The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Forehead Rolls
15:45 Mar 26 2013
Times Read: 593

I would like to expound on a new discovery…a new observance more accurately…Forehead Rolls.



I cannot say, up until a few weeks prior, that yours truly had ever noticed such…Forehead Rolls. How this has escaped my attention I do not know…the thought, that is has, dumbfounds me…I like to think myself a fairly observant fellow.



I suppose with females this neglect is understandable…there are, after all, much more interesting attributes to appreciate and such has always firmly held my attention. As for males…well…I could not care less.



It must be female’s breasts and hair styles sporting bangs that have hidden…cloaked if you will…this phenomenon…Forehead Rolls…from me. Has everyone else in this world been aware? Is the existence of…Forehead Rolls…the true guide of fashion, from hair styles to chapeaus? Did a horrendous case of…Forehead Roll…from centuries past…spur the first individual to comb their hair down over the deformity? The ancient Egyptians were really big on bangs if memory serves.



Did this very same affliction cause early humans to wrap their heads in cloth? Turbans? I don’t know and I am finding this revelation very disturbing. I’m beginning to wonder now…has it all been one big lie?!



Last night at work I documented thirteen cases of…Forehead Roll…from one severe to varying lesser degrees. Now that I see them…Forehead Rolls…Jesus…they are everywhere! It’s like a nightmare I cannot wake from! There…and there…there’s another one…there tHeRe THERE!! Work has become “The Twilight Zone”!



I know…I KNOW! When this became known to me I dashed to my mirror! MIRROR MIRROR ON THE WALL…JESUS CHRIST…FOREHEAD ROLLS!! Quickly I frowned…~Forehead Rolls~…I smiled…~Ouch~…~Forehead Rolls~…I shook my head vigorously, slapped my head five times and then looked again…~FOREHEAD ROLLS~!! *Throws arm across his face* DON’T LOOK AT ME!! DON’T LOOK AT ME!! I’M HIDEOUS!! OMG…I’m going to throw up.

The Paradox Of The Dark Yang
10:11 Mar 23 2013
Times Read: 611

Aunt Emily didn’t even like your Uncle Shamus when they first met. She thought him a stumblebum in many ways, a stumblebum and a bit of a drunkard and she tried to avoid him at all costs, even to the point of forgoing ice cream socials. But your Uncle Shamus was, if nothing else, persistent and undeterred by Aunt Emily’s rebukes as he continued wooing her for 5 years. Oh he would send her chocolate nibbles, scores of love letters, flowers, sing songs of admiration beneath her bedroom window at night, the occasional bits of ham (times were tough) and through this perseverance he won her heart. Aunt Emily and Uncle Shamus have been happily married for 50 years!



See…that is the kind of bullshit Walt F. Disney has brainwashed into every man…men actually buy this crap…they believe it. The above is what men are taught as being romantic…even if the female rebuffs the advances…men know…she’s just playing “Hard to get”! Once she discovers who he truly is…deep down…does not matter if he weighs 400lbs, greasy hair with little brown stubble teeth…once he opens his heart…she will love him. Wait…give me a second…AHHH hA HA HA ha ha hahahaha haaa…omg…I don’t know if I can type the rest of this…AhhH ha Ha hA hahahaaaa…omg…I’m going to throw up.



Love at first sight…they wrote each other during the war…smutty romance novels where basically the woman gets raped by a “Pirate Chippendale” (and we all damn well know she wanted it) and my first little story, are all examples of the brainwashing that…again…Walt F. Disney…has perpetrated on our societies female and male population. How many movies have we viewed a man romantically (?) chasing a woman through the whole…grueling…goddamn…thing and then at the end, finally catches her and they live happily ever after? Women cannot view enough of this type of cinema…this genre is just so…damn…romantic. It’s all just so…damn…romantic.



