i made out with a girl from montreal.
below is the post i wrote way back then but before i give you that repeat let me say this to you who are still checking in with me today.
i heart you. i heart you big time. i am getting carpal again but i will still write you every day without a day off because that is what im here to do.
i was so broke this week that i had to ask someone to loan me some money and i think on monday i can explain to you why i was drained of funds but i need to find out from my lawyer if its kosher.
being broke for an hour was horrible. especially after not being broke for so long.
it made me realize i need to write a really good book. a book so good that all of you who didnt buy how to blog or stiff would say fuckit ive GOTS to buy that one, damn.
and i hate to be just like every other writer in history and write for money but maybe thats how shit gets done. the Lord sees a writer getting his nuts licked and not producing any literature so hes gotta drag his ass in the mud for a little bit so he roughs him up a little and makes him believe that the only way he can get back where he should be is to write all the things that hes been keeping hidden inside.
so last night driving on the glendale freeway, the 2, i decided that thats what my next book will be, all the little secrets that i dont dare write on the busblog, the juicy bits that ive been tucking away inside.
its gonna be a big book and its gonna cost you money.
now heres what i wrote two years ago because im sentimental about canadian girls:
this is new york fashion week and on monday betsey johnson showed her new line. to celebrate miss montreal came over last night dressed up as an 80s ho. betsey would have been proud.
she had a striped shirt dress that barely covered her coochie, fishnets, bangles, pink earrings, and tall fuck me boots. so i fucked her.
you know youre with a good girl when you reach down the fishnets and you’re doing your thing and you whisper that youre sorry but that youre trying to be gentle cuz you dont want to rip her stockings and shes all i dont care if you rip my fucking stockings and she rips em for you.
i suppose theres other ways to know when youre with a good girl but thats one way.
my truest gave me back a few crates of cds that i gave her years back when we split. apparently she never cracked open the ted nugent box set nor any of the motorhead cds or many of the other assorted masterpieces so she brought them over this weekend and last night as miss montreal was over i popped in the first cypress hill cd from my old box of love.
heres a game you can play with cypress hill and a half naked betsey johnson looking canadian girl in your waterbed.
every time that one guy in the background repeats what the main guy says, kiss the girl.
every time they mention drugs of some sort, squeeze her ass.
every time they talk about cops fucking up their shit do something with a boobie.
and like most cds, dont get her naked and dont let her get you naked until the first track is completed. if youre a super good boy wait till the end of the second track.
and of course, dont head for the home stretch until the cd has completed and it starts repeating.
musical cues my friends. life is full of tiny little musical cues to help your unworthy ass out.