Jason Rimbaud

This question is hard to answer mainly because I get ideas from everywhere/everything/everyone. For my story So Called Chaos, I wanted to write a light hearted tale about two boys trying very hard to find some alone time so they could get off. This idea came because a friend and I were trying really hard to finish a serious conversation in a bar where we kept getting interrupted by people I knew. Each time we were interrupted, it took a bit longer for us to return to that place of seriousness. Later that night, I began toying with the idea that if I was that frustrated with all the interruptions and the guy was only a friend, how much worse would it be if two closeted gay boys kept trying to find a place to have sex and couldn't because of friends, parents, and crushed-crazed cheerleaders. But for my other story, A Moment of Clarity, I got the idea after playing the video game Max Payne. There is a part of the story, a dream sequence, that inspired the opening paragraphs of that story. It was cold, cold as a witch?s heart. Snow was falling, and by the looks of it, it didn?t have any plans on stopping anytime soon. The world was askew. The colors were reversed, like some kind of madman?s painting, blues replaced by a milky-gray color that sucked the warmth from the very sun. The earth was one big ball of varying shades of gray. Much like an old black and white movie, its picture scratched and faded. That was the world: faded. Time seemed to move slowly, like a bad imitation of the movie Matrix. Time slowing as objects showed velocity in a perverted world where relativity ceased to exist. Shock waves followed the icy daggers as they plummeted to the gray world. Gray upon gray, fading into nothing. Colors of varying nothingness that inverted into colors of varying nausea. Time had ended, and all that was left was the cancerous afterbirth of an aborted dream of God. Black as night inside a coffin was the color of God. God was dead; the great leveler of chaos had decided to reign. Black inside of black until only the diseased mind of color existed. Take black from black, and all that is left is nothingness. A world of nothing creates a backlash, and a vacuum of nothingness ensues. The story changed into one man's struggle to come to terms with his gayness and his faith in God. But the main idea was just to write a cool paragraph in honor of a game. And when it comes to my poetry, I get ideas from songs, sometimes I become inspired by themes, and sometimes I take a page out of my life and offer it up for everyone to read. Jason R.

