The “I Refuse To Be a Gigantic Bleeding Pussy” Blog

Did you know that the odds of you having ever been born are 1 in 400,000,000,000,000? That’s supposed to say one in four hundred trillion in case I typed that big stupid number wrong. So through the chances of your parents being born from their parents and so on, your parents meeting and then choosing to have sweaty coitus together, you out racing the billions of other sperm to your mom’s eggs during the backstage Righteous Brother’s “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling” concert tour gangbang in which you were conceived, surviving the whole gestation period, and then surviving birth; you were born as the biggest lottery winner on Earth. Even if there are like 7.5 billion other birth lottery winners on Earth right now, that’s just a sign that too many couples are playing the lottery. And the odds of a 30 year old man dying from all things imaginable on any given day is 1 in 260,000 and a 30 year old woman’s odds are 1 in 583,000 (once again, fuck your feminist lies). So your odds of dying at any time are far better than the random cosmic chance of your existence and you’ve beaten all of those enormous odds up to this moment in time. So what the fuck is holding any of us back from dominating the planet?

For myself, not only was I born but I have died twice and managed to come back. I have beaten the odds of life and death on different occasions and the fact that I’m not drooling on myself in a wheelchair is a whole other set of odds that I’ve beaten. But who knows, maybe I am dead and this is how shitty the afterlife really is and this blog is a warning from the mysterious hereafter to all of those that read it. Anyway, with all that said, what the fuck is it that’s holding me back from doing whatever I want?

So I have been investing in the stock market for 12 years now and I have spent the good part of this past year teaching myself how to invest rather than relying on my investment manager to do all of the work for me. I’ve been moderately successful with it too. It’s felt kind of cool but two things it hasn’t been is difficult or scary. It’s a little scary I guess, but I’ve never put enough eggs into one basket to worry about going broke. Even with the recent shakiness of the markets, namely China and their bullshit but that’s a whole other topic, I’m never too worried. I need to do something that scares me and I need to feel scared before I dive into it.

I haven’t written anything on here in a few months and I need and want to get back into the habit of writing on here, and while I’m going to continue writing random bullshit I want to dedicate part of this blog to conquering my fears. I don’t even know what those fears really are yet, but I will find them, and I will deal with them, and hopefully I’ll write something all sorts of silly-billy about them. I am going to start very small but of course those fears will naturally progress into conquering bigger fears. I’ll try to do something scary everyday but I doubt that will happen because we’re all probably only a few hundred fears away from playing Russian roulette with a double-barrel shotgun while doing the cinnamon challenge and kidnapping a baby, even if you’re a highly phobic person. So while I try to exercise my fears everyday and repeatedly exercise them to rid myself of those fears, I doubt I’ll write about it everyday, but every week. But if I write it on here, and whether anyone even reads this or not, I am signing a personal promise to overcome as many of my own fears as I can starting tomorrow.

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I Am a Computer Wizard

One million planet Earths can fit inside of our sun, and 9.3 billion of our suns could fit into the hypergiant star called VY Canis Majoris, and now there are even bigger stars that have been discovered. We’re not even specs of dust, we’re pieces of atoms pointlessly floating throughout an endless vacuum filled with an infinite amount of shit that could make all life that we know of extinct in an instant. Even if we master the art of space travel we must leave the Milky Way because it’s supposed to collide with Andromeda in 4 billion years, and if humans do leave the Milky Way I doubt there will be stories told of our dumb shit Facebook posts in other galaxies.

Being that we are random fleas on a dog’s ass and all that any of us will ever do will eventually be forgotten, you should embrace the things that give you joy. Joy is really just a chemical reaction in your brain’s reward system but that’s all we’ve got. If you like money, try to make a lot of money. If you like sex then perfect your ability of getting laid. If you like whatever else then yeah, do what you got to do to get that good feeling as long as you’re not physically injuring others. With all of that being said, my laptop brings me shitloads of joy.

