Saturday, February 28, 2009

Speaking of which...

...what's with women who don't swallow? That's pretty lame.

My ex-girlfriend never swallowed. I remember the first time. I think we were in the back of her Honda CRV. Oh, it was as romantic as a blowjob can be. Like a beautiful candle-lit dinner. Just substitute candlelight with street lights, oncoming headlights, or - if you're really lucky - the beam of a policeman's Maglite.

As always, the first blowjob is a defining moment in a serious relationship. If she's really good, she's probably a whore. If she's terrible, she's probably a whore that gives terrible blowjobs. You can usually estimate the number of dicks she's probably sucked just by her first performance on you. At the time, I would put her at about a 13, but I think she was holding back. Knowing what I know now, I reckon she's probably floating around 600 or so. Ballpark, of course.

Anyways, she's doing her thing and I'm enjoying myself because I think I'm number 14, not 382. Honestly, sex is the best, but you really can't beat a good blow-J. There is almost no work involved. Perhaps you hold her hair for her, which is always a nice gesture - I mean, your cock is in her mouth after all. Otherwise, you just kick back and let the magic happen.

So I'm on the verge and I give her a little heads up. You know, just being courteous so she can prepare her epiglottis accordingly. What does she do? Takes it out. It was at that moment I should have known that she wasn't the one.

For fuck's sake, at least take it in and spit it out afterwards. I can deal with that. What she did was a total JV move. Plus I hate coming on myself. Still, using her high school basketball sweatshirt to clean up was a mild form of poetic justice.

Ladies, let this be a lesson to you all. In fact, here are some criteria to live by, especially if you're ugly and worried the guy won't stick around...

1) Swallow.
2) You don't have to enjoy it.
3) Act like you enjoy it. It can only help.
4) Do not be upset if a guy does not feel like kissing you immediately afterwards. It's semen, for Christ's sake. Gross!
5) Be worried if a guy is eager to kiss you immediately afterwards. Unless he's French, in which case it's perfectly natural.
6) No teeth please.
7) If you're going to be lame about it, at least have the necessary clean-up materials available. Preferably your high school basketball sweatshirt that you cherished while growing up.

Just a little wider, Kellie...

A Bad Idea - Day 3

Oh hey, it's just me. Not jerking off. No big deal. I'm just a monument to self-control is all.

On a related note, a friend of mine told me that when women drink a lot of coffee, it causes their vagina to taste not good. Apparently, the dehyrdration caused by excessive coffee... I don't know... sucks the flavor out or something. I'm also told it's very similar for men. A lot of coffee will make their semen taste awful.

It has been said in many studies and stupid magazines that the key to delicious sex organs and their resulting byproducts is to consume a great deal of citrus. Staying hydrated, eating lots of fruits, and the occasional scrub with a Brillo pad will do wonders for any guy lucky enough to find a girl that swallows.

So good or bad, delicious or disgusting, please keep this all in mind.

In my case, I'm sure that crusty sock is happy to get a break from it either way.

I've always been a sucker for blondes.


Friday, February 27, 2009

SteveChat - Episode 3

I've got a lot of these SteveChats waiting in a queue so they'll be coming up frequently in the coming weeks. I'll tell you who won't be coming...

Sleepo285: check this shit out... mms://
Sleepo285: put that in your browser
TyQuiF: ok
Sleepo285: it's a live camera somewhere in africa, its night time right now so it kinda sucks... but its pointed at a watering hole, and during the day there's like lions and giraffes and zebras and all sorts of shit
TyQuiF: this is how u pass ur time?
Sleepo285: its set on night vision right now so the quality sucks... but during the day its tight
TyQuiF: when is day time?
Sleepo285: i think around midnight
TyQuiF: nice
Sleepo285: one time i saw a giraffe and i named him Pongo
TyQuiF: hahahah
TyQuiF: great name, Kyle

[Long pause in conversation]

Sleepo285: there's something in the watering hole
Sleepo285: the lazy african in charge of zooming in must have fallen asleep


Attention Intern, Part 3

I wrote this one to two female interns who were making booked goods for the office. And never left any for the nightshift. Be wary: you forget to bring me a cupcake, words will fly...

TO: Betty Crocker, Aunt Jemima, Martha Stewart, Rachel Ray and Every Other Female Chef Cliché I Can Think Of
DATE: 06/27/2008

It has come to this analyst’s attention that baked goods are making their way into this office and subsequently into the mouth and stomach of Analyst ******* ****. I will not act as though I understand the complexities, procedures, or downright sorcery involved in creating such sugary chicanery; however, what I will protest is the utter alienation the analysts on the night shift must endure.