One Confused Gay Boy I almost did something last Monday night that I swore I would never do again. And just to get it out of the way right now, because we all know how easily it is for me to get sidetracked writing these blog entries, it has nothing to do with Cocaine. Though if it did have something to do with Cocaine I wouldn?t be a confused gay boy and this blog entry would never have been written. So I?ll let you decide which problem is more relevant. I think for you to really get a grasp on the events that transpired last Monday night, I think I have to take you back in time a few months. So come with me, let?s take a slow trip back in time when the weather was warmer, I was a bit thinner, and completely coked out of my mind. That really doesn?t sound like a fun trip at all. I think you readers are going to hate this blog entry. *shrugs* Not my problem, I?m not making you read this, am I? PLEASE DON?T STOP READING MY BLOG Before we begin, let me introduce the characters of this sordid tale. First, you have a twenty-two-year-old, let?s call him, Mark. Then you have a twenty-five-year-old, let?s name him, Dale. And lastly, you have me of course, because we all know that I?m the reason ya?ll are reading this blog. And I go by, Jason. So now that we?re all friends, why don?t I begin? THE BEGINNING (that?s a bit overdone now isn?t it) So I work in a hip up-scale restaurant in Palo Alto as a server, and working along with me are ten other guys and two girls. The ages range from thirty-seven to twenty-one and out of these twelve servers, I?m the only gay boy. So for those of you that are counting, the statistic that there is one gay boy out of every ten is still holding true. And for being such a diverse group of guys, I?m fortunate that everyone is really accepting of my sexuality. And after working there for a year, I somehow have gotten the nickname, Fag Boy. This was given to me by, Mark, a few months ago. And while not everyone calls me that on a regular basis, a few do and I take no offense. I really can?t, considering the name I gave, Mark, which everyone calls him on the regular. His name is Teabag, named after his love of showing everyone his nuts. I?m pretty sure I got the better name out of the two. From day one I?ve been out at work. And this is not from my actions because people still question if I?m really gay because apparently I?m ?straight acting?. My coming out happened the very first day when Mark asked if I had a girlfriend and I replied that I was single and very gay. QUICK BIO FOR MARK Mark is twenty-two, rather average looking with short dark hair, and big brown eyes. He?s also a complete homophobe, even after working with me for over a year, he still makes some really dumbass comments regarding some of the gay patrons that visit our hip up-scale restaurant. He?ll turn to me and say something about the gays and then realize who he?s talking too. Then he?ll blush and say, you know what I mean. I?ll call him a phobe, he?ll call me a Moe, and everything is fine. And before you get a nasty taste in your mouth regarding this youth, he?s changed a lot in the year since I?ve known him. And over time, we?ve settled into a nice routine filled with practical jokes and a genuine fondness for one another that has nothing to do with sexuality. Or so I thought. The best part about his homophobe actions is when he has to be the server for a gay couple; you can see it in his eyes, the panic that is lurking just under the surface. He?s always pleasant and professional but I know just how uncomfortable he is at those times. Why is it that most straight guys think every gay guy they meet will try to get into their pants? Seriously, does that happen? Whatever the reason, Mark is afflicted with this stigma. So to explain things to him, I took him out one night after work seven months ago. We sat down at the bar and to prove my point, I started pointing out different girls asking the same question, ?Who you do her?? In just a few minutes, he had said yes to about half of the girls and said no to the others. I then told him to start pointing out different guys to me and to ask me the same question, ?Who you do him?? I was surprised, after only a few minutes he realized what I was showing him. He really thought that gay guys wanted to fuck every guy they saw. Once he realized that even gay guys have a certain type they?re attracted towards and that most have no desire to date a straight guy, he became really comfortable around me. And since most of you are probably aware of where this entry is heading, I don?t feel like I?m getting ahead of myself at all by saying that I did notice that most of the guys he pointed out that night looked a lot like he did, same body type, same dark features, with the same style of dress. Some of you might remember Mark, I wrote in a blog entry called, Mistaken Identity and Two Rolls of Toilet Paper, chronicling our games we play at work. If you would like to know more about this, then I urge you to read that blog entry. Five months ago, I was still nose deep in Cocaine and pretty anti-social so I rarely hung out with my co-workers outside of work. But somehow, I was convinced to attend a twenty-first birthday celebration at a local dance club. And seeing this was the last server that works at our restaurant to turn twenty-one, everyone from work was planning on attending. I don?t know why I said yes, I didn?t even like the girl that was turning twenty-one. And at that time, going to a club just took time out of my doing cocaine. It?s weird now as I look back on that night. Basically if I would have stayed home to bump lines all night then the events of last Monday more than likely would?ve never happened and I wouldn?t be so confused