On a scale of 1 to 10, I’d said my maturity level is at
about a 2 every time I see Jane Seymour’s “Open Hearts” commercial, because all
I think about is how her design is basically just a pair of butts on a chain. Although the ad looks like it’s targeting
women to buy the pendant for themselves (probably since Kay Jewelers knows how
fucking disappointed a chick would be if she got it from someone else), I’ll
vouch for any fella that hurriedly tosses this monster in the cart while Christmas/grocery shopping at Smith's Marketplace. This has only been common knowledge to a certain few for the last five years, but flipping the judge from The Wall upside down and hanging it
around a woman's neck makes her cum sooner. Jane Seymour knows this.
Speaking of The Wall,
if you’re a single guy who is fond of that movie, give me your number, hottie! Haha. No, just kidding. You do make me wonder though. Sometimes I wonder if you really exist
anymore - the guy who’s thirty-something, with felt Zeppelin posters
illuminated by black lights above your bed.
I think most of you are in the shadows now since hippies are so mocked
these days. Maybe instead of poster art
and nag champa burning away in your living room, you’ve grown up a little; next to your airplane pillow in the closet, you own a gun that you secretly
named Jerry Bear. Ay, dios mio, you know?…sometimes
I wonder if I’d turn into a total genius the same way George Costanza did when he
gave up sex. Maybe if I stopped taking a
finger up the ass from guys with awful taste in movies, I could wake up one
morning in a few months and find that I know Spanish fluently or something. Revirginize, so to speak - to remove the
clouds from my eyes.
Anyways, I’m back, it’s been awhile, yada, yada, yada. I plugged my blog in a magazine I’m currently
writing for (Revolv!), so I figured I
better get back to it. Plus, I’m ready
to tell stories again. Here’s two:
1. I shit my pants when a German shepherd attacked me in first
grade. No, no, that’s not even
true. I was wearing a skirt and tights,
and I only realized what I’d done after I saw a mysterious pebble had made its
way down my leg. My mom ended up
spanking the hell out of me because she assumed I un-potty-trained myself
deliberately rather than actually getting the shit scared out of me by a dog
that looked like this:
2. Last week, a guy asked me to go shoot some bows and arrows
with him. I said no. Now I feel like this:
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go shopping for a pendant that looks like this:
