The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

OMG...Of Course
18:09 Nov 27 2009
Times Read: 802

...it makes perfect sense...PERFECT SENSE!! I just read an article about a five year study buy a FEMALE German scientist. She has come to the conclusion that a male spending 10 minutes oogling a woman's breasts is equivalent to a 30 minute aerobic work out! I'm shitting you negative! A 30 MINUTE AEROBIC WORK OUT!! Apparently oogling a woman's breasts increases heart rates in males...ummmm...duh...and has all the physical fitness benefits as found in aerobics...increased blood circulation *raises an eyebrow* and the rest.



Jesus...that means...*ponders*...in one day alone...why...why...it's incalculable how healthy I am...wow...how many equivalent aerobic hours have I logged?! In my whole life?! It must be in the billions...perhaps even trillions of hours...*sits in awe*...that explains Hugh Hefner!



My God...I'm going to live forever!

Oddly Enough...
07:37 Nov 24 2009
Times Read: 825

…one dozen beer bottle caps…jiggled in ones’ coat pocket…sounds exactly like sleigh bells! I thought this useful information for the yuletide season…and…no…it’s not like jiggling loose change in ones’ pocket, that has a whole different sound, not sleigh bellesque at all. Beer bottle caps…a dozen Budweiser beer bottle caps vigorously jiggled in a long, black vampires’ coat pocket…sound exactly like sleigh bells!



Now…I know what you men are thinking…*Ah…this is a new amusing way to meet women!*…well…NO! They will look at you as though you’re insane and quickly move away…sure…sure…it’s fun to chase after them screaming HO HO HOOOO while jiggling your Beer Bottle Cap Sleigh Bells, but after the fourth or fifth encounter you are probably going to be escorted out of the bar…trust me on this one…of course you’ll probably want to smoke a cigarette anyway…so…it all works out in the end!



HO HO HOOOOOOOO *jiggle jiggle* HO HO HOOOOOO *jiggle jiggle*

He Went To Jared's
07:37 Nov 21 2009
Times Read: 859




…get the f*ck outta here! Guys…if there’s a Journal Entry you absolutely need to read before this Christmas…it’s THIS ONE!



Don’t fall for these commercials! They are only going to get you into deep…deep…trouble! First you have to understand that places like Jared’s and Zales are the Wal-Marts of the jewelry industry…second…no beautiful women with great breasts are going to kiss you because you bought a pair of teeny weenie , microscopic “diamond” earrings! It’s not going to happen! I don’t care how many times you see the commercial…it’s not going to HAPPEN!



Look…alright…for Christmas you buy the “Love of Your Life” that “Opened End Heart Shape Diamond Necklace”…you know…the one being hawked by that washed up, let’s save the world, face lifted movie starlet and by the way…swishing a mammoth brush dipped in red paint in the shape of two hearts…oh I’m sorry…two opened end hearts…is not ART! It’s not going to bring world peace! Oh sure…I can just see “Abulahrahaha The Terrorist” falling to his knees and proclaiming love for all the decadent infidels after he sees this shinning image of world peace! Get the f*ck outta here! It’s not going to happen! He’s still going to want to cut our heads off! Where was I? Oh yeah…



…buying diamonds is a no-no unless you plan on dropping, at the very least, 5 Gs…I know…I about fainted there myself! Give me a second…whew…alright…*points to head* think about this…you buy the “Has Been Movie Starlet Special" for your honey bunny at Christmas…what can it possibly cost? $250? $350? Maybe even $500? No more than that…at first she’ll be happy about it, after all, it is diamonds…you will probably even procure some Hot Monkey Christmas Sex…BUT…here’s the pinch…there’s going to be in the neighborhood of 6 million men all doing the same thing! Now…what do you think is going to happen when on New Year’s Eve…80 other women show up wearing the same exact necklace?! Could anything scream “White Trash” louder than that?! HUH?! After that you might as well have given her a box of dried turds…a $500 box of dried turds! She’ll probably take it off right then and there! So what’s the lesson here? Unless you are going to drop at the very least…AT…THE…VERY…LEAST…5Gs…forget buying diamonds!



“WHAT CAN WE DO MR. TU…WHAT CAN WE DOOOOOO?!”…I hear you scream…fair enough question. The answer here is to get imaginative…such as…A full on Spa treatment…the works…hunky masseuse and all (make sure you get there the day before and pay said hunky masseuse and EXTRA $100 not to touch her naughty bits)…or…make a candle lit bubble bath, soft music playing, perhaps a single rose in a vase and some high priced chocolate nibbles…then…hire a Chippendale for a half hour to gyrate around for her (same gig as the masseuse, pay an EXTRA $100)! Believe me guys…gifts such as these examples will pay dividends! Let your imaginations go…get wild…give them a gift not soon forgotten! Be original!



Now…now…no need to thank me…I’m here to help!