right now. If only? I arrived at the club around 11:30 PM that night and found only the birthday girl and her two friends. Apparently the rest of my co-workers were planning on making a fashionably late appearance. Go them, I wish I was that smart. For over an hour the three crazy chicks bombarded me with stupid questions regarding my gayness and what type of boys I preferred. Even with my sneaking off to bump lines in the bathroom did little to help the situation and by 12:30 I had had enough. I wished the birthday chick happy times and promptly left the club. Oh if only the story stopped right there than this blog entry would be finished and ya?ll would be loads happier. But that?s not what happened because once outside I saw Mark and his friend approaching the club from down the street. Mark saw me and waved and headed into the club. And though I was planning to go home and finish getting fucked-up I found myself turning around and walking back into the club. This is where I found out that Mark had run out of gas and that the rest of the servers were just minutes behind him. So I love to dance, and if I?m in a bar that has music then I?m dancing. And for the next hour, in between birthday shots, I did have fun dancing with assorted people. I had six or seven shots in me by this time and had bumped who knows how many lines so when Mark asked me if I wanted to go outside and cool off a bit by smoking a cigarette I hastily agreed. I stood with my back against the building while Mark stood facing down the street, sort of sideways from me, staring at the passerby?s. After a few minutes of silence, he looks at me from the corner of his eye and states, ?You were going to leave when I saw you outside earlier weren?t you.? ?What?? I know, brilliant conversationalist. Again, he looked at me from the corner of his eye and said simply, ?You came back inside for me, didn?t you.? Since Mark and I hadn?t really hung out that much I wasn?t sure if he was being serious or not. Mark?s father left him at an early age and with his two younger sisters he is surrounded by women who constantly show him affection by touching, kissing, hugging. So for a guy he?s pretty touchy. So instead of taking him seriously, I lied, ?I was having a smoke.? Now he turns and faces me and looks me right in the eyes and says, ?Bullshit. You came back for me.? ?You think highly of yourself, don?t you?? I reply, not breaking eye contact. So we stand there, staring at each other for a few moments, each daring the other to make a move. Then he suddenly starts laughing and says, ?Of course.? We finish our cigarettes and head back inside where I, for the time being, forget about our exchange. Shortly after that night, I really went off the deep end and lost myself in depression and drug use. And though at work we still got along great, and he still did little things much like the above incident, I was too wrapped up in myself to really pay attention. But four months ago, this caught my attention, in a big way. It was a bad night at work. And by a bad night, I really mean that Mark and I had spent most of the night punching each other in the ribs or kidney area. SIDE NOTE: Some nights after working with Mark I?d go home with my ribs so sore it almost hurt to breathe. And on my than one occasion Mark has confessed too me that his back was covered in bruises. Anyway, Mark was standing at the computer putting in a guests order when I came up behind him and punched him rather hard in the ribs. After swearing loudly, he looked over his shoulder at me and said, ?You?re always hurting me, why don?t you make me feel pleasure instead of pain?? I laugh and reply, ?That?s not my job.? He turns to face the computer again but I catch it when he almost whispers, ?It should be.? I was very high at the time and this statement scared the shit out of me. I?m not stupid, and I know the little games Mark and I played was our weird way of flirting with one another. But that statement hit a bit close to home. Once, long ago, I made the mistake of falling for my straight best friend and after that destructive relationship was over I swore I?d never do it again. So I did the only thing I could think of doing?I made a stupid joke and walked away. But this little exchange put me on my guard and I began to watch Mark rather closely. I then observed that Mark touched everyone, a shoulder pat here, an arm squeeze there, pretty harmless stuff really. But he touched me differently. It took a few weeks for me to pinpoint the differences but once I saw it, it was clear as day. That is a stupid expression, clear as day, isn?t? After all, I?ve seen days where the sky is filled with dark clouds and rain is misting up everything a few feet away. It took a few weeks for me to pinpoint the differences but once I saw it, it was clear as a beautiful spring day without a single cloud in the sky. That?s better. When he hugged one of the other servers, he would bend at the waist and make sure his crotch area would never come in contact with the other person. This was true even with the two girl servers. Yet when he hugged me, there was full body touching. I could go on but I don?t really have the time. Or to be more accurate, you might not have the time for me to ramble on and on about unimportant things. When Mark and I are surrounded by our co-workers, we have this playful, almost brotherly relationship between us but once we?re alone, Mark?s demeanor changes drastically and he even speaks differently, more relaxed, more comfortable. For a long time I allowed myself to view these differences as nothing more than another layer of our already complex relationship, much like the actions taken by a younger sibling who still has a bit of hero worship for his