Your New Boyfriend Is An Annoying Turd

Redhead Couple Smiling

So you probably don’t remember much of me any more, but I was there before your life apparently opened Pandora’s Box and hell broke loose.

I was there when things were a little tough and you were lonely.

I was there when life started to change and you felt it was getting out of hand.

I was there when you swore me to secrecy and threatened me with death when you decided that you were going to get a divorce, even though there were still children in the house that would also have to deal with the separation of both mother and father.

I was there when you publicly announced that you were seeking a divorce and your husband had left the house to sit in with your children.

I was there to tell you that I loved you even though things were difficult and that I always would.

But I was NOT there when you turned that lonely house into a 24 hour party machine that went on for weeks, even months as man after man came to keep you company day and night during your separation period from your husband.

I was NOT there to hit on you, to say that I want to do things to you that I have only done to you in my dreams. And would love to do to you in real life, but now the reality of those chances are shot to hell.

I was NOT there to provide immediate comfort and that was based on distance.

In fact, I totally kept those creepy factors out of the way and never saw them as options when communicating with you. I only took the opportunity to remind you that you were loved and it didn’t HAVE to mean that I wanted to wear you like a hat.

I sat and watched as you sank into a depression.

I sat and watched as you struggled from within on every level of your separation from your husband.

I sat and watched because I knew that there would be nothing in this world that I could say to you that was going to make any kind of impact and you were simply going to have to deal with this by yourself. Even if I was there to support you in the background.

I sat and watched and even dodged as random men kept hounding you, knowing that they were only coming on to you because they wanted your body.

Let’s face it. I among many other men and women think you are in the top 40 of the Cat’s Meow!! And #1 in your local area.

But again, there’s nothing for me because I cannot do anything about it because of the distances.

So now you are coming out of your shadow, attempting to break your shell. But the pain of divorce is still there. Its going to be. And always will be until the end of time. Seriously speaking though, its all going to be based on you and your former husband in how well this goes over for both the two of you and your children. And apparently, the two of you have been doing nothing but playing war crimes against one another, ultimately hurting your children they bear no physical or visible scars.

Moving on is a good thing. And by the looks of it, you have. You have now a new boyfriend. I don’t know where he came from, I do not know anything about him. But still congratulations might as well still be in order? COUPLE-ARGUMENT-FUNNY-large570

But it is something that I picked up on a long long time ago as the guy has been only inches from you (figuratively and probably literally) wherever you mark your spot and name.

Your social networking sites are just FULL of his presence and if he’s not first to say something….. what does he do? Throw a tantrum, insult the people above him. What kind of man is that?

He’s always there! I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with this man but he is ALWAYS ALWAYS  there. I get that you are happy and all of that and you are starting a new relationship, but where the hell is the oxygen that you breathe?

With him being there all of the time, he has been nothing but a giant annoying turd. And I can almost bet…. maybe even guarantee you….. that because of his omniscience, he’s pushing and scaring away other people from your life. And that may or may not end up to be a bad thing for you. Particularly if he’s scaring or pushing away the kinds of people that you actually NEED in your life right now.

What kind of person can dare call himself a man if he’s being a giant turd???

Wake up, child!!!!

He must be hung like the river horses of the Viking north, or his tongue capable of slithering like the desert cobra in July in the Sahara. Because I don’t think that many other women would put up with what you are putting up with.

I hope I’m wrong. I hope that you are not losing friends and colleagues based upon his actions. That would totally suck. But you’re looking to be driving in that exact direction.

Open your eyes before you fall off the cliff.

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That’s What You Get

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In the not so distant past, I crossed a path with a pin-up redheaded model who claims to be originally from the great state of California.

Things did NOT move well. They did NOT move quickly. Instead I found myself only talking to her in a one-on-one conversation simply because SHE was bored.

Geez, thanks a lot!!

But I stuck it out a little while longer. Not long though.

I joined her social networking sites. Every last one of them. Found out that she had photographs for sale. I also found out that she had a photo shoot session coming soon (at the time) and it was close by. I said something along the lines of meeting up with her and saying hello at the airport and then letting her go on her way.