I have heard stories passed down through generations or told in Tweets about somebody’s hard drive crashing, but I had never witnessed or experienced the phenomena in person. I remember when I was a kindergartner and my great grandfather sat me on his knee and told me the story of Earnest Hemingway’s death. He said that Hemingway had spent 25 years culminating his life’s adventures and works into one grand story that would have changed the literary world forever after. When Hemingway finished the story, and after spending hours reading over his finest work, feeling the joy of accomplishment while staring at his computer screen, he clicked on ‘Save’ and his hard drive crashed, erasing everything; and then Earnest took out his favorite shotgun and blew his brains out. I remember that I couldn’t fall asleep that night after hearing that story, and I prayed to the Spaghetti Monster that I never be punished with a crashed hard drive, and I wondered why my great grandpa would tell a story like that to a 5 year old.

Well low and behold, last week my hard drive crashed. Wikipedia says Hemingway died in 1961 and I would have thought that either Bill Gates or Steve Jobs would have improved their hard drives in the 54 years since his death, but apparently not. I wasn’t even looking at porn even though I probably had porn on at least one of the tabs that were open, because I’m a guy, but I was watching random Youtube videos at the time. I clicked on one and got the spinning wheel in the middle of my screen and an audible clicking sound from inside my computer. I turned it off and on again like every computer expert would recommend and got a solid white screen.

Luckily, I have an Ipad and an Iphone and an Internet. So I found all sorts of stuff I should do and I used a disk that came with the computer and ran a diagnostics thing on it and boom, it said the hard drive is poop. I got online with the Apple store because I’m not a computer programmer or a “gaymer” and I just want a computer that I can use as a computer and I don’t have to take a fucking Microsoft class to figure out how to print something with it. But the downside is how ridiculously expensive Apple stuff is. So a new hard drive and service and all that from Apple would be over $400 and there ain’t no way in hell I’m going to pay that. So I went into a full on self education crash course of how computers work. I learned terms like “motherboard” and “solid state drive” and “fedora” and “virginity” and I can basically build a computer myself now.

I found a website that is centered entirely on selling knockoffs and improved components for Apple products for dirt cheap. I ordered a 1 terabyte, 7200 RPM hard drive for my Macbook Pro for $72 that included free shipping, a 3 year warranty, a video on how to install it, and the gift of constantly receiving emails from them every god damn day. It took 10 minutes to unscrew all the little screwies and open up the computer and only 2 minutes to replace the hard drive. Then I spent 48 hours updating the operating system and trying to get all the programs and shit I had before but tried my best to do it without spending any money and I succeeded. Lordy bagordy it’s like a brand new and much better computer now! Everything I had saved on it is gone forever because I’m an idiot that has an external hard drive that I only use for editing videos, but now it has twice the memory, flash saving or something like that, my battery fully charges again and the replacement warning for it is gone, I can actually do the upgrades on my computer now, and I’m crying a little bit as I type this. I’m crying tears of joy because this computer brings so much happiness into my life. And now it’s back, my baby is back, everything I’ve written is erased but she’s back. And I am embracing it right now. And then I’m going to watch porn on it.

I forget. Is it called “body shaming” or “fat denial”?

Boy, am I pooped. I drove my exercycle around my living room for 45 minutes, went on an angry power walk, and then took another cruise into the sunset on my exercycle. I’m not even fat, in fact I’ve been called a ‘ripped bro’ by my fraternity brothers that live in the quads with me, but I’m trying to get even leaner and lighter because of my fussy back and for the additional sex appeal. And I am getting slimmer because it is known human biology that if less energy is introduced into the body then the body will rely on its own stored energy to make up for the loss, and this happens regardless of whatever words are being unintelligently spewed from that human body’s mouth, like the phrases “I barely eat anything!” or “muh genetics!”

 

Okay, so the improperly named grapefruit is one of my favorite fruits and I’ve been going apeshit on them this summer, and I went to buy more of them before dropping by Dr. Bill’s office to pick up my liquor prescription. With all of the gorgeous fruits and vegetables in the HIV’s produce section, their grapefruits are rather overpriced and shitty, so I went to Wal-Mart instead. So I grab two bags of grapefruit at Wal-Mart, totally uneventful, and I’m standing in the self checkout line because I always use self checkout when it’s available. While standing in line these two girls that looked to be in their late teens to early twenties got into line behind me.

