Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Craigslist Entry I Saw
I saw this on Craigslist. Actually someone sent it to me. I wonder whether he had any idea I'm a porn addict. And I wonder whether he is one.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Opening Up
The weekend went pretty well I guess. The bride looked pretty cute and with her doe eyes and nervous embarrassment ways, reminded me of my first girlfriend.
The groom's sister, early 20's, was quite fit but had big healthy tits. Just big slabs of juicy chicken meat, and her dress showcased them terrifically. Good god where did she get a body like that? She is definite hoochie material, a very likely candidate for Girls Gone Wild and other such videos where girls tongue kiss, show their tits, and do everything else they've been programmed to do to get attention. I would fuck the shit out of her.
This one chick, 23, had the prettiest face. Nothing but shining eyes, cheekbones, brilliant smile... Her tits were uninspiring and her ass didn't have much bump to it. She met a sailor there (friend of the groom) and stayed out with him 'til 6 A.M. The next day she was on her way home and he was showing us the scratches on his back.
I called that girl, one of my best friend's girlfriends, at work the other day, to bullshit. I guess she finally picked up on my saying how I hated myself and my life and my marriage had turned to shit, because she called me that night to talk. I opened up and told her a lot more about me than I've told almost anyone in real life, like I told her about my Harry Tasker alternate persona I use for chicks on the side. She was pretty amazed, I guess rightfully so, at how I've covered every conceivable angle, from putting new-car plates on my car, to the fake registration I keep in the glovebox in case a girl looks through there, to my fake driver's licenses, to my prepaid credit cards and cell phone, all of it. I told her about a lot of my problems, and, surprisingly, it really helped me identify them more clearly, just to try to explain them.
One of the main ones is how I see sex and love. I realized more clearly than ever that I desire two things:
1) a girl on the side to open up to about romance and matters of the heart, someone I can act macho and Alpha Male in front of, but at the same time cry in front of, too. Someone I'm sexually attracted to and who I feel totally comfortable showing and telling her what I want in bed.
2) basically a mother or best friend figure at home, which is my wife. Someone I don't need to be attracted to, and who I don't want to have sex with; someone who will take care of me, who I don't open up to.
I don't trust the girls I have sex with, with certain parts of my heart, and I don't trust my wife with other parts, like I don't trust them not to make fun of me if I did open up.
I feel comfortable doing all kinds of kinky shit with my sexual girls, but I'd feel kind of corny telling my wife to do the same things.
Another big thing I revealed to her - and just hearing myself say it, really opened my eyes to how bad of an addict I really am, even though I knew it already - was how I think about girls constantly. I explained to her how, for example, I might see that Japanese-American chick at the Post Office and instantly being plotting and scheming, figuring all the angles in my head in a huge flow chart like a master chess player: How soon to come back, what to do if my wife isn't working that day, what to do if the chick isn't behind the counter that day, how to approach her, how to ask her out, what to do if I don't get into her line, when to call her back once I get her number, which restaurant to take her to, how to dress, how to act, what to say, all custom tailored to make her fall in love with me, based on my amateur yet expert FBI profiler-style assesment of her personality, current station in life, etc.
Which brings me to another thing I revealed to her- how I really am not even after the sex all the time, mostly just their hearts. My mission is to make girls/women fall in love with me, and me them, because I'm addicted to that thrill of the newness of first love, the romance, all that heady stuff.
Anyway it was really touching that she gave a shit and actually picked up the phone because she was worried about me. I told her she can tell her boyfriend anything or everything about what we talked about, so he wouldn't feel like I'm trying to lay her or have some sort of secrets with her that I won't tell him, thus undermining their relationship.
The groom's sister, early 20's, was quite fit but had big healthy tits. Just big slabs of juicy chicken meat, and her dress showcased them terrifically. Good god where did she get a body like that? She is definite hoochie material, a very likely candidate for Girls Gone Wild and other such videos where girls tongue kiss, show their tits, and do everything else they've been programmed to do to get attention. I would fuck the shit out of her.
