February 25, 2010

Tell me lies...tell me sweet little lies...

(This was inspired by a big phony of a lady that I completely adore, but who can’t hold onto a screen name for more than 5 seconds)

Why do people lie so readily on the internet?

Masks. We all wear them and carry different personas around with us. It's human nature and not always a conscious act of deception. We use them to protect ourselves from those that would use what we conceal against us.
We use them for adaption to specific situations so we can fit in or stand out or just pass by undetected. We use them because we can't quite share everything that we are with someone, or we just want to get into the pants of that sweet little catholic girl with the glasses and shaky morals. Who we really are is often so complex that we barely even understand ourselves. Some of us even hide from ourselves, or from truths to horrible to accept.

Back to the bold and blatant lies though.

People lie in greater quantity online because it's so much easier to lie when you don't have to look someone in the eye. When searching and accusatory eyes aren't probing you and reading every little nuance.
Marking every little drop of sweat and nervous fidget that is screaming "YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR!" (Ooooh, all caps! That's serious bizness!)

Some lies are born of those masks we wear, and those masks can be even more convincing when you're just words or still images on a screen. They can get so caught up in this "facade" they've created that when someone gets close they panic and bury themselves deeper in lies. It would be much easier to just admit they aren't quite the person that they presented themselves to be and go from there.
And the truth is no matter how many masks we put on, as people get closer to us they begin to see past them anyway.

I think I'm just going to cut and paste this for my own blog today because I am feeling terribly lazy.

I probably shouldn’t have cut and pasted that part. (This was originally a comment in another blog. I suppose I could just erase all of this now, but my laziness knows no bounds. I realize I'm actually being less lazy by explaining all of this and now I'm babbling in order to justify a laziness that no longer exists. Focus moron!)

Is lying always a bad thing?

Lying sometimes gets a bum rap.

People always say they want the truth. I’m not going to quote from that horrible movie, but I think you know where I’m going. The truth cuts. It cuts those we care about even more deeply than those we don't. Lies can be merciful. It's one of those double edged swords that people can't help slicing themselves and those they care about to ribbons with.

Ignorance is bliss. This is probably the most accurate phrase ever uttered. Too much bliss though, and you lose touch with reality. Too much truth and your smile disappears. Envy those that can achieve the happy medium.

Lying isn't always bad. Nothing is black and white. Everything is grey. Why you choose to lie is what matters. The consequences of the truth are what matters.

Holy fuckballs…I just stepped on a landmine. Bummer.

I had a thrilling, nonstop greater than 2 hour conversation with someone not terribly long ago. When I think of great first date (though can you really call watching a movie at my place a date?) conversations, it'll probably always rank near the top. It was perfection of exchanged word so grand (for a first meeting) that it became foreplay in and of itself. I love those talks. You're sitting there almost touching but not quite. You're animated, talking with your hands about this and that, throwing your head back in laughter…you can't get enough and you both seem to be hanging on the other's every word. You change subjects enough to keep it exciting and the topics vary from slower, more serious items that need deeper moments to fast paced, lively discussions with words virtually thrust towards one another in playful exchange. It's like winning the lottery in it's rarity. Ever seen high fidelity or read it? This conversation was like the one between Rob and marie de sale in the pub the night he goes back to her place. The conversation just takes off from the start…one of those quick connections you'd like to prevent from becoming a one time deal even while being nauseated at the thought of a standard relationship. The ambiguous nature, though, of an alternative 'other' relationship usually has everyone wary and guarded and fucking weird.

This always seems, for the most part, to be treated like a black or white issue. My current and not exactly limited experiences have shown that most men (I don't have a clue about other women) either want a significant long term relationship—sometimes right now, sometimes as a primary future goal—or they just want a fuck. Or fuck buddy. Usually though, it's the former as most seem to have some sort of training that girls equate sex with love and marriage and babies and traps so staying around will likely get them tagged and bagged.

I, however, am not a girl. I entered into the realm of womanhood some time ago and I rather like it here.