And there’s The Paradox of The Dark Yang…women broadcast that all this is romance…BUT…should a man actually behave in any of these ways…at least this century…what happens? He gets “Blocked”…he’s slandered a “Stalker”…”Restraining Orders” are acquired and in the case of the “Pirate Chippendale”…he goes to prison…well…maybe he goes to prison.



See…I’m being a tad bit dishonest here. As much as this may seem a paradox…if viewed through the lens of reality…I mean…after all…what I have been expounding on is a “Romantic Fantasy Ideal”…but this all depends on one’s attractiveness.



An “Attractive Man” (depending on what type the media is projecting as being attractive at any given time) can indeed engage in any of the previously offered tactics unfettered. Should the female become all googly at the mere sight of him, this man will pretty much have cart-blanche’.



Now…for an “Unattractive Man” (all the rest)…expect to be “Blocked”…expect to be slandered as a “Stalker”…expect to receive a “Restraining Order” and you better sure as hell expect to go to prison.



And just when you thought it was safe, here I am going to tell you I’m still not being totally honest! Because you see…this honest reality isn’t only a matter of a male romancing a female. This also applies for a female romancing male. You don’t believe me? Huh?! Me?! Your most trusted confident?! An example is in order.



“Sleepless In Seattle”…Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan…let’s substitute Kathy Bates for Meg Ryan…”Sleepless In Seattle” becomes “Misery”…*raises an eyebrow*.



Personally…I think Aunt Emily just wanted the occasional bits of ham (times were tough).

The Trojan Twister
13:51 Mar 16 2013
Times Read: 637

Being as nocturnal as I am, I see the commercials for this…this…product. Apparently The Trojan Twister boasts variable speeds combined with 4…yes 4…unique positions. I had to query my female co-workers to ascertain what I thought this Trojan Twister actually was…seeing how the commercials offer no visual aids…and they did confirm my suspicions…The Trojan Twister is an electronically enhanced plastic pecker…a dildo if you will…charming.



Before I delve (Good word…”Delve”)…into the absolute bullshitocity of this contraption, this reminded me of a funny story.



Somewhere In my teens, I was assisting with my then girlfriend in helping her Aunt move. I was carrying a multiple load of boxes out to an awaiting truck and on top this load, teetered a shoe box. As I navigated my way through a menagerie of appliances and people, that shoe box fell to the floor…popped open…and out spilled a foot long prehistoric dildo, no bells and whistles you understand. Well I wasn’t going to pick it up! I had never seen such before and I was stunned. I just stood there wide eyed looking down at it, as did a few others. Scream gasping the red faced Aunt hustled that baby back into the shoe box and left the room in a storm of chortles. A part of my innocence was shattered that day. Anyway…



The Trojan Twister is merely another example of the media trying to psychologically manipulating the public…another example of pure horseshit in advertising. These commercials are so wrong on so many levels I almost don’t know where to start! BUT…let’s start with the commercials where the couple’s hair is blown back from the use of The Trojan Twister with its variable speeds and 4 unique positions.



Now I suppose I can understand why the female’s hair might be blown back…but…why the males?! What can possibly happen with The Trojan Twister that would blow the males hair back?! What is he getting out of that?! How is using The Trojan Twister more exciting than using his own Flesh Missile?! Huh?! How?!



The second type of commercial for this bullshit product has the male, of the couple, jumping through all kinds of mundane, boring, idiotic and time wasting chores just so the female will make it a “Trojan Twister” night. They even have him inquiring about the female’s friend’s mother’s friend’s Poodle. All for the chance…all for the bestowed honor…all for the blessing of allowing him to use a plastic pecker on her that evening. O…M…G…men…if you are buying this load of crap, America is truly lost! If you are one of those men in those commercials, I don’t want to even know you! If you are in my “Friends List” tell me! I will delete you!