This one chick, 23, had the prettiest face. Nothing but shining eyes, cheekbones, brilliant smile... Her tits were uninspiring and her ass didn't have much bump to it. She met a sailor there (friend of the groom) and stayed out with him 'til 6 A.M. The next day she was on her way home and he was showing us the scratches on his back.
~
I called that girl, one of my best friend's girlfriends, at work the other day, to bullshit. I guess she finally picked up on my saying how I hated myself and my life and my marriage had turned to shit, because she called me that night to talk. I opened up and told her a lot more about me than I've told almost anyone in real life, like I told her about my Harry Tasker alternate persona I use for chicks on the side. She was pretty amazed, I guess rightfully so, at how I've covered every conceivable angle, from putting new-car plates on my car, to the fake registration I keep in the glovebox in case a girl looks through there, to my fake driver's licenses, to my prepaid credit cards and cell phone, all of it. I told her about a lot of my problems, and, surprisingly, it really helped me identify them more clearly, just to try to explain them.
One of the main ones is how I see sex and love. I realized more clearly than ever that I desire two things:
1) a girl on the side to open up to about romance and matters of the heart, someone I can act macho and Alpha Male in front of, but at the same time cry in front of, too. Someone I'm sexually attracted to and who I feel totally comfortable showing and telling her what I want in bed.
2) basically a mother or best friend figure at home, which is my wife. Someone I don't need to be attracted to, and who I don't want to have sex with; someone who will take care of me, who I don't open up to.
I don't trust the girls I have sex with, with certain parts of my heart, and I don't trust my wife with other parts, like I don't trust them not to make fun of me if I did open up.
I feel comfortable doing all kinds of kinky shit with my sexual girls, but I'd feel kind of corny telling my wife to do the same things.
Another big thing I revealed to her - and just hearing myself say it, really opened my eyes to how bad of an addict I really am, even though I knew it already - was how I think about girls constantly. I explained to her how, for example, I might see that Japanese-American chick at the Post Office and instantly being plotting and scheming, figuring all the angles in my head in a huge flow chart like a master chess player: How soon to come back, what to do if my wife isn't working that day, what to do if the chick isn't behind the counter that day, how to approach her, how to ask her out, what to do if I don't get into her line, when to call her back once I get her number, which restaurant to take her to, how to dress, how to act, what to say, all custom tailored to make her fall in love with me, based on my amateur yet expert FBI profiler-style assesment of her personality, current station in life, etc.
Which brings me to another thing I revealed to her- how I really am not even after the sex all the time, mostly just their hearts. My mission is to make girls/women fall in love with me, and me them, because I'm addicted to that thrill of the newness of first love, the romance, all that heady stuff.
Anyway it was really touching that she gave a shit and actually picked up the phone because she was worried about me. I told her she can tell her boyfriend anything or everything about what we talked about, so he wouldn't feel like I'm trying to lay her or have some sort of secrets with her that I won't tell him, thus undermining their relationship.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Mini-Vaca'
Going up the coast a couple three hours to a wedding. My 22 year old sister-in-law's friend. Super cute girl, soft face, big doe eyes, juicy lips. I'd pound her. Hopefully the wife enjoys the weekend and isn't on her usual automatic sour mood.
At the bank today a cute girl behind the counter gave me the eye. Dressed in black; straight brown hair, glasses; healthy, soft breasts and ass. I did my flirty shy thing and she kept peeking at me and smiling. As I was leaving she checked me out. I would totally pound that.
Got another $20 grand out of nowhere, so that will tide me over a bit. Will write more on Sunday nite when I get back.
At the bank today a cute girl behind the counter gave me the eye. Dressed in black; straight brown hair, glasses; healthy, soft breasts and ass. I did my flirty shy thing and she kept peeking at me and smiling. As I was leaving she checked me out. I would totally pound that.
Got another $20 grand out of nowhere, so that will tide me over a bit. Will write more on Sunday nite when I get back.
Under The Bridge
Under the bridge downtown
Is where I drew some blood
Under the bridge downtown
I could not get enough
Under the bridge downtown
Forgot about my love
Under the bridge downtown
I gave my life away
Is where I drew some blood
Under the bridge downtown
I could not get enough
Under the bridge downtown
Forgot about my love
Under the bridge downtown
I gave my life away
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Most People Lead Lives Of Quiet Desperation
One of my girl toys is getting married to this turdbait grizzly adams guy at the end of the summer.