 

Height wise I am somewhere between 5 foot 7 inches and 6 foot 3; I’m not sure because I haven’t measured my height in years. Both of these girls behind me were about the same height as me and they were both talking about how they can’t stand short guys. I didn’t really care what they were talking about because I wouldn’t have sex with either one of these girls unless there was money involved, and unlike tall people I can say that I’ve been short my entire life, so I came to terms with it half a lifetime ago. Then one of the girls taps me on the shoulder and asks, “By the way, how tall are you?” And then they giggled amongst themselves for a second. Then she says, “I’m just screwing with you, don’t worry.” I smiled and turned back around.

 

I wasn’t offended because I lack enough autism to know when someone is joking and when someone is trying to piss me off, and she was just joking, maybe even flirting a little judging by how close she was getting to me. This girl was most likely 15 or more years younger than me and outweighed me by at least 50 pounds and she was buying boxes of macaroni and a 2 liter bottle of Dr. Pepper. So I stood there with my back towards them for a couple of minutes and then I turned around and shattered her world with 5 words. I didn’t even make a comment, I asked her a question. I said, “How much do you weigh?”

 

You would have thought that I had just pulled out a gun and shot and killed her cheeseburger right in front of her. Both her and her friend’s jaws dropped in obvious emotional distress.

 

Fat Butt: “Um, excuse me, but what the fuck did you just say?”

 

Me: “I kindly asked how much you weigh? What’s the problem?”

 

Fat Butt’s Stupid Friend: “That is none of your fucking business, asshole.”

 

Me: “You asked me how tall I am. I thought we were getting to know each

other here, what’s your deal?”

 

(A self-checkout counter or whatever you call it opens up in front of us)

 

Fat Butt: “Shut the fuck up and buy your fruit, dick.”

 

Me: “No, we’re becoming friends here and I’m a gentleman. Ladies

first.”

 

Fat Butt: “Whatever.”

 

(Fat Butt and Fat Butt’s Stupid Friend waddle to the self-checkout counter or whatever you call it and buy the garbage that they’ll manage to finish eating before they get home even though it’s supposed to be microwaved first)

 

All right, so how weak and insecure are you if someone asking you a question about something that is visually obvious can offend you? And how “proud” of that visual thing are you if you are offended when somebody asks about it? This is why I just can’t buy into this whole big is beautiful crap. And it’s a kick in the tits to the whole feminism thing too. Women are strong and should legally have all of the same opportunities as men, and they do by the way, but if they make a rude comment or physically assault a man then he has no right to retort or hit back because women are too fragile to fight a man and they’re too stupid to know that insults are normally met with insults.

 

And the being fat thing. It’s what fucking ever. Nobody really cares if you are over weight; it’s the obviously obese people that are growing in size and numbers that has everyone up in arms. And just because you gave up on losing weight doesn’t mean that you can protect your feelings and ailing health by demanding that nobody is allowed to use words like “fat” and “obese” to describe you and then top it all off by saying, “I’m not fat. I’m beautiful!!” Lies do not become truths by saying them louder.

 

Unlike height, weight isn’t entirely genetic either. Some people are inclined to be a little bigger than others but your body does not make itself out of nothing. It’s made from whatever you put into it and whatever you work out of it. If you are a fat ass that tells people that you barely eat anything, I want you to stop eating all together. You already hardly eat anything so eating nothing won’t require much of a change in your diet. You have proven science wrong by getting larger without excess calories and that starvation is still a hypothesis and not a scientific fact. Unfortunately you’ll continue to get fatter because your body defies all logic but just think of all the money you’ll save because you don’t require food to live.

 

I am an adult and I know that it is mean and unfair to pick on any minority within a population because of basic math. Fat people are now the majority in this country and I am tired of being oppressed by them. So for any fat person to openly disagree and destroy any debate that is offered by a person afflicted with less body mass they are using their majority status to silence the words of the minority. Stop throwing your weight around to abuse the less fortunate that will be paying for your dialysis and orthopedic shoes when you are unable to work due to your beautifully large body. Because big is so beautiful that it’s deadly.