older brother. After all, I?m quite a bit older than he is and sometimes I can?t see the forest because of the trees. Three months ago, our playful games began to slowly change. Where once we left bruises when punching one another had, for lack of a better word, morphed into softer touching. Like we had given up all pretense of punching just to make contact and now had accepted the simple fact that we just like to touch each other. Because there are times when we are standing around in a group, he?ll make sure he?s as close to me as humanly possible without actually being joined with me. And yet he?ll ignore me at the same time, resorting to sideways glances instead of acknowledging my presence. And there have been several times when he?ll do something so bold that not only shocks me but him as well. Like the time I was standing at the computer and he came around the corner and immediately started grinding up against me or the time he walked into my hand with his crotch and moved his hips just enough that I felt the outline of his cock in his boxers. In both of these instances, his eyes widened, like he just realized what he had done, and he quickly walked away, behaving like nothing had happened. And the more he did this, the further I retreated into my cocoon of anti-social behavior. And just because I?m an honest kind of guy, I?ll admit that my attitude towards him slowly began to change. By this time I had let him see just a hint of my mental state and he knew a portion of my drug addiction. I?m sure he didn?t realize how bad it had gripped me because I think he would have tried a bit harder to get me to open up and trust him. And during these conversations he got a taste of how far down I was and how depressed I truly had become. Because one night after work, we were smoking and talking about friendship and the need to have people in your life, and I declared that I prefer to be alone and that having friends were overrated. He disagreed of course. He said that without friends in your life that care about you then you will never know that cocaine is slowly killing you. He further argued that the only reason I was depressed all the time was because of my high intake of cocaine and the blow was making me look like shit. He was right, I had lost a lot of weight and the dark circles around my eyes gave me an eerie look that resembled a walking cadaver. I wonder if he ever knew how close I was to the edge that night. I wonder if anyone will ever know. In September he waltzed into work and told everyone that he finally found a girlfriend. That?s not true, he never told me. I found it strange, both then and now, that he never told me about this girl. It didn?t matter one way or the other, I was dealing with my own shit at the time. I do know that the addition of this new girlfriend did nothing to stop the flirting between the two of us. All it did was confuse the shit out of me, especially after the events of last Monday. Two weeks, another after work session smoking, Mark looked at me and then asked, ?Have you been gaining weight?? I know I?ve said it before but let me state it again. I HATE SOBRIETY. Always have, and probably always will. Why? Because now that I?m off the coke, I?ve gained a shit ton of weight and don?t really give a shit when everyone else says I look healthy now. I don?t, I just look fat. I nodded my head and shrugged. He then said, ?You look good too, happy even. Have you finally found a boyfriend?? I?ve always been the guy that keeps his personal life very private and with the exception of Mark, no one at work knew a damn thing about my personal life. So why I decided at that time to explain in great detail the events that had happened to me in the last few months I?ll never know. But I did. I told him all about Susan, My Resurrection, my giving up Cocaine and my new outlook on life. When I was finished, he wrapped his arms around me and whispered into my ear that it was about time I grew the fuck up. That was when it happened, that was the exact moment the crush I have for Mark was born. The crush I have for him isn?t huge, just a tiny harmless crush for someone who shown me kindness. I swear, because at that time, it was more important that I found a friend. I know my feelings for Mark aren?t real, just a by-product of me desperately needing a true friend in my life. By the way, Trab, you once told me that above all else, I needed a true friend in my life. You were right. So for the last few weeks, I?ve been spending a lot of time with Mark outside of work. Not too much time, he?s busy with school, with work, and his girlfriend, but enough time that I feel safe enough with the amount of trust I placed in him. And I like it, spending time with him. It gives me something else to do than spend hours alone in my apartment, cleaning the floor. And though I had a bit of a crush I pushed those feelings down and embraced the friendship I felt instead. But then it all changed, last Monday night? I know, after how many pages of long winded trips back in time, we finally made it to the reason I started writing this in the first place. And for those of you that are still with me, here?s the payoff, just something for the torture I?ve put you through today. Last Monday night, Dale threw a small party at his house. Mark and I were the only ones invited from the restaurant; everyone else was friends of Dale and his girlfriend. After a few hours, once everyone else had left except Mark and me when Dale produced his bong and the two of them smoked a bowl. After they finished smoking, Dale popped the movie Transformers into the DVD player and we all settled down in front of the TV. I don?t really care for weed but seeing as we were in a closed room, I?m sure I