Like anything good, it was too good to last. I'm single once again. I've been taking an extended leave from my drunken sexploits but I'm sure they will resume as soon as this pit in my stomach subsides.
The thing about love is that it takes half of what's left of you every time you lose someone. The first girl I really cared about took half of my heart with her when she left. The next took 25 percent. The next 12.5, and so on and so on. I'm down to a sliver, PlayboyU, and I suppose that explains why I'm so reluctant to part with the tiny bit of heart of hearts I have left.
This is why I womanize. I'm fearful. I'm afraid if I lay it all on the line for one more girl she'll snatch up the one or two percent of my heart I still have to work with. It's a defense mechanism, albeit a very fun one. Sex has lost the emotional connection it first held with me. By not letting women in emotionally, sex becomes an activity. It's like playing tennis, only it is better exercise and you get to cum at the end. Great fun, especially when you're not emotionally invested.
Here's to new beginnings. I'm looking forward to starting another chapter, a return to living in the moment, to living without limits. Cheers.
Single. Again.
John Kay's Gift to the World... Himself
Biography by my good friend and fellow pervert, Bud Solomon.
John Kay was born Burkhard Adolf Adelheid in 1986 to illegal German immigrants. Upon seeing the baby, his mother was so appalled that she threatened her husband with testicular dismemberment if he did not find a way to switch the child with another in the nursery. Hence, little Burkhard was taken home with Mommy and Daddy Kay, where his doting parents decided to call him John. He had a fairly normal childhood filled with sports, rock n roll, and wonderful home cooked meals. There were a few problems at school along the way but nothing too out of the ordinary…
In 7th grade he told the entire multicultural club that they were all “perversions of the One True Race.” Things looked bleak for young Johnny, but with his quick wit and boyish charm he convinced concerned parents, teachers, and mental heath professionals that this hateful outburst was just his inferior breeding shining through. Furthermore, he insisted that with frequent beatings and gifts of men's literature he would grow beyond making such maladjusted claims. Since becoming an avid consumer of pornography, John is proud to say he is completely cured, and has molded himself into the shining pinnacle of the 21st century male.
Having spent the last four years clawing his way out from under a mountain of coeds, he has nearly earned his bachelors degree from the esteemed University of Oregon. In recent years he has contributed to many publications and blogs as a humorist, columnist, and general sexist. John Kay is a man’s man, and an admirable one at that. His hobbies include drinking, gambling, smoking, philandering, and leaving strangers in bewilderment and disgust. He is a master of many art forms, but his words are by far his greatest talent. He always brings something new to the table and never ceases to take things one step too far.
A Quote
John: "I find your thinly veiled disgust to be very charming."
Smart Young Lady: "Well, I find your thinly veiled charm to be disgusting, so I guess we're even..."
I just got owned. Women 1, John 0, go skirts.
Lung Butter
I have the flu. I've been coughing up a lot of lung butter. It's kinda like ejaculating, only instead goo comes out of your lungs, and it doesn't feel good. And girls still won't swallow it. Go figure.
I had my last final on Wednesday. It was at 8:00 in the morning. At this point I had been sick for 3 days or so. Around 9:03 I sneezed - nothing to worry about, I was (and still am) sick after all. But wait, moisture. Damn. I'm sitting between two cute, anxious, yawning lovelys and I've just blown snot all over my hand.
Then I looked down.
I anticipated green globs of gel to be speckled about my hand. Instead I saw what appeared to be a shot of red spraypaint all over my scantron. Vertigo abounds as I realize I had just bubbled in the entire test at random with my own blood.
I move to glance about. Everyone is focused on their tests, surely they won't notice. I peer to my left and right and my gaze is met with respective looks of disgust and horror.
Brunette to my right: "EWwwughghh ew ew ew ew."
Blond to my left: "Oh. My. God. How much blow did you do last night?"
My immediate thought after hearing those reactions was, "my blood-sneeze is going to get a better grade than them," followed by, "I bet I can still get the blond's number," followed by, "Ehhh.. I think I've outgrown my coke-slut faze.." followed by, "who am I kidding, no I haven't."
The brunette, Wendy, asked if I needed a doctor. I answered no, but you should give me your phone number in case I need to call someone later. She was a stupified/impressed that I would have the audacity to hit on her while blood ran down my face, but she said she had a boyfriend. While I doubt that's true, I wasn't going to waste time while I leaked precious bodily fluids. I immediately got up, handed in my gore laiden scantron, and went to the bathroom to tend to my nosebleed.
The moral of the story: My blood-sneeze got a B-, it must have studied a lot harder than I did.
Where have I been?
So. Where was I? Why did I post a number of posts about the election and video game reviews and then delete them? Why does it sting when you pee?
Ok ok, you win, I'll tell you.
1. Where I Was: I've been doing extensive research in the dating field, basically a great experiment on behaving like a human being with decency and self respect. The results later. Also, a tree fell on my house in December and took out my roof (along with my internet) for a substantial amount of time.
2. The Lost Posts: I deleted all my posts between now and November. Why? I write for a local comedy newspaper, and I was just posting my completed stories every two weeks instead of thinking up original content for the site. Articles are assigned, which is why they had to do with Ron Paul and Super Mario instead of sex and relationships and general excess. I felt this was too much of a departure and wasn't congruant with the orginal idea behind this blog, so I took them down. Only smut from here on out, I promise.
3. Stinging Urine: You gots a UTI, brotha, hit tha docta.
So back to the nitty gritty. What crazy buckets of syrup have I gotten myself into over the last few months?
Not. Too. Many.
So I've been trying this thing - treating women with dignity and behaving in the interest of their needs. It feels unnatural to me now, despite the fact that I did that for years longer than I've focused on my needs exclusively. I've been trying to fake it til I make it, but I don't know if it's working out.
I think women can tell, especially when I started going on dates again. Dinner, dancing, the whole shabang. You know, opening doors, spending money, making the big move, etc. Suddenly I was no longer in control, I was the one holding the resume, and that's not my comfort zone. Needless to say this resulted in a lot of evenings that got nowhere (with night ending gems like girl:"This is awkward.." and me:"My god, you taste awful."
I'm still not convinced on trying to be a gentleman, but I am getting the hang of it again. I've been seeing a girl for a few weeks now. She's gorgeous and she seems to dig nice John, or else she wouldn't still be hanging around. The thing is I think deep down she's a lot like me. Passion and naughty whatever that's brewing just below a calm exterior. Can we both fake our way into a loving relationship? Can we each set aside our own self interest long enough to find interest in each other? Yeah ok, probably not, but at least the sex is good. Data collection continues - many tales of the last quarter to come.
Desktop Cleanliness
Believe it or not I experiment with other aspects of my life other than the physical. Today I'm experimenting in desktop cleanliness.
Sure, the headline isn't as eye catching as say, "John Tries Buttsex, Hilarity Ensues," but I'm hoping you appreciate the subtle seduction of my shiny new iMac displaying this every time tickle it out of hibernation.
Proof that not every aspect of a 22 year old man is a mess.
I'm not allowed to blow my seeds of knowledge all over your face... book.
It's official, Facebook users find me abusive (click picture above to enlarge)
Abusive?! Pish-posh! What in Uncle Sam's red-white-and-blue balls sort of fascist bolognae is that? Censorship? On the intertubes? Egads!!
Tomorrow they'll be saying hate-fucking Sarah Palin with a pipe cleaner is abusive... hey wait a minute...