Tomorrow is her last day at work; she's super cute and super brainy, an electrical engineer, and she quit her job so she can go hike from halfway up Oregon, down a third of the way down CA.
Basically 600 miles.
Then she is flying to FL, getting married, flying back to LA, getting on her sailboat with her dude, and sailing to South America, where they are considering backpacking in Ecuador for a year
Then back to FL to start life over
I'm like Yeah I might TiVo Entourage next week
Tomorrow is her last day at work; she's super cute and super brainy, an electrical engineer, and she quit her job so she can go hike from halfway up Oregon, down a third of the way down CA.
Basically 600 miles.
Then she is flying to FL, getting married, flying back to LA, getting on her sailboat with her dude, and sailing to South America, where they are considering backpacking in Ecuador for a year
Then back to FL to start life over
I'm like Yeah I might TiVo Entourage next week
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Godzilla
"Pornography really does, unlike other addictions, biologically cause direct release of the most perfect addictive substance. That is, it causes masturbation, which causes release of the naturally occurring opioids. It does what heroin can't do, in effect."
-Jeffrey Satinover of NARTH
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Six Feet Under
I just re-watched the final episode of last season's Six Feet Under. I used to always feel like I was exactly like Nate and my wife was exactly like Lisa. If you knew us you'd agree. I just knew my wife saw the same thing; she even hinted at it a little bit.
Rewatching it now I see in a way I'm worse than Nate, or what I've done is worse than what Nate did. My wife really doesn't love me anywhere near as much as she used to. I'm sure if she watched this same episode again, now that another year has passed, she'd watch Lisa's sister's husband asking Nate, "How could you treat her that way?" and think, He treated me that way.
Rewatching it now I see in a way I'm worse than Nate, or what I've done is worse than what Nate did. My wife really doesn't love me anywhere near as much as she used to. I'm sure if she watched this same episode again, now that another year has passed, she'd watch Lisa's sister's husband asking Nate, "How could you treat her that way?" and think, He treated me that way.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Harsh reality
Man, I'm so jealous right now. This guy came to fix a chipped windshield on the wife's car. We got to talking, he has has two businesses, one doing this and one doing custom flooring. He showed me his album of before and after pics of floors he has done, talked about the product, etc. The guy is very good looking, fit, easygoing, just reeks of being simple, down to earth, honest, hardworking, on time, organized, everything. 30 years old, wife is 23. I guarantee you his wife is super hot, too. That's just how those guys have it. I also guarantee you he'll make more money every year from now on, for the rest of his life.
And then there's me, I could fuck up anything.
And then there's me, I could fuck up anything.
Cattle Call
Ok.
So, I went to a casting call yesterday. First off my agents are total pieces of shit, which is totally unsurprising. And to think everyone blames the talent. Yeah, right! This dumb bitch calls me up midday - I'm still asleep - and says "Hi this is (her first name), you are scheduled for a 3:15 casting call, can you make it?" Doesn't state her last name or what business she's calling from, or even make sure it's me she's speaking to. She just blurts it out immediately after I say hello. She also doesn't say WHERE it is, or for WHOM, and the biggest thing is,
a) she already scheduled me without even seeing whether I'm available or not, and
b) she didn't give me ANY advance warning! Not even one day! Oh yeah right, like the casting director and the studio and videographer and producers and assistants and everyone else involved went to all this trouble to set this all up, but didn't notify my agent until that same day?? GIVE me a fucking BREAK! WHAT a FUCKING BITCH!
What really happened was, this agent was warned a month in advance and didn't even pick up the phone. Why? Because she's a worthless cluck. A dumb fucking c-word of a wench. JESUS Christ, please God kill her.
See, the problem with her scheduling me without my knowledge is that if I can't make the casting call, the casting director and everyone else will go "God, what a flake!" Yeah right, like it's my fault. Dumb Fucking Whore.
Anyway, I respond to her, saying "Can I call you right back?"
She replies - incredulously, mind you (can you believe this shit?) "Do you even have my number?"
