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Jason Rimbaud

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  1. My idea for an app is better and waaaayyyyy cheaper. I'll check your genitals measurement for free Jason ( the entrepreneur )
  2. Haha....I like Coles, what did they say? Jason
  3. Haha, not for the first time was I proven wrong, you can ryhme Australia. Though it was an person from a real place, not a fake one Jason
  4. If you look at everything, Russia is doing the same thing America is doing. Most of the republican party is looking back to what they perceive is a better time, the fifties where the family was strong and everything was great . And just like Russia, republican forgot it was the strict antiquated fifties that led to the free love of the sixties that led to the drug infested STD plagues of the seventies. And just like in Amercia, where the majority is starting to see that the failure to learn from past mistakes will lead to loss of power and momentum, Russia will either change with the times or will be run over by history. That being said, openly gay athletes or sympathetic athletes kicking there asses sends a better message. My two cents from the back of the bus, Jason
  5. I have it on firm belief that there are no bad poets in Australia, That being said, it's also an imaginary place There once was a man from australia z See cant even ryhme anything with that place. Bah Jason ( a lover of poets ) ..
  6. Considering its been so long since I did anything in my blog, I think it's time I should. It's been a magical two years. I really should find the time to write that blog entry. As soon as I untangle myself from his arms I'll get right on that. Jason (the content snuggler)
  7. But I like hugs from OLD friends lugz Life is good, really good. I am quite happy. Jason
  8. A Poem By Jason Rimbaud 1 You've always seen what you want to see But your truths aren't based in reality And I refuse to exist in your fantasy In other words 2 I can still taste you on my tongue Ours was a love that songs were sung And yet this is where my hurt was sprung From your words 3 And if I crash and my life starts to bleed Will you comfort and make love to me I only need you why can't you see Here are my words 4 And if my heart breaks and I start to cry Will you help me live or just let me die No matter your answer I think you'll lie In your words 5 Why did I ever let you back inside And now from you I feel I'll have to hide And the best way to achieve this I can't decide So here's my words 6 You claim you have since changed your ways And if this is true our love can be saved And right now I don't want to walk away So no more words
  9. I'd have to say my favorite T-Shirt is one I made myself I just slept with your brother Jason Another favorite is a plain white shirt and tiny letters , really small print on the sleeve it reads Aren't you a nosey mother f#%ker
  10. In a forum somewhere on that one site, there was a discussion topic that asked a simple question…Top or Bottom. And after reading all the comments in that thread, and believe me you should read them because they are extremely amusing, I decided to reply to that thread and offer up my perspective. And then, as one or two of you might know by now, I noticed my reply was getting rather long winded so I decided to answer this question in my blog where there is less of a chance that something I might say would get me in trouble. Besides, if you’re reading this blog than you are quite accustom to my long meandering rants that always seem to end before I get to the juicy parts. Before I get to the meat of the problem, I want t ask a survey question…Can you make a good top if you’ve never bottomed before? I would love to hear your comments about this subject since a few of my friends and I have a long standing argument about this very topic. I do know that I will always be grateful to a little punk bottom twink by the name of John for teaching me the difference between a straight top and a gay top. But then I’m getting ahead of myself again. If you’re straight, sex with a girl, even anal sex, is vastly different than having sex with a gay bottom. For one, it takes loads more preparation to get the guy ready which always leads to hot foreplay. And two, different positions adds a variety of sensations that changes the dynamic of just lying there on your stomach. Now before I go further, I am not a woman so please don’t tell me where I’m wrong with the above sentence. Thanks. The absence or presence of lube also changes the feelings for both top and bottom. I guess it depends on the need at the moment of penetration. And maybe the size of the penis that is entering me. In my late teens and early twenties, it was usually decided, and almost always in an unspoken action, who would top depending on our respective penis sizes as well as physical size. It was almost like the larger penis meant more of dominance in the bedroom. This is probably why my early forays into gay sex, while exciting and orgasmic for me, were usually ones I tended to forget the moment I left the room, or car, or park, or once a bus. This lack of memorable sex was also due to my lack of experience with a talented top that knew how to make it pleasurable for the bottom. I also observed back then that depending on my mood, whether I wanted to top or bottom, or to be completely truthful whether I was lazy or not, that I was drawn to a certain type of guy for each position. If I wanted to throw my legs over my head I was drawn to a more masculine guy, most of the time older than myself, and one that was more aggressive. If I wanted to have someone’s legs on my shoulders, I looked for a more feminine guy, usually smaller than myself as well as younger. Remember this isn’t a broad statement about all guys but my experience. And I am quite experienced in that arena. Some would say I was/am a slut but that’s not what this blog is about now is it? Why is it that younger guys tend to love bottoming? I’d love to hear some comments from some younger guys to see if they could shed some light on this subject. I know there are loads of younger guys that love to top and have never bottomed before but I found that they were always lackluster in their technique. Though they did make up for this by their sheer exuberance and recharge abilities. When I first experienced sex with a guy, and I’m not talking about mutual wanking, dry humping, or oral, it was with an older boy. I was fifteen and he was nineteen. In my early teens, I “experimented” with another boy that went to my church. Quite harmless really, games of I’ll show you mine if you show me yours type of thing. There were loads of dry humping, no pun intended but gladly accepted. And then, a year later or so, I was working at this trailer park cutting grass, I had my first touch of another boys privates. And this exploration, wanking off one another, lasted the summer. We had two glorious months of shooting in the great outdoors, and in the tool shed, in the pool, and anywhere we could get away with having our privates exposed. But once summer was over, we both with back to our respective schools and never saw each other again. My fifteenth year was a year that I will never forget. Caleb, the nineteen year old boy that took my virginity, was the older brother of this boy I met from the public swimming pool. And being the walking boner machine I was back at that age, the moment I saw him in his cut off Levi shorts and his long blonde hair, it was lust at first sight. Looking back I now can see he was a total predator but since I was a willing piece of prey, I bear him no ill wishes. I think I pursued him just as strongly as he pursued/seduced me. But that’s a tale for another time as I am currently writing about Top versus Bottom. Caleb was that typical “straight” guy that plays around with other guys but never identified with being gay and probably had some reason for rationalizing his gay activities. He never once let me put my cock anywhere near any orifice of his body and only touched it once in all the times we played around. But since I was a horny little boy and didn’t know any better, I pretty much let him do anything he wanted to do to my awakening body. His favorite position for fucking me was me lying on my stomach with a pillow under my midsection. After barely any preparation, he’d shove it in and thrust away. I’m sure he was ashamed of what we were doing because he never wanted to look at my face and he wouldn’t make a sound except for his ragged breathing. And he was the quietest guy ever when he came. He’d hold his breath, which was rather loud and always smelled of cigarettes, and he’d do this…half thrusting motion before pulling out and getting off the bed rather quickly. He’d always get dressed right away and then watch me as I finished myself off. One time while we were thusly engaged, he kissed the back of my neck but most times the only part of his body that was actually touching me was his cock. I do remember the look on his face as he watched me jerk off. It was like he was in pain but he couldn’t take his eyes off me. I once asked him to help me out but he refused very angrily. I was good enough for him to stick his cock inside me but anything else caused