Time Heals All Wounds

My birthday is next Sunday. It sucks that it’s on a Sunday because I’ll finally be able to legally drink and all of the bars and booze stores close early on Sunday. I mention my upcoming birthday because I’m starting to feel like my age is catching up to me within in a very short, in an almost immediate, timespan.

 

Today was a real doozy. You see, I am a meathead and have accumulated some injuries over the years and they all seem to have chosen to fuck up my life at the same time. My worst injury, the mother and most likely the spark to all of my other injuries, the general of my pains, domino zero, is my lower back injury. When I touched the gates leading into the unknown and less traveled by living man by dying in a fiery car wreck that claimed the lives of 22 women and children but spared my own, I suffered a dislocated vertebrae. This back injury wasn’t even diagnosed for several years because the doctors were more concerned about the fact that I had lost both of my arms in the accident and that I was unconscious for a month. So a few years later when I had these spastic feelings of my back trying to pull my ass into my torso, I decided to go see a chiropractor. The chiropractor took some x-rays and tried to fix it by jumping on my back a few times, but that dang vertebrae just stayed out of place.

 

Skip to what, like 6, maybe 7 years later. Within those years I had become the biggest specimen of glorious muscled man-beast that wasn’t the leading man in a comic book. So one day, right after I had moved back to Bumfuck Nebraska, I was dead lifting with the gumption of an illegally nitro-rigged cement mixer-dump truck hybrid warship. I’m not even talking about ripping 2 shake weights off the face of the Earth and locking out while heaving them to my hips, I’m talking 2 shake weights in each hand, bitch. So I dead lift these 4 shake weights with perfect form and then set them back down into the craters that they had created on the gym floor. Then these powerlifter guys that constantly watched me with envious and sometimes lustful eyes scuttled up to me and egged me on to do it again. Instead of swallowing my pride and walking away, I chose to prove that I have a small penis by compensating through feats of strength and I picked them 4 sumbitches up again. And as soon as I did it felt like somebody stabbed me in the back with a pitchfork and then that pitchfork was struck by lightning and then when I fell to the floor somebody tazed me repeatedly. Long story short, I ripped that dislocated vertebrae out of the scar tissue and it is now where it should be again. However, every now and then my back muscles spaz out and try to pull that vertebrae back to where it was for a decade, and the shit hurts horribly and makes me unable to walk.

 

So after that long story, here is how my day went. I have been feeling that my back has been getting worse for over a month now due to playing with my nephews and lifting weights and other random activities. Well I woke up around 8:30 AM. I tried to get out of bed but my back would lock up with spasms and holy shit, you don’t want to know what that feels like. So I laid in bed and did some stretches and I finally got out of bed at about 11:30 AM. I used a Resolve carpet cleaning broom as a cane to go to the bathroom and then go to my kitchen. I frazzled a couple of eggs, ate them with some hot sauce, and then opened the fridge to grab a grapefruit from the bottom shelf. Once again lightning came through my basement window and struck me in the back and I was lying in front of my opened fridge until 1:00 PM. I was comfortable on the kitchen floor and didn’t want to deal with more back spasms, so I ate my grapefruit caveman style on the floor and threw the peel and seeds towards the trashcan.

 

Finally, I got my self onto my feet with my Resolve carpet cleaning crutch and waddled to my lil’ babby home gym and grabbed this hollow bar that’s supposed to be used for who knows what and I’ve been using that as a cane instead. Then I crawled back into bed because my back hurts the least while I’m flat on my back. I spent the next 8 or 9 hours in my bed playing dumbshit games on my Ipad. I finally got the courage to try to get out of bed an hour ago and now that I’m sipping a sorority girl drink the pain is easing up.

 

I only tell this boring story because I myself am extremely bored and I would like to share the cruelties that father time can expend on a beautiful soul such as mine. I am currently sitting in a stolen fold out chair because it is the only chair that’s comfortable right now, and I fear getting out of it because of the spazzle attacks when I move. I’ll probably be fine after tomorrow as long as I don’t act like a maroon and try to pray to Lord Arnold through the media of iron. I thought that I would age gracefully because I have always looked young for my age, and I still do, but apparently I was wrong.