I'm thinking, Well yes, you dumb fucking bitch, ever heard of caller I.D.? But I say "Well I assume you're calling fro-" She interrupts (as always) and blurts out the name of the agency. No Fucking Shit you dumbfuck! Where the fuck ELSE would you be calling from? JESUS what a dumb fucking piece of shit.
Anyway, I let myself wake up for a moment, then call her back. "Hi, this is _____" (ya like how I introduce myself? It's called NORMAL PHONE PROTOCOL as well as PROFESSIONALISM.) "Regarding the casting call, where is it?" She blurts out the street name and number, nothing more. I pause, so I don't reach through the phone and choke her to death, and say, "What city would that be in?" ARGH you DUMB FUCKING WHORE!
Anyway, I get ready and race there, but there's one catch. My wife wants to go. Fuck!! What am I going to do, tell her no? Heck no, that would be a terrible move right now, maybe ending my marriage.
We arrive, and as often happens, there are other casting calls going on at the same time in other suites or whatever they're called. All the hopefuls are standing around the main waiting area. One group is infants and parents, another group is average joes, another group appears to be skanks and hookers, and yet another group is Hot Frickin Women.
Good LORD are some of these women hot. I mean, if you've never been to L.A. at all you really can't fathom it. Believe me, I have lived here a long time and it still amazes even me. Oh you may think you can "get it" because you're capable of grasping the notion that there are lots of hotties and wannabe starlets in L.A., but it's like having a gun pointed to your head: imagining how it would feel, and actually having it happen, are two WAY different things.
Between the mommies with their heavy, soft breasts, bending over to pick up their babies, and the models/actresses with their rail-thin frames, rounded asses, jutting cheekbones, and impossibly white teeth, the whole room has me reeling.
I swagger in like I own the place (unlike everybody else, who are either nervous, or gorgeous yet insecure, or fingers-crossed hopeful), trying to keep my distance from my wife, and everybody stares at me, wondering "Who is this guy? Is he a director? A casting director? A hotshot actor I for some reason don't recognize? A producer?" The gorgeous girls I give cursory inspections to and maybe give a small, ambiguous smile to, but I don't show too much interest. Those kinds of girls fall all over themselves shining their glorious warmth on you until you show interest - then they're like "Tssh. As if." So if you ignore them they're like "How can I get this guy to notice me?"
Meanwhile though I'm staring at whichever ones are looking the other way, so I can ogle them unnoticed. MAN! I'm telling you, these girls are painfully beautiful. And desperate for attention. Good god it would be easy to pull some of these chicks.
Also there are a lot of mommies there with their infants, who are trying out for a diaper ad. This one in particular has just the sweetest face, and HUGE tits, I mean bigger than my head by far. But really nice, too, not just arbitrarily large tits. They're so big that she has a lot of cleavage showing, so when she bends over to pick up her kid, I look the other way so it appears I'm not paying attention, but then I turn back and stare right down her shirt. Praise Jesus, pure heaven on earth right there. My god. I can only imagine how warm and soft they are. Grrr! It's almost like being starving and staring at food from a world class chef.
Now, most moms don't lose all the weight they gained during their pregnancy right away, and many (most?) never get back to their original weight in the first place. So, they feel like big ugly cows, especially next to these 118 lb , 5 foot 11" superhotties. That means if I flash this one particularly reliable smile of mine, they're putty in my hands. And for the icing on the cake, the Perfect 10's in the room notice it (they don't miss a thing) and wonder why this cute MILF gets a smile and not themselves.
So, whenever my wife's back is turned or I happen to be facing away, I work it, without her noticing. MAN I could collect some digits if I were here alone and in recruitment mode. Good god I would love to pound some of these beauties. Fucking a skinny or really fit girl is great because they're so firm, every thrust slams her whole body around. And fucking a thick girl is great because they're so voluptuous and luxurious and soft. You get to see their tits move, their ass shake, thighs, tummy, all of it is terrific. God bless women.