Airports. VERY public. Full of people. Security don’t take shit from any one it seems any more.  So why not?

The burning core that started the flame that turned into the inferno that was the end of all ties with her began to glow.

3×5 photographs – $25, unsigned. Costs more if you want it signed. Poster sizes – $40 and up. Unsigned.

What the living hell? I could get a top rate model who gets paid MILLIONS of dollars a year and buy an unsigned poster for less than that.

So I asked why things were so high. I ended up getting the snobby model stereotype of an answer. It was one of the worst feelings in the world.

SHE was the pin-up… I was nothing but the fan. Holier than thou.

Then she explained that she didn’t live in California but grew up there. She was married to a man in the military and she is now stationed close by with her husband, but he’s always gone.

When she confessed that she had been talking/chatting with me for as long as she had been just because she was bored and her children were taking a nap….. I lost ALL interest in her.

How much more rude can you get?

Apparently, there was room for improvement.

She whined and she complained and she cried and she bitched about people being terribly mean to her, via her social networking sites. She kept changing her profile photograph, probably every 6-18 hours. And then sought out the compassion and pity of her thousands of people who were following her. Each and every time she had a boo-boo on her thumb or toe, she would cry and whine about it, and EXPECT people to love her in spite of her physical pain from the superficial injury she sustained.

I guess she just could not see that most if not all of the anguish that she felt most days were because of her own actions.

Then I saw that some other people were supportive of her. I WARNED them that she was actually married. But they didn’t care about it. So I left them to whatever they were going to do, and usually that meant that I would see them coddle the clumsy cow whenever she made an effort to bitch on her social networking sites.

Not something I’m going to do. To each their own. These guys KNOW she is married and all they wanna do is make her a notch.

To this day she continues her deadly game of crying wolf whenever she stumps her toe.

And now (as a model) she wants to go to Disneyland to participate in some major pin-up model event being hosted there.  But she wants other people to help pay for it.

She’s attempting to raise $1,000 on a popular fundraising site. Even in her description she makes a mention that she missed some event that happened earlier in Las Vegas (again whining and crying) and didn’t want to miss the event in Disneyland.

Hold on a second. Let’s think about this and let’s compare:

I did the same thing when I wanted to go to a sledge hockey tournament in Boston this year. I did not even reach 20% of the goal and never went to the tournament. I have NO job, NO extra money to supplement my income, and NO spouse or significant other to help out.

She has her pin-up modeling career as her job, and she can supplement her job with the totally expensive photography that she has of herself. AND a husband who is a member of the United States military and receiving a pay check.

Both campaigns based on desire, not necessity.

Anyone else see the ridiculousness?

So even those people that I know who are supportive of her are sharing along her fundraising site.

It has been posted less than a half of a day at this point, and still its been shared over 30 times throughout various sites, and has not received a single donation.

That just speaks volumes…… doesn’t it????

Sis Boom Boo-YAH!

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This afternoon I would embark on a string of foolishness and humor and hilarity that would land me in a position that I would have never thought I would be in, even if you would have told me that I would go there.

My stupid comments that were oozing with humor and well known sarcasm were posted on Facebook on a profile that belonged to a former cheerleader that I had met at a hockey game probably two years ago, maybe three.

She found the comments funny and then I sent her a personal message to her inbox, and a full fledged conversation began that would elapse for over an hour.

I recall her because of a comedy of errors one night when I went as a member of the Austin Blades to go spectate during an AHL hockey game. This cheerleader was nice and full of smiles and the whole thing. Stereotypical cheerleader.

So I had this digital camera that pretty much sucked an entire sack of elephant scrotum.

I could never get the thing to work. I had to turn to a former teammate who was there to use her stinking cell phone to get the photograph done. AFTER the game!!! After all that time, trying to make sure that things were okay with “MY” camera, I just couldn’t get it to function.

Now I am still in debt to the person that took the photograph… owing a six pack of beer.