had a contact high going on. Mixed with the several beers I had finished already, I was feeling pretty mellow by the time the credits started rolling. Dale flopped down on the easy chair and quickly passed out. That left the large leather sofa for us, I sat down on one end and he took the other. About half-way through the movie, Mark and I began playing our little game of ?would we do her/him?. This gave us lots of material for jokes and goofing around like two idiots. At some point in the movie, Mark left to relieve himself. But upon his return, instead of reclaiming his seat on the other end, he choose to flop down in the middle, his upper body inches away from me with his legs kicked out on the coffee table. Somewhere between us making fun of the movie and playing our little game of who would do who, I suddenly realized that he was leaning against me, his head dangerously close to resting on my shoulder. When I noticed this, I immediately stood up and went to the bathroom. I stood there in the bathroom for a few moments, staring at my reflection. In my head I kept asking what the fuck was going on. I know I?m a bit slow, and have a hard time judging when someone is serious about the touching or just joking around. This is true especially when it comes to someone actually liking me. I stood in the bathroom and kept telling myself that it didn?t mean anything. I rationalized it by blaming his behavior on the weed and the beer, and that leaning against me was more of an accident than a design. So by the time I left the bathroom, I had convinced myself that he probably hadn?t realized he was leaning against me at all and that I should stop worrying about stuff that was perfectly harmless. Yeah, that lasted only until I sat back down. Because not only did he immediately lean back into me but this time he moved even closer to me and put his head on my shoulder. Just who is the gay boy here? My heart started pounding faster, and I felt suddenly very uncomfortable. When I snuck I look at him, he looked totally at peace, like it was an everyday occurrence that he snuggled up with another guy while watching a movie. And just about the time I settled down, he sat up. I figured he just realized who he was snuggling up with and wanted to move as far away as possible. Wow, boy was I wrong. Because once he sat up, he grabbed my arm and lifted it up high enough so he could snuggle even closer to me. And once he found a comfortable position, he pulled my arm down around his body and sighed. Oh yeah, he sighed. So there we were one happy content straight boy and one very nervous confused gay boy. What a pair we made. And I?ll admit it was nice sharing this very intimate moment with someone I really liked. And even now, to be honest I don?t know if there was anything sexual about his actions that night. I could be trying to rationalize this experience and hide from the truth, but I have trouble believing anyone would be interested in me for more than just a sexual purpose. And, he professes to be extremely happy with his girlfriend. Either way, shortly after that, Mark fell asleep, my arm draped over his body and snuggled into my chest. Long after the movie was over I sat there, just watching his chest rise and fall as he took shallow breaths. Trying desperately to figure out what the fuck was going on, if anything was going on, and what the fuck I was going to do about this new development. Let?s face it, so many thing are wrong with this whole situation. Not only is he younger than me, but to my knowledge has never even been with another guy, and he has a very real girlfriend. Plus I swore I would never get involved with another straight boy confused about his sexuality again. Not after Jason and that whole mess. So I carefully untangled myself and quietly left, figuring I would take my cue on how to behave from Mark the next time I saw him. Which was today and from what I could tell, I was the only one that was uncomfortable. Because when I walked into work, Mark greeted me with his usual hug, even laughing when I rolled my eyes. We joked and made small talk all through the night as usual. So I figured he either didn?t remember what happened the night before or had chose to ignore it all together. Either way, I was totally fine with this strategy. Denial isn?t just a river in Egypt. But towards the end of the night when all the servers were standing around waiting for the last of the guests to finish up eating and leave, Dale asked me when I left the night before. I told him I left after the movie was over. Then Dale asked Mark when he had left. Which Mark replied, ?I woke up and left after I realized I lost my pillow.? Then Mark looked right at me and added, ?For a while it was quite comfortable sleeping on your couch.? So I left work and rushed home to start writing this blog. On though it?s now Thursday night, almost Friday morning, I?ve had several days to think things over and still can?t figure out if Mark is interested in me or if he?s playing around with the gay boy. Who knows, maybe he treats all his friends like this, you know, like a pillow. My head is telling me that he?s a bit interested, at the very least curious. But if that?s the case, then that leaves me in a bad place. I don?t want to be the one that fills his curiosity nor do I want to be his first boyfriend either. So I think, the best course of action for me to take, is to keep my distance and maintain our relationship on a professional basis. But that damn crush came crashing back and I find myself more attracted to him now than ever before. And I thought my life would be easier once I lost the drugs. At least when I was fucked-up, I didn?t care about things like this. I guess it could be worse. Jason R.