I need to go to my car for something, so my wife stays behind to listen for my name and tell them I'll be back in a moment if they call me. On the way there I slow down to let this one hottie catch up with me. Blonde, very pretty face, looks a lot like Gisele Bundchen. Nice soft a-cups, but they're jiggly, which I love. Now, skinny girls with no ass totally turn me off, I mean, my weenie says 'Byebye!' Zero interest. This one has a round, muscular little thing back there, a very Nicole Kidman body. Good god what I would do to that. Anyway I make small talk and flirt a bit. It would be so easy to get her number. But I wrap it up and walk ahead. Around the back of the building I catch up to a black girl, who I can tell was just inside. She just had that look. Halle Berry body, with bigger tits and a bigger ass, and a face a lot like Nia Long, but cuter. We bullshit for a bit, and I could have definitely gotten her number too, but I pass. She's moving to San Francisco anyway. If I were really on the case I could have worked it - told her I live up there or have a second home up there, and created this whole giant house of lies out of thin air; flown up there a few times and back the next morning before my wife got home from work, but, no way, not now. I don't need to get laid THAT badly!
I get what I need from the car and head back. I make sure I catch up with this one MILF - her face looks exactly like an actress who's been in quite a few films, whose name I can't place. Maybe it's her. Tan; brown hair with blonde streaks, cut in a bob; dark blue tattoo high on on her upper arm, ROUND ass - Jesus! - and very round cantelope sized probably fake tits. Not bad fake, though; these are nice, very expensive and very well done fake ones. Who knows, maybe they're real. Man oh man. She's mid 30's or so, and definitely would appreciate the attention. We bullshit for a moment, and as we round the corner I ask, "What call are you here for?" Just then we round the corner and there's her infant daughter in a stroller being held by this woman's elderly mom. "My daughter." Oh well. I wasn't going to get her digits anyway.
After the audition the wife wants to go to Whole Foods. Ok. While she's in line to get a gourmet sandwich, I'm off a ways looking at "food" (translation: "women.") Suddenly I turn and see this one, HO my GAWD! Like a God Damn Scotti Andrews. Same body pretty much; same hair, everything. Scotti is an incredibly cute and busty young porn star from Scotland. This girl has really big natural tits, TOTALLY round, I mean spherical. And they're filled with like helium and jello. Well I'll be. The things are a bit bigger than my head, and just absolute perfection. Her body is exactly like I love - well one of the ways - but very hard to describe. Mainstream actresses and musicians just don't have bodies like this. She's not skinny, but not exactly thick, either. She's VERY curvy, including a big, juicy bubble butt, perfectly round. But say the word "curvy" and people think you're saying "fat, but I like it." I'm telling you, this girl is like, the best way to describe it is, picture the heaviest centerfold ever featured in Playboy. A girl who, you can't see her ribs at all, but she's not overweight. Probably a 30" waist, so, not skinny, but not fat either. And a 40" ass, and double D's. She turns and looks at me. Dammit, if my wife hadn't been around I could have just lavished charm and praise and romance on her and gotten her number.
Man, my heart actually ached, still does. I actually felt like I was in love. I flashed forward and imagined dating her and so on. Man oh man. How could I have let her get away? I feel kind of heartbroken to be honest. That must sound crazy.
I'll dig up some pictures of Scotti and post them, you'll see what I mean.
So, I went to a casting call yesterday. First off my agents are total pieces of shit, which is totally unsurprising. And to think everyone blames the talent. Yeah, right! This dumb bitch calls me up midday - I'm still asleep - and says "Hi this is (her first name), you are scheduled for a 3:15 casting call, can you make it?" Doesn't state her last name or what business she's calling from, or even make sure it's me she's speaking to. She just blurts it out immediately after I say hello. She also doesn't say WHERE it is, or for WHOM, and the biggest thing is,
a) she already scheduled me without even seeing whether I'm available or not, and
b) she didn't give me ANY advance warning! Not even one day! Oh yeah right, like the casting director and the studio and videographer and producers and assistants and everyone else involved went to all this trouble to set this all up, but didn't notify my agent until that same day?? GIVE me a fucking BREAK! WHAT a FUCKING BITCH!
What really happened was, this agent was warned a month in advance and didn't even pick up the phone. Why? Because she's a worthless cluck. A dumb fucking c-word of a wench. JESUS Christ, please God kill her.