Sure, you have no idea who we are and the likelihood that we will ever cross paths is an unlikely likelihood. This does not change the fact that some people enjoy an oatmeal raisin cookie with a tall glass of 1% milk – whole too thick; skim too thin. I am not asking for a personalized chocolate layer cake with caramelized frosting that spells out how awesome I am (although that would be sweet – both figuratively and literally). I only ask that you take those you may never see into consideration whilst preparing a batch of Pecan Sandies or pink-frosted cupcakes.

Truth be told, I’m not even terribly partial to the sweets. I just enjoy receiving pastries, brownies, cookies, Pixie Stix, ice cream, Jolly Ranchers, blueberry muffins, Tootsie Rolls, sponge cakes, Reeses’ Peanut Butter Cups, and other forms of sweet deliciousness for absolutely no reason at all. No, it’s not the treats that brighten my day; it’s the gesture. I just like to know that someone thinks I’m important enough to get a Klondike Bar every now and then (preferably on Thursdays).

Alright, I pretty much lost whatever point I was trying to make when I made mention of a Klondike Bar. I just started thinking of all the unspeakable things I would do for a Klondike Bar that the entire point of this memo was lost on me. In actuality, I’d rather not receive anything. In fact, keep stuffing all those high-glycemic delightfuls down Brandon’s throat (we have a nationally televised wrestling match in four weeks and I’d prefer he be in poor nutritional condition – if you could bring him in a basket of baked potatoes covered in heavy gravy, that would help too). Good day to you.

NOTE: There was a plate of brownies on my desk the next day. Powerful is the written word!


Finding Jobs (And Killing Him)

Things have been pretty rough for me lately. I've temporarily given up masturbation, I stubbed my toe earlier, and I grew up in a house that only had two garages. I've got problems, okay? I don't need anything else to grow wrong that could further complicate my already vastly complicated existence. For instance, if my iPod were to stop working, I might kill someone. Preferably, the dick-face con artist shit-fuck who designed the iPod to malfunction one year after its purchase.

Yeah. This cocksucker right here.

It never fails. Every iPod I've ever had has gone to shit on me. I don't mean that literally. But they have completely broken down just like this. Only I don't laugh afterwards. But in about a year's time, every single iPod I've ever had is totally fucked.

I received my first iPod for Christmas some years ago. I was excited. I had held off longer than the average person and usually kept a discman wedged in my ass during workouts. But this new iPod was going to revolutionize the way I worked out, how I obtained/organized my music, and help me look like a pretentious asshole with those white headphones in my ears. Little did I know, it would become much more vital to survival in this crazy, mixed-up world.

Living and/or commuting in DC has made the iPod an incredible investment for me. I listen to it while walking, working, driving, exercising, sleeping, and especially when setting homeless people on fire. My laptop finally crashed on me (after six years of loyal service) about two months ago. I took solace in the simple fact I still had all of my music resting conveniently at my fingertips - just a few clickwheel clicks away. And then, just yesterday, my iPod dies on me. Like Artex did to Atreyu. Pussy-ass horse.

The first one died for no apparent reason. I was upset. I got a replacement for free. I was relieved. About a year later, that one died for no reason. I was vexed. I got a replacement for roughly $200. I was enraged, but happy with a new iPod. Then the headphone jack broke on that iPod. I was pissed. The handsome guy behind the "Genius Bar" gave me a replacement for free. I was happy again. And now the latest one has died on me. For. No. Fucking. Reason. What. So. Ever. I was infuriated. I almost set two hobos on fire, in addition to my usual one.

Am I the only one this is happening to? Do iPods just dislike me or are other people getting blasted in the ass by Jobs and his army of douchey nerds. For the love of Christ, look at these fucking* losers. Does Steve Jobs just hang out at a Starbucks to find employees? For fuck's sake.

As for Jobs, here's some quotes from that arrogant pile of ostrich excrement...

"A lot of companies have chosen to downsize, and maybe that was the right thing for them. We chose a different path. Our belief was that if we kept putting great products in front of customers, they would continue to open their wallets."

Oh, I bet you just love people opening their wallets, don't you, Steve?

"Be a yardstick of quality. Some people aren't used to an environment where excellence is expected."

Have you ever been to an IHOP, Steve? Nothing but excellence. And I never get a folder with an exclamation point on their pancakes.

"I want to put a ding in the universe."

I want to put a ding in your stupid, stupid face.

