The Captain's First Mate

      Gentle Reader, I apologize for the major drop in quantity and quality over the last few weeks. Even if I don't write all that often, I'm fucking sure my blog can beat up your blog. I had toyed with the idea of quitting on you. I realized that I wasn't writing this for you after all. I was writing for me. We've touched on knives being pulled on me, and girls stealing my change, Nintendo, and self-respect. I just feel like whatever baggage I had is now gone. Also, all of the cynicism, bitterness, and hatred I had for the female gender is pretty much gone at this point. I actually read everything that I had written up to this point and was curious as to where it all even came from. I would like to personally thank each and everyone of you for all of your comments and support. Whatever deep disturbed place I was writing from seems to be just outside of my grasp. I'm not saying this will be the last one, but I'm not sure exactly when the next one will be.

      Let me start by clearing up a common misconception people have about me. Apparently, I tend to give off a slightly arrogant vibe. No, I don't have an ego problem, you have a self-confidence problem. I'm not arrogant just because I know I'm better at comedy, trivia, spelling contests, sexual performance, board games, geography, and sculpting figurines out of wood putty.  It's not that I think my shit doesn't stink, I'm just very aware that mine smells a lot better than yours. I do love me some me though. I actually even date-raped myself once. Seriously. I was up late drinking one night and decided to slip myself a sleeping pill. I woke up a couple hours later with my cock in one hand, my other hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, and I was telling myself to just calm down and go with it. And yeah.....I went with it, but the conversation afterwards was just a tad bit awkward. Honestly, I was probably "asking for it" with that short skirt I was wearing.

      I've talked endlessly to you about not giving up hope. There is someone out there for all of us. I've told you to just be patient and you will find someone like you. Ya know, someone else that digs bubble baths and butt sex. Though never at the same time. Trust me, don't do that shit. No one likes bubbles tickling their colon, and no one ever looked sexy submerged in muddy water....You're welcome. I HAVE met someone though. We met, and after an hour, we both knew that we should be together. People say that sometimes you meet someone and "just know." It was like that. She is like a female version of me. Scary, I know. For example, the other day, we were speaking of birth control, and she tells me, "Well I should either get back on birth control, or we are going to have to invest in some wire coat hangers." Now THAT is a woman after my heart. You just have to find someone that works for you and be patient enough to wait for them to show up in your life. If you waste time fucking gutter-sluts, cum-dumpsters, and your wife's sister, you will never find that kind of connection. Sometimes, when you refuse to settle, and you walk alone for a little while, something real just might come along. Don't ever give up hope, Gentle Reader.


What The Heart Wants

      Gentle Reader, I appreciate everything that you do for me. I am thankful for all of your comments, emails, and texts. I love that you love to read what I write. I love that some of you lose your minds and develop some sort of middle school crush on me. Though I must say, just because you can quote three lines from the blog, doesn't mean I am going to sleep with your fat, skanky ass. I have standards, and if you can't count the sum of your tattoos and abortions on two hands, I am pretty sure that counts you out. Especially if your total comes more from the abortion side. Just because I will fuck almost anything after enough beer, doesn't mean that I will sleep with you. My standards aren't exactly down to a science, but I guess they work something like this....

Swedish bikini model = No beer needed  (unless you've been with Tiger Woods)

Mexican weather girl = 2-3 beers needed  (plus an immigration/background check)

Sexy dancer at the club = 4-6 beers needed  (to make me forget you probably have herpes)

Girl that was cute in high school = 7-10 beers needed  (because let's be honest, you aren't that cute anymore)

Average girl I met a party = 11-15 beers needed  (yeah right, 11-15 beers? That's the minimum I'm going to need to even let you blow me tonight)

Redhead with a big mole on her face = 16-20 beers needed  (I guess I might kiss you, if all previous options are off the table and we are the last two people awake at a party)

Ugly bitch with a rep for sucking good dick = 20+ beers  (Normally you wouldn't even stand a chance, but I hear you like a good shot in the throat every now and again)

Gorgeous Japanese girl I met on the sidewalk = N/A  (Not enough beer in the world for that. I don't do Asians. I'm not racist; I'm just not turned on by gender-bending women with bowl-cuts that remind me of Data from "The Goonies")
       As I said before, this isn't an exact science. You must always figure in who is around, the time since my last masturbation, and if she has had her tubes tied yet. Let's be honest, if I can't get you pregnant, you move up two spots. I'm all for a woman's right to choose, but I don't want to kill a fetus. But I will kill a pregnant prostitute. I mean, really? Who's going to miss them once they're gone anyway?  Certainly not me, or the uncle that touched them as a child.

      On a serious note, sometimes you can't help who you are attracted to. Though you might take a step back and wonder what the fuck you are doing sometimes, the heart wants what the heart wants. Sometimes, people just "do it" for you. You can't explain why or how, but they just make you hold your breath when you meet them, you wonder why you feel the way you feel when you look in their eyes, and you spend the next week trying to figure out why you can't stop thinking about them. You get your hopes up, thinking that maybe you have finally found what you've been looking for, and for one reason or another, the whole thing comes crashing down around you. It is a moment like this that I call a "learning moment." Yeah, it didn't work out this time, but at least now you know that you can feel that way about someone you just met. I think as we get older, we get scared that we will never feel that way again. So, when that happens, that should give us hope that one day it will all work out the way we dream it will. Until next time, Gentle Reader.