One night stands are highly impersonal. You meet wherever, you fuck, you go home. You didn't have great conversation, you didn't care about talking, you just wanted a fuck. And half the time they really aren't that good…you're better off just masturbating. Personally, I don't want to fuck someone I can't talk to so that throws one nighters out for me. Well….sort of. Let's just say it's not what I'm looking for.. yeah. So. Fuck buddies or friend with bennies or whatever cutesy little name you give to people who fuck each other because they're too lazy to go out looking for one night stands—no intimacy at all whatsoever involved in this. You basically get a booty call.

Hey…wanna fuck?
Oh yeah.
Take this dick baby.
Give it to me. Harder.
I'm cumming.
Fuck me too.
The end.

Wasn't that just the most exciting thing you've ever read?? No? oh..yeah…because that shit is fucking boring. Who the hell wants to fuck the same person over and over who never even bothers to be seen in public with you? A fucking idiot that's who… take your friend with bennies title and shove it up your arse. Ok?

Once those are explained away, it's always assumed that well I must want a boyfriend. I'd have to if I want more than a fuck buddy. No. It really doesn't have to work that way. See how you skipped from virtually nothing here in this white area to complications and drama and death over there in the black? Yeah…you missed this overlapping grey area right here called other.

Other simply means something somewhere between a standard model relationship and the impersonal fuck buddy. We all crave affection, attention, and intimacy on some level. That's why so many people get online and get attached to people. You get that sort of bond and attention right there in the comfort of your home without really risking yourself or your emotions while still getting to go out and do whatever the hell you want when you want because, well, who will know you're fucking the girl from the copy place down the street? So. Sounds not so bad, huh? Well, here's the proposal, btfber's (how ridiculously and delightfully gay is that little moniker??), why not have that in real life? I think it's perfectly reasonable to want to go out to dinner, to a show, to a museum, on a hike or whatever it is you do when you date and have a fabulous time before you fuck. I think it's wonderful to snuggle on the couch under a blanket and watch movie then fuck then rewind the movie to the part where you got distracted by that hand between your legs. How about actually sleeping together with your legs all intertwined in that way that makes no sense but is quite incredible? I say bring it on. When we have time for each other, let's act like no one else on earth matters. For that night or those few hours, let's enjoy each other to the absolute fullest. Let's talk or let's go out to a concert and scream til we're bloody hoarse and can't mutter a word. Let's take showers and road trips and make plans together. Let's keep in touch through the week if we have time at least...a hi here and there and also the occasional real conversation. Get to know each other. Give gifts and remember birthdays. I think all of that is beautiful interaction and there's not a fucking thing wrong with it. Let's also fuck every chance we get in any place we can find to do it. Let me give you the best blowjob you've ever had or will have. I'll cook for you, man…and if you want to cook for me, I'm not complaining. Backrubs, footfubs, staying up all night talking…giving some help when one of you is sick... The key phrase you've probably forgotten in all of this is "when we have time for each other' and is probably one of the most important parts of this whole idea. Nothing should be forced. I shouldn't have to rearrange my life to make the time nor should you. And furthermore, there are no expectations. I don't want anything from you beyond what's right in front of us. I'm not asking for promises because I'm sure as fuck not going to make you any besides a promise to enjoy you as much as you let me. I'm not even asking for commitment. What you do when we aren't together is your business and same goes for me. Just don't flaunt it or rub it in my face and we're fine. If we don't see each other for several weeks, I'm not going to cry nor should you get pissed when I choose a sludge metal concert in savannah over you. That's the way it might go unless I ask you to go with me. When it all boils down to it, I'd like to be able to see someone on a regular basis that isn't afraid of intimacy and being real…that can let down a few walls and realize that being attached to someone as in caring about them isn't the same as being 'tied down.' Some might say the potential to be hurt is there if one of you were to ever actually get into a standard relationship with someone else….i don't think so, though… when you care about someone, you want the best for them. When you go into something knowing that all good things come to an end and knowing that it's never expected to go anywhere, the actual hurt is saved. It doesn't mean you won't miss that person. Some might argue that one night stands prevent that thus making that route a better option. Fuck that, I say. Each of us is enriched by the people we take the time to get to know and who we let in, even a little, to get to know us. It's inevitable. We grow because of our relationships with others…our interactions. We grow because we take chances.