Check Books And Seat Belts
06:30 Nov 20 2009
Times Read: 881

I have never...ever...not even a little bit...never ever...balanced my check book...never! What a boring goddamn thing that must be to do! Balance a check book? Are you fucking kidding me? You want me to spend minutes and hours of my precious life running down pennies?! Really? You people really do this? Every month?! Seriously? For pennies?



Hell...I don't even open up my bank statements...it's just *rip rip* right in quarters and then a quick pitch into the trash...boy...if my bank only knew how I financially operate they could screw me big time and I'd never know it...well...at least not for a few months. You see...I keep a running tally in my mind of what I have going in there versus the checks I have written...all right here in my noggin! Then every few months I'll check my infallible mental balance against their ATM balance...this is how I balance my check book...I guess you could say...balance my mental check book...I just make the adjustment right there at the ATM machine...easy peesy japenesy! And I never actually write anything down in my check book...I know what I wrote checks for *snorts*!



Oh I hear you...”Mr. Tu...don’t you ever go over drawn?”...alright...I’ll admit...there’s been a few times my mental calculator seemed to have a glitch...but only a few times...twice...twice in 52 years...not bad at all if you ask me! Should I run into a deficit...which as I have stated rarely ever happens...I usually call my bank and start inquiring why my checking balance is wrong? They always eventually ask me what my balance was after I balanced my check book...see...then I have to do a quick fade when they start this balancing check book bullshit...I don’t want them to know how vulnerable I am in this monetary arena! I usually just say...”Oh never mind...I see the problem right here on my check book balancing paper!”...is there such a thing as check book balancing paper? You know...I’ve always absorbed this cosmic feeling that they smile when I say “check book balancing paper”.



Sometimes I get a nice surprise...sometimes I have more in my checking than my mental tally said I had...BONUS! I fucking love that! When that happens I’ll either go out to celebrate and get rip snorting drunk on the cash...or...buy myself a nice big prime rib dinner...OH FUCKING YUM! That can’t happen enough!



I’ve heard stories about people that have gone over and gone over and gone over their bank statements trying to find 5 cents. Get the fuck outta here! Really? There are those of you that are so miserly that a fucking 5 cents is a big deal?! If my mind and the ATM are in agreement of $50 one way or the other...I’m good to go! 5 cents?! I suck up 5 cents with the vacuum cleaner at the car wash without batting an eye...I sure as hell wouldn't spend hours looking for it! That’s insane!



Nope...don’t balance my check book...don’t wear a seat belt either.

He Bought A Can Of Pears
06:35 Nov 19 2009
Times Read: 922

It appears…*ponders*…that I bought a can of pears 10 years ago…*ponders*…I don’t remember that.



Last night I was in bed reading…I always try to read for a few hours before lights out. I was reading away minding my own damn business when suddenly I hear a loud…”THWACK!”. After my heart slowed down…*thump thump…thump thump*… and I found the cigarette I dropped on the floor…I started thinking about the source of that “THWACK!”. It sounded like a gunshot in my kitchen. I silently laid there (not to be confused with having sex) and listened for any moving sounds…which…is just ridiculous considering there’s no way someone could enter here without my knowing about it.



I tried to imagine what made that “THWACK!”…a falling plate? No. A burst pipe on the water heater? No…I couldn’t hear any running spraying water. A badger? No…I will not be getting badgers for another month or so. I was absolutely baffled as to the source of that “THWACK!”.



So now I had two choices…get up and investigate what made that “THWACK!”…which…did not sound like the thing to do considering I sleep naked and I did NOT want to get out from under those warm covers…or…I could wait until today when I had nothing better to do because I don’t have a job because no one is hiring and I have become basically useless…I rolled over…turned the page…and lit another cigarette.



If one leaves a can of pears…for 10 years…in the way back corner of a cupboard…and I am assuming it had a teeny weeny tiny little itsy bisty pin prick of a hole somewhere on it (because of the putrefaction)…IT WILL FUCKING EXPLODE AND SPRAY ALL THE PUTREFIED PEAR GOOP ALL OVER THE INSIDE OF THAT CUPBOARD!!

It Came
23:27 Nov 17 2009
Times Read: 964

(So you're not confused...Michael is my inner child)





I’m always excited when my ‘American Health Quarterly’ comes and it came in the mail today! Oh the treasure trove of helpful, healthy information contained within! It’s a cavalcade of fitness! With my magazine in hand, I race to the refrigerator and snag an ice cold Pepsi, pop a bit of deep fried gristle in my mouth, then race back to the living room and dive into my Lazy Boy Recliner! I wiggle by ass back and forth, adjust the pillows, take a swig of ice cold Pepsi, light up a cigarette *puff puff puff* and I’m ready to get healthy!