him to shut down emotionally. Looking back I think he was molested as a child and was relieving some kind of trauma but I’ll never know as I lost track of him a long time ago. And I’m not even going to go into penis size because I never really measured Caleb’s cock but I now know it was well below average. I’m sure this is why I didn’t need a lot of preparation and never really had an orgasm when he was topping me. I also can deduce that he wasn’t very experienced sexually with either girls or guys but that’s not the point. All I can say was my first sexual intercourse wasn’t very fulfilling and for a time it actually turned me off guys all together. The next year I turned sixteen and my next sexual partner was a girl named Christine and she was a demon in the bedroom. Sex with her was downright amazing and in her I found someone who wanted to touch me, kiss me, anywhere and everywhere and demanded that I do the same to her. And for those two months I can honestly say I was happy. But sadly it was a summer fling and once she moved away I never saw her again. Oh the summer of my sixteenth year. But I wonder what she’d say if she knew the year before I was letting her best friend’s brother fuck me into straightdom/boredom. My next partner was a guy named Brandon, and let me tell you, he was sex on wheels. He was so hot I didn’t care that my first go round with a guy was unfulfilling. I now know that the sex with him wasn’t that good but he made up for it in so many ways. Not only did he love shoving his cock inside me and touched me and kissed me into delirum, he also loved it when I returned the favor. Oh the memories of my first sixty-nine. He was also the first boy that fucked me when I was lying on my back. And after that little bit of magic, I realized that bottoming can be very enjoyable if you have the right partner. It feels different, sex with girls as opposed to having sex with guys. And it’s not just about the different bodies, some softer and some harder, hairy or smooth. Guys smell different than girls and I found that most of the time I am attracted to the ways guys smell and turned off by the smell from girls. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always enjoyed my forays into straight sex. And when I have sex with a girl I go all the way, I do oral as well as penetration. Though I must admit I’ve never really figured out the female breasts, most of the time I just leave them alone and focus on the other parts. And not to put down any of my female readers, but guys just give better oral. And there is something about giving oral pleasure to a guy that is always exciting and guys seem to just be tighter, on average, than girls and they grip you in a different way. Maybe because with each thrust there is a bit of resistance or maybe it’s just because I’m a gay guy that likes to have sex with other gay guys. One of my friends believes that topping is harder work than bottoming and for a long time I tended to disagree. I thought a good bottom was actually the one who controls the speed, angles, and does…or should…do a majority of the work. And then I’ve come to realize in my later years that it takes two talented people to have amazing sex. I know when I’m bottoming I am giving just as much as whoever I allow to penetrate me. Sex to me is like a partnership where everything is split down the middle. I’ve grown from my early years when I just laid there like a cold fish and let someone fuck me to an aggressive top that didn’t care about giving pleasure to my partner to where I am today. Am I a top or a bottom? That depends on your definition of each term and if there is truly such a distinction. I know I won’t be with a partner that is exclusively one or the other.
  11. It's weird actually liking the guy you are sleeping with...I wonder if all the gay boys know this is possible

  12. I can't read this entry from my phone, Des why did you use that horrible colored font? Now I have to wait to get home on my laptop to read this,... Jason (not the fuzzy warm bunny slipper as usual person)
  13. The house was dark and upon first glance he did not think Scott was home. But upon closer inspection he could see the outline of the blond sitting out on the balcony staring up into the night sky. He didn’t think he could cry anymore but the sight of his boyfriend in the moonlight caused the tears to once again cascade down his cheeks. He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and went to the refrigerator to grab the bottle of Vodka from the icebox. He filled up a glass and walked outside. He leaned against the rail and lifted the glass to his lips and drank deeply. “That isn’t going to help you know.” He spun around and faced his boyfriend, anger flashing in his blue eyes. “Fuck you.” “It’s your stomach,” Scott said with a shrug of his shoulders. He leaned back further into his chair, thankful the darkness hid the pain in his eyes. Justin threw the glass out over the balcony. “What did I do wrong?” “Nothing.” Justin threw his hands in the air. “Is there someone else?” “No,” Scott answered immediately. “There could never be anyone else but you.” “Then why,” Justin asked as he sunk to his knees in front of Scott. “Don’t you love me?” Scott tucked his long hair behind his ears and caressed Justin’s cheek. “Of course I love you.” “Then why did you say no?” Scott sighed. “It’s hard to explain.” “Tell me, please,” Justin begged. Scott looked up as he searched for the right words but he knew there was nothing he could say that would make Justin understand why he could not accept his proposal. A part of him, a very big part, wanted to marry Justin, someday. But he didn’t want it to happen like this, not without something to offer in return. “Well, I don’t really believe in marriage.” “What,” Justin asked, clearly confused. “What do you mean?” “Even if I was straight and you were a girl, I wouldn’t marry you,” Scott said in a quiet voice. Though by the look on his boyfriends face he realized he shouldn’t have blurted out that way. Justin’s face darkened and his temper boiled to the surface. “That’s not what I meant.” “Then what did you mean?” Justin asked, scooting back a few feet. “I just don’t see the point of going through a ceremony that wouldn’t even be legal. I love you; you love me, why can’t we just leave it at that?” Justin stood up. “Because it’s about commitment, about standing up in front of our friends and family, acknowledging our love for one another.” “Have you ever doubted my love,” Scott asked as he slumped further into his chair. “Not until tonight,” Justin admitted as he walked back to the railing. “How can you say that,” Scott demanded as he stood up. “In front of everyone I asked you to marry me, and you said no. How the fuck did you think I was going to feel?” “Just because I don’t want to marry you doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” “I know, it just means you don’t want any strings. You love me on your terms but not on mine.” “That’s bullshit and you know it.” “Is it?” Justin asked as he clenched his fists. “After everything we’ve been through together, all the bullshit with your drug problems, Michael, don’t you think, you owe me…this little thing?” “Owe you,” Scott shouted. “That’s the problem, I feel like I owe you everything.” “What?” “All this,” Scott said as he waved his arms. “This isn’t my house, it’s your house. The car I drive, even the fucking clothes I wear aren’t mine. How can I marry you when I have nothing to offer?” Justin rolled his eyes. “Why does everything come down to this tired argument? How many times have I told whatever I have is yours?” “That’s not me,” Scott shouted. “I can’t keep living on your good graces. It drives me crazy having you buy me stuff. I can’t even buy a pair of shoes without getting money from you. I can’t stand it.” “Really, you didn’t have any trouble spending my money for your fucking rehab.” “That’s beneath you,” Scott stated in a quiet voice. He ignored the tears that started to fall down his cheeks as he turned away and walked into the house. Justin stormed in the house after him and grabbed his arm. Scott spun around and pushed Justin down on the couch, his left arm raised and his fist clenched. Anger flashed in his eyes and Justin realized he might have gone too far. He closed his eyes and waited for the blow to drop. “Fuck,” Scott yelled as he punched the pillow next to Justin’s head. “I didn’t want this to happen again. I fucking swore I’d never hurt someone I love again.” Justin stared up at him, his eyes wide and filled with fear. But when Scott collapsed next to him he breathed easy. He reached out to touch his boyfriend but pulled back when Scott said, “Don’t.” Scott stood up and walked towards the front door. He paused when Justin called out, “Where are you going?” “I don’t know, but if I stay I’ll do something that both of us can never forgive,” Scott stated as he opened the door. “Are you leaving me?” Justin demanded as he clutched his stomach. Scott called out over his shoulder, “Never you, Justin. I’m leaving me.” The door shut behind Scott and Justin fell back on the couch and curled up into a ball. He cried until the tears stopped falling. After a while, he went back to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of Vodka.
