im procrastinating. im slacking. im not doing what i oughtta.

big fancy website’s gonna print what i type soon and im taking my sweet old time like a fool.

im pretty sure i know what im gonna say and im pretty sure it will be funny but im pretty sure im not gonna write it tonight like i should.

instead im going to check out this hot chick who’s coming over any minute now.

i mean we’re going to watch a movie together.

the problem is so simple.

i dont think im ready for this jelly.

i dont think im ready for prime time.

im a not ready for prime time blogger.

i havent seen too many bad reviews about the busblog out there in the world and i am being asked to do this but still im a little nervous to break on through to the other side.

i know i have to do this though.

i know it will only help me though.

the hot chick is over. you would know this if you walked past because sex and the city is on. shes being a good sport.

we were supposed to watch moulin rouge but tivo deleted it prematurely.

c’est la vie.

shes not into the rum or the blunt or the beer or lots of me but for some reason things are working out right now.

she was miss montreal in 97.

i dont know what we’re going to do after this tv show is over.

i never know whats going on in this reality game show soap opera.

while showering i came across an idea that would probably fly, but why even bother.

a gen x soap opera called isla vista about a college beach town and all the cool kids who go there to live die and rock out steal bicycles experiment with kegs and burn couches every day on cbs.

there really should be a regular farm team for all the best young talent of hollywood to get discovered.

no ones saying it shouldnt be a soap opera where a rock band plays at the end of every episode.

i think the meat lovers pizza and diet pepsi have arrived.

bon appetit!

faith fools + moxie + get your oj

i dont have the guts to make lotsa money.

but i do have the guts to wake up a snoring cheerleader before the alarm sounds. infact im mighty courageous in the waterbed, and if theres one thing i can teach the world it’s whisper, be safe, and experiement.

even if it doesnt come out right i love writing in the mornings. every morning. any morning. mornings where i have to work in an hour or less, mornings when i am working. mornings when women blow the rest of what they have from theirs into my lungs on a sunday morning in southern califuckme again she whispers.

but im writing.


the lilt in her lilt is adorable and my hairline might be retreating, and my tummy might be advancing but the libido still thinks we’re nineteen so i ask the beauty queen to give me ten minutes. i swear baby ten minutes.

its the morning but its the summer morning so i have to take my shirt off to write which she puts on and models infront of the mirror for herself. its a red flannel pajama top thats never been ironed after a million washes so its all fuct but on her and that nattygood long hair it looks spectacular as tanned long legs jut from underneath and disappear into the plush carpet

when did i get plush carpet?

nothing in this is true.

ah yes.

a little sore from grinding this morning with her before going to sleep again. she likes her panties when she sleeps. lots of girls do. daintiest things in the world and yet these very bright girls charmingly seem to consider them protection.

she kisses me on my bald spot and i say eight minutes bring me some cereal dear and she comes back with a tiny variety pack box of frosted flakes and i forget shes not my mom shes the polar opposite, she doesnt serve she receives and now she wants to receive every inch of my attention.

she says nice things about my attention. she says its perfect and i say it could be more perfect and she says yes it could be closer to me and i say seven minutes hot girl and she puts her hair up and poses and lets it down and acts coy and is hyper hyper hyper what has made you so hyper and she says lalalalalalust

shes a singer. not a pro. not even a fake. but she sings her words when shes happy and sings her words when she whines.

when will you coooooooome-herrrrrrrre she complained on the phone last night twirling her hair and stretching on her queen sized sounding like a boarding school girl and people have always asked me how i tolerate such things but im a fan of communication and shes just saying those three magic words i want you added with the best one of all


inpatiently she flips through tivo as the sunlight’s revived in her highlights

she cant sit still and she cant stop making the tv beep and bop and bing

she cant stop flashing me her nothing.

everythings cute on her. i want to take pictures and show you but it doesnt photograph well.

and anyway everythings context

on some it looks dangerous and sexy on others adorable or evil

on her its cute. just enough attention paid. just enough motion made.

the best planned babe of men and lays.

brought her own condoms. flavored the way she likes em. and guess what will happen when a girl likes the taste of something dear gentlemen,

oh and there were other things in her magic bag which would have worried me once upon a time but what did i say in the opening.


and later she will continue to lick my chest in her attempt to break my heart.

killermart + dresarii + scene fashion + sexiest blog of july