With a trembling hand I begin my Fitness Safari…*flip flip flip*…*flip flip flip*…*reads*…hmmmmm…it seems that taking vitamin D causes heart disease and we’ve been taking vitamins for 50 years…”We love our ‘Flintstones Vitamins’ Mr. Tu!”…Yes I know we do Michael *puff puff puff*, but it’s a little late now…so…we’re not going to worry about heart disease from vitamin D…*flip flip flip*…*flip flip flip*…*reads*…*puff puff puff*…~running my ass!~…*flip flip flip*…*reads*…



Well who would’ve thought that prolonged eating of Hotdogs causes colon cancer…”Mr. TUUUUUUUuuuu Mr. TUUuuuuu, we LOVE HOTDOGS!”…Yes Michael *puff puff puff* and especially Coney dogs…”OH YES Mr. Tu YES…Please…PLEASE don’t take away our Hotdogs and Coney dogs!”…I don’t think we have to worry about that my fine young lad, we’ve been eating Hotdogs and Coney dogs for 50 years and our colon isn’t *sip* hanging out any of our orifices, so I think we’re alright…now…run along and keep that nice lady that’s tied down in the bedroom company, while I read us into health…”Okay Mr. Tu…cya later alligator!”…*flip flip flip*…”I SAID CYA LATER ALLIGATOR MR. TU!”…Yes yes yes Michael *puff puff puff* after while crocodile…*flip sip flip puff flip*…*reads*…*flip flip flip*…*reads*…



One can die from snoring? Is this some kind of joke?…*read read read*…*puff sip puff sip puff*…Oral flap closes?…Epidemic?…they are urging me to see my doctor…*puff puff puff*…Michael…MICHAEL…leave that woman alone and come here…MICHAEL!…”Yes Mr. Tu?”…Michael do we snore…Michael…*snaps fingers*…Michael look at me…do we snore Michael?…”No Mr. Tu, we don’t snore.”…you can run along Michael…”Okay Mr. Tu…cya later alliga…”…I said RUN ALONG MICHAEL…*snorts*…no one has ever died from snoring …I don’t know why I buy this stupid fucking magazine!…”I heard that Mr. Tu!”…shut up Michael…*puff puff sip puff*…

Bullweiner
19:12 Nov 15 2009
Times Read: 992

When a male pure bred canine "slips the crayon" to a female of a different pure bred canine, the resulting offspring are "Mutts"! See...it takes two canines of the same pure breed to produce another "pure bred" animal, easy enough to understand eh?



Now I know we live in a very saturated world, I know we need new and exciting things to happen to keep life interesting...but...6 week old...$500..."Labradoodles" are just 6 week old...$500..."Mutts"! I don't care what the AKC says! It's a Mutt! It's not a "breed" of canine! A "Labradoodle"? Sure..they're cute...but...who'd someone have to blow to get that registered as a "breed"? It's a Mutt! Talk about opening a door for trouble!



So I suppose next we'll have the "Jack Russel Sheppard"...the "Rotchowler"...or the "Bullweiner"...well...actually I have one of those *winks*! What happens if a "Pure Bred Labradoodle" bangs a "Cocker Spaniel"? Do we then have a pure bred "Cockerdoodla-do", a canine that only farmers are allowed to have? And why just the farmers?! This could really get very complicated!



So I'm sorry Mrs. Rothschild that "Hank the Labrador" dug under the fence and banged your precious "Missy the Poodle" into next week, but your "Grandpuppies" are "Mutts"! They are not worth $500 dollars!



What's wrong with a Mutt? They're lovely animals, they have tons of personality and as a rule live longer than "Pure Breeds"! Be happy, love them too!



It would have been cuter to call them "Poodladors" *snorts*!

The Mental Hospital Incident
06:27 Nov 15 2009
Times Read: 1,007

I’ll never forget it, I’m not absolutely sure how old I was, perhaps 13 or so. I was still riding my decked out, bad boy, blue metal flake, 5 speed Sting Ray Schwinn chopper bicycle from hell, I had already tied Glenda up and made her kiss me in the woods, so I was older than 11, I wasn’t driving a car yet…well…not legally or during day light hours anyway, so I was somewhere between 11 and 15.



It was a Saturday morning, school had finished for the year and my neighborhood cronies and myself were looking forward to a summer of mayhem (we were experts at mayhem let me tell you). I had on only my cut off jean shorts (must wear for any budding Genghis Kahn) and was headed out the door when my mother called me into the living room.



There sat my mother and father looking very grave. Them sitting together like that meant some very bad weirdorama fucking mojo for yours truly and I immediately went on red alert! They told me they wanted to talk to me (uh oh) and to sit down. They said they were concerned about my behavior and after much discussion (discussion my ass, they rarely spoke) agreed on a plan of help for me (Help? Huh?).



Thank Sunny Jesus they had to have my approval because they wanted me to spend the summer in a Mental Hospital! I shit you not! A Mental Hospital!! At first I thought they were kidding, I kept looking around for a hidden camera...OKAY WHERE'S ALAN FUNT... then after a few minutes I realized they were serious! A MENTAL HOSPITAL! There was one in a city near us, I’m not sure if it’s still there…but…A FUCKING MENTAL HOSPITAL! After the gravity of the situation sank in I became livid, I was pissed! They tried to convince me for half an hour that I needed this, but I kept up a fierce “Get the fuck outta here!” attitude and prevailed. A MENTAL HOSPITAL! I just couldn’t believe it.