What the hell does a woman in a relationship need with a Trojan Twister?! They don’t even use a fraction of the erections that come their way as it is! If women used all those puppies up and then needed more…maybe…but…I’m thinking not and do you know why? Huh?! Do you know why?! In this selfish little world have you given any consideration to how insulting that is to your man?! Has that ever crossed your mind for even a fraction of a second?!



Oh sure…you have no idea what I mean…well…let us reverse this scenario and see what you think…shall we? Of course we shall…this is my post.



“Sweetheart…if you clean the garage mow the lawn change the oil in the car clean the house cook my dinner iron my clothes bathe the dog take out the trash ask about my friends motorcycle repair the garbage disposal dust mop the kitchen floor and you do all that with a smile on your face, I’ll bring this Pocket Pussy I just bought to bed with us tonight and bang the hell out of it! You can just lay there while I do it and really enjoy yourself! Of course…bring a brush because watching me bang this Pocket Pussy is really going to blow your hair back!”

The Last Chance
13:37 Mar 09 2013
Times Read: 651

We have dawdled around and erected a flag on the Moon…we have a probe meandering about on Mars drilling rocks, procuring samples, examining contents and then sending all the way back to Earth, data…we can travel faster than the speed of sound…we can turn a man into a woman and vice versus…we can probe, manipulate and examine our very existence at the atomic level…we can fire neutron particles at the speed of light around a Super Collider…the entire population of planet Earth can converse in real time on the World Wide Web…we have automobiles that can parallel park themselves…and every computer owner has much more computer power than NASA had/used during that famous Moon landing…BUT…but but but but but but BUT FOR CHRIST’S SAKE…we cannot offer an edible green bean in a TV Diner?! REALLY?!



I have eaten TV Diners most of my life…I have had to…there’s been no woman cooking meals for yours truly…ever! Oh alright…perhaps over the entire course of my 56 years there has been perhaps a dozen times I’ve had a meal prepared for me…perhaps…mostly crap I wouldn’t feed to a Jihadie…such as…Tuna & Peas, but in the main, TV Diners have sustained me. Considering this fact, I have become an expert, a connoisseur if you will, of this dinning genre’ and I have never found…ever…an edible green bean. TV Diner green beans have always tasted…well…see…not really tasted…it’s much like eating a hot green oblong section of pliable plastic. If they didn’t look like green beans…if my mind didn’t have that association…I wouldn’t have known exactly what I was chewing. There have been a few times I’ve actually thrown up in my mouth a little and more than a few times I’ve spit them right back out.



Yesterday’s breakfast was the last chance. I splurged…I bought one Boston Market Beef Stew TV Diner. Now I know…it was a very decadent thing to do considering Boston Market is the premium TV Diner one can purchase…BUT…seeing how beef stew sounded like the breakfast to have and I had never sampled Boston Market, I threw caution to the wind. Sure…the green beans in the beef stew image on the box made me nervous…but…I had to know.



(I just found a pack of Juicy Fruit gum in my tool drawer in the kitchen…that’s crazy! I was looking for my emergency pack of cigarettes because I’m out and I figured I put them in there…but…they’re not. I’m not entirely sure why I even have Juicy Fruit gum…I don’t chew gum and I am also not entirely sure why I didn’t put my emergency cigarettes in a place where I could find them. Not being able to find them defeats the whole purpose of having them in the first place!)



So…I made two slits in the top as instructed…I placed my Boston Market Beef Stew TV Diner in the microwave and set the timer for 4 minutes.



(4 minutes later) ~Bing~



Again as instructed I peeled back the film top and stirred the beef stew and potatoes…skeptically I eyed the green beans…they had that dark green bean color, which is not to my liking, but I held out hope. I don’t know why people say I’m a pessimist. I laid the film cover back and re-inserted the Boston Market Beef Stew TV Diner in the microwave and set the timer for the suggested 3 minutes.



(Where the hell did I put those emergency cigarettes?!)



(3 minutes later) ~Bing~





Piping hot from the microwave I peeled off the film cover and added a dollop (Good word…”Dollop”.) of butter on the mashed potatoes. The moment of truth had arrived.