But I attempted to keep in contact with the cheerleader. I mean after all the trial and error, it was just silly and ridiculous. I found her on Facebook and probably six months later, she accepted my request.

Until today when I went into a one-on-one conversation with her.

At the time, I knew that she was engaged to a very tall guy. And I knew to keep to myself and keep my nose clean when dealing with her.

And I did. And I also kept quiet. I kept in the shadows whenever I saw her post. Her cheerleading career came to an ending and it pulled the rug out from underneath me, thinking that I would be at more hockey games and therefore would see her more often. But she quit.

I made a comment to her this evening about how I would like to start saving my spending money and get a good lump saved up and then take her out to lunch, because I had heard she was kind of high maintenance. We both agreed that “lunch at McDonald’s” is NOT “lunch.”

But she got quiet. And so I simply asked if she would even be bothered to entertain the thought of going out to lunch. I expected disaster and her turning me down. Instead I got “But of course!”

So now I have a date with a former cheerleader. All that time hitting on them when I was child is about to pay off. Let’s hope so any way.

I don’t know when it will happen. But if I keep reminding her, and I’m not a dick about it, I am sure that it will happen eventually.

Let’s all keep positive with our fingers crossed.

Keep It Zipped Up, Assmunch!

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I think that every person has their limitations. And I’ve found that pet peeve being sticking its head out like the ugly monster that it is.

In the Facebook Fan Page “Jinger Junkies” every Friday, they post photographs of fans who “liked” the page and the show off their redheadedness.

People are cruel though. Sometimes you get those bastards that have to hate on every photograph posted because the person in the photograph isn’t “hot” enough or whatever. Then you get those skivvy creeps who always have some kind of dirty, filthy comment about what they want to do with them. These are the kinds of men that would tap their own mother if they could.

I can tell that “Jinger Junkies” is ran predominately by a male based on the other days of the week with the kind of photographic posts that are displayed.

As soon as Friday comes along and there’s ONE photograph of a teenager with red hair (which is the requirement for posting) and glory, glory the freak bus arrives!!

It was disgusting. Downright disgusting to read the comments left behind of what guys wanted to do to her. And they KNEW for a fact that this was a young girl.

I’m sorry but that’s a line that does not need to be crossed. But I am not sure if it is the fault of the administration of the page or its obvious horny members.

And just about the time when I decided that I would just let it go, the administrators posted a black and white photograph of a naked woman with her ass up in the air.

Next stop: Frustrationville.

Dangerous Curves

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Just about the time when all is well on a very late Sunday evening and very early Monday morning… I come out of my skin when the telephone rings to a phone number that I do not recognize.

Strike two already. So I wait it out and screen the phone call only to hear on the other hand something or someone that I “think” is from the parts of my darkest past.

There was a lot of slurred words and I would blame either fatigue or alcohol for that but then I wonder still how they got my telephone number at home?

This woman was a part of my life back in the mid to late 1990’s that I would love to take that gizmo-thing from MEN IN BLACK and wipe my memory with.

She was probably at best the local Whore of Babylon. Or at least the small town that I had lived in at the time with less than 1,300 people living there. After a few years of living there and it being my forced entry into those first years of living on my own as an adult, there wasn’t a lot of stuff you could do without it being spread around like wildfire.

But there she was this evening, tonight, whatever. Kris had found me so to speak. I never picked up the telephone to talk to her.

The last that I knew what had happened to Kris was that she left her husband and all of her children behind to go be with a man. She had seven children in all. But to be fair there were two sets of twins. The oldest two and the youngest two. So the children were kinda wedged between sets of twins. None of them identical however.

I do not know if that is true or not as the person that had told me about her abandoning her family died shortly after I spoke to him due to a heart condition he’d always had but I never got the chance to ask him about it even though he spoke about it on a regular basis.

Anyways, Kris is within driving distance of my home. She stated nothing about her children, her husband that I knew that she had at the time or anything else. Just that she had heard that I was in the certain area and if that was true…. then she wanted to get together for old time’s sake.