  14. Grindr is an app best used with Prozac...that is all J
  15. I swear, we'll hijack any thread if cats get mentioned. Apparently every cat lover has a happy open marriage...well at least a open marriage...after all happiness really is relative. J
  16. Are you available for parties? I have something I can throw at you... Jason
  17. Personal Questions A boring look into the existence of Jason Rimbaud In the forums of GayAuthors, in the Games and Humor thread, there is an entry called Personal Questions. Basically it’s a forum game where each person asks a personal question and the next person answers the question before asking his own personal question. As I read through all the questions and the replies, I realized that there was numerous questions I would have love to have answered. So I thought it would be a good idea if I took some of those questions and answered them in my Blog for my one loyal reader who might want to know a bit more about me then I have shared thus far in my Blog. Basically, I’m out of ideas for Blog Entries so I’m going to pretend that people want to read my answers to these questions they asked other more interesting people. So without further interruptions or pointless digressions that go nowhere except to boredom. I give you personal questions as asked by lots of more interesting people to other interesting people. What is your favorite item of clothing? You might think this is embarrassing but I have an underwear fetish. And before you get to thinking that I’m some kind of freak and that your laundry isn’t safe in the dryer while you run across the street to get a bagel and a chocofrapalatta. You see, I don’t perv on your underwear, no, I perv on my own stash of underwear. And not my dirty underwear either, I like to buy all sorts of underwear. So for the moment, my favorite article of clothing is a pair of Batman boxer briefs, so comfortable against my dangling bits. Where was your first kiss? On the lips Where was your first kiss? My first kiss happened on a park bench during a summer rain storm with a girl named Michelle. She was also the first person other than me to touch my no-no parts above the jeans. What is the one gift you got that you cherish and why? Three years ago for my birthday, “M” bought me an orange fleece Hoodie that is as soft as baby’s tears and as warm as fuzzy bunny slippers. And though “M” is long gone and nothing but a memory, on cold nights I still like putting on that Hoodie and cuddling up in front of the TV. What was the last date you went on and how did it go? It was this last Christmas Eve and this great guy took me out to one of my favorite restaurants. We had a great bottle of wine, awesome conversation and then later, because he paid for dinner, I gave it up to him. What’s the story behind the worst scar you have? It was the summer I turned twelve and I came up with this brilliant idea that my friend and I should pretend that we were knights of the round table and go on a quest like King Arthur and his Knights. After a few hours of being knights, I decided that I should switch sides. Everything was going great until he swung Excalibur and I forgot to duck. His sword hit my face in a downward slashing motion that started at the top of my right eye, my eyelid, eyeball, and my right cheek. After I got out of the hospital, I realized that I would have to wear corrective lenses for the rest of my life. Luckily, the scar is barely visible. What is the one thing you are most proud of accomplishing? My sobriety. I haven’t done as much as a taste of cocaine in five years, three months and six days. And it feels surreal, I can remember telling my therapist all those years ago that I would never do cocaine again and I wouldn’t need a rehab program to do it either. She was very supportive of me but she felt that a rehab program would be something I would need to continue onwards. I don’t recommend that other addicts tackle sobriety the same way I did. I’m just relaying the story how I reached the lowest point in my life and I knew I had to make a change. Everyone must work on their sobriety in their own way. What would you say is your sexiest body part and why? Hmm, I guess my one loyal reader might guess that I would say my perfectly shaped cock or maybe I’d describe my prowess of lying on my back. Well, you would be wrong if you thought that my loyal reader. Because the sexiest part of my body is my blue eyes, the only good thing my fuck face father ever gave me. How did you imagine your life to be now when you thought about it ten years ago? Ten years ago I probably thought I’d be dead long before I’d make it ten years in the future. What is your favorite part of the day? Whenever I make it back to my apartment and close the door behind me and the madness that is humanity is locked out. What is something that you do that everyone else thinks is weird? I never sleep with my head against the headboard of any bed. Matter of fact, my own bed is in the center of my room where I can walk around the entire thing. In hotels, I sleep with my head on the foot of the bed with my feet pointed at the headboard. What is something that you do that everyone else thinks is weird? Whenever I first try on a pair of shoes I must try the left one on first. I find it very bad luck to put on shoes using your right foot first. What is something that you do that everyone else thinks is weird? When doing laundry, if anyone, even my boyfriend, touches my clothes before they are folded and put away and then taken out and put on my body, I have to re-wash them. “M” use to mess with me all the time; he’d open one of my drawers and pretend to touch my clothes. If there was one thing about yourself you could change, what would it be? It would definitely be to change my anal retentive behavior. Seriously, do I really have to make sure that all the rooms in my apartment are vacuumed in straight lines in sync with magnetic north? Does it? If you had a free pass to have sex with any person in the world, no strings attached and your spouse/significant other was okay with it...who would it be? Considering this question doesn’t specify any person living or dead, I have to go with Elvis. There is just something erotic about the thought of fucking the King of Rock-n-Roll. If we were in a relationship and I was breaking up with you what’s the worst possible thing I could do to hurt you...other than physical violence? Share my secrets that I trusted to you with your friends. Have you ever been in trouble with the law and if so, what for? I have to just choose one instance. Let’s see, I was once arrested for being drunk in public. I also received a ticket for drinking in public years ago. What is the biggest lie you ever told? I once told this really Hot Guy (who I actually quit my job and got a job at his restaurant just so I could be close to him) that his boyfriend was cheating on him. Though now that I think about it, that lie actually came true a few weeks later when I got the boyfriend drunk and had my way with him at a party. Hot Guy and boyfriend broke up a few weeks later and it took me another six months to get Hot Guy to sleep with me. Sadly, a few weeks later I realized that now that I had Hot Guy I didn’t really like him very much so I left him, drunk and passed out at a New Year’s Eve party one of my friends threw and went home with another guy. Where was the strangest place you have ever been taken on a date? When I was twenty-one, and trying to be more “normal”, I agreed to go out on a date with a guy instead of just fucking him after too many shots behind the local gay bar. He was a really nice guy and ended up taking me to a Church game night. After the shock of not getting struck by lightning, and using all my willpower not to spill the beans that there was two queers in the middle of “gods house”, I vowed to never try to be “normal” again. If you could physically change one part of your body to your complete liking what would it be? My cock, it has just the slightest bend to the right and I would love to be able to make it completely straight. What’s the worst nickname you’ve had? Gutter Pants, you can imagine why I’d be named as such. If you could go anywhere, where would it be? If I could go anywhere, again no one specified a real place or a fictitious place, so I’d like to go to Heaven and ask god why he’s such a fuck face. What’s the biggest secret you’ve ever kept for a friend? That the night before his wedding he came over to my house and the two of us had sex for the last time. Do you have parents that stayed together or are you a part of a single or blended family? Hm, a question about my family; I think I’ll pass on this. Well, they were never divorced so I guess I can say they stayed together. What’s one thing that you wanna try but too embarrassed to tell anyone about? I’m not embarrassed to tell anyone anything that pops into my little head. Who did you look up to growing up? Arthur Rimbaud...if you don’t know who this brilliant writer is, look him up. What is your earliest memory? I was around eight years old and the neighbor boy and I use to sneak under my bed and dry hump each other. I