That being said, I've realized that I'm horribly picky and that only complicates matters further when what you want from someone is so seemingly unheard of…. In the conversation I gushed over at the start of this blog, G$ said he thinks girls set out landmines when they first meet a guy. They just sit and wait for them to come across one and fucking blow everything to shit. It's pretty fucking true about me though it isn't a conscious effort on my part. Sometimes I don't even know I'll have the reactions that I do. The more landmines detonated, the funnier this shit gets. This list is ridiculous and makes it even more impossible for me to achieve my so sought after 'other' relationship. And, without further ado, here are Jenniy's Dealbreakers.

Intelligence. I can't express enough how important it is not to be a total moron. And don't think that a degree makes you intelligent…that just means you're capable of studying.

Age matters. If you're too young to remember Jem or you're so old I could have a conversation with your kids (who are nearly my age) about darkwing duck because you didn't have a clue what I was talking about, you're probably fucked.

Height and size do not matter in the least but the sound of your voice does. I can't help I dig those baritones.

Read books or get the fuck out.

It isn't necessary that you listen to the same music I do, but music must be vital to your well being or you'll never get me. Not in the least. But while we're on the subject let me just say this, if you listen to country and hate metal and I listen to metal and detest country, what the fuck are we going to listen to while we're on the road? Each other breathing? Fuck no, so there has to be some sort of even playing ground…a compromise.

Taste in movies is a biggie. If you don't like pulp fiction or the big lebowski or dazed and confused or fear and loathing in las vegas…god at least one of those preferably all or most…then I have nothing to talk to you about as you'll never think I'm funny. I walked out during Saw and if you think you'll get me to change my mind about that sort of gore, we aren't going to have the best time.

Having a solid sense of humor that is a bit dry and dark is more important than outward appearance and dick size. I'm not even fucking kidding. If you make me laugh, you've secured a great distance between land mines.

Read what I post online. I don't post it to read it myself, jackass. If you're too put out to read an article I've written here and there, you'll be too put out to even listen to my conversation soon enough.

If you say the same things everytime we talk, I'll get bored. Small talk is boring. You wanna ask me how I am? Fine, but keep it up and you can forget it.

If I explain that I can't talk or hang out because I'm spending time with my son, take the fucking hint.
Pressuring me just pisses me off.

Don't act like I'm some experiment into the realm of fucking girls with tattoos.

Extremely religious people are out.

Hunting and sports fanatics are a no go.

Using 'lol' in every text is like being around someone humming off key under their breath.

Can't keep your temper in check? Can't hang around here.

You don't have to abbreviate everything you text okay? How much faster is it to say wrkn over working?
Not fucking fast enough to substantiate a reason for its use.

I will send naked pics. Probably often. If you keep asking me to send you some, the likelihood that I will is slim to none.

Bad kissing skills will fuck you up fast. There is absolutely no way to make up for not being excelled in the art of making out.

Liars may as well be dog murderers.

Moderate level of confidence. I don't have time to coddle you and tell you you're nice and cute all the time just for you to argue with me and if you're so goddamn confident that you have absolutely no tact whatsoever, I'm going to hate you.

Ask me why I don't grow my hair out and you get a one way ticket back to loserville. (uber gay)

Play world of warcraft more than you sleep? Ew.

Take a bath, brush your teeth, wear deodorant…don't skip out on those essentials. That's just gross.

Call me hun and I'll revoke your privileges…probably. Depends on how well I know you. Let's just say that not all girls are into that bullshit. If you wanna give me a pet name, give me something of my own. Quit being generic.

Be assertive. Why the hell do I want to feel pushy?

If you act too aloof just to try to keep your distance because of our nonrelationship status, I'll get bored or aggravated.

Picky eaters are annoying.

If you insist on never texting and always talking, you're out of luck, texting allows for multi tasking.

