Porn. Porn. Porn. Porn. Porn.

So, since its Friday, I have decided to dedicate the majority of today's entry to your favorite and mine.... Porn. Its delightful. Its delicious. Its dirty. Its obscene. Its downright filthy. Who doesnt love porn? Every man with a swingin' pair of hairy nuts loves porn. Straight or gay. Mild, hard core, or even completely disgusting - you know you love it.

Lets go over a few catagories, shall we?

Soft core: This is the most tame of all. You get tits and ass, but no real action. Just the suggestion of action. Which is ok, in a pinch. Like a hotel room, or with the wife. Soft core gets a C.

Hard core: You get some good action. It straddles the line between tame and almost disgusting. You know the women in hard core porn will do almost anything - except for the truly sick shit. This goes for gay porn too, or so His Gayness has told me. Hard core gets an A-.

Nasty core: With this catagory, you get it all. Midget porn. Black porn. Black midget porn. Retarted porn. You name it, you think of it - there is a video for it. Being the porn god that I am, I have likely seen nearly every thing out there. Nasty core gets an A++++++++infinity.

Thats some fucked up shit right there. Admit it - you laughed.

I am currently fighting with the wife. So, I am going to spend my day in bed, watching freaky porn, and spanking myself raw. A good way to start the weekend, no?

Thats it. Thats all I have to say. No links this week, since I am feeling lazy and you all can find your own fucking porn.


Just remember - even ugly bitches can find gainful employment in the porn industry. Bad lighting, and the doggy position can hide a lot. Its not like we are looking at your face anyway, whore.

Bologna and Tomato

So, there is more Baby Daddy drama. The boy got himself arrested this weekend. Drunk in public. Possession. The mental giant was walking home, in the dark, drunk with another of his quality friends. Now, at least he was walking, instead of driving. So he gets 1 point for that. However, I must deduct 30 points because from where he was, to where he had to go, is like 25 miles.

25 miles. Lets put this into perspective. A marathon is 27 miles. It takes marathon runners up to 4 hours to complete a marathon. And that is running, at a steady pace.

Genius was walking, staggering and generally lolly-gaggin' along. So I figure it would take him until Sunday to reach home. He is lucky that the cops came, to give him a ride. And a bed, and took a hell of a nice picture too. And yeah, thats the county he is from. So proud of that, he had to tattoo the zip code on his arm. Idiot.

So the daughter bailed him out, with money she had to borrow. And she is working while growing this fine specimen's offspring in her belly. He has been told, again, to get a job. He is not allowed to go out with his loser friends, and must wait on the daughter hand and foot. We will see how long this lasts.

And yes, they are both back, Living in my House. I think I feel my balls shrinking, just a little. All hail the King. Fuck.

His Royal Gayness has 2 'girlfriends'!! He is all a-twitter with excitement. He loves attention, and tends to get a bit whiny and bitchy without it. He has been seeing each of his boy-toys every night this week.

Dinner last night with one, animal ass sex the other night, with the other. We are all happier when the Gay King is happy. So, good for him.

I imagine this is what a typical date looks like with His Royal Gayness. He is, of course, the smaller one - the one that takes, rather than gives. I especially love the ass-less leather chaps worn by the rather large, rough looking fag. I think that is what makes the Gay King weak in the knees. And that would explain the way he walks too.

One of my co-workers got a rather strange call the other night. It was very late, going on 2 am or so. After picking up the phone, all he could hear is the sounds of wilderness, wind, and the desperate heavy breathing of someone in full blown panic mode. Then, in a terrified whisper, he heard, "Help me!! Please jesus christ, help me!" Baffled, and still half asleep, my co-worker asked, "Who is this? Hello?? Where are you?" Getting worried, that someone might be in real trouble. The breathing got deeper, more desperate, and some where in the back ground came a terrible shout. The caller literally whimpered, and the sound of a struggle ensued. My co-worker, by now, was obviously concerned, truly thinking some one he knows is in serious shit. Then he heard, "Get off the phone, Karl! You know its your turn!"

Oh shit. It was our mechanic, Karl - who is on vacation this week. My co-worker said, he thought he heard Karl sob, like a scared little girl, before the phone was hung up, and the line went dead. And it did sound a lot like Gary in the back ground, yelling at Karl. Well, whatever Karl had to do for his turn, he did not sound very happy about it.

When Gary and Karl get back, I'm sure we will get all the details. I never knew Karl swung that way. But - hey - to each his own, right? He cant really be in serious trouble, right? I mean, who gets kidnapped, taken to Deep Throat Canyon by a screaming flit for vacation?? Karl is fine. He was probably just prank calling. Yeah. That has to be it.

Ok, thats it for now. I will let you know how Baby Daddy does in the next few days on his diet of bologna and tomato sammiches, and tap water. Thats all we have in the house right now.

Peace, bitches.

I got my balls back!

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Friday

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Far behind..

So, I've been slacking on writing posts. I know it. It was a holiday. I was sick. I had a flat tire. The car broke down. I was mugged. My grandmother died. My wife was on the rag. Whatever the reasons, I havent written a witty, humorous post in nearly a week. What have you asshats been doing this whole time without my clever insights and amusing tales?? Watching porn and spanking it, most likely. At least, thats what I would do.