have other memories but what fun are they compared to this. What is the worst thing you hate/hated about your current/last boyfriend or girlfriend? “M” had the annoying habit of getting food to-go and then leaving it in my refrigerator. I don’t know if he even had the intention of ever eating the bits of crap he left for me to find weeks later. How big is your...? Considering who ever asked this question never finished saying how big my “what” is...I’m going to finish it for them. How big is your cock? Big enough to make any guy go gay, if only for a few hours while he is with me. What is something that is considered a social norm that you’ve never done? Cry at a funeral. What’s your favorite sexual position? It depends if I’m topping or bottoming. Shall I go into details? What makes you most nervous? Sitting down one on one with another human being and dropping the walls that keep me safe. What type of things do you find funny? Really, that’s a question you want to know. Watching a baby running down the sidewalk before taking a header into the pavement, watching a bicyclist ran into the side of a car, Bill Maher, Tosh.O, any George Carlin CD. I could go on but then I’d start offending you politically correct humans. When was the last time you did a random act of kindness and what was it? It was a few months ago, I went to Taco Bell and bought fifty taco’s and passed them out to all the homeless people I saw on my way to work. What is the number one thing on your bucket list? I don’t believe in writing bucket lists, I firmly believe that you should never put off something you want to do for a later date. Live like today is your last, always. Which is the shortest time it took you to like somebody? Again, this question is open for interpretation. Is it like somebody or like like somebody? So I’ll answer however I want. His name was Jason, some of you might recognize the name, and I remember the first day I met him. I looked at him, he smiled, and I asked if he wanted to smoke a cigarette with me, we went outside and by the time we came back inside, we were fast friends. What is your favorite comfort food? Now, remember, comfort food could take whatever form brings you comfort. And my comfort food is sautéed asparagus. It brings me back to when I was a kid, before the devil gay inside me came out to play, when my parents still loved me. We use to sit around the dinner table, laughing and talking, just being a family. Where is the craziest place you’ve had sex? I wonder if you’d believe me if I actually told you the craziest place...this guy named John and I once had sex on a public bus around 1am one night. We had just left the bar and were both extremely horny, had a thirty minute bus ride home, we couldn’t wait. He undid my pants, crawled up on my lap and rode my bent dick all the way home. Where is the craziest place you’ve had sex? This guy named John and I, a devout but twisted Catholic, once did the dirty in a confessional booth. And I can honestly say that was the most intense sex I’ve ever had, it was amazing. What is the happiest moment in your life? I’m still searching for that moment. Because each time I think I achieved that moment, something else that is equally brilliant happens and takes it place. What’s the worst thing anyone could do to you? Make me fall in love and then turn their back on me. That would crush me in ways that would destroy even someone as jaded as I. When it comes down to it, what is your ultimate dream life? My dream life is one that I cannot recognize or achieve so it’s best not to think about it. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? Laughing, I’m laughing at this question. Have you ever smoked marijuana? Exactly three times I smoked pot and ate brownies three times. I am not a fan of cannabis. But I’m not against anyone smoking it. What’s the worst thing that has happened to you? Sobriety...it has given me the means to look back at a life filled with regrets with none of the tools to medicate the memories. If you could murder someone and get away with it, would you? Yes, without even thinking about it. I’d kill my father. Sometimes I wish tombstones could talk back. What do you consider your biggest failing? That even after all these years, my fuck face dead father still affects me. Would you ever trust your online boyfriend with money? Never. Mainly because I’d never have an online boyfriend because I’m not delusional and can get a guy in real life. If you could have one wish (for yourself alone) what would it be? I’d wish my family didn’t hate the fact that the person I love has a cock just like me. Are you happy with your life now? Mostly. Do you like peanut butter? Not on sandwiches but peanut butter is always fun to have lying around the bedroom if you get my drift. Have you ever stolen anything? Yes, and let’s leave it at that shall we. What is the one thing you wish people to remember you for? That I was honest...well almost. Have you ever shaved “down there”? I’ve shaved down there, up there, around there, pretty much anywhere, not a fan of body hair. When was the last time you questioned your own motives for doing something and why? I don’t question my motives; I usually just go with the flow. Why question things I’m going to do anyway? What is the one thing you wish you had said to someone, but couldn’t bring yourself too? “M”, I’m sorry. What is your favorite color? Blue if its shirts and such...black if it’s coats and pants, and red if it’s underwears. Where are you ticklish? Why don’t you come over and I’ll let you find out. What other windows do you have open right now? Awesomedude.com, AuthorsHaunt.com, GayAuthors.org, and HomoEmo.com. I really hope further down they don’t ask what I’m doing right now. Do you sing in the shower? Yes, in the shower, on the toilet, in the car, on the train, on the street, on stage, pretty much anywhere except work. Though I guess I sing at work sometimes as well. What time of the day do you usually get the most done? After midnight usually, I love the quiet time of the night after the weirdo’s go to bed. How many sex toys do you have? Three, not sure if I should disclose which type of toys I own...fleshlight, vibrator, and duel headed dildo. What’s the most creative thing you do? Answer these questions. What is your favorite meal to make for someone else? Chinese food, it always leaves them wanting more in a few hours. When was the last time you said, “I’m sorry” and why? Christmas Day, after getting an amazing blowjob and I couldn’t return the favor due to consuming too much egg nog that had my insides running in circles. Matter of fact, after several I’m sorry’s, I ran out of his apartment and straight into my bathroom for twenty minutes. Not fun. Would you rather be the best looking guy in the world or date the best looking guy in the world? After careful thought, I decided I’d rather be the best looking guy in the world. I think dating the best looking guy in the world would drive me crazy wondering if he was going to go out with someone better than me. Yes, much better to be the one cheating on the uggo than the other way around. What one trait can you not do without in someone? A sense of humor...because they are going to need it to date me. Do you have any songs that remind you of certain people/places/times? Runaway Train by Soul Asylum...several years ago, an ex-boyfriend of mine accused me of always running away whenever I’d get close to someone. He was as usual, right. What is the most vivid dream you’ve ever had, and why is it so memorable? I had a very erotic dream about my ex-boyfriend (one that I really wished never got away) and when I woke up, for a few minutes, I thought we were still together and I almost expected him to walk into my room and jump into bed with me. It was rather disappointing when reality came back and I realized it was only a dream. Will you be willing to be a surrogate for my baby if I asked you nicely? Never in a million years will I use my baby gravy for anything other than for dripping down someone’s cheek/cheeks. One of the best things about being gay is we never have to have those sick, loud, pooping machines. Why would any gay guy in his right mind ever want to have a family like “them” is beyond me? Have you ever wrecked your car? Nope, I’m a good driver. What is your favorite movie character and why? It varies depending on my mood. Lately my favorite character is Eric Draven from the movie The Crow. What is more romantic than coming back from the dead to avenge your girlfriend’s murder? I know. When did you break your heart the last time and why? I have never broken my heart, I leave that to the men I fall in love with. Speaking of punishment, what is the cruelest punishment you’ve received by a mate? One of my ex-boyfriend made me go to his family Christmas dinner one year, sober, because I had promised to go to his nephew’s christening and while he was waiting for me to pick him up I was half-way to Atlantic City to go gambling with my friend, Jason, who was my secret fuck buddy for five years. When was the last time you pooped? About seven hours ago. And it was a good one too. What was the last