Be able to talk about anything. I love innuendo more than straightforward sex talk even though I like that, too, but there has to be more to it. Texting back and forth about what we want to do to each other is fine here and there but otherwise it just gets fucking old.

 Sooo….. tread carefully or you might get your leg blown off.

 Also if you wanna talk about your dealbreakers, I'm interested. Spill it.
February 24, 2010

World Without End by Ken Follett

About 15 years ago, my dad told me about this book I should read called Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett. I'd read some of his work before and hadn't been terribly impressed. Novels filled with international espionage and romance...that kind of stuff. Not my usual cup of tea unless a fellow with the last name of Fleming is writing it.

My dad surprises me sometimes by the fact that he almost knows who I am. He knew I had more than a mild love for the medieval and classic architecture. He let me know that this wasn't a typical Follett novel. It was something special.

So I eventually got around to reading his copy. It takes awhile to build up the strength to tackle an 800+ page novel that was recommended by someone that thinks Tom Clancy is the greatest writer of this generation.

I read it. It became my entire world until I finished it. I read it again almost immediately. It is without question my favorite novel that I have ever read. It's usually the first thing out of my mouth when someone asks for a book recommendation.

When I heard Follett was doing a sequel to Pillars I ran the usual gambit of emotions. Joy at my favorite novel ever being extended, confusion as to how he could actually make a sequel to a novel that was so utterly "complete", fear that he would destroy his beautiful creation, anger toward him for his arrogance, and finally acceptance that I should wait until I've read it to pass judgment.

It's a good thing acceptance came.

While World Without End didn't have the same impact as Pillars, it is an incredible novel that literally pulls you through it to the end. Once I got 30 pages in there was no stopping me from getting to the end. It may sound odd to say that a 1000+ page novel went by almost too quickly, but it did.

Ken Follett creates great characters. Characters that you get emotionally invested in and you have to find out what happens to them. He has the advantage of his already created archetypes from Pillars to work with. Not the same characters, this novel takes place over 200 years after Pillars, but they are the descendants of those characters and feel very similar.

That may be the only flaw this novel has. For anyone that has read Pillars, this is a very familiar journey. It's not that he's ripped himself off in any way, but with such strong characters in such a familiar setting you can't help but feeling a strong sense of déjà vu.

Aside from that, I can't recommend this novel highly enough. It's a wonderful love story at its heart, and a journey through a very important time in pre-renaissance Europe. Follett is a great writer. The word that describes him best is focused. Some might call him simple or sparse but they said the same things about Hemingway. He is to the point and leaves flowery language and epic descriptions to those that do that best. He is a storyteller. Your mind's eye can paint the landscapes in greater detail; his words are better served elsewhere.

Now go read.


Always have a pen handy. You never know. No, not a pencil. Pencils will not write on your hand.

Keep a separate media card for compromising photos. DO NOT store them on your phone or you will find yourself in quite a pickle when you leave it sitting on your mom's sofa.

Own a red swingline stapler and flaunt that fact. I do and it's gotten me laid tons. I have actually heard "once I knew you had a red swingline, I said to myself, I HAVE to fuck this girl.

All that matters at the end of the day is your opinion of yourself. If you're not cringing when you look at yourself in the mirror, you're doing pretty well. That's like a metaphor, you know. I mean, if you're cringing because you need to drop 20 lbs, well, that's a different matter altogether. Then you should probably spend less time in that threesome with ben and jerry and more time at the gym.

Never name your child after an alcoholic beverage or any beverage for that matter or you'll be dealing with their troubles for the rest of your life just because you were a little wasted when you signed the birth certificate. Recently in the town I work in, a girl named Tequila Nicole was arrested along with her boyfriend for possession of marijuana with intent. Fuck. With a name like that, her destiny was sealed. And for fuck's sake, Tequila…why didn't you change your name, girl

Utilize a nickname or perhaps an alias. Play up the mystery all you can. It works. Plus if anything comes back to bite you in the ass, you can always claim, "it wasn't me.

Don't get greedy. If you sell a guy a 500 count bottle of prescription narcotics, don't agree to sell him more the next day. I mean, it could just possibly be a setup, wouldn't you think

Don't ever get married unless you want to get divorced or you'll make money from it.