This wouldn’t mean that she would stop by, sit down, talk about things and catch up. This meant that she would stop by, strip down, talk about what to do and then proceed to attempt why her pussy is made of pure gold.

It happened once before. Actually twice. And had the potential of being three times. But it was a dangerous situation for many reasons.

First off- seven children. The last time that I saw any of those children back in the 90’s the oldest set of twins were not quite teenagers. About 12 years old, and the youngest set of twins was 5 or 6, with three children in between. Kris actually had her first delivery of twins when she was 16 years of age.

Her husband was an alcoholic but I never saw it in plain sight. It would take for me to leave and go home and be away from the entire family before I would see signs of “okay, this is so very wrong.” He drank beer and tons of it. It didn’t matter what kind either. As long as it was in a can. Size didn’t matter.

Then one evening as I went home on purpose because I could hear both the kids talking bad behind my back and the parents just allowing it…. I locked the doors and ignored whomever it was that was knocking and banging on the windows at around 2:00 AM.

The following summer morning I went back to the house without any plans on staying there. Only to find out that Kris was at work. At a liquor store no less. Go figure. Enabling everything under the sun.

But her husband was not at home. Instead Kris’s stepfather was in the home and he was trying to get the kids away from the front door and back in the house before any of the family’s drama and business got leaked out.

The husband was in jail. Apparently he was so hammered that night that he came banging at 2:00 AM at my place that he returned home, woke up everyone in the house and threatened to kill his wife and her children if he didn’t get any more beer with a kitchen knife. Kris called the law.

I remember that he was gone for a good long time. And I somehow, some way ended up being like this live-in babysitter during that one summer month.

But having a reputation, she had brought in so many men into her bedroom as I laid on the couch watching late night television while all seven children were upstairs asleep. Whore of Babylon indeed.

There was ONE time that she begged me to stay with her because she was afraid and terrified that her husband might break out of the county jail and come to the house and do something to her. But that honestly was a bunch of crap. She simply didn’t find any guy to bring home with her. And I was there. And I was male.

Helllllllllllllllll noooooo!!!

But the “Hell No!” campaign would not last long at all as the husband was finally released from jail. But he had a restraining order against him for a short time. He was originally supposed to spend that first night out of jail at my apartment but he found a way to sneak back into the house and Kris LET him come back. After all this talk during that month of “It’s over. I’m done with his drunkenness. I’m tired of him being lazy and not working. I’m divorcing.”

Yeah. Right!!

The rest of the summer I lived in fear as I found myself living in their house like a summer home. Thankfully I never found myself having to cover for them or lie to the police about their family business. Eventually the restraining order died off and things were back to the way they were.

One afternoon, I left their house and never said why. They went into a panic as I peddled my adult three-wheeled bicycle off of their front yard and into the street, promising that I would return.

A very blustery day that I went to get my check and cash it. I bought a few essential things and then intended to deal with rent and bills later.

The Christmas before, they had given me a leather jacket that the husband couldn’t fit into.

I remember it so well that my life had hit rock bottom so hard with this family and I struggled to get back on my feet and away from them completely.

I was watching “Night Of The Living Dead” on late night television back when Joe Bob Briggs was hosting on the weeknights. And Kris’s husband came into the living room with the only thing illuminating the living room was the soft black and white glow of the television screen. He asked me to go into their bedroom and he said that he wanted to watch me fuck Kris to see if he would get excited. Kris for whatever reason told him that he would enjoy it.

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After many times of saying “NO!” the pressure just wouldn’t stop. I crumbled and then it was on like Donkey Kong. But he wanted me to actually take a wash cloth and wash up around my junk. And he gave me a marijuana joint to “calm me” down.

By the time I did what they asked, it was going on close to 4:30 in the morning. And I was also told that I could not wear my leather jacket because I was NOT The Fonz. That I had to take it off. Not only that but he had so many rules of “DO NOT” do this or that. Do not kiss her do not make her go down on me, do not suck her tits. But the thing that stuck out was that I had to leave my jacket behind.