dream you had about? Aliens had attacked the earth and my boyfriend and I was driving in the dessert trying to outrun the invaders in a Chevy truck. It was so good I didn’t want to wake up. Have you ever tasted your own cum? Really...do I have to answer that? I’m sure my loyal reader could guess the answer to this question. What is your biggest regret in life to this point? That I let Jason go without telling him how I felt about him. What would you do for $1,000,000.00? Whatever it took. Where would you never want to live and why? Texas, because everything and everyone in Texas is fucking crazy. What is your favorite sex act? It kind of depends on if I’m a top or a bottom in said sex act. Who is your best friend? Daniel, he’s the one person that always makes me feel safe no matter what craziness is encompassing my life. What’s the worst thing your parents have ever caught you doing? I was sixteen, and my father caught me bent over the couch getting fucked by a nineteen year old guy. It was also the last thing my parents ever caught me doing. What is the last book you bought? Nikki Sixx’s This is Gonna Hurt. Who was/is your last crush? Again this question doesn’t specify online, real life, or fantasy so I’m going to answer with my online crush. Though I’ve never seen a picture of him, I have the hugest crush on the author known as Julian. Yummy yummy he is. If you could choose to have one superpower, which one would it be? I’d like to be able to fly...then I could chase the sun. What scares you? Honesty...the scariest thing on earth. What are you wearing right now (underwear too)? A pair of slim fit black jeans, red boxer briefs, and black tank top. I know, boring right. Have you ever had sexual intercourse with a female? Yes, more than one time. Every once in a while I feel like sleeping with a girl. Where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex? On top of a fire truck with a paramedic. If you could throw everything away, what would it be for? Happiness, true happiness without faking it. Which is the shortest time it took you to have an orgasm? It was the day after I first had sex with Jason, he was at work and I was thinking about the time we had. I went to the bathroom and in less than a minute I was rinsing out the sink. It was the most intense I’ve had by myself. And I still remember it though it was years ago. Who do you think about when masturbating? It’s always the guy I’m on the prowl for, and never the guy I just fucked. What is your ideal man/woman like? Preferably he’s a brunet, around my age, a nerd star that wears glasses, has a sense of humor, and likes me for who I am and not what I project to be.
  18. Jason Rimbaud

    Evil Plot Bunnies

    When I first read the title, I thought it said evil pot bunnies...needless to say I was a bit disappointed as I read your entry. Welcome to the Blogs Ben. Can't wait to read more about your life in the quite humorous way only you can write. Jason
  19. Thanks James, I quite like the bad boy name calling, I didn't know you cared. :) I think I wrote somewhere on this site, this story started as a flash, then I wrote this small piece in response to Blue's comment in Part One and over my vacation, I banged out about twenty-thousand words so far fleshing out this story and I was quite amazed how the piece is shaping up. As to when it will be finished, who knows, I'm still doing another re-write on another story I finished for our writing project a few months ago. That story ballooned up to over eighty-thousand words but it needs some major work as I tend to get long winded and repeat myself often. But at least I'm still working and that's something I haven't done in a long time. J
  20. 4 Alarm Hot Wings are chicken (never Emu) and yes they are extremely spicy. As for having a side of Jason's arse, as long as you leave out the pickled goolies, just ask. :) It is very fair to assume that stupid fuck face stopped me from getting my fix. As for why they don't deliver, I live thirty miles away from my beloved SmokeEaters. If anything would make me quit my job just so I could be closer to San Jose, 4 Alarm Hot Wings would be the reason. Eating them is better than sex...well...almost
  21. Vacation is finally over and it's back to work. But on the bright side, new blog entry

  22. “Ah, haven’t had one of these in years,” Greg sighed with satisfaction as the taste was exactly like he remembered from his first trip to Jamaica. Sara scrunched up her face. “How can you like that awful tasting beer?” “Some buddies and I went to Jamaica after graduation. Red Stripe was the only beer they had to drink and after a week of drinking, you get use to it. Plus it brings back memories, you know.” “As long as you like it, I guess,” Sara stated flippantly. “So what brings you here?” “Well, I was mighty thirsty.” “No silly,” Sara chided him as she shoved him playfully. “Here, as in Atherton.” “I live just down the hill remember and I needed to enjoy myself,” Greg said as he leaned back on his elbows in the grass. “Besides, I needed a vacation from everyone.” “Everyone, huh?” Sara asked. “So you live there by yourself?” Sara noticed that far away look in his eyes again and mentally kicked herself as Greg said, “Yep, all alone. But I’m getting use to that.” “I could never go anywhere alone, that would drive me crazy.” “Technically, since you can’t find your friend, you are here alone,” Greg said with a grin. “Oh brother,” Sara said and for the first time Greg noticed she had a slight southern drawl. “But since I came with my friend I am not by myself. Plus I’m talking to you.” “Interesting way of looking at the world.” “Oh shit.” Sara cursed loudly. “You were right.” Greg looked at her with one eyebrow raised. “I was right about what?” “Not you.” Sara murmured. “Justin, I just hate it when he’s always right.” “Okay,” Greg said slowly and somewhat sarcastically. “Do you always talk to people who aren’t there? Because if you do that could explain why you’re never alone.” Sara looked at him and started to laugh. After a few moments, she took control of herself and explained. “Justin said you were gay, but I didn’t believe him.” “Whatever gave you that idea?” Greg asked, puzzled by her declaration. Sara just gave him a look that spoke more than any words. She smiled at him and patted him on the knee. “You do,” She answered with a smile. “I’ve been sitting here talking to you for fifteen minutes and you haven’t once looked at my tits.” “So, you said it yourself, I’m a gentleman.” “Oh really,” Sara stated as she held up her hand. “For one, when I just stretched, I purposely shoved my tits right in your face and you looked away. Secondly, I know I’m not ugly so that can’t be it. And thirdly, you have been drooling over all the guys around here and not any women.” Greg had to laugh at the smug look on her face, like she was proud of her deducting skills. She added after a moment, “I don’t care, so don’t worry. I’m not offended or anything. I always seem to like the gay boys. Maybe it’s because they take better care of themselves.” He chuckled. “I didn’t think I was that obvious. I should learn to be more careful and stare at all the titties around me.” “That’s it, you went from acting gay and somewhat cool to acting straight and an asshole in two seconds flat,” Sara stated sarcastically. “Okay, how about this. Check out that guys ass over there, it’s so hot it’s a shame he has to sit on it,” Greg said as he pointed to some random guy playing volleyball. “That’s better sweetie, just be yourself around me.” “Hey Sara,” She looked at him for a moment, sadness flashed in her green eyes as she admonished, “I’m sorry, Greg, I lied to you.” “Lied, about what?” “Well, because…I didn’t come here with a friend. Wait, that’s another lie, I meant I did come here with a friend but my friend and I are the ones throwing this party,” She explained with a wince, honestly a bit scared how he would take this admission. She took a deep breath. “And my name isn’t, Sara, either.” He noticed right away the childlike need for acceptance on her face so he smiled. “If Sara isn’t your real name, what would you like me to call you?” A look of relief exploded across her face and she squealed and said in a rush, “Alyson, you can call me, Alyson.” “Okay, Alyson, it’s very nice to meet you,” Greg said as he shook her hand again. “And while we’re on the subject, I have a confession to make as well.” “Don’t tell me you lied about your name too?” “No, nothing like that,” Greg said as he broke out in an evil grin. “I was looking at your tits when you weren’t looking. I’ve been trying to figure out for the last twenty minutes if they’re real or not.” “Asshole,” She screamed out as she punched him in the shoulder before sitting back down again. “So, am I forgiven?” “Sure, after all, you were planning on feeding me, right?” She giggled and stood up. She reached down her hand to help him on his feet. “What do you want to eat?” “First things first, who is this Justin guy and how did he know I was gay?” Greg asked as he let her pull him to his feet. Alyson rolled her eyes and muttered, “Men, I should just become a lesbian and get it over with.”