Jealously will only ensure that your ass gets cheated on.

Be random as fuck…keeps things interesting for everyone around you. Or, it at least keeps everyone confused enough not to be able to pick up on your weak spots. But! Don't be random with gifts. Research that shit if you're trying to impress someone.

Personal expression is necessary to happiness. Have your own style, get tattoos or piercings or both, write, sing, become active for causes..fucking do something that helps you define who you are instead of sitting on your ass on autopilot wasting perfectly good air.

Find something that fulfills you and not just fills you i.e. you can't find fulfillment in the next doughnut or cock. Live music, music period, does it for me as does writing but if the view from a mountain top is more your style, then have the balls and motivation to climb some. Do what you love unless it involves touching children or peeing on them then denying you had anything to do with it even though you were caught on video then you should skip on down to the next one

Don't cheat on your wife with a former porn star. It probably won't lead to good things even though it sounds like a smashingly good time. And for the love of fuck, don't tell that crazy bitch you love her if you do decide to fuck her. Keep it short…just a couple times of the old in and out…then you've got your story to tell about your ex pornographer and all her kink but you've really not gotten your balls in a sling yet.

Dress up just for the fun of it. And take pictures at various stages of the dressing and undressing. (then send them to me. Thanks in advance

Masturbate often. A couple or more times a day usually does the trick for me, but you'll figure out when you're good.

Read the Sunday comics. Share them with your friends sometimes in a note or a card or something gay like that.

It's okay to love your friends, your friends with benefits, your family, whoever… love isn't confining the way we're made to think. You can love others in all sorts of ways without it meaning the end of all things fun. Nothing's wrong with that and nothing's wrong with you…and tell them. Compliment people. Be honest not just bluntly crude. No matter the level of the meaning, people should know when they're valued.

Be who you are…if you like to be choked during sex, own it. If you think you might be a little gay but not all the way like who cares who's sucking my dick as long as it's a warm, wet mouth, then own that shit, too. You can't be face, conforming to the appeal of the masses and expect to lead a rich life.

Figure shit out for yourself. Don't ever just accept what someone tells you without checking it out on your own. People are fucking liars, man. Plus, there's nothing like firsthand knowledge and there's no better victory than one you achieved on your own.

Just remember it's quite possible you only get this one shot. Better do it right. And so if you're only chance at fame is being that girl who fucked 700 men + a donkey in a row, don't be afraid to do just that.
February 21, 2010