They sucked.

Live Your Lives
16:30 Mar 04 2013
Times Read: 674

Oh sure…SURE! You all have real lives…we understand…yes yes…we understand (drums fingers on desktop.). You all have Bar-B-Qs and Birthday Parties and Anniversaries and Coffee Dates and Rehearsals and Exercise (scowls) and Croquet and Golf and Bowling and Shopping and Television Shows and Buddies and Camping and Euchre and Lunch Dates and Running Around Your Homes Naked Banging Your Spouse/Significant Other and Oral Sex and Napping and More Oral Sex and Canning Vegetables and Spanking Children and Spanking Your Spouse/Significant Other and Baking Pies/Cakes and Mopping Floors and Dusting (scowls) and Romantic Dinners and Bacon and Dogs/Cats/Snakes/Frogs and Monopoly and being such SPECIAL PEOPLE just takes up…ALL…YOUR…TIME! WE GET IT…we understand…don’t we guys?!



Mr. Tu…”Oh absolutely, sir.”

Michael…”Fuck yeah! We get it!”



They simply don’t have time for us any longer gentlemen. They’re out living real life these days.



Mr. Tu…”Real life is such a bore, sir…~yawns~.”

Michael…”When did we have any goddamn fun in real life?!”



Exactly gentlemen…exactly! We depend on online for our entertainment…for our connecting with fellow humans…but…it seems they have no time for us these days. Whether we like it…or not…we live in a 3 second society…they skip hither and yon from one event to the next with no forethought to the devastation they will leave in their wake.



Mr. Tu…”It is a travesty, sir…they do not deserve our excellent psychosis.”

Michael…”Yeah…THIS SUCKS!”



I agree whole heartedly gentlemen…but…WE must carry on…WE must carry the torch…WE must not fail! It’s too late for us now my demons…too late for a real life…so…let us have great joy for those that do. Let…US…take comfort in knowing the real world prevails still.



Mr. Tu…”Do not despair, sir…Michael and I will never let you down…WE…shall be your eternal servants.”

Michael…”FUCK YEAH!”



I LOVE YOU GUYS!

The Holy Bullwhip of Motel Ding
17:47 Mar 01 2013
Times Read: 686






Dennis…was a demon spawn from Hell.



Yes…that is the actual “Motel Ding”…where I grew up until age 11. I Googled it on a whim for my little graphic and I couldn’t believe it…there it was! It’s crazy! My father was an accountant, but also owned this little slice of Hell…see those two windows on the end? That’s the room where father stored his dirty magazines…trust me…I know…*winks*. Anyway…



Motel Ding sat in rural Northern Ohio, on Rt. 20 and there existed no “Neighborhood” per say. If one traveled directly right…say, 100 yards…a back road dotted with homes would be found. Some had children and some did not…these homes produced a sparse “Friend Pool” for entertainment and at a tender age, one worked with what one had.



My mother and father had departed for a rare week long holiday when news of a new family had arrived on that back road and Dennis…the demon…had arrived with them. Dennis was few years older than I and much…much bigger…Dennis…possessed girth!



To say Dennis and I did not hit it off on meeting would be an understatement. Dennis had a bullying nature and made no bones about not wanting yours truly around. Our first meeting at Clarrs, the home where all available kids would congregate, ended with Dennis manhandling and then slugging me in the mouth. I went home. I went back the very next day, I figured Dennis would probably be sorry…WRONG…slugged in the mouth…went home. I went back the next day and Dennis convinced me I was no match for him…ate some dirt…slugged in the mouth…went home and didn’t go back. Now my days were filled with…well…just me.



Being a Presbyterian in good standing I couldn’t help but see a few parallels between my situation and the Bible Story of “David and Goliath”…but…unfortunately…I had no weapon. I thought perhaps a “Ball Sock”…I could make one of those babies…but…I couldn’t imagine that would make much of a difference, in the outcome, of another meeting with the demon…Dennis. I was vexed.



