This blog has lost its innocence, Katy Perry style.

 I have to tell you firstly that I haven’t written because I was really busy doing loser things like joining the gym, eating doughnuts, and going boot-shopping.  I may have also played phone games and trolled Facebook for God knows what, and I’m really sincerely sorry because I realise that no one knew what to do without my gentle words of eternal wisdom.

Wellll….here I am.

I don’t know if you guys know this about me, but you’re about to find out that I strongly dislike Katy Perry and other similar creatures.  This isn’t a case of the playa’ hatin but the result of being forced by everyone and my daughter to listen to popular songs.   Due to circumstances beyond my control, my lovely and intelligent young daughter has developed a taste for top 40 hits.  I understand that the popularity of anything at her age has a great influence on whether or not she will see the value in it.  I also have a number of peers who are fans of pop music.  It is not my job to correct the lack of taste in my peers, but as far as my child goes, it is a never-ending war, and I’m pleased to announce that my side won the battle against Katy Perry.  

Well my first attempts during the auditory invasion that has been Miss Perry were just weak declarations of disgust.  When ‘California Girls’ came on I  would just tell her, “this song is awful.”  Unfortunately, ten-year-old girls are not concerned with their mothers’ opinions on music.  This is one of the reasons why I don’t understand the point of children.  In fact, I think I’ll ask her what the point of her is when I pick her up from school today.  Maybe she’ll make one of her confused  ’what do you mean?’ faces, and I can answer my own question by being amused at her looks. 

I’m kind of a shit-head.  This is why I make a better personinpilatesclass than a writer. 

So I finally broke Katy’s lyrics down to the child when the song ‘Last Friday night’ just became too much .  You dug your own grave, Katy Perry, because every time the child plays this song I have a new opportunity to disgust her at what is actually happening in the lyrics.  I’m like, “Hey guess what a menage a trois is! That is where three people have sex with each-other!” 

At first she just pretended it didn’t affect her and that she had total loyalty to the song, but my full disclosure must have sunk in because a week after she found out that this song was mostly about getting drunk, my daughter told me she didn’t like Katy Perry anymore.  Whoop.

Quick this is the most important thing I’ll ever write that includes soft-core porn and David Duchovny

Nor your pelvic thrust, dear. Nor your pelvic thrust.

Gotcha!  Just like Duchovny got me tonight when I was feeling lonely and trying something I had never tried before.  This thing was called looking up soft-core porn on Netflix.  I’M SORRY!  I just didn’t feel like redtube.  I’m really sensitive right now.   You’ll be glad to know that Netflix doesn’t really seem to have a lot of it, but I know that my search will go on because I have a cat and I’m single and 30.  Anyways, there was this Red Shoe Diary that was not sexy enough, but it starred David Duchovny.  The opening scene was him and some chick  and involved many sounds of saxophones, and I was growing weary of that.  Weirdly.   When I saw DDs face, I realized I had a movie movie in my instant queue that starred him, and that he is slightly dreamy.   The movie was called The Secret, and I’m about to share it with you.  Promise not to tell. 

The Secret proved to be one that should have been kept from me.  I didn’t read the premise of the movie, and I guess I should have.   I guess I let the pretty faces of actors bewitch me just as the real-life man ones do.  I just go, ‘oh he is pretty with his beard and eyebrows.  He would never.’  These are the times when I am mostly wrong.  When I’m being bewitched by faces, eyebrows, and beards.   They are scratchy on my back, and I love them.   Stupeh. 

So Duchovny is this wonderful husband.  I don’t remember the character’s name, so we will just call him Mulder.  We can tell that he is wonderful by the way he makes a grand anniversary dinner for Hannah, his adoring wife.  The rub lies in the eternally surly teenage daughter, Sam, and her hatred for her mother’s buttinski-ness.  No.  that’s not the rub.  The rub is a semi-fatal car crash that dramatically causes Hannah and Sam to die simultaneously in side-by-side hospital beds while Mulder cowers in the corner.  After the doctors declare time of death on both of their bodies, Hannah’s soul jumps into Sam’s body, so we are left with the awkwardness of a husband and wife mourning the loss of their daughter while the wife occupies her daughter’s body.   The movie doesn’t try to make it any less awkward when it has Hannah say to Mulder (in an effort to seduce him) with the mouth of her daughter, “the mind of a 35-year-old woman in the body of a sixteen year old:  that’s every man’s wet dream.”  I just really think that if I was occupying the body of my daughter it wouldn’t matter how hot Mulder is or how married to  him I am, I wouldn’t find it sexy to make a dad have sex with his daughter’s body.  So the bulk of the movie involved this creepy sexual tension that wanted you to not think it was that creepy (it was), and Hannah discovering her daughter’s life. 