  23. A New and Improved Blog Experience Brought to you by the one and only Jason Rimbaud The other day or maybe it was the other week, life has a habit of going by faster than the speed of light and sometimes I feel like I’m being left behind, I was at work and all I could think about was grubbing on some 4 Alarm Hot Wings from my favorite place in the world, SmokeEaters, in downtown San Jose. For those of you that watch the Food Network Channel, and more importantly, Man Vs Food Nation, you might have watched the episode where SmokeEaters was featured due to their “world” famous Hot Wing Challenge. If you did watch that episode, then you’ll also know that Man defeated Food in a big way. But that really has nothing to do with this new and improved Blog experience I’m bringing you on this day so I’ll continue on my fairy way. Well, I will say, briefly, that if you live in the San Francisco Bay Area and enjoy a good hot wing experience then I urge you to go to San Jose’s SmokeEaters and try them out. Tell them Jason sent you. Though to be truthful, that won’t really do you any good as I have absolutely no pull whatsoever there but maybe if enough people go there saying my name I’ll get a discount. Or better yet, maybe because I’m doing all this “free” advertising they’ll give me free wings for life or something like that. Two years ago when I first started my new job in San Francisco, the very first person I hired was a twenty-three year old kid fresh out of culinary school. He was from a wealthy family and much to their chagrin; he was dead set on becoming a Chef with a dream of one day having his own restaurant. He was fresh from school and had zero experience but I saw something in him I liked so I took a chance. Now before you say that I hired him based solely on his nerd star looks…I want to set the record straight right now and say that I hired him half on his looks and half on my gut feeling. And over the last two years, my gut proved me right once again and he’s turning into a talented line cook and a future that looks mighty promising. I’ll forgo the fact that a few months ago he quit to take a better job with a greater chance at advancement but that’s how life in the service industry goes, you stay only long enough to learn everything you can before moving on to bigger and better things. Six months into his tenure, he started dating one of my hostesses. I know it’s never a good idea to date someone where you work but I couldn’t tell him or her that and I knew they’d have to figure that out on their own. So I set back and waited for the inevitable clusterfuck that was sure to ensue. For more than a while things between the two of them were proceeding at somewhat of a boring pace and if I were to be truthful, they lasted way longer than I ever thought they would. But once he left our restaurant to pursue his new opportunity with one of his old teachers from culinary school, things started heading south quickly. And much to my dismay, she feels like I’m the one person at work she can trust enough to tell her relationship woes too. I know more about their relationship then I’d care to and some of it is quite disturbing in a dysfunctional kind of way. Oh really, what’s so disturbing about it, you might ask. For an instance, they had a three-some with one of the other line cooks after a hard nights drinking. Apparently one of her turn-ons is to watch two dudes getting it on. Though on the other side of that coin, one of her turn-off’s is coming home from work early and catching her boyfriend and this same line cook in bed without her. I guess it’s only sexy if she’s there to watch and I guess participate in some way. Though I must admit I’d be pretty pissed if I came home and saw my boyfriend on his back with his legs in the air screaming out, ‘fuck me, fuck me harder you son of a bitch’. But then I might join in, it all depends on my frame of mind on that day. So I’m busy at work, busy running around in my new shoes that aren’t quite broken in as of yet and starvin like a marvin. For ten hours straight all I can think or focus on is leaving my restaurant and rushing down to SmokeEaters in San Jose to purchase my favorite flavor 4 Alarm Hot Wings. Of course I pretend to pay attention to the eight hundred guests I saw that day. You bet your ass I pretend to care about my employee’s and their numerous personal problems that always seem to crop throughout any given day at our very busy eating establishment in downtown San Francisco. But it’s all a show, my mind is firmly fixated on that burning sensation that is the only thing that can calm the ache that I harbor deep down my insides. If the above paragraph seems like a cry for help for a very unhealthy addiction…it’s not. I am fully aware that 4 Alarm Hot Wings from SmokeEaters isn’t necessarily the healthiest of choices when it comes to nutrition but none of that matters. I fully realize that I have this addiction and I actually control it through moderation. This practice of moderation is why I am so fixated on 4 Alarm Hot Wings from SmokeEaters on this particular day. At the time of this writing, it had been over two weeks since I had last indulged my addiction and I was starting to get the itch. I’m not quite to the point where I’ll blow some random stranger to get the time to head towards San Jose but I am at the place where I’ll give a Handy J to some random stranger to get the time to go to San Jose. Don’t judge me until you ate a million 4 Alarm Hot Wings in my shoes! I have been working more than a few hours over the last few weeks, though to be truthful; it’s been over a month since I started writing this Blog Entry. And even now I’m sitting at a bar in the beautiful Luxor Casino in Vegas drinking Absinthe and wondering why I’m sitting alone typing on my laptop. It’s 11:00 pm on Thanksgiving Eve and I’m feeling particularly lonely. Maybe it’s because I found one of my ex-friends on FaceBook earlier today and I realized I missed him. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been connecting less and less with real people and withdrawing behind the walls I’ve created over the years. But enough of my pity party, let’s resume the Blog. Let’s go back a few weeks. A day that I had decided the time was right to drive the forty minutes to San Jose for several reasons. Reason One: we had no late reservations so I figured that I’d leave San Francisco around 10:30PM giving me over an hour and half before SmokeEaters closed. And that was more than enough time to get there and back to my apartment at a decant time before going to bed. Reason Two: we have a new Chef and he swears by all that is holy that if I get him some of the 4 Alarm sauce he’ll be able to reproduce it so I can it so I can make it myself alleviating the need to drive to San Jose twice a month. And Reason Three (and probably the most important): I’m a full blown junkie and I needed my fix. And this is where things get fucked…because I only wanted my 4 Alarm Hot Wings but from the very beginning anything that could go wrong started to go wrong. A couple who were on a first blind date just would not take the hint that we were closed and I had to practically pick them up by the scruff of their necks and throw them out into the street much like you would a cat. And my bartender, beautiful but not very bright, somehow entered the wrong amount for one of his transactions that took me almost an hour to find and correct. Small unrelated instances but I didn’t get to leave the restaurant until 11:25PM. By this time I’m frustrated at all straight people and yes, I was judging the whole based on a few, pissed off at my bartender for not taking the time to enter the numbers correctly and seriously thinking that I’d blow Satan himself if there was a way to go back in time so I could go to SmokeEaters in San Jose. I arrive at my car at 11:30PM and start the engine. I am at war with myself as I stare into the mirror. Should I point my car south and drive like a bat out of hell or should I