See, the problem with her scheduling me without my knowledge is that if I can't make the casting call, the casting director and everyone else will go "God, what a flake!" Yeah right, like it's my fault. Dumb Fucking Whore.
Anyway, I respond to her, saying "Can I call you right back?"
She replies - incredulously, mind you (can you believe this shit?) "Do you even have my number?"
I'm thinking, Well yes, you dumb fucking bitch, ever heard of caller I.D.? But I say "Well I assume you're calling fro-" She interrupts (as always) and blurts out the name of the agency. No Fucking Shit you dumbfuck! Where the fuck ELSE would you be calling from? JESUS what a dumb fucking piece of shit.
Anyway, I let myself wake up for a moment, then call her back. "Hi, this is _____" (ya like how I introduce myself? It's called NORMAL PHONE PROTOCOL as well as PROFESSIONALISM.) "Regarding the casting call, where is it?" She blurts out the street name and number, nothing more. I pause, so I don't reach through the phone and choke her to death, and say, "What city would that be in?" ARGH you DUMB FUCKING WHORE!
Anyway, I get ready and race there, but there's one catch. My wife wants to go. Fuck!! What am I going to do, tell her no? Heck no, that would be a terrible move right now, maybe ending my marriage.
We arrive, and as often happens, there are other casting calls going on at the same time in other suites or whatever they're called. All the hopefuls are standing around the main waiting area. One group is infants and parents, another group is average joes, another group appears to be skanks and hookers, and yet another group is Hot Frickin Women.
Good LORD are some of these women hot. I mean, if you've never been to L.A. at all you really can't fathom it. Believe me, I have lived here a long time and it still amazes even me. Oh you may think you can "get it" because you're capable of grasping the notion that there are lots of hotties and wannabe starlets in L.A., but it's like having a gun pointed to your head: imagining how it would feel, and actually having it happen, are two WAY different things.
Between the mommies with their heavy, soft breasts, bending over to pick up their babies, and the models/actresses with their rail-thin frames, rounded asses, jutting cheekbones, and impossibly white teeth, the whole room has me reeling.
I swagger in like I own the place (unlike everybody else, who are either nervous, or gorgeous yet insecure, or fingers-crossed hopeful), trying to keep my distance from my wife, and everybody stares at me, wondering "Who is this guy? Is he a director? A casting director? A hotshot actor I for some reason don't recognize? A producer?" The gorgeous girls I give cursory inspections to and maybe give a small, ambiguous smile to, but I don't show too much interest. Those kinds of girls fall all over themselves shining their glorious warmth on you until you show interest - then they're like "Tssh. As if." So if you ignore them they're like "How can I get this guy to notice me?"
Meanwhile though I'm staring at whichever ones are looking the other way, so I can ogle them unnoticed. MAN! I'm telling you, these girls are painfully beautiful. And desperate for attention. Good god it would be easy to pull some of these chicks.
Also there are a lot of mommies there with their infants, who are trying out for a diaper ad. This one in particular has just the sweetest face, and HUGE tits, I mean bigger than my head by far. But really nice, too, not just arbitrarily large tits. They're so big that she has a lot of cleavage showing, so when she bends over to pick up her kid, I look the other way so it appears I'm not paying attention, but then I turn back and stare right down her shirt. Praise Jesus, pure heaven on earth right there. My god. I can only imagine how warm and soft they are. Grrr! It's almost like being starving and staring at food from a world class chef.
Now, most moms don't lose all the weight they gained during their pregnancy right away, and many (most?) never get back to their original weight in the first place. So, they feel like big ugly cows, especially next to these 118 lb , 5 foot 11" superhotties. That means if I flash this one particularly reliable smile of mine, they're putty in my hands. And for the icing on the cake, the Perfect 10's in the room notice it (they don't miss a thing) and wonder why this cute MILF gets a smile and not themselves.
So, whenever my wife's back is turned or I happen to be facing away, I work it, without her noticing. MAN I could collect some digits if I were here alone and in recruitment mode. Good god I would love to pound some of these beauties. Fucking a skinny or really fit girl is great because they're so firm, every thrust slams her whole body around. And fucking a thick girl is great because they're so voluptuous and luxurious and soft. You get to see their tits move, their ass shake, thighs, tummy, all of it is terrific. God bless women.