Jesus Christ Looks Like a Homosexual Biker

Fucking Facebox during this past month… let’s just settle this right now, okay? It is not a religious issue, it is a legal issue. Getting married provides the couple and the individual with a huge amount of legal rights and tax benefits and it is illegal to deny anyone specific rights due to their race, gender, or sexual preference. It’s 1,138 legal rights to be specific. But whatever, the church fucked itself in its own butt by getting all wrapped up in government matters. Churches are not only tax-exempt but they also receive tax money. That’s money paid by everyone, including the devious sodomites and carpet cleaners. In America, you cannot take money from a group of people without their given consent and then deny them rights, which are quite glorious, such as never having to pay property taxes if your gay lover is 100% bodily retarded due to injuries from fighting in an American war, and other stuffs. And yeah, that’s an actual benefit. Because by being gay, and whatever your personally held belief for someone being gay is doesn’t matter, you cannot deny an entire segment of the population a huge fucking list of rights because they choose to store meat in fart lockers or play hair guitars with their mouths.

 

And the Supreme Court is right and it is in place for a reason. Because when it comes to the majority versus a minority you cannot have 3 wolves and 1 sheep making a majority vote on what they’re going to eat for dinner; it just isn’t fair. The Supreme Court is that outside party that is able to look at the overall situation and then make a proper decision that isn’t based on emotions or religion or public beliefs that aren’t laws and whatever else.

 

 

The church is filled with scandals involving the butt fucking scenarios of underage boys, the butt fuckings of men, illegal money transactions, and random tales of racism. But this, gay marriage, that is the one thing that Christians will go to war for. Pick your fucking battles right you dinguses. You bunch of Chesters want to hate all gays, which really only translates into guys that eat man butt, because really, who hates lesbian porn, am I right? But you really think that two adults choosing to live together while enjoying the rights of all married couples is wrong. I’m not even trying to be super left wing liberal either, I’m just stating facts. If you think that this country was founded on Christian principles then, well, you’re pretty much right. But times change and they change for the better. Stop being a faggot hating faggot and learn to love and live with everyone as a whole instead. I have gay friends and I plan on being in their weddings and eating rainbow cake and being forced to suck dick suckers at gay bachelor (ette?) parties and whatever other gay shit they can think of. I’m not gay so it doesn’t really bother me, it’s all in good fun.

 

Oh, and after all of your religious preaching’s you worship a gay biker with a perfectly manscaped beard and conditioned flowing hair. Fucking hypocrites praying to a faggot looking Hell’s Angel while they hate on the very people that their “savior” would most likely try to get a phone number from. Spit on it and sit on it you gaylords.

A Lot of People Go to College for 15 Years

Well this has been an eventful week! Last Friday I joined the top 39% of American citizens by acquiring a college degree. Although around these parts it’s considered a “what the fuck you going to do with that?” type of degree, I still graduated college. And wowsers, I sure did like college.

 

While receiving my college education I was introduced to binge drinking, marijuana cigarettes, stealing, I learned how to operate an internet system, and I lost my virginity.

 

I vividly remember the night that Radar and Birddawg forced me to get drunk for the first time. It was a Wednesday and I had stopped by their apartment to pick up a book from Furniture class that I had let their roommate Laser borrow. As soon as I walked through the door their apartment hit my face with a stink of incense and ramen noodles. Radar and Birddawg were unable to talk because they were coughing so hard and then Laser vomited on the floor while handing me a bottle of Night Train Express citrus wine. He told me that it tasted like fruit and that everybody was drinking it.

 

“But I don’t even turn thirty-one until this summer”, I said.

“You either open that bottle and turn it upside-down or you can open that door and upside-outside you ditzy bitch”, said Laser.

 

“That doesn’t make any sense”, I said.

 

Then Birddawg held a spatula to my throat in a threatening manner while baby bottling the entire bottle of Night Train down my throat. Apparently I turn into a slut when I’m drunk because I woke up with full makeup on my face and somebody had written “Insert Here” across my top lip and I had a tramp stamp above my ass crack that read, “Coal Train Entrance”. Radar had to explain to me what that meant and I was not proud of it after I found out.