Now I was no angel and sure…I might have tied up Glenda in the woods and made her kiss me and alright…I might have gotten into a brawl or two and okay…sometimes mayhem lasted for a few days and nights and…the cops come to everyone’s house every now and then don't they? But…A FUCKING MENTAL HOSPITAL?! *Snoooooooooorts*



It turned out I just should have went, I didn’t realize there were consequences to resistance of mental health. They made me stay home every Saturday morning, almost all summer long because they had people coming to talk to me. First it was a Minister…then it was a State Patrolman…actually he came about 4 times…I would’ve thought after the first time he would have gotten the idea I wasn’t thrilled with the therapy…then women (one was actually very cute, I didn’t mind her, spectacular breasts, I wept and confessed on her shoulder *winks*, sadly she came only once) came from some type of “Reach Out To Youth” bullshit group! I was so pissed! I tried telling them all that it was my mother and father that were nuts…but…hell…*shakes head* they wouldn’t listen.



School finally started again and my “therapy” sessions ended…Jesus…A FUCKING MENTAL HOSPITAL!

I Demon
17:12 Nov 13 2009
Times Read: 1,037

I know people, one for sure, that believe demons actually walk the earth. Not the Hollywood Horror Movie demons, but the soulless evil demon perpetrators of mankind. I would think ,and I’m pretty sure you’d agree, one such example would be Adolph Hitler. I’m not so sure I believe he was a demon from an evil entity, Satan if you will. I think labeling Adolph Hitler a demon conjures up a vision that he could have been identified as such always, and that‘s dangerous. I don’t think he was a demon...not in the literal sense of the word. I think Adolph Hitler was just a man, a man with radical ideals and thoughts, no empathy, and a man with racial and class bigotry. Did these qualities alone determine the classification of “demon”? I don’t think so. Who doesn’t claim these qualities to one degree or another?



Adolph Hitler could have never achieved his moniker of “demon” without a government, a huge number of his countrymen and the German media behind him. He would have never achieved it without a good portion of the world willing to bend to his will. Alone he would just have lived his life as another chump. The power he achieved allowed him to cut an evil notch on history...*raises an eyebrow*.



Charles Manson? Another easy bulls eye for the label “demon”, but was he? I’ve read accounts of his childhood and let me tell you, Hollywood would be hard pressed to come up with a story that bizarre and horrible. I can’t say I believe Charlie had much to say in how he turned out. Was he a demon sent from Hell? I really don’t think so, I think he was made.



Both these men have/had genius IQs...so...one can not pin the word demon from a lack of intelligence. In fact, serial killers, whom I’m sure most people would consider demons, are as a rule highly intelligent.



I sometimes wonder how to even define “evil”. In this world of such confounding desires how is it possible? Take a man that beats a woman, I’m sure many of you would consider that evil, perhaps even consider the man literally a demon...but...what if that’s what the woman wanted? What if that’s what she desired? There are people in this world that enjoy and desire such things, S&M you understand? So...in that view...was it evil? Was the man a demon? A line in one of the “Hellraiser” movies always stuck with me, when the Cenobites came in one of them, “Pinhead” says...”To some we are demons...to others we are angels.”. I wonder how true that statement may in actuality be? Is evil a matter of perception? Is it perception that conjures a demon?



Am I a demon? I will confess there are times I look into my eyes in the mirror and wonder. I can have some pretty naughty thoughts, some I would and have acted on and some that I never would...but still...even the latter are there. Is it the animal side of us that are the demons? I don’t see how that’s possible...an animal can not be a demon...it is as it was created. Does not that side of us enjoy the same distinction?



I’m not sure I know the answers to the questions on the subject of demons and evil...but one thing I do know...YOU’RE ALL EVIL DEMON MONKEYS!

Wasps In Your Ears
00:13 Nov 12 2009
Times Read: 1,056

Thank the Good Lord I’ve always had very physically demanding work to keep myself in relatively good shape…because…I hate exercise…I always have. I can not think of anything more boring and a bigger waste of time than abusing my body on purpose! I had to do that crap all through high school sports…and I swore…to all that was Holy in Valhalla…once I ascended from that 1 2 3 4…2 2 3 4 HELL…I’d never do it again!



Sit ups? Screw sit ups! Push ups? Screw push ups! Squat thrusts? I’m thinking…screw squat thrusts! The only time I want to “sit up” is when I’m reaching for another slice of double cheese with mushroom pizza! The only time I want to do a “push up” is when that female breast flesh is a little below my mouth! And I can not think of a situation that would require a “squat thrust”…well…perhaps if a woman didn’t have any legs…*ponders*…never mind.