admit defeat and make plans to go to SmokeEaters in San Jose another time? I know the next day’s reservations are such that leaving before midnight is a pipe dream that only a Republican could believe. So the question is; should I wait three more days to head out at a leisurely pace on my next day off and really take the time to enjoy my 4 Alarm Hot Wings from SmokeEaters? I pointed my car south and floored the fucking thing. Over the course of my life, I’ve had numerous liaisons with guys that their first names start with the letter J. I don’t know if there is significance or just un-luck. But remember that guy I hired right out of Culinary School, his name was James. And since his girlfriend, my hostess, caught him getting fucked in the ass he is now newly single. And a few weeks ago (as of right now it’s been six weeks) I met him out for a few drinks after work. It started out harmless enough, he was bitching about losing his girl and yet excited about the new possibilities of exploring his newfound “bisexualism”. Apparently, with the exception of some mutual wanking in his youth, that was his first time with a guy. And newsflash, he loved it. Normally I’m a very defensive driver; I give others the right of way, I use my blinkers, I never tailgate and I always drive the speed limit. So I figured I was due for some more aggressive style of driving than usual. And since I always respect the law of the road, what are the odds of me getting caught driving like some kind of lunatic on a werewolf bender? Anybody care to give me the odds on this thinking? Anyone, anyone, Bueller, Bueller? So a few other days ago, I’m at my local gas station and I see this large red machine with Coke plastered all over the side of it in the place where the usual fountain soda machine normally sits. I walked over and peered at the screen. You read right, I said peered at the screen. In the top portion of this Coke machine was a touch screen menu that gave you the options of what type of drink you’d like to purchase in a cup, Coke, Diet Coke, Cherry Coke, etc etc. It was the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Well, it was until I watched this twink getting fisted at a sex club in Vegas last night but that’s another story for another Blog. I actually bought a Dr Pepper just so I could play around with this amazing machine. But then it got me thinking, we can’t fix the budget, our homeless rate is growing faster than a Republican’s debt, our banking system is on the verge of collapse but hey everyone, we have a touch screen soda machine. I’m glad to see that we have our fucking priorities well in hand. I mean, really, do we have to have a touch screen soda machine? There is a restaurant in San Francisco that has an I-Pad on every table. The I-Pad is the menu and you scroll through the food, wine, and cocktail options. When you find what you want, you order it and then someone brings it to your table. What’s fucking next? We already have less and less human contact via the internet, now we don’t even have to talk to servers. In ten years, are we even going to remember how to communicate face to face anymore? And while I’m on the subject, doesn’t anyone use a fucking phone anymore? Think about it, when’s the last time you actually made a call on your smart device. We use texting (sexting) emails and FaceBook, Twitter, and all the other social media so we don’t have to actually speak to anyone. Have you ever felt that the world is just out to get you? That’s how I felt that lonely night driving ninety miles an hour down 101 Southbound. I think every stupid driver was on the freeway that night. From the grandma’s doing forty miles an hour in the fast lane, to drivers hitting their breaks and slowing down to a crawl to gaze at the accident on the other side of the freeway, to road construction that didn’t seem to be constructing anything other than traffic problems and didn’t seem to have a purpose except to narrow down four lanes into one. The traffic was so bad I actually contemplated believing in a god just so I could lament that he/she hates me. Even with these crazy road conditions, I was actually making really good time. I’ll admit that I had to drive on the shoulder for a few miles but that’s not really illegal…right? At one point in my hyper-motivated journey, I zoomed down an off ramp only to shoot through the intersection and back onto the entrance ramp to get around a large moving van and three buses who thought it was a good idea to drive so slow I could have sworn in open court that they were moving backwards. At 11:40PM I call SmokeEaters and place my food order. I promised that I would be there in twenty minutes and to please not close until I get arrive. The young girl said she’d do her best but they lock the doors promptly at midnight. My poor little car is purring/growling as I push it to speeds that it was never built to achieve. I’m nearing a hundred miles an hour and it’s starting to shake but I don’t care. Nothing is going to keep me from getting my 4 Alarm Hot Wings from SmokeEaters in San Jose. Nothing. Three days ago, I started a fourteen day in a row stretch. I get to the restaurant at 7AM (to get there that early I have to get up at 5AM) and I’ve been leaving the restaurant around 10:30PM while arriving home after midnight. I’m tired, my shoes are now broken in but I’m getting a little bit grumpy. The good news, we hired a new manager that starts on Monday (but by the time you actually read this Blog Entry it could be tomorrow or it could have been two weeks ago) and I couldn’t be happier. I think he’s going to be a great addition to our team but since he’s brand new, he can’t be left on his own which is way I have to work forever in a row. Now the reason I have to work these crazy hours is our General Manager has taken a much needed vacation for two weeks. And I don’t begrudge him the time off but I am however grumpy as a withdrawing Meth addict that I have to work a hundred hours a day so he can get his freak on with all those Spanish hotties. A few weeks ago, I’m pretty sure someone used one of my own poems to tell me to go fuck myself. And if they did, I think that’s pretty fucking cool. So you all remember “A”, my friend with benefits that wanted to take it to the next level. Notice I didn’t type that sentence as a question because I know that everyone is fascinated with my life and they hang on my every word. Apparently the new and improved Jason is an egomaniac and should be punished for his arrogance. Any takers? Anyway, “A” grew tired of my lack of commitment and my neurotic behavior or maybe it was my lack of making time for him and after the both of us were silent for a couple of days, he sends me a text message something to the affect, ‘your poem un-remembered is my favorite one you wrote’. Then he never texted me again. If my supposes are correct, he told me he would be better off when I become un-remembered. Can you believe that? He used my own words against me. A part of me wants to contact him again just to see if I’m right in my assumptions. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. Update: “A” and I are fucking again. I have enough shit going on in my life at the moment that doesn’t include my heavy work load or friends with benefits being mad at me due to my stupidity. What do you mean? Are you speaking of trying to get to San Jose? Or are you referring to your ex-employee that just found out the pleasures of being a big ole Mo? James and I are at the bar, doing shots and truly having a blast. I’ve gotten him to stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, not for any reason except that I had to hear about their breakup from her and I didn’t want to hear about it again from him. Plus the more I drank the hornier I was getting. James and his Ex had a common problem, they still lived together even though they broke up because neither one could afford to move out alone. I’m not sure if I could do that but they are pretty young and broke as a joke. Throughout the course of the night, James had made the statement it was hard to hook up with anyone because he didn’t have a place to go. And apparently, he was randy as a goat and looking to open up his experiences with guys. The bar closes, we’re drunk, and James starts complaining that he doesn’t want to go home to face her at this moment. So being the nice guy I am, I offer him my couch. And believe it or not, I typed that sentence without cracking a smile once. My car is whining and groaning but I’m not letting up as I fly off the San Jose Airport exit. My car’s up on two wheels as I careen down the exit ramp passing other vehicles as if they’re standing still. I’ve got Breaking Benjamin blasting in my ear buds and I’m chain smoking cigarettes like they are my lifeline to normalcy and I’m speeding like Charlie Sheen on a two week bender. Off in the distance I can see the St James exit looming ahead like a beacon in the wilderness. I glance at the dashboard clock and see I have about eight minutes to make it to SmokeEaters. I grin wildly and step on the accelerator trying to coax every last ounce of speed from my poor little four cylinder car. I’m so close I can taste the sweet taste of victory. Straight people who wouldn’t leave and stupid beautiful bartenders, zero, and Jason the crazy obsessive addict, one. And then I see it, or rather I see a blur…parked on the side of the road like some vengeful angel out of a Clint Eastwood movie. My dreaded nemesis, a CHP officer better known as a California Highway Patrol fuck face. I blow past him at 91 miles an hour in a 65 mile an hour zone. And for a moment I imagine that I’m driving so fast that he can’t see me. Or maybe he was looking down when I screeched by him driving like a man possessed. Or even better, maybe he was one of those lazy CHP officers and he was sleeping off a donut induced high. I mean, really, my exit is just right there, I think maybe if I can get off the exit before he starts chasing me I can lose him in the streets of downtown San Jose. Then I see the lights on top of his car light up and I imagine I can hear the powerful roar of his engine as he lurches forward after me. I know I’m busted. I’m such an addict there is no way that I’d risk going to jail for trying to evade a police officer…or maybe I’m such an addict that I won’t risk going to jail and not being able to have my 4 Alarm Hot Wings ever again. Even as I start slowing down, I refuse to admit defeat when I am this close to achieving my goal. I am forming a plan in my stupid head as I pull off the road and stare longingly at my exit which is only fifty yards away. Surely there is something I can say or do, to or for; this CHP officer that will get me out of what I am sure is a hefty fine and maybe even a loss of my driving privileges. I can hear some of you right now saying, ‘you’ll get what you deserve, driving like some insane person on the shoulder of the road, darting on and off exit ramps just to pass cars, speeding past police officers’. Don’t you worry, I hear you loud and clear, you think I deserve a ticket. Well, fuck you, I don’t. I’m a good person on the inside. It’s the fucking 4 Alarm Hot Wings I tell you. The CHP fuck face pulls up behind my stopped car and I’m frantically trying to come with something, anything to tell this guy when he asks why I was driving so recklessly. ‘Really officer, I didn’t know how fast I was going’, ‘I’m sorry I was speeding but I have to go to the bathroom so bad I’m afraid I’ll soil myself any moment,’ ‘I heading for the hospital, my uncle was in a bad accident and he wants to see me one last time before he passes,’ ‘I’ll do anything if you let me go…and I mean anything’. These are just a few of the better scenarios that flashed in y feeble head as fuck face slowly approaches the passenger side of my car (who by the way is quite happy that I finally stopped pushing it so hard I imagine I can hear my car breathing heavily). “Good evening sir, where are you headed tonight in such a hurry?” If I ever needed to be quick on my feet, now was that time. I look over at him, squinting because he’s shining a flashlight (that’s not fleshlight you pervs) on what could only be a dumbfounded look on my face. I open my mouth and this is what fell out… “I know I was speeding and believe me I’m really really sorry. I’ve never even had so much as a single speeding ticket in all my years driving but my wife is pregnant and she had this stupid late night craving for hot wings from SmokeEaters. I tried to tell her that they close at midnight and there was no way I could drive from San Francisco in thirty minutes.” Now as I’m blurting this out in short strangled gasping breaths, I am getting my registration and insurance card from my glove box to give to the fuck face. But I’m not done; I continue spewing forth this shit… “But then she started saying that I didn’t love her because I wouldn’t drive to San Jose and how bad of a husband I am because it was really all my fault that she is now fat and that her ankles have swollen up to the size of grapefruits and no one is going to find her attractive again. And that if I really loved her I would do whatever it took to get her hot wings from SmokeEaters. After all it was my sperms fault that she’s pregnant, right? Like I’m the one that forgot to take her birth control pills? Does this look like it’s my idea?” “Um…” “I know I was speeding but I only have four minutes to make it to SmokeEaters before they close and I’m afraid if I go home without these hot wings my wife is going to hate me for the rest of my life. Is there any way possible that you could follow me to SmokeEaters so I can get her hot wings? Afterwards you can take me to jail or give me a ticket? And believe me, right now I’m not sure which one of those options is more attractive at this moment but anything you could do would be amazing and I’m so sorry but she’s driving me fucking crazy.” I finally take a breath and stare at fuck face with what I hope is a broken face. No we all know the internet is no place for truth but I swear this CHP officer stare at me for a good minute before he asks this question, ‘how much of what you just told me is true?’ I grin, “not very much.” James and I ended up back at my apartment watching American Dad on Adult Swim. And me being the good host, I offered him a beverage. We settled on cognac and cigars on the patio. I was regaling him with some of my funnier stories from my past exploits and he was filling me in on growing up with a silver spoon in his mouth. Who would’ve known he was so much more than a pretty face. Don’t get me wrong, his face is more than pretty enough but he was easy to talk too. I’m not sure when we decided to call it a night but I do know sometime before the sun came up we were standing in my living room staring at my couch. Apparently my leather couch would give him a rash if he slept on it, and there was no way in hell I was going to sleep on my couch when I have a comfy bed to sleep on/in. So I made him a deal… “You can sleep in my bed but you have to shower first, you stink like last year’s garbage and tonight’s kitchen grease.” Seriously, I didn’t have an ulterior motive for getting him all wet and naked in my room. There really was no freaking way in hell he was sleeping in my bed before scrubbing away the kitchen smell and ball sweat from his working ten hours in a hot kitchen. So we took turns showering and after we were fresh faced scrubbed I turned off the lights and crawled into bed next to him. I’m not sure why he asked for a pair of shorts to sleep in, the lights weren’t turned off for more than a minute before those shorts flew across the room and we got all sweaty again. But after hearing about the time she caught him in bed with another guy so many times, I thought it was pretty ironic that it wasn’t long before his legs were resting on my shoulders and he was screaming out, ‘fuck me, fuck me harder you son of a bitch’.
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