 The lives of teenagers are dark and scary.  Blech. 

 Also, the ending was fucktarded.  Spoiler alert if you’re ever going to watch this piece of creep.  Sam’s soul finally comes back after Hannah does some snort drug that makes people lay and stare at the ceiling.  Sam is initially only back for a night because she  faints when she finds out her mom is dead.  I guess the fainting knocks her soul right back out because Hannah is back in there when she comes to.  Fortunately, Hannah can feel Sam slowly coming back again for reals this time, and we can finally end this nightmare.  We all get through it together.  Hang on.  Knowing that Sam’s permanent return is coming (because now they are body/soul-jumping experts),  Hannah and Mulder make a video of Hannah giving a speech addressing Sam about how great she is and how she can do anything in life.  So Sam watches this video of her mom giving herself a speech, but her mom is occupying her body so the video is of herself speaking as her mom.  She seems pretty okay with it and even lovingly caresses her own face on the television screen.  Double u t f.   What a piece of shit.  Hannah should have apologized to Sam for trying to make her have sex with her dad.  Stupid film.

I watched the whole thing and at the end, I was just like, ‘I don’t need this crap.  I have enough shit going on in my life.’  That’s what it was like.  Should I have stuck to redtube and not journeyed down this rabbit-hole of cinematic waste?  I don’t know. 

Pornography is disgusting but at least it never pretends not to be, and neither do I.

At least that.

I’m rubbing lotion on my balls and Skyping freaks from craigslist

Hey! How'd that get there?

When I say “I’m,” I mean “you’re.”

I think social networking has made people more neurotic, self-centered, and just plain creepy.  When I use the word “people,” I’m mostly meaning “me,” but I think everyone is a little like or at least trying to be or not to be like me.   

 I’m still Facebook friends with my ex and am conflicted about that because of what I’m about to write about right now.  I’m just going to bring you into my head.  You see, it’s  not like I drive past his house to see if he’s home and it’s not like I ever would.  I live on the other side of town now for Christ’s sake.  So I go on Facebook to mind everyone’s business and see what they are eating, and I of course look at his page. I mean we used to spend every possible minute together, so what do you expect?  It’s right there.  All I have to do is click a damn link, and I think most people either do this or lie and say that they don’t do it.  He knows that I’m going to do this. 

So I see this bullshit facebook flirting and picture-posting crap with another girl, and in my head I’m just thinking,  ‘So  that’s what we’re doing? We’re just going on dates to the snow and tagging eachother in pictures?  Huh?  Two weeks, huh? Two weeks is all it takes, huh?  So now I have to go on a date with someone and flaunt it all over Facebook?  Is this your new girlfriend?  Is that what I should do?  IS THAT WHAT WE DO NOW?! AAAAAHHHHHH!!!’  If you have ever screamed inside your head, you know what I’m talking about.  

I mean, you can block a person but that gives the implication that you’re too weak to be able to handle seeing an internet profile.  Also, I blocked him the second time we broke up, and that ended with us moving in together and then breaking up again.  Wow that sounds stupid but have you noticed the title of this page?  This is all so weird, and social networking on the internet is what our kids are growing up with.  Can you imagine how neurotic they are going to be?  Can you imagine going through puberty with access to to the daily drama and musings of a bunch of other people who are also going through puberty?  I want to put on blinders and sound an alarm and rock back and forth in the basement sometimes.  Guess what though!  I have grown up hormones and more experience in getting through bullshit.  Guess what else!  I don’t have a basement and never have.  How do you rock back and forth in a room that doesn’t exist?  You don’t.  That’s how.

I’m mostly okay and really wanted to write about this cool cat I know, but I had to expell that from my brain.

Double Penetration in the Morning

Sweat of a DP runner

Idiots have to take care of their bodies, so that maybe we can use our muscles to distract you from that stupid thing we did.  I just ran 2.85 miles in 26 minutes and 34 seconds, and I have to tell you that when I’m running at my stompiest and I feel like my heart is going to jump ship, the sounds that come out of my mouth are pretty damn similar to a woman being doubly penetrated.  I mean I’ve never actually had that done to myself, but I’ve seen it on the porno computer television program.   I wear ear buds during my run, so I don’t really know what my panting sounds like at full volume, but I have noticed pedestrians turning around and giving me worried looks as I approach them from the rear.  I’m only telling you this because I think you’re fat and if you don’t make noises like you have too many penises in you at least twice a week, you’re not working hard enough.  I’d also like to point out that if I don’t get a day job soon, double penetration may one day mean more to me than running hard.