Well, that's not really worth a private photo at all. Though the mental picture of seeing you in nothing but your mask does stimulate the senses. Jason R.

Well, I can't believe that whilst relieving yourself, you thought of (Ele)Civil and his mis-matched socks. Methinks you should inquire of a good therapist to discuss this abnormal behavior. Jason R.

Ditto Blue, you've said it so much better than I could. Jason R.

This is why I shouldn't post anything after three am. Googling my ass won't help with the answers. I made that statement after Lugz sent me some info debunking my little quiz. Jason R.

Um, Wibby, that's a cop out. I want details damnit! Jason R. What if I promise you a pic all for you alone?

Because not only would we all enjoy giving your ass a few swats, we know that you would enjoy it all the more. Jason R.

Sometimes I really hate the internet. Google my ass. Thanks for the info Lugz. I think I shall post that once this is finished. Jason R.

Okay, now there's three right answers out there. Just one more. Jason R.

Now Des, he might be talking about his.....ummm.....hair that grows around or on his....place that connects with the chair. It's not very nice to assume that he's talking about his "pubic" hair. Sorry about that Trab, you know how Desilu is..... Jason R.

It looks like that my poor camera might be getting alot of use in the comingcumming days. Jason R.

Not bad Trab, you did get two of the four. Until others guess though, I won't be telling you which two are right, and which two are wrong. There are still two more out there. Jason R.

It is customary in America to lower our national flag in times of mourning a fallen President, natural disasters, or horrifying events. But did you know that there are four American Flags, in separate places, that are never lowered for any reason? This is done out of respect, these four places are held in such great esteem that lowering the flag at these particular places would diminish the memory of what transpired at that location. Can you name these four locations where our national flag is never lowered? Jason R.

I don't like the choices, so I didn't vote. For number one, I never sit at my computer naked. That's gross. Just think of the chair. *shudders* And if I would sit in my chair naked, why would I keep my socks on? Maybe Raccoon's do this but I don't. If I'm at the computer, I usually wear whatever clothes I happen to have on for that day. Plus my hat, I do have a lucky hat I always wear when I'm writing. Matter of fact, I'm wearing that hat in my avatar. And as for Cole asking who would answer the door naked, I've been known to answer the door in all states of dress/undress. But then I'm also the guy that takes photos of my no-no parts and sends them to my friends at the most bizarre times. Jason R.

Unfortunately Trab, GWB has ruled my country for almost eight years, we, as a country, has let him get away with almost anything. He has taken away our freedoms under the guise of security and has allowed the religious right a place in politics. I think at least a generation has already followed him. Remember, even if you are against GWB but remain silent, then you are an accomplice as well.Jason R(almost embarrassed to be an American)

Since my author page was lost for a few months, I wanted to bump this thread back up in case there were those of you that didn't get to read this story. I know, shameless behavior. But I'd really like those of you that haven't read it yet to give it a try. Proceed. Jason R.