But the biggest…the Absolutely High Kahuna…the Grandmother of all deplorable exercise…is running! I loath running! I…L…O…A…T…H…running *scowls*!! I’ve never ran around euphorically with a runners high…NEVER…I logged way too many miles where it felt like someone was driving a bayonet into my ribs! It was horrible...detestable...boring and heinous! The only place I want to run…is to a bar where I can smoke and drink! I run to get a pack of cigarettes! I run to have a shot and a beer and that will be the reason should I throw up...not because I ran 5 miles! I don’t run because I have nothing better to do! There are a billion things that kick the hell out of running...blankly staring at a wall...passed out face down in a puddle of mud...masturbating...masturbating again...licking the bottoms of ash trays...clubbing baby seals...putting wasps in your ears...I think you get the idea.



“Oh Mr. Tu…I don’t think you could even run a mile.”…I hear you say…and my reply is…I DON’T WANT TO RUN A FUCKING MILE! I see no possible reason…in any possible future…that I will have to! And should some unforeseeable cosmic mystical event happen that requires me to run a mile…I can’t imagine what that could possibly be…even with my imagination…you can bet your ass I’ll run that mile with a cigarette and a beer in my hand!



I look at it this way…when I’m dying…there will be a damn good reason for it! I hate the thought of being healthy and dying!



God…I loath running *scowls*!

I Think Therefor I Masturbate
05:34 Nov 11 2009
Times Read: 1,078

My last journal entry has me thinking now. Isn't there something...in whatever religion...that says a sin thought...is the same as if one actually did it? So...if I'm thinking I'm having naughty sex...with a woman tied to my headboard...when I'm masturbating...then...I just should have really done it because it counts the same in the sin department?



Well...that would mean one’s thoughts are real...are your thoughts real? How can something as intangible as a thought be real? A thought has no physical mass...you can’t reach into your mind and pull out a thought and show it to me! Just because I think I’m typing this entry...doesn’t mean I really am...I just think I am and just because I think I’ve seen some of the most gorgeous female breasts here in The Vampire Rave...doesn’t mean they really exist...I could be laying in a coma somewhere? Hello? Hey! Hello?



Is it real in another dimension? In another reality? Is there a bunch of satisfied rope burned women running around somewhere looking for me? Wow...I just thought that...I hope it’s real! When I die is that where I’ll go?! Go to where all those satisfied rope burned women are? WHERE’S MY DYNAMITE?!!! GET ME A VEST!!



Isn’t that just the biggest bunch of bullshit you’ve ever heard? 72 virgins? Get the fuck outta here! What sex starved man wouldn’t blow himself up for 72 virgins? Why only 72 and where did they come from? Are they infidel virgin women? Ooo...that would be HOT! I want 72 Anti-Smoking Nazi virgins...*fans face*! How can those terrorists believe crap like that? See...that’s why I think they’re stupid...I mean...come on!



So...if I’m masturbating with a certain woman in mind...and that’s real...somewhere...and I am assuming said woman in this realm doesn’t know it...maybe...does that mean she is a totally submissive rope loving doppelganger whether she likes it or not? Can she exist in two places at the same time by the power of my mind?



Do you think that ...me...in the other place can fantasize and masturbate as well? How many do you think there could be? He surly isn’t fantasizing my real sex life...so he must be making yet another reality in yet another dimension! You know...*ponders*...if my real sex life is the result of another me in another realm masturbating...when I get there...I’m going to kill that BASTARD!



*Ponders*...it is possible...that another “me” is actually governing my sexual appetites? Why should I believe I’m the one calling the shots? Perhaps I’m not...and if I’m not...how can a sin be held against me? See...I might not responsible at all when I tie a woman’s wrists to my headboard! I just may have no choice.



Wait...wait...if I’m masturbating with a certain woman in mind...and we’re both in another dimension...then...then...oh never mind.

The Sleepy Penis
09:48 Nov 08 2009
Times Read: 1,110

This will be my final penis journal entry…this will bring to an end my “Penis Trilogy”…I know…I know…it’s very sad…but…I hope you ladies have gleaned some insight into the male perspective regarding “The Pristine One”.



When my divorce became final…many years ago…”The Dork”, as I sometimes affectionately called him, went into some kind of “Penile Rejection Coma”…now…there was no warning in the interval of time between my God sanctioned bang and the arrival of my new God non-sanctioned bang.



In those first few years of freedom he was wide awake and responsive to visual stimulus…he was quick to stand at attention…and still entirely gullible…”That’s Heather Locklear”…”no it’s not, that’s your hand”…”No it’s not that’s Heather Locklear!”…”oh alright”…his fleshly powers seemed to be at their zenith…he was insatiable!



So how was I to know…how could I have suspected the horror that lay in wait on the horizon? There was no warning…no tell tale signs…no “Dork Alert” of any kind! THE BASTARD!



