Be Safe Out There

      Welcome fucking back, Gentle Reader. God damn if it hasn't been too long. I've been lost somewhere in the middle of love and lust and thought that I lacked the ability to write while I'm in a happy place. Come on Miles, just because you found a girl to fall in love with doesn't mean that you can't hate whores anymore. In fact, I think that it means I've grown to hate you filthy beasts even more. My life has been going great. I would even bet that it's better than yours. I am up for a promotion at work, my brother and his lovely wife are expecting their first child, and I am in love for the first time since I found out about masturbation. Congratulations you guys, but next time you tell me that you are trying to have a baby, please try to not already be pregnant when you tell me. It makes me think you are Amish teenagers in love about to have a shotgun wedding to hide the real date of conception. I mean, you guys have been together for almost 13 years. Feel free to fuck whenever you want.
      This really got me thinking about child birth, pregnancy, and the importance of birth control in my daily life. Having dated an ex-stripper that was pregnant with twins, and I'm pretty sure this qualifies me as an expert on these subjects. I have learned a lot. Question: Is birth control covered under health insurance. Answer: Only when it doesn't work.  I also learned that if a pregnant woman wants to know when her child will move, you should never answer, "Hopefully as soon as they turn 18." Ladies, please just stop asking questions about pregnancy to men with no children. We have no fucking idea if having onion rings in bed every night is a "normal" craving. I guess it depends on what the fuck you are doing with them. If you are just eating a plateful and then washing them down with a sack of Reese's Pieces, you are probably going to be okay. I mean you can kiss your perky rack goodbye, and I'm pretty sure in a couple more years I won't even remember what a blowjob feels like, but yeah, life is good. Hell, once "fucking" turns into "trying to have a baby," your dick no longer belongs to you anyway. It's a baby-batter-maker on a timeclock. Once those ovulation charts get broken out, ohhhh watch out fellas, you are in for a treat. If there is a Harvest Moon on the second Tuesday of the month, get ready for the most passionate 6 minutes of missionary you've ever seen, followed by watching your woman stand on her head for the next half-hour.
      Which brings me to my next topic. Birth Control. I am a firm believer that when scientists develop a pill that will allow men to only ejaculate clouds of dust, I will be that smiling fucker at the front of the line. I have nothing against children, and I fully plan on ruining the life of at least one before I leave this god-forsaken place, it's just that I like to feel in control of a situation. I find it amazing that you can just create a life. People can just MAKE people. You don't even have to mean to make them when you make them. You can literally make a fucking baby by drinking too much liquor and forgetting your girlfriend likes it ON her and not IN her. It's mind-blowing that I could accidentally create a human life. But, if you want to build a shed....... you REALLY gotta want to build that shed. I mean, no one's ever called you after a long weekend and said, "I think I might have built a shed last night." I just want to be ready when it happens for me. Let me end with the moral of this story. If you aren't ready for a baby, please do what you can to be safe.  A stork may bring you a baby, but a swallow never will. Keep that in mind until next time, Gentle Reader.

      Also, everyone say hey to Liz. She is a follower from Canada. That's right. I'm worldwide bitches. Liz, I will have a link for you in a couple days if you want to buy a shirt. Thanks for reading.

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