Seriously though, I work for federal law enforcement. I can probably get this assholes address. Maybe I could just sit down and talk with him about this issue. Ya know, calm, cordial, and respectable-like. Or I can jam a fork into his forehead.

Now I need a new laptop and a new iPod. When does it end? Ah screw it, I'm just gonna save up and buy this bad boy...

*Wanda Sykes is not funny.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

SteveChat - Episode 2

TyQuiF: yoooooooo
TyQuiF: c;mon
TyQuiF: talk to me, muthasucka
Sleepo285: you smell like booze
TyQuiF: wanna hear a statistic?
TyQuiF: an entire week... not one night sober
Sleepo285: nice work
Sleepo285: so let's hear your "statistic"
TyQuiF: i thought that was it
TyQuiF: 7 for 7??
TyQuiF: that good?
Sleepo285: that's more of a fraction
Sleepo285: a statistic would be more like "a recent poll showed that Quint Fischer spends 100% of his time drinking"
TyQuiF: that sounds much better actually
Sleepo285: "the study went on to find that Mr. Fischer's popularity is at an all time high, while his standards for sexual intercourse are at an all time low"
TyQuiF: also true


A Bad Idea - Day 1

"One: you can't do it. You just can't. This isn't a personal attack towards you, I'm just saying that no man can do it, it goes against nature. The male was biologically designed to spread his seed. You're gonna piss off the seeds! It goes against science! You wanna be the guy who goes against science? And two: are you out of your fucking mind? You're the guy who can't finish a sandwich, you think you can go 40 days?" -some Josh Hartnett movie

This is going to hurt...

Well, I've done it this time. In my infinite wisdom, I've decided to try not having sex with myself for the next forty days. Yes, today is the first day of Lent right now, but that's not why I'm doing it. It just seemed like a good day to start is all. So, in paying homage to Seinfeld and that Josh Hartnett movie, I am going to deprive myself of self-gratification for as long as I can withstand. If all goes according to plan, I will only use my junk for urinating for forty days. This, I assure you, will not be an easy task, especially for me. Hell, if the Metro is delayed too long, I may consider a nice wank to pass the time.

For forty days and forty nights - did you not read the above part?

Hopefully not at your nephew's birthday party, but I make no promises.

I'm not entirely sure, actually. It's not because I'm religious. It's not because I don't enjoy treating my body like an amusement park. Really, I think it may be an interesting experiment that deserves proper observation and subsequent recording. It is more than likely that I will become increasingly irritable around people and increasingly aroused around anything.

I have no fucking idea. Accomplishing this feat will require self-control, discipline, and a host of other traits I do not possess.

The misery begins today: February 26th, 2009. Pray for me. But more importantly, pray for my cock.

NOTE: Fuck this, I've got eight minutes to do some damage...


Sunday, February 22, 2009

The Weather Today...

"Now, what does meteorologist mean in English? It means liar. And what's the best job you can have in the world? It's being the weatherperson in San Diego. It doesn't get any better than that. You're on TV for less than a minute. You've got a 6-figure income. They're like, 'What's the weather going to be like, Lewis?' 'Nice... back to you!'" -Lewis Black

I've just about had it with these weathermen and women. Is there a bigger scam out there? I mean, other than that ShamWow! But seriously, how can they possibly get away with all of their deceit and guile with not so much as a speck of comeuppance? There's another group that operated the same way until a great American hero stepped up and systematically put an end to their skullduggery. They were Communists; he was Senator Joseph R. McCarthy. If only he were here today...

I'll bet there's a whole secret society comprised of these underhanded false-predicting prophets of falsehood. That's right - I used the word "false" twice in that sentence. There's probably an underground lair with candles, robes, chants, and a giant Doppler machine named "The Opposite of George Washington." I can see them plotting our end as I type this...

This guy probably loves warm fronts.

We cannot fall victim to this meteorological treachery. Our way of life is being threatened by these Rossby Wabes! They predict a hurricane, we get a tornado. They predict a snowstorm, we get a fogbow. Who among us is already working alongside these corrupt Commie cockbags? How well do we really know our friends? How well do we know each other? How deep in the fabric of our flag runs this conspiracy? It's too early to tell. Be diligent, my fellow Americans. Cross your fingers and hope for sunny skies...

If we're not careful, we could end up in black and white, too.

SteveChat - Episode 1

Yeah, I'm original.

So my best friend from Connecticut is named Steve. He works for a scrap metal company or something. He's also the author of Future Pope, another link on the left I have yet to cover. Anyways, back in the day he and I had some interesting conversations via AOL Instant Messenger (AIM). Unfortunately, due to the advent of new technologies such as Gmail, text messaging, Morse code, smoke signals, and carrier pigeons, who has the need for something like AIM anymore? Therefore, I've decided to share some of these conversations with the four of you who actually read this blog and the countless others who only check back for additional pictures of Kellie Pickler. Wow. Just typing her name gave me a wicked boner.