After a few years I met a woman in a bar (where else) and this bar was in a neighboring town. Her and I hit it off right away…now…now…believe it or not Mr. Tu can be incredibly charming when he’s drunk…alright…I admit…sometimes Mr. Tu can also be an obnoxious knob when he’s drunk…but this time I managed to be charming and we enjoyed being together…we honestly made each other laugh. I went down there every weekend to see her and…how I knew I don’t know…but…on the fourth weekend it was assumed I was going to spend the night at her place. HOT MONKEY SEX BABY…HOT MONKEY SEX! After my drought …I was ready…~Sweet Sunny Jesus the horror~



When we arrived at her little apartment, after the obligatory spooning…kissing, fondling, sweet nothings, finding something to tie her wrists to her head board with…you know…the old standards…she led me to her bedroom and it was ON! Ripping, tearing, bouncing, smooching over here, biting over there, just a cavalcade of ferocious sexualatory frenzy! Wait...something's wrong...wait...whAT THE HELL?! I HAVE A SLEEPY PENIS!! OMG! I HAVE THE DREADED SLEEPY PENIS! (Ladies? You think you know betrayal? Your husband slept with your best friend? Your best friend slept with your husband? You don't know betrayal till you've had a sleepy penis let me tell you!). He was dead...I had a dead Penisauras Rex..."What the hell are you doing?!"...I urgently whispered...he just lay there like a little Autistic Turtle trapped deep inside his shell! WAKE UP!! WAAAAKE UP! WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING?! WHERE ART THOU OH HIGH HARD ONE?! JESUS CHRIST! HELP ME JESUS! HELP ME!



I had to utter the one sentence that every man lives in fear of..."This has never happened to me before." THE FUCKING HORROR!!!! You think you know depression? Humiliation? Worthlessness? HA! Not even close!



The next weekend she strolled into the bar on another man's arm...which led directly to my first, of two, beer bottle throwing incidents...but...that's another blog...God...that bouncer was fucking huge!

Cleanis Penis
05:56 Nov 07 2009
Times Read: 1,132

I have never…ever…Ever…EVER…had a “One Night Stand”…I have never met a strange woman anywhere and immediately had sex with her…EVER! I don’t know where she might have been and who she might have dallied with! Alright…I suppose there’s been a time or two I played a little “Slap and Tickle”…but…if she started chirping about me using “The Pristine One”…well…she was just going to have to wait until I did my evaluation of the situation and that usually took a number of weeks. I needed to meet her friends…find out exactly who her last lover was…these sorts of observances…and lastly the eye contact question needed to be addressed…”Is there anything you need to tell me?”! If…after all that…I am satisfied…then I tie her down!



Oh…I hear you loud and clear…”Why Mr. Tu…why would all that be required by your Cleanis Penis?”…fair enough question. I have also never…ever…Ever…EVER…used a condom…I have never wrapped that rascal…nor will I ever! NOR…WILL…I…EVER!



Look…I get angry when I try to open a DVD…”DO THEY WANT ME TO USE THIS OR NOT!”…I’ll scream as I wrestle with the shrink wrap. This sort of behavior is not recommended for moments of amour and passion! Nor is a two or three minute break in the action recommended as well! NO…DON’T SAY IT…do not tell me sometimes a woman will use her mouth to put it on because I would never kiss her again! THAT‘S DISGUSTING!



God…your voices are like bees in my brain…I hear you…”Sweet Sunny Jesus Mr. Tu…that’s irresponsible and reckless!”…well…I might concede that to a point…you must understand my area of hunting is rather small…not like the large metropolitan areas you all hunt…so though not impossible to fall upon a woman with surprises…it is much less likely and my screening process has proved reliable for 43 years…”But Mr. Tu you’re 52!”….your analytical mind asks…yes I am…I HAVEN’T HAD SEX IN 9 YEARS! I HAVEN’T HAD SEX IN 9 YEARS! I HAVEN’T HAD SEX IN 9 YEARS!!!!!



Condoms are out…OUT! NO! NYET! NAY! If you insist I wear a condom…then…I insist you wear a plastic bag over your head when I kiss you…God only knows what’s been in that mouth! Was that insulting? I find it no more insulting than you insinuating that my Pristine One is diseased ridden!



Now…I’m not unreasonable…I understand the sexual catastrophes of our current little world and I understand people are not always going to tell one the truth…God…just think what a Cleanis Penis must be worth on the black market these days…I think the best thing to do should a potential lover fail the screening process and be in question…both go to the hospital and have everything given the old once over…be sure…yes…yes…that’s the way to go!



I’M NOT WEARING A CONDOM! MINE IS A CLEAN MACHINE!!



Ps. Do you know what the carbon foot print of condom manufacturing is? All the chemicals it takes to produce them?! GLOBAL WARMING…GLOBAL WARMING…SAVE THE PLANET…STOP BUYING CONDOMS…STOP BUYING CONDOMS!!!!

My Precious Penis
06:01 Nov 06 2009
Times Read: 1,154

My Penis is like a fierce Lion running free across the African savannah…it’s like the Bald Eagle soaring high on warm air currents hunting for prey, patiently waiting to swoop down and nab that delicious little bunny…it’s like a majestic Bull Elephant storming across the plain trumpeting his wild call…IIIEEeeeEee

Eeeee…IIIEEEeeeEEeeeEe…IIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!