I knew that was a problem because my wallet was in the inside pocket. And I just knew something terrible was going to happen one way or another. Either he’d attack me physically while in the middle of it all or whatever. But it was him that was supposed to be watching in the dark.

I was right to be concerned as five minutes into this whole ordeal, just seconds after I penetrated Kris, the husband left the bedroom. Moments later, the stereo that I had brought into their house was BLARING music so loud that it was shaking the walls. Right then and there, I knew something was wrong because seven children were upstairs were supposed to be sleeping. But Kris kept me busy that I couldn’t exactly just stop and investigate what her husband was doing.

I still to this day cannot figure out whether or not they had planned this together or that he acted alone.

But at the end of it all I went back to the couch to sleep and I took that leather jacket as a blanket and crashed.

Upon being woke up at 7:00 AM in the morning by the youngest pair, I checked the pockets of the leather jacket. Only to find that ALL of my pockets were empty.

I would find my wallet on the counter in the kitchen, but it was absolutely empty. I had been robbed. Kris was my whore for the evening and very expensive indeed.

I explained that I was pissed to the husband to which he went upstairs to “talk to the children” about stealing and to find out who had my money. But of course, none of them had it. He did. So he came back downstairs saying that nobody had it. Still… the money was gone. So someone did.

I was done. I never went back over there again. Even though I was very well liked by the seven children. And Kris loved the company too that I gave. But all her husband wanted to do was drink beer, get drunk, and screw. He would tell me disgusting tales of how he would be sleeping in the nude and the oldest daughter would come sneaking into their bedroom and she would go down on him and he would “try to get her off” but would fail.

Again, keep in mind the stories coming from the mind of a drunk about a 12 year old little girl who was his stepdaughter.

I wanted to vomit and I told him to leave my home.

Suddenly they left town. Moved away. I had no idea where they all were. Come to find out that the husband was supposedly in rehab and that Kris was 30 miles away living closer to her family but driving the 30 miles back into the small little town as a cashier at a convenience store. Again she said that she was leaving him and again I never believed her to begin with. I just knew that he wasn’t around.

When she found out that I was still in town, she picked me up and took me to her place and again she was insisting on another night of passion, claiming that the one night she begged me to be with her in her bedroom that I would’ve been laid that night too.

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For whatever reason she was soooooooooo adamant about having sex. But looking back all these years, she probably was addicted to it.

The following morning her children (who had spent the night at grandma’s) were brought back to their mother and had to get ready to go to school. Kris  had to go back to work at the store and had planned to drop me off at home any ways. But one of the sons faked being sick and convinced Kris of it. So there was nothing more than that. But I would get hints and secrets and whispered conversations about how she was comparing me to her husband sexually. Apparently I was some Adonis in comparison in all ways.

But I never found anything mind blowing about it. In fact it frightened me to think about all of the men she may or may not have been with before she even looked at me. It scared me that her oldest daughter was growing up and already a D-cup at the age of 14 and on the same path of possibly getting pregnant at 16, the same as her mother with her.

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Probably a year and a half later they all were back together…. the nine of them. The husband still with the family and still having these same “experiences” of the eldest daughter being naughty.

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If she was doing this– how in the world was the mother not catching on to this if it was going on in the middle of the night while everyone was sleeping? The mother would wake up from the commotion. So how did Kris not intervene??

I shortly moved about an hour south and probably visited twice back to the same small town. The last time I had done so, Kris and her husband and her seven children were three hours away in another direction in another city.

But the story of Kris that had left her husband for another man and abandoning all seven children and leaving them all with that alcoholic which tends to make the brain think the worst things possible after hearing what I had come from his mouth. I think they were more fantasies he had rather than experiences that he couldn’t stop or control.

Now Kris is in the same area code, nearly twenty years later… and its scary as shit since there was no mention of any significant other or mention of her children. Nobody knows where they are at all.

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Like I said, it was from darkest and lowest points in my life and I don’t need to go back to that kind of thing because nobody wins. Thankfully, I’m still clean to this day which could have been a disaster.

Not all pursuits of getting laid are worth it in life.