorderly conduct in order to spend more than a few seconds of face-to-face time with them.

Which is kind of an interesting segue into a few other things. For instance, exactly what kind of a percentage of my stories start out or revolve around getting smashed? And what kind of stupid fucking ideas you get when you are that rip-roaring drunk? But it also brings up something else...

At what point do you just keep doing stupid shit just for the stories? The experiences are obviously important.. but only for so long. I mean, there's only so many times that I can get trashed and do the safety dance on some asshole cook's car with an ASP telescoping police baton or sled ride cases of beer down some guy's driveway or yell at idiots with a bullhorn or sleep with a 40-something mom and her 21-year-old daughter in the same day or steal road signs and parking meters or fuck in the Family Bathroom at a mall... there's only so many times I can do shit like that before I realize that I'm just doing this for the story. Granted, it's funny as shit, but I know about 1/4 of the way in that this is going to turn into a great story and I'm going to make the part that I'm about to play in it into as much ridiculousness as humanly possible. I'm going to do or say the wildest and stupidest bullshit humanly possible just so that I have another great story to tell.

Mostly cause telling stories that aren't true is just fucking lame. And telling boring stories is a waste of time that nobody wants to hear.

Honestly, I have no idea. I just tell them. I know that if I was sober and if I didn't know early on into a ridiculous experience that it was going to end up as a great story, I wouldn't have done nearly 5% of the stupid shit that I've done.

For instance...

A few years ago, right after they changed the DUI level from .1 down to .08 BAC, I was going to be responsible. I decided to buy one of those portable commercial breathalyzers. I figured, "well, if I'm out drinking, I can blow into it before I leave to go home, even if I feel safe to drive, before I even start my car. And if I'm above the limit, then I go find myself a place to hang out for a while until I'm legally permitted to drive again."

Smart, right? Very mature? Sure... but...

Well, I bought this thing right before a Cinco De Mayo and was going out to drink a fuckload of margaritas and do a bunch of tequila shots that night. So I threw this thing in the glove box of my car and figured "if it's too bad at go-home time, I can just take a cab home later and get my car tomorrow". And I ventured off for the night.

A few drinks in, I remember that I have this thing in my car and go out to get it. I'm curious how much tequila fucks me up. And I'm somehow thinking that this can be a science experiment. I know that tequila makes girls take their clothes off. I'm wondering if there's a correlation between how much tequila it takes for a girl to take their clothes off and where their blood/alcohol content is and compare it to the blood/alcohol content from say... whiskey... when they start taking their clothes off.

I'm already 7 drinks into the night. My thought process isn't perfect. Fuck you. I'm smarter than you. I do science.

But well, once this wonderful piece of portable technology is in my hand and I'm convincing girls to blow this thing, it quickly becomes a game. I blow into it to prove that its not some trick and blow a .11 and realize "oh damn... I now have an objective way to determine who is the drunkest. This is going to be AWESOME!!"

So I drink more and it's now becoming a competition between my friends Jeff, Mike, myself, and a handful of girls. I blow a .12 and some girl blows a .16. This is un-fucking-acceptable. I'm being bested in a drinking competition by a girl.

Wait... How the fuck did I just end up in a drinking competition? I didn't sign up for this. But there's no god damned way that this 115 lbs girl is going to beat me! Fuck that. I'm almost 2 of her. So I decide the smart thing to do is to double her up on drinks...

Somewhere around the 3rd round of doubling up on her, I black out. I have no recollection of anything until right as I'm trying to leave the bar. This girl is draped over me as we're leaving.

I am in absolutely no condition to drive. In fact, I can't even make the top and bottom half of my body move at the same rate. My legs keep walking while my torso is lagging behind. I'm looking like I'm doing the invisible limbo on the sidewalk. This is not good. Apparently once you hit .28 on the BAC scale, walking becomes very very difficult. That was my high point. And the girl is in even worse shape than me. This is very not good.

All of a sudden, her friends come running out of the bar and grab her. They drag her over to their car and put her in. They stick her in the back seat and all start getting in. And just before they pull out, the girl that was draped over me gets back out and starts waking back over to me. The passenger seat occupant comes running back out just as this girl gets to me and almost jumps on me and grabs her. Somehow at this point, I'm the one getting yelled at by her friend.

She dragged this shit-faced girl back to the car and, I shit you not, actually flipped that little switch on the inside of the door to turn on the child locks.

I remember standing there and just looking sad and being confused. I was like a kid that just had his new toy taken away from him by the bigger kids. I had a look on my face of somewhere between bewilderment and like I was about to cry. I was sad that this random drunk girl was taken away. Like the thought that a drunk fuck was all I really wanted at that moment and it was snatched away at the last moment by a bunch of meanies.

After standing there for what felt like 15 minutes, but was probably only about 10 seconds, I just wander back into the bar. My friends were still there and told me that I looked as if my puppy was just ran over.

Thankfully, my brother was still there. And I managed to get him to drive me home. Eventually. After a few stops to pull over so I could vomit out the door. Fucking assholes made me sit in the back. Douchebags.

But even after all of this, I still didn't win the game of Drunk. That fucking girl did. At .29. But I fucking spanked my friends. Best those pussies managed was a .23. Light-weights.