My parents finally returned from their holiday and had brought gifts for the fruit of their loins. My father handed me and this is no shit…my father handed me a bullwhip! A leather bullwhip! An 8’ leather bullwhip! This wasn’t a “Toy”…this wasn’t braided twine…this was the real…fucking…deal.



It was like God had heard my prayers. Being a Presbyterian in good standing, I fell to my knees…thrust my arms into the sky and cried…”GOD IS GREAT!”. My father looked at me as if I were a retard and simply walked away…but no matter…”The Holy Bullwhip of Motel Ding” had been placed in my care.



After days of euphoric zeal and 10,000 welts, I had achieved a minor level of competence…I could make that bullwhip sing…~CRACK~…and although pinpoint accuracy alluded me…I mean…I wasn’t going to be snuffing out candle flames with it…but…I could hit most any object, most of the time…and so “The Season of Retribution” was upon me…being a Presbyterian in good standing, I whispered a fevered…”Thank You Jesus.”…and began my journey towards destiny.



I rounded the fern trees that signaled the Clarr property…”The Holy Bullwhip of Motel Ding” looped and concealed behind my back…and as I knew he would be…there sat the demon…Dennis…with a smattering of kids.



Upon seeing my arrival, Dennis lumbered to his feet and advancing with clenched fists yelled…”WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE HALEY?!”.



My approach remained constant and the demon stopped dead in his tracks as “The Holy Bullwhip of Motel Ding” uncoiled. I saw demonic confusion as I showcased my expertise…~CRACK~…~CRACK~! I screamed…”I SHALL SMITE THEE!”…and my arm reared back and then struck with Heavenly force.



The demon’s arms and hands flew to cover its face, but my strike was meant for the tender underbelly and found its mark…~CRACK~! With a blood curdling scream the demon turned to run…Jesus whispered to me…”Smite him again!”…so I tickled his buttocks with a little leather action…~CRACK~…and gave chase.



Dennis ran screaming and blubbering…his size and girth now a hindrance…what he used to pummel me now allowed me to stay right with him. “The Holy Bullwhip of Motel Ding” sang a note on his back…~CRACK~! The day erupted in screams.



It took the demon…Dennis…little time to realize that out running my righteous fury was futile…~CRACK~…so…he did the only thing he could…~CRACK~…he ran for the big tree in Clarr’s side yard and leaped up…~CRACK~…for the lowest branch.



Struggling to hoist himself up left me one last shot and I took it…right across his ass…~CRACK~! THAT…got him up in that tree! The branch was too high for me to reach, I paced swearing and making “The Holy Bullwhip of Motel Ding” sing…~CRACK~…~CRACK~…Dennis blubbering and peering out between limbs…~CRACK~…~CRACK~…it was glorious! I evoked Jesus…”JESUS! FLY ME UP INTO THE TREE! JESUS! FLY ME UP INTO THE TREE!”…~CRACK~…~CRACK~…~ CRACK CRACK CRACK~!



And here is where it all went horribly wrong.



“MICHAEL HALEY!”…*Uh oh…it’s old lady Clarr!*…”WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THAT POOR BOY?!”…”WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!’…she yanks “The Holy Bullwhip of Motel Ding” from my hand…”YOU GO HOME RIGHT NOW! I’M CALLING YOUR FATHER! YOU GO HOME! RIGHT NOW!”.



I walked home with the strangest feeling of “Triumph” and “Doom”.



Do you see the awning on the left side of the photograph? One can see just the end of it. That’s where people would walk up and into the office for the Motel. And that’s where my father stood…with his belt off…waiting for me…as I came down the stone driveway.



The irony of being whipped with a leather belt…for basically…whipping a kid with a leather belt…was not lost on me. God works in mysterious ways.



Never did get that bullwhip back.