Cuckolded Monkey or I'll brain fuck you then paint you with cum

JF: Watching ufc in a bar
JM: Who's gettin killed?
JF: No one yet but wandelei silva is fighting tonight and if he were able to speak english I would marry him. Ok ill still marry him and have an affair with you ok?
JM: That's cool so long as he buys you shit and we get hella drunk
JF: Oh yeah baby spreadin the wealth
JM: Ill let ya. You'll get tired of him and take him for half subsequently allowing you the means to buy a pool and put me on staff. I did 1 situp just now in preparation
JF: Ok then. But what if he decides to take english classes n writes me poems?
JM: Ill write short stories in french and build you a pool bar with a parasol
JF: A parasol? Oh win win win
JM: No doubt baby. I likes my skin alabaster
JF: Sigh. Good word choice. I doubt english classes could teach my monkey man how to use such lovely prose
JM: Monkey hubby
JM: If I wanted you to be truly happy, I could coach him in a cyrano kind of way
JF: It just depends on who has the bigger banana
JM: According to ads on my fave websites I'm only 2 weeks away from a win (assuming it's not already the case)
JM: Question is: is it worth the investment?
JF: Who's investing?
JM: Technically it's me. But thanks to my incredible foresight, I've been siphoning 1% of all the tips you leave as you pay for our trysts
JF: You aren't cheap
JM: Monkey hubby has no idea, but you have your doubts, so you tip bigger
JM: I don't come cheap either
JF: He's getting me a huge ring you know
JF: I don't speak portuguese tho
JF: So I can't express that I don't give a shit
JM: Portuguese is the language of the devil. It explains nelly furtado's success
JM: Big ring = big sex toy
JF: If I fuck wandelei silva, you can get an autograph from my cunt
JM: Just get the biggest possible to make up for my 2 week shortcomings
JM: Block letters or calligraphy? bet it'll just be a big blot
JF: But a fine smelling one
JM: Yeah. I'll smell your cum autograph. But what are you gonna sign?
JF: Thanks for spinning me, love j
JF: It started there and sort of worked its way all over. So my cunt will sign for the whole
JM: I'll wear yellow plastic dishwashing gloves. Sounds like it could be a scene
JF: Better get a hat too
JM: I'm bringing my safari hat
JF: Um
JM: Only the most astute will put that together. I'll don my fisherman's boots and a hot pink rain slicker
JF: Its not a jungle you know
JF: And no beasts to speak of
JM: I'm an african safari fisherman. My impression is that you're some kind of beast and I'm gonna hook that peachfish
JF: Oooooooooo literary reference
JM: And when I do I'll be fucking you on a spread tarp with you doused under a gallon of oil
JF: No bombs
JF: My hair isn't red you know
JM: Its a hybrid porn-lit ref.
JM: Prove it. You're a dye job on legs
JF: It adds to my mystery
JM: You're mysterious? I thought you just lied to everyone so they wouldn't find out how often you listen to your billy joel albums.
JF: Huey lewis
JF: Fuck
JF: Its huey lewis
JM: Everyone loves the news. Wait. I may have made an impact. Still I wonder how I can find out if you're truly a redhead
JM: I've seen frecks, but those could be herrings, not a guarantee
JF: I have no idea what the real color is
JF: Freckles come from my irish background
JF: That's how come I've had a beer and 2 double shots of tequila and can still type
JF: Without a fuckup
JM: Well then. It really is the most logical thing for me to simply assume you are a redhead and that you shun potatoes in an effort to deny your heritage
JM: Are insinuating I can't?
JF: 2 beers and you're spelling like a grade school dropout
JM: The fact that I dropped out in grade four due to my incredible scholastic boredom and wrote my first collection of rehab memories as haiku has nothing to do with my key mashing
JF: Good dream
JM: My large thumbs are useful for prying things apart and also for throwing into pouty lipped mouths
JF: Pouty? Pouty? Fuck. Wandelei says something way hotter in portuguese which means sultry
JM: How would you know? You can't speak it. And yeah, I know, babelfish could never be wrong!
JF: Googletranslations
JM: Pouty for sure as I stand in a doorway listening to you begging me to stay
JF: Google has a monopoly on the world
JM: Those two nerds are slightly smarter than me, but I fuck way less hookers
JF: Well he won't be back for a few days. He issss fighting tonight
JF: Shoyuldnt you stay?
JF: Fuck
JM: That's a big Y
JF: My first typo ever
JM: Ever? Fucking revisionist
JM: Ill stay cuz you're human
JF: And my panties are stylish
JM: And regardless of the adjective I use for your lips, you know where they belong
JF: Shhhh
JM: Lace or some trendy shit some hack designer saw in a 1970's norwegian graphic design coffee table book and decided no one would remember?
JF: Lace thongs. Two toned. Pink and purple
JF: 80s style totally
JM: Sounds made up
JM: I'd buy it if I was blind
JF: The rest of my outfit-black and white
JM: Monochromatic on the outside and a miami club marquee underneath? Another mullet pour moi?
JF: I'm subtle
JM: Like kale. That's some awesome ruffage
JF: Subtle yet distinct
JM: Quite. I imagine you don't need too much in the way of sartorial trappings to stand out in your environment

about me. not really.

dear you,

i don't talk about my child or being a mom. i don't talk about my garden. i won't mention my craftiness (often) or how much i save each week with coupons. if you're looking for that sort of thing, you're in the wrong place.

instead, let's abandon the tethers of domestication for a moment and remember what it's like to laugh at vulgarity and the world at large.



talk amongst ourselves

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