Even though I'm from the "ME GENERATION" and not accustomed to sharing, I'd let you touch as much as you want. Though I am a bit disturbed that I'm making such personal requests in such a public forum. It seems that I helped reduce your blog to a place where sleazy boys can feel comfortable propositioning you for sexual favors. Tell the BF that I'm sorry and will try to curb my behavior in the future. That is unless he's cool with the idea..... Jason R. (sleazy boy in training)

I'm usually one that disregards any form of Politically Correctness. But with warm regards for those of you that are older in years that read this blog, I shall give a definition of what I consider Old People.I believe that age is a frame of mind. And those of you that might be old in years but have kept the joys of youth, then I don't consider you old people. It's only those silver haired complainers that refuse to acknowledge that the current year is 2007 and not 1954 that usually get on my nerves. You know the type of blue hairs I mean, the ones that refuse to get a cell phone because 'in my day we didn't need a portable phone, if we wanted to talk to someone, we had to wait until after dinner to try and reach them on the puke green phone attached to the kitchen wall'. And don't even get me started on the INTERNET, if I hear one more wrinkled lady complaining about the magical INTERNET and how if it wasn't needed back in the good ole days then why should we need it today, I might just punch her in the face. By the way, I heard two ladies discussing these things a few days ago and I wanted to scream. I've watched the movies in the fifties and sixties, believe me, they weren't the good ole days. Any generation that embraced McCarthyism should never offer advice about anything nor should be allowed to have any say in the current decade.All that being said, dearest Des, you will never make the list. Sometimes I think you are younger than me. Jason R.

Why is it I get a VERY uncomfortable image of Desilu dancing around his BF's video store singing at the top of his lungs? Not that theres anything wrong with dancing around. I just think there should be video footage at least. Can you imagine the response we'd get if we posted that on youtube. And if there is going to be any touching, I want to be first and the last. Jason R.

Umm, Des, would your BF mind if I was one of those "gays" that you felt today? Jason R.

