.
I'm know I'm an ugly motherfucker, but this is the fucking face I was born with.
What the fuck does anyone want of me? Sorrow? Tears? Sorry, I'm all out of those. Bled them out the first night I slept at Port Authority and asked God, why me? There is an oil tanker full of my tears, so we can say adios to that fucking plan. So what is the big deal? What is the story?
I don't know. I talk about sex a lot, but I'm not all that in tuned with having it like I used to when I was a kid. I mean, it's nice to have it with someone you like to be with. It's even better if you love to be with them, but sex for the sake of sex...I've kind of grown up from that shit. I'm quickly approaching 50. This is my last year in my 40s, and it's good because the world is supposed to come to an end this year...or is it judged this year and goes up in Hellfire in 2012? Or are the planets supposed to align themselves as the aztecs said and the Earth is supposed to crumble and collapse within itself.
I get so confused with all of these end of the world scenarios. I would like it if there was just one and that was the end of that. What would I like to be doing though, just in case it happens so suddenly that I don't care how the fuck it comes. Like a big meteor lands on my head and turns me into baked jelly. I would like to be doing something constructive. I thought maybe screwing at the time, but what good is fucking a woman if you never get a chance to bust a nut because you and her are grape jelly? No, I'd rather be watching women. Watching something with them moving about. I've always loved watching women move. Something about their tits and asses. I don't know. You may call that crude, but I'm just talking like I hear it. Men will tell you, those two things...or maybe four things? Tits and ass are two things even though together they are four, right? Oh fuck it! Like I was saying, I want to be watching women.
I know when the Great Anarchy comes, which will probably claim me because I'll be busy breaking into liquor stores while many of the crazy assed survivalists will be burrowing into their holes. The nuclear bomb will be toyed with, but you won't be able to keep enough people in their right mind to launch one. The streets will be filled with murder and mayhem, and cars driving really fast. I think I'll be staggering drunk down the middle of the street with an Uzi in hand spraying anything that looked like a clown. I hate clowns.
It will be a crazy day. People will just be having a party up and down the street, like when I was a kid. They used to close off whole streets in Brooklyn and we would play around the cars and barbeque and play games and actually bring blankets and lay in the gutters and curbs. We called it a Brooklyn Block Party and at night kids would come with speakers tall as a grown man, and blast rap before it was rap music, before it was even played on the radio and MTV. Finally the crazy assed cops would show up and move us out peacefully. That's how it's going to happen at the end too. When the meteor as big as the moon comes hurtling towards us from the asteroid field the cops will end the parties in the streets in their own happy way.
I once thought that I would run out and grab the first chick I could lay my hands on and fuck right there in the middle of the street, until I found out recently that women can fight! Yeah, they can beat the shit out of you if you're not careful. And since you can inadvertently run into a crazy bitch, I've kinda scrapped that plan. I would imagine all of the best pussy will be closed for business that day. One would think the opposite, but logically speaking, fear shorts out people, and when a woman is facing unimaginable doom, I doubt if she will be in the mood to fuck.
The way I see it, Nun pussy will be praying. Crack whore pussy will be smoking crack. Commuting pussy will be running for their lives. Married pussy will be screwing married dick. Single pussy will be eating chocolate. Angry pussy will be angrier. Lesbian pussy won't be interested in dick. Shopping pussy will be in Bloomingdales and Macys. So fuck fucking. I'll just watch women on television. Get a six pack of beers and shoot down a couple of clowns on my way to the store.
Oh I know some of you ladies out there are pissed at me now because I'm dehumanizing women calling them pussy, but notice I've dehumanized men too, calling them dicks, so on this blog, shit flows in both directions. So...to all of you that didn't notice that....look. And to all those pissed. Ouch. Now getting back to pussies and dicks. I'm done with thinking in terms of sex and getting sex and having sex. Now I'm in terms of bettering my life. But like I said. I'm pretty pissed now that the world is grinding to a halt. Even the government is crumbling around our ears it seems. Nobody wants to do anything constructive lately. Like me, run a blog. I think that's constructive.
Okay, maybe it's not, but what else would you like me to do? What else would you consider to be constructive as a full out nuclear exchange is happening in our skies overhead and we all have thirty minutes to do something? Blogging? No? Then what? Throw a party at the end of the world? Invite all the hot girls and the hot guys and sneak my ugly ass in there without being noticed? Maybe once they get together a naked orgy breaks out, I'll sneak in and have the chance to slip my dick in here and there and I'll get some quality spank, spank before the gas leak from Bhopal kills us all.
I doubt that greatly. First of all, I don't know any hot chicks or dudes that would go anywhere with me and get naked even if the end of the world was less than two hours away. I don't even care if I had free booze and french fries. So I'm shit out of luck there. And what's the big deal about sex anyway at the end of the world? Like I said, a six pack, some BK burgers, a bottle of Jack Daniels and a good cheerleading squad show on television will be fine for me. Shit, I'll keep my ugly ass at home.
That's right, death, right here in my room. Like it's supposed to happen.
Hobobob
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