 

Oh, and to anyone in their early to mid thirties that are still looking for that special person to lose their virginity to, just pick someone and get it over with. The first time is such a let down and vaginas are really weird and a little off-putting at first glance and sniff.

 

The biggest thing on my mind today though is a childhood friend, Heather Erickson. I’ve known her since Kindergarten or pretty much as long as I can remember. We were never best friends or anything despite being in many classes together from ages 5 to 18, and at one time we may have been silent enemies because she could always kick my ass at basketball, but we always talked to each other and did all the things that little kids do. Once we entered “adulthood” and bumped into each other at the bar or the gym we’d always be happy to see each other and play catch-up. That’s how childhood friends are; when you no longer see one another on a regular basis, not because one of you did something to ruin the relationship, but just because you separated in the natural drift of life. And when you randomly bump into each other later in life there are no hard feelings for not staying in touch and it’s easy to start up and maintain a conversation about what you’ve missed in their life. Whenever I saw Heather at the YMCA we’d go back and forth about our vast knowledge of fitness and my mental library of supplements and the world of meat-headery, and then we’d go our separate ways.

 

The most significant thing that I remember about my childhood with Heather was that in my three decades of talking shit and delivering insults, she was the first person that I apologized to out of guilt. It was either Kindergarten or first grade, but I pushed her off the side of the slide that had these two fireman poles on each side. She was trying to slide down one of them and I pushed her, causing her to fall and hurt her leg. She didn’t rat me out like most of the nerdy cowards that I picked on before they grew taller than me, but I always talked to her in school and I felt bad about it, so I later told her that I was sorry. I wasn’t forced to say sorry by an adult or because I feared that I would get in trouble, I told her that I was sorry because I genuinely felt bad about hurting her. That’s rare because I have trouble saying sorry.

 

Heather died of cancer this morning and I have been thinking about her all day. I haven’t talked to her since last summer and I don’t even remember what the conversation was about. I knew of her fight with cancer and we had skimmed the surface of it in conversations, but nothing too deep. I’ve spent the entire day moping around my poopy basement apartment and even crying a few times, due to my thoughts of her being gone and the reminder of my own mortality and the lives of other friends. It’s an odd coincidence for this to happen right after I finally finished college and have to throw myself back out into the rat race. Life is the strangest thing, you learn how to pick your own battles but sometimes the battle picks you.

 

I’m sorry Heather, and I hope there are better playgrounds where you are now.

Would You Date a Feminist?

Yes. I would date a feminist because I like the idea of entering a two-way relationship with a woman that already has a victim mentality in which I am the victimizer and I owe her something just because of my very existence. Because she has experienced god awful things that could only be attributed to mine and all other men’s existence. And beauty, ugh. All women have beauty. Whether a woman is pulling poop out of her panties and rubbing it in her hair or if she is wearing a dress with makeup, she is beautiful, and any man that says otherwise is wrong. Because beauty is nothing that should be gained or maintained, women just have it regardless of anything that they do and the ideas of beauty or something being more attractive in comparison to another is a form of primitive thinking.

 

And for the transexuals and whatever other fantasy sex identities there are, as far as my own sexuality goes, I would like to add that I sexually identify as an Attack Helicopter. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of soaring over the oilfields and dropping hot sticky loads on disgusting foreigners. People tell me that a human being becoming a helicopter is impossible and that I am mentally retarded but I don’t care, I am beautiful. I’m having a plastic surgeon install rotary blades, 30 mm cannons and AMG-114 Hellfire missiles onto my body. From now on I want everyone to call me “Apache” and respect my right to kill from above and kill needlessly. If you can’t accept me then you are a heliphobe and you need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding.

 

And the reason that I said yes, I would date a feminist, it  is because I hate myself for no reason and I am on a life long odyssey to find a woman that can hate me at least half as much as I do, for all the same reasons.

 

(this is all just drunken rambling after reading bullshit off of Tumblr for two hours)