What is more magnificent than one’s own penis? Is there anything on the face of God’s green earth more loyal to a man than his trusty Bullweiner?! He’s Tonto to our Lone Ranger…he’s Robin to our Batman…he’s every man’s real live Incredible Hulk…he’s steel…he’s the most precious possession a man has! Ladies do you have any appendage that can rise up to over 10 times it’s size and roar? RRRROOOOOOOOOAAARRS!! No…I didn’t think you did…now now…let’s keep that penis envy under control!



He’s always there when we men need him…and many times when we don’t…sure he can be a bother on occasion…but…we men wouldn’t give up our Penisauras Rex for anything…no…not even for you…after all…if we gave him up for you what would be the point? Would you really want a man without a Penisauras Rex? ROOOOOOOOAAAAARS! DOWN BOY! HEEL…HEEEEEEEEEL BOY!



So…in view of his importance to we men, why…why in the world would you ladies think we men would just stick his neck out willy nilly? Do you really think we are so careless with one as pristine as him? Do you think we want to see him diminished in any way?! Do you think we want to see him diseased and in some horrible form of decay? Nay I say! Nay!



You women are not the only one’s that have respect for the naughty parts of their bodies. We men don’t dash about dropping him into any gaping maw that may present itself! God…I’ve heard some horror stories!



Try to remember ladies that the next time you are offered “He That Grows”…have a little respect…a little reverence…he may have been waiting…just for you…ROOOOooOOOAAAAAaaaAARS! DOWN BOY!

Dear Santa
01:33 Nov 05 2009
Times Read: 1,183

…9 years…9 YEARS…THAT’S ALMOST A DECADE…I’ve faithfully written and mailed you my deepest, most sincere Christmas Wish List! I didn’t ask for the world…did I? My Christmas Wish List was pretty damn modest compared to most and I’ve been good…I’VE BEEN GOOD!! EVERY YEAR! GOOD!!GOOD GOOD GOOD GOOD…GOOD!



9 years I’ve put out warm chocolate chip cookies and a tall glass of cold milk…made sure the Cinnamon Glade Air Fresheners were plugged in…made sure my humble abode sported the proper festive decorations and made DAMN sure a Penthouse and a Hustler lay discretely beside the couch.



Then…every year…when I woke Christmas morning and ran to the Christmas tree what did I find? NOTHING! ZIP! BUPKUS! NADA! THE BIG GOOSE EGG! 0! IT WAS LIKE TALKING TO A LIBERAL…THERE WAS JUST NOTHING THERE!!!



Now you listen to me you fat bastard…you are going to get the lead out of that red clad buttocks of yours and make good on my Christmas Wish List this year! THIS YEAR! DO YOU HEAR ME?! HUH?! YOU BETTER HEAR ME BUB!! I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR HAPPY HORSE SH*T!



Now…the only thing I want to see bare this Christmas morning is…MY CHRISTMAS WISH LIST! AND MAKE SURE THEY’RE FULL AND FIRM! You remember the scene in “The Godfather”? Ka-Peesh? Yeah…yeah…you’re getting it! You won’t disappoint me again this year if you know what‘s good for Rudolph!!



OOOooooOo….Oooooooooo….you bastard!

Nice Guys And T&P
01:56 Nov 04 2009
Times Read: 1,206

Now...the same woman that used to pupe in front of me when I took a bath...I HATE FUCKING BATHS...also used to make...and eat...the most disgusting entree I’ve ever encountered...Tuna And Peas! Tuna And Peas?! Are you fucking kidding me?! She ate this horror dead cold! Right from the refrigerator! Have you ever seen Tuna And Peas?! It’s spaghetti noodles with tuna, mayo and as if those combinations weren’t bad enough...for some ungodly reason one includes peas! It looks like something a cat would throw up!



I remember the first time she offered this...this...this abomination as a meal. I just looked at the Tuna And Peas...then at her...then back at the Tuna And Peas...then at her...back to the Tuna And Peas and inquired...”What the fuck is this?!”...her reply was...”It’s Tuna And Peas...it’s good and are you going to tie my wrists to the headboard again tonight?”...to which I replied...”I’m not eating this shit...end of story and...yes!”.



Well...I’ll tell you dear readers right now...unashamedly...my “Nice Guy” facade concerning cuisine went right out the window...that little curtain dropped like a ten thousand pound rock! Every time after that, when I was asked what I wanted to eat, I screamed out loud and clear...”CHARBROILED DEAD FUCKING COW!”!



Not a lot matters to me...I’ll go along with whatever a woman wants...pretty much...to a point...just don’t expect me to stand around a Sherwin Williams for an hour and a fucking half looking at color swatches...I DON’T CARE! I’m not trying to be a “Nice Guy”...I’m not being indecisive...I’m not being weak...I DON’T CARE WHAT COLOR WE PAINT THE FUCKING WALL!!! JUST BUY SOMETHING! I STILL HAVE COWS TO HUNT THIS AFTERNOON!!!