So, let's recap the past week, shall we?

People living in my house: I'm a pretty open guy. I can take a lot, and my fuse is pretty long. (I said fuse, you perverts!) So, when things get annoying, it takes a long time for me to get truly pissed. I reached that point this week. Lets start off with the nose hair trimmers. I use them. I need them. Its a fucking forest up there! And I like to be groomed. I dont need braids of hair coming out of my nose for christs sake.

So, of the People Living in my House, guess who's been using my nose hair trimmers? Give up? Me too! I'm guessing its either Baby Daddy or the stray that we picked up a few weeks ago. Either way, a nose hair trimmer is a personal grooming tool. It isnt for sharing.

And both of these People Living in my House are young men. Below the age of 25. Think back to when you were 25. Getting it up wasnt a problem, right? Would you ever think to use Viagra at 25?? Me either! But one of them is popping them like fucking candy! At this point, I have lost patience and the whole, good guy routine.

I am starving to death, there is no food in my house, no snackies, and now, I have a violated nose hair trimmer, and a shrinking supply of Viagra! And my laundry has been in a pile on the floor for over a week. Keep in mind I have 18 cats.

And I've been sick. I think I have Lyme's disease. Or crabs. Cant keep the two straight. I havent even felt like watching porn! I know, I know - its becoming tragic, and I think I need to see a doctor.

The Gay Report: His Royal Gayness has been astonishing us with tales of his gay cruise. I will spare you the disgusting details. Here is a picture of the "twins" he found on board the ship. Matching outfits. In light blue. Jesus, they are so gay.
















So, thats it for now. I'm feelin itchy. Here are some random pictures for your enjoyment, fuckers.




Yard Art. My boss hates his neighbor.









Me, without my fucking Viagra!!












Aww. Aint that cute?

Wednesday - Ghost of Spankings Past

A page from the book of, "My Life with Brian". Enjoy...

Today, my friends, we will go back in time. Back to an easier, more laid back time where a guy could hang out with his friends, do crazy drugs, and get a blow job from a hooker. Thats right! A blow job from a hooker. Daisy was her name. Sweet Daisy. My good friend and I went to another friends house on matters of money and drugs, to hang out, to do whatever we had to do.

So, we arrive. We settle in. We joke a little, smoke a little. We call up Daisy for some good old fashioned fun. My friends disappear upstairs for a bit, but I'm not paying much attention. Daisy had broken out a washcloth, and her filthy mouth. Whats a guy to do but lean back, and enjoy. Some where in there the comment of "Does it get any bigger?" was mumbled, I think - but I have blocked it out. After all, I'm getting a blow job! It wasnt bad. Never knew that missing teeth made for a damn fine smoker. Now you know too.

As all of this is going down, my friend returns from his trip upstairs. He is wiping his mouth. His eyes are all red and glassy. His face is burning, likely from deep shame. "What did you do up there, for fucks sake?!?" I scream while Daisy is doing the ole hob nob on my johnson. He flips me off, and threatens death if I ever speak of it again. Ooo-kay then. We got what we came for - pun intended. Some more than others. We left, off to fulfill the need for more drugs to pollute our system, each of us a little more humble, and shamed for what we have just done.

Daisy.. oh Daisy. I still remember you. Good times.. good times.

Tuesday, bitches!

Since it is Tuesday, and its been a bit busy today - I have decided to just post some pics of the people in my office.

This handsome fucker is Nixon. Dont mind the various wounds on his rather wide forehead. He was drug through some brambles by guys wearing coveralls, and not much else, totin' shotguns. Dont ask. Nixon is a strange dude. He doesnt talk much, and when he does - well, it never makes a lot of sense.
Nixon is a killer with the ladies, though. Its that stone cold, dead eye stare that gets em. I guess. I've asked Marketing if we could post an advertisement on that billboard of a forehead of his, but they said no. Fuckers have no insight or creativity. I mean look at it! All that space. Shit, you could fit the web address AND slogan on that fucking runway. Anyway - thats Nixon.

This fun-loving party guy is Donald. He works in Operations. Always the life of the party - he obviously enjoys his brewskis. And, he is the only man on earth to be over 15 months pregnant. For christs sake! Look at that fuckin belly!! Its handy for restin' the ole chilly beer bottle on though, or a plate of ribs. Handles a burger nicely too, along with a side of fries. And yeah, he smells as good as he looks.

Not much with the ladies, I'm afraid. There was an incident a few years back that involved a crane, the fire department and a golden retriever. Ever since then, old Donald hasnt felt much like dating. That's a big relief to the girls upstairs.


And here we have another picture of Gary, the office queen. Not to be confused with His Royal Gayness, mind you. The Gay King would never be caught with such a crappy wig, and really bad make up. At least, thats what he told me.

Now, I'm not entirely sure why Gary decided to share this pic with us, dear readers. Frankly, I'm disturbed by it. Oh hell, it creeps me right the fuck out! And the way he is holding the toilet paper is just weird. Gary is weird. I think we have seen enough of Gary for awhile. Let's leave him to his business. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.