Sorry, that's the best I can do for y'all. You'll never be as goodly as I. Deal with it as best you can.
When I grow up, I want to be Tom Brady. What? Nobody wins every game. Peyton Manning (go Vols!) was due. I think Brian Urlacher and Da Bears will triumph, though.
Love Peyton's Master Card commercials, though.
I didn't think it was possible for Kristen Bell to get any hotter. Until I watched last night's long anticipated new episode of Veronica Mars, one of the few shows on TV that's actually worth watching. And not just because of the hot young college snatch on the hoof, either. Well, okay, mostly.
Watching the NHL All Star game introductions whilst typing. That Ryan Miller's got him some quality mop, don't he? Whatever. Boy can stop a puck, and that's all that matters. It's nice to see Sheldon Souray get voted in as a starter. Even though that can't possibly make up for losing his hot redheaded Playmate (or, perhaps, Penthouse Pet) wife. Angelica Bridges, if memory serves. Even though my beloved New Jersey Devils traded him away once upon a time.
Nice to see The Wreckers (love me some Michelle Branch; okay, Jessica's pretty fine, too) sing the Star Spangled Banner. Where'd they find the chick what Operamanned the Canadian dealio, though? Okay, her hair was quite pullable. I like long, pullable hair.
It appears that I've gotten the promotion that I applied and interviewed for. Yay, me! Where the trouble comes into Paradise is that the fella what supposedly hired me and announced same at a managers'-type meeting the very day after he told me that nothing had been decided as of yet is on holidays this week. So, I've no idea as to my salary or my bonus. When I actually begin said gig, although it's apparently sometime next week. Ish. What exactly I'll be doing, although I've actually some inkling on that one. Okay, I caved to peer pressure in taking this one. I'm not sure that I can deal with working days again. And don't even get me started on the cocksuckers what we call customers. Now, don't get me wrong, some of my best friends are cocksuckers, but that's a different story. As is having to train a Chinese guy (my boss told me he was Vietnamese) what can neither speak nor read English to do my menial gig. Yeah, THAT went well. Good Times. Fucking guy don't listen too well, either. All yeah yeah and then do whatever the fuck. Cool goggles, though.
It'll be nice to not have to go to work after playing sports in the evening, though. That can make for a very long night. And there are nights when I've literally no idea how I make it to work Alive behind the wheel. Nope, not liquored-up, merely half asleep. Or is it half awake? Whatever. I'm sure y'all see where I'm going with this.
Of late, I've been asking womenfolks for their most vivid Valentine's Day memory. Or, conversely, a time when a man flirted with and/or asked them out in a very charming way. I'm all about anchoring vivid and happy-like memories to thoughts of me. Some folks golf, this is what I do. Use either, both or none at your discretion.
Sadly, it seems that the therapist no longer wishes to be my friend. Tragic. Her loss. I'll always value her for introducing me to Tolle's The Power of Now and for helping me to develop my new abundance mentality. Someday, perhaps our paths will cross again and I'll fuck her like an animal. Perhaps not. Que sera sera.
Other than getting ''we need to talk'' from the geophysicist (it was nothing), I have Pimp Game on her. If Only she were a premium. Sigh. Oh well, one must begin somewhere, mustn't one? I still haven't spent dime one (other than gas money I'd have used anyway) on her. She pays for everything, even bought me shiny. I like shiny. Who doesn't, really? Last night I stopped in on my way home from volleyball to use her shower and have some coffee. Of course I fucked her. It was the least I could do. Especially since my turnaround/recovery time between time #1 and time #2 was roughly 10 minutes. Nope, THAT doesn't happen every day. Usually it's about 5. Anyway, other than a reluctance to give me head on demand (which I'll fix, dammit), she's extremely pliable. Agreeable, even.
Since I was not really about the ''we need to talk'' talk, I went out and got me another chick's digits yesterday. Other than the fact that we both know I'm quite Cool, we don't really have much in common. Yes, there's a lot of that going around. Well, okay, we both enjoy watching One Tree Hill. Watch it yourself, just for Mouth, a perfect object lesson in whyfore one should never be the Nice Guy. Hot snatch abounds in Tree Hill, and my boy is always LJBF. Poor bastard.
But, as usual, I digress. This woman's 10 years younger than I, was a cheerleader in high school (I also like to ask folks what they were like in high school), and seems comfortable with both her sexuality and the idea of sex with your humble narrator. Eliciting and repeating/rephrasing a woman's values and trance words fucking ROCKS! She keeps inviting me to a country bar so she can teach me to 2-step. Uh, no, such an experience is whyfore I've revamped my entire fucking existence lo these past 6 months and change. I hit rock bottom, AFC-wise, in such an environment after being there only to pursue one particular woman. Whom I never even spoke to that night. So no, not overly likely. At least not yet. Especially for a first outing. I'll simply have to offer a more creative alternative. I do that now. I kinda rock, actually. Hell, I'm even speaking with my one-itis like as though I were a real boy and everything. And yes, I bust on her, too. Next, once I get rid of these accursed coldsores (my current sticking point; 2 in one night!!!), I'ma do some work on the 3 premiums (possibly a 4th, although I'm not sure of our actual roster) on my new volleyball squad. Or just bang the discount on the squad (I've caught her checking out my ink a time or several) for something to do. The only thing better than pussy is strange pussy. Well, okay, oxygen and water ain't bad, either. And there are likely to be all sorts of hot college womenfolks on the teams we play (I've already seen several), since it's a league for and run by the University of Calgary's graduate students and all. Hopes remain high.
All right, this has run longish and my train of blank's run its course. Catch y'all on the flipside.