They say “Nice Guys” finish last...yeah...and they also get Tuna And Peas!

That Damn Spot
04:57 Nov 03 2009
Times Read: 1,234

Earlier, I was driving to Kroger’s to purchase my daily steak and green beans, this is something I do everyday and it is the preferred meal of most vampires I know. I was cruising down the boulevard minding my own damn business when I glanced at my hand on the steering wheel…I violently swerved to the median and jammed on my breaks! Other cars started vigorously honking their horns and speeding around me, but I couldn’t move, so I gave them the finger…I sat and stared at my hand…I stared more…slowly I brought my hand closer to my face…*What the hell is that?*!



It must be a smudge of ash I thought, I licked a finger and rubbed furiously at the disfigurement…I rubbed some more…it wasn’t coming off! I wiped my hand on my pants leg…still there…I hit at it and rubbed some more…still there…*Oh My God!…there’s another, smaller one!*…I opened my car door and threw up!



I brought my hand right up to my eye…what could this be?…is it cancer?…I looked long and hard to make sure it wasn’t magic marker or something just as silly…no…no…these spots are definitely not magic marker…I rubbed at them one more time…still there.



Slowly…like unbuttoning a woman’s blouse…the horrific realization began to assault my mind…I leaned out the car door and threw up again…these were age spots!! Jesus Christ! Age spots!! I felt dizzy…I grasped the steering wheel with both hands to steady myself! Quickly I looked at my left hand…to my relief there were no blemishes…I looked back to my right hand…Jesus Christ! Age spots!!! My right hand has “Old Man Hand”! I put my forehead on the steering wheel and gave another passing, honking motorist the finger! The driver yelled something at me on his way by so I leaned out my window and screamed…”Yeahhh asshole…come on back and I’ll beat you into the hospital with my…OLD MAN HAND!!”!! I sighed and wept.



I always told myself in my younger years that as I grew older, I’d grow old gracefully, I wouldn’t let the ravages of time bother me…well…HOW DO I GET THESE DEMON AGE SPOTS OFF MY FUCKING HAND?!?!?! COME ON…THERE HAS TO BE SOME KIND OF FOLK REMEDY…LEMON JUICE? WILL FUCKING LEMON JUICE DO IT? HELP ME!! PLEASE…PLEASE HELP ME!! CAN I CUT THEM OFF WITH A RAZOR? BURN THEM OFF WITH A CIGARETTE? CAN I COVER THEM UP WITH A TATTOO?



OMG….I'm going to throw up again…

Rub A Dub Dub
03:01 Nov 03 2009
Times Read: 1,244

I have taken a shower with a woman one time and one time only...if memory serves it was supposed to be a Romantic Novel scenario...but...I really didn't see how that was supposed to happen...it felt anything but romantic to me. Besides...how is one going to have Hot Monkey Lovin' in a shower?



How was I supposed to know how hot she liked the fucking water? I'm not a goddamned mind reader! It felt just plain wrong in that shower...someone was going to be standing on just one foot and that sounds like a rather risky proposition to me...one could fall and break a hip...if one's lucky...just a hip...after all...one would have another body dropping on them like a rock...God only knows what could happen to "The Pristine One" in a catastrophe like that! I’m breaking out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.



Then one has to deal with who is going to have their back away from the water...who gets to freeze and who gets to drown...“WATCH OUT FOR THAT FUCKING BAR OF SOAP!...I KNOW THAT DAMN THING FELL IN HERE!!”...then one is feeling around the bottom of the tub with their foot trying to find the soap when one is supposed to be Bumping Uglies!



Gals...a shower is not a romantic place for the old IN/OUT! One gets clean in a shower...one washes areas that are better left unsaid in a shower...being a drowning...or a freezing...contortionist doesn’t appeal to me in anyway...a shower is supposed to be private and relaxing. Speaking of “private and relaxing” let me address this...



...I once lived with a woman where we only had a bath...no shower...I HATE FUCKING BATHS...anyway...I’d be taking a nice...PRIVATE...hot bath...laying back just letting the days crappolla ease away. All of a sudden that “Honey Bunny” would walk right in...drop her drawers...sit down on the Lav-Ah-Twah (that’s French for “toilet”)...and take a dump with me right there in the tub! I was appalled! A...P...P...A...L...L...E...D!!! I might have been a whole foot away from this horror...not to mention at eye level to boot! I couldn’t believe it was even happening! I know my face had a...”What the f*ck are you doing?”...look on it...but...she ignored me. Sweet Sunny Jesus...to this day I still have that vision of her wiping...OMG!!!



*Holds arms out wide* MATES OF THE WORLD HEAR ME! CRAP ALONE!! NO ONE WANTS TO SEE YOU DO THAT! IT’S DISGUSTING! GETTING CLEAN AND SCREWING ARE NOT SYMPATICO!! LEAVE THE SHOWER A SHOWER!!