So What'cha Saying?

I probably could type half of this blog you’re about to read better, but lately has been one of those “I could give a fuck, but I don’t give a fuck” type of ordeals. I still have my google reader set up to read particular blogs, no doubt I do, but in the meantime I’ve been living. And that’s taken up the bulk of my time. I’ve actually gotten quite cozy female wise, and been entertaining that more than you think. Sure...there will be people who text and call considering the fact, but I probably “could give a fuck, but I don’t give a fuck”. So what have I been up to. Plenty.

I woke up one day, same as usual. One pants leg before the other, brushed teeth, mouthwash, washed face, clippers to the beard...the ever typical of myself. Then..I did something I dont normally do. I looked in the mirror. Shit..I was surprised. I think the last time I looked in the mirror this long was the night I spent the night at “Bays” house. Now don’t confuse “Baywith “Bay” that Florida term, it’s nothing of the such. Basically..she was a female I had entertained for a couple years via the social...then once she got out of her long-term relationship decided to use me as a fuck thing. Sure...you’d think thats no problem. But I’m like this with mine.

“Why give you something for free someone’s willing to pay for?”

Moving the fuck on. That ended abruptly. I see her out every now and again, but I’ll look, she’ll look, and I’ll walk right past her. I dont see the novelty in being with someone for years, then mysterious become single and want to “explore options”. You aint missed much sweetheart. She’ll probably read this a/or here about this thinking I’m bashing. I’m not. Promise. I’m past it. Go Cardinals.

In recent months I’ve reflected. Thought a lot. Just like Netta (semi-literate.blogspot.com), I’m a control freak. Yeah, some shit I might ask you to do I might not do myself. It’s a trial and error thing. If you try it and its an error, hey...maybe I don’t need to do it. This comes down to everything from watching television, to penetration, to shit..even trying articles of clothing. I’m just that way. Notice how many “I’s” you’ve seen in this blog. Before I was an “us” and “we” type of alpha male. Too many love longs in my day. Glad we’ve come to terms.

Things I hate that bitches do. Dont get me wrong. the term “bitch” is used in a fashionable sense because according to some women..its not “right” to call them that. Which leads me to the firs thing I hate. Women who instigate and carry on an argument over something so feeble. Granted sure...the make up sex helps. But:

I hate to fucking argue. As a man my only form of defense is to get loud. I’m 23, and have made more women cry than I thought I’d reach by 25. I’m not ATTEMPTING to set a record. Sometimes..I’m LETTING you be right. Just so we can move past it. Shut the fuck up now.
Women who feel the need to bash a male and or female because you weren’t chosen. This goes for males too: Be clear, you weren’t the one. Someone loves you, it just wont be from that particular person. Grab your duffle, your muzzle, and pack it up, shut it down. I’ve been a casualty of this dumb shit once this year.

“Not Really Going To” Sexsters”. Dont go texting me bribing me with pussy. Just give me a time and place. I’ve noticed this shit is like a worldwide epidemic, so its NOT just people local to myself. Those “What you doing tonight texts”..Only to tell me you have plans and or you’re staying in the house. I’ve developed a policy. Answer ALL text messages in 8-16 minute intervals. Make em wait.


I havent quite figured life out yet..But I know this..sooner or later I’ll be 60, 70 years old. And I’ll probably look back in this blog like “damn I did this and that wrong”. That’s a part of my life. And I continue to fuck up. It’s an adventure. Long as I dont die, or have some life altering situation where I have to hide in a box, I’m bound to make a mistake. I’m intitled to it. You’ll hear about it. It’s like drinking a pack of Four Lokos on a Saturday night. It’s so necessary.I hate to fucking argue. As a man my only form of defense is to get loud. I’m 23, and have made more women cry than I thought I’d reach by 25. I’m not ATTEMPTING to set a record. Sometimes..I’m LETTING you be right. Just so we can move past it. Shut the fuck up now.
Women who feel the need to bash a male and or female because you weren’t chosen. This goes for males too: Be clear, you weren’t the one. Someone loves you, it just wont be from that particular person. Grab your duffle, your muzzle, and pack it up, shut it down. I’ve been a casualty of this dumb shit once this year.

“Not Really Going To” Sexsters”. Dont go texting me bribing me with pussy. Just give me a time and place. I’ve noticed this shit is like a worldwide epidemic, so its NOT just people local to myself. Those “What you doing tonight texts”..Only to tell me you have plans and or you’re staying in the house. I’ve developed a policy. Answer ALL text messages in 8-16 minute intervals. Make em wait.I havent quite figured life out yet..But I know this..sooner or later I’ll be 60, 70 years old. And I’ll probably look back in this blog like “damn I did this and that wrong”. That’s a part of my life. And I continue to fuck up. It’s an adventure. Long as I dont die, or have some life altering situation where I have to hide in a box, I’m bound to make a mistake. I’m intitled to it. You’ll hear about it. It’s like drinking a pack of Four Lokos on a Saturday night. It’s so necessary.