7 Things I Hate Today! I know hate is a strong word and should never be used lightly. But if there is anything that would justify a universal feeling of hate, I think the following list will suffice. So without further digressions, rants, or any other silly hijacking comments, I give you the seven things I hate for today. Number 7: Every few days I receive an Email from ATT INTERNET service. They give me a list of reasons why I should switch my INTERNET service and they also offer discount prices. Today I read an email where, if I sign up for a year of service, I could get DSL access for $14.00 a month. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention this part. I already have ATT Internet access, they sent me the fucking email at my ATT Email address that they fucking gave me when I signed my contract locking me in at a set price for a fucking year. Oh yeah, I fucking hate that. Number 6: Old people coming to restaurants. I don't want to hear about the good old days when coffee was a nickel and you had unlimited refills. At my fucking restaurant, coffee is $4.00 a cup. And if you want another one, that will be another fucking $4.00 dollars. That's what by the cup means. Oh, and one more thing, it's never a good idea to order only one entr?e with the intention of "sharing because you don't really eat that much anymore". We all know it's bullshit, you're just cheap. And if you weren't cheap, then you would leave more than a ten percent tip. Remember, a server lives on tips, and if you stay sitting at that table for three hours because you and the old lady have no where else to go, then don't be surprised if you find something floating in your $4.00 cup of coffee. Number 5: Anyone, and I mean any-fucking-one, who believes that a one-year-old is a welcomed addition to a night out at a restaurant who charges sixty-dollars a plate. And don't even think about asking why we don't serve a children's menu. If you have to bring your smelly offspring with you everywhere you go because you don't want to pay for a babysitter, then take your fucking family to Denny's. Don't bring your ill behaved monsters to a hip upscale restaurant, the servers don't want you there, and I can bet the couple sitting next to you trying to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary don't want you there either. So fucking stop it. If your kid doesn't have hair on it's "no-no-parts", then stay the fuck at home. Number 4: People who arrive 5 minutes before a restaurant closes for the night, wearing smiles and exclaiming loudly that you're just so damn happy that you made it before we close. Why? Because you are the type of person that will order two waters, and share a single entr?e, that you will not eat for two hours because you're busy making-out in the booth in the corner. Not only are you keeping the server from going home, but you're making them wait for ten-percent of a thirty dollar check. And even if you add in an extra ten percent and give them six whole dollars, don't be surprised if they leave the money on the table. Because the idea of having to stay at work two hours after the restaurant is closed because you want to make out in the corner booth is not worth the six dollars. If you are the type of person that does this, then you are a bastard and I hate you. I fucking hate you. Number 3: Commercials spouting anti-smoking propaganda. Let's face it, there is not a single person living on the planet in the year 2007 that doesn't know that smoking isn't the best idea. And I get it, you hate smoking. Get over it. Do we really need to spend hundreds of millions of dollars on really stupid commercials trying to stop people from smoking? Why don't we take that money and spend it on more important things, I don't know, how about universal health-care? How about offering classes on the long lost art of minding your own fucking business? I want to take that guy from that commercial and lock him in a room where hundreds of people blow cigarette smoke in his face for three days. Then, and only then, can he have a reason for making those stupid fucking Truth ads. Number 2: Commercials heralding the latest advancement in prescription drugs. It started out harmless enough, remember Antonio Banderas as the cute little bee flying lazily about telling us too take this new pill for our nasal allergies. And I could even understand the ads dealing with sleeping disorders. But now every few minutes I see commercials advocating erectile dysfunction pills and anti-depression tablets with side affects that are decidedly worse then the aliment they claim to cure. Think about it, I've got this granite hard cock but I can't seem to stop my ass from leaking. Hmm, flaccid cock or shit spewing from my ass, I wonder what I would choose? And doctors need to stop inventing diseases to justify their new miracle pill. Who the fuck ever heard of restless leg syndrome? I didn't, I didn't know it was a syndrome. When my legs hurt when I was in bed, I got up and drank a glass of water. Problem fixed. But that's not good enough anymore, now we need a fucking pill. What the fuck, it seems like they have a pill for everything now-a-days. Which leads me right into Number 1: Commercials telling us NOT to do drugs. Well, it should be, commercials telling us not to do drugs that aren't controlled by the Federal Government. Have you seen these anti-pot ads? In one, a girl is sitting in the kitchen, go figure, eating, and the family dog comes in and sits on a kitchen stool and asks her to stop smoking pot. I wasn't even smoking pot when I saw that commercial and all it did was make me wonder if my dog would start talking to me if I smoked up. How fucking cool would that be? Can you imagine what the family pet would have to say? I don't want to start bitching about those of you that are currently taking pills that are saving or prolonging your life, but I'm not sure if I want to take a handful of pills that actually have a higher risk of hurting me than helping. And what about those pills that after you take them, you fucking die. Is that side effect warning on the bottle? Shouldn't we be wary of any drug that is invented for the sole purpose of generating money? If we are so advanced that we now have to start inventing diseases to cure, why are people still dying from cancer? Why can't we cure AIDS? And don't get me started why we have dozens of pills to get a boner but still can't come up with a better solution to fight the flu then by injecting flu in the form of shots. Hmm, I get a shot to ward off the flu, and the shot gives me the flu. That is a brilliant scheme if I ever heard of one. For a society that spends so much money on anti-drug campaigns, we are quickly becoming perpetually medicated and all with the Federal Governments approval. And I don't care what anyone says, having a full-on-robot-chubby due to severe rigor mortis stemming from complications caused by my erectile dysfunction medication isn't really a miracle cure by any means. You have to be at least breathing to enjoy fucking. Though being dead is a viable alternative when faced with anal leakage. But of course, that's just me. Jason R.

Well, it's about time you admit this. Congrats Desilu!Jason R.

Yeah!!!!!!!!!! Trab's back in town. Now I'm happy again.Jason R.(Sorry Desilu, but now Trab is my favorite.)

Can one be addicted to sex?YESOf course, I could be biased, after all, I'm an addictive personality. Anyone care to try an experiment regarding on whether or not sex is addictive? We could have lots and lots of sex, just to see if we truly become addictive of course. Jason R.