Sleepo285: by the way, i have a movie question and who better to ask than you...
TyQuiF: naturally
Sleepo285: it's about armageddon, i saw it a long time ago so my memory is hazy... did they train a bunch of oil diggers how to fly a spaceship instead of training some astronauts how to use a drill? or am i forgetting something?
TyQuiF: hahahahahah
TyQuiF: ur correct
Sleepo285: i was afraid of that
TyQuiF: u forgot one thing...
TyQuiF: it was a rag-tag group of misfit drillers... who, of course, were the best in the world
Sleepo285: thank god for the misfit drillers
Sleepo285: if they had been conformists the world would have been doomed
TyQuiF: but hey, remember this gem of a line... "i've been drilling my whole life... it's a science... the reason i'm the best is cuz i work with the best"
TyQuiF: oh keep it coming, Bruce!!
Sleepo285: hahahaha
TyQuiF: they're eccentric ways made them so successful
Sleepo285: the movie would have been so much better if they had beaten out some conformist drillers for the job
TyQuiF: like a competition of Harry Stamper's Drill Team vs. The World Drill Team
TyQuiF: guys assembled from all across the globe with different bits of knowledge about drilling
Sleepo285: that probably could have added another hour to the film
TyQuiF: and tons more Aerosmith songs
Sleepo285: it's interesting that the end of the world and an Aerosmith power ballad go hand in hand
Sleepo285: interesting, but not surprising
TyQuiF: they should have just named the asteroid Steven Tyler
Sleepo285: why didn't they call us when they were writing the script?
TyQuiF: i think decided to call the writer who came up with that animal cracker bit instead
TyQuiF: Ben Affleck's greatest acting moment
Sleepo285: yeah that really put him on the map


Saturday, February 21, 2009

Links On The Left, Part 2

Continuing with my boorish summaries of the links I've provided on the left of this page, today we cover Fire Joe Morgan Dot Com, or The site was started by a bunch of friends who love baseball, baseball statistics, and dick jokes. The site pretty much revolves around them picking apart the grammar, information, and the stupidity of sports writers and analysts across the country.

Dismally, they have officially stopped posting because most of them are successful Hollywood writers. Ken Tremendous (not his real name), for instance, is one of the writers for The Office. Fun Fact: He also plays Dwight's cousin Mose! While the content available is no longer current, it's still ridiculously funny and informative. Are you a baseball fan? Do you know what OPS is? Do you know what VORP is? Do you think Wins is the best stat to measure a pitcher's success? Better yet, do you think David Eckstein is a great baseball player? Are you really that fucking stupid?

While the site doesn't officially support the firing of Joe Morgan, it really should. Because he is just terrible. In so many ways. Him and Jon Miller should just eat each other and be done with it. For those who are unaware, Joe used to answer questions in an online ESPN chatroom once a week. It was brilliantly titled "JoeChat."

Probably my all-time favorite post: As Long as I'm Here.


Thursday, February 19, 2009

About The Author...

I Fucking Rule.

Scarier Than A Bed Sheet

I had a very traumatic experience recently. After putting over 280,000 miles on my 1990 Nissan Pathfinder, I thought it might be a good idea to buy a new car. So I did. And, of course, it was fucking haunted. Typical, I know.

So like all haunted cars, this thing was crazy. The ignition would turn on and off at random times, the windows would roll down when it was snowing, the doors would lock when I tried getting in and unlock when I was in black neighborhoods. I mean, this thing really liked to fuck with me. It was just like KITT from Knight Rider, except the exact opposite from KITT's usual helpful and generous nature.

"You don't have to yell, Michael. I'm all around you."

So I'm at my wit's end with this thing. I'm using a Ouija Board, suffering through episodes of Ghost Whisperer, and actually using phrases like "wit's end." Needless to say, it was a troublesome situation. I felt like I was in the middle of a full-blown vehicular-poltergeist. I almost went Beetlejuice on this motherfucker with a dinner-party-séance.

Then I found out my ex-girlfriend works for OnStar.

I don't know what she was so bent out of shape about. I'm not the one who made her bulimic. Her fat ass made her do that. Really, I can't believe that bitch broke up with me. My tongue could stimulate the economy. AWWWWWW YEAH!

But in all honesty, I munch a serious box. Just ask Knight Boat...