I need to go to my car for something, so my wife stays behind to listen for my name and tell them I'll be back in a moment if they call me. On the way there I slow down to let this one hottie catch up with me. Blonde, very pretty face, looks a lot like Gisele Bundchen. Nice soft a-cups, but they're jiggly, which I love. Now, skinny girls with no ass totally turn me off, I mean, my weenie says 'Byebye!' Zero interest. This one has a round, muscular little thing back there, a very Nicole Kidman body. Good god what I would do to that. Anyway I make small talk and flirt a bit. It would be so easy to get her number. But I wrap it up and walk ahead. Around the back of the building I catch up to a black girl, who I can tell was just inside. She just had that look. Halle Berry body, with bigger tits and a bigger ass, and a face a lot like Nia Long, but cuter. We bullshit for a bit, and I could have definitely gotten her number too, but I pass. She's moving to San Francisco anyway. If I were really on the case I could have worked it - told her I live up there or have a second home up there, and created this whole giant house of lies out of thin air; flown up there a few times and back the next morning before my wife got home from work, but, no way, not now. I don't need to get laid THAT badly!
I get what I need from the car and head back. I make sure I catch up with this one MILF - her face looks exactly like an actress who's been in quite a few films, whose name I can't place. Maybe it's her. Tan; brown hair with blonde streaks, cut in a bob; dark blue tattoo high on on her upper arm, ROUND ass - Jesus! - and very round cantelope sized probably fake tits. Not bad fake, though; these are nice, very expensive and very well done fake ones. Who knows, maybe they're real. Man oh man. She's mid 30's or so, and definitely would appreciate the attention. We bullshit for a moment, and as we round the corner I ask, "What call are you here for?" Just then we round the corner and there's her infant daughter in a stroller being held by this woman's elderly mom. "My daughter." Oh well. I wasn't going to get her digits anyway.
After the audition the wife wants to go to Whole Foods. Ok. While she's in line to get a gourmet sandwich, I'm off a ways looking at "food" (translation: "women.") Suddenly I turn and see this one, HO my GAWD! Like a God Damn Scotti Andrews. Same body pretty much; same hair, everything. Scotti is an incredibly cute and busty young porn star from Scotland. This girl has really big natural tits, TOTALLY round, I mean spherical. And they're filled with like helium and jello. Well I'll be. The things are a bit bigger than my head, and just absolute perfection. Her body is exactly like I love - well one of the ways - but very hard to describe. Mainstream actresses and musicians just don't have bodies like this. She's not skinny, but not exactly thick, either. She's VERY curvy, including a big, juicy bubble butt, perfectly round. But say the word "curvy" and people think you're saying "fat, but I like it." I'm telling you, this girl is like, the best way to describe it is, picture the heaviest centerfold ever featured in Playboy. A girl who, you can't see her ribs at all, but she's not overweight. Probably a 30" waist, so, not skinny, but not fat either. And a 40" ass, and double D's. She turns and looks at me. Dammit, if my wife hadn't been around I could have just lavished charm and praise and romance on her and gotten her number.
Man, my heart actually ached, still does. I actually felt like I was in love. I flashed forward and imagined dating her and so on. Man oh man. How could I have let her get away? I feel kind of heartbroken to be honest. That must sound crazy.
I'll dig up some pictures of Scotti and post them, you'll see what I mean.
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Porn Has Completely Destroyed Me
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Reply to: anon-70028811@craigslist.org
Date: Sun Apr 24 20:46:15 2005
There was a time - I'd say pre 1999 - when I would have tolerated a girl with an errant fat roll, a mildly problematic ass, or even non-porcelain veneered teeth. And come to think of it, I might have even green lighted a B cup chest.
But with the installation of the high speed cable modem, alas, I am sad to say that those times have now passed. I now only want - and will only solicit affection from - girls with killer porn star looks and behavior.
I am ashamed and I do not like what now stimulates me, but the Internet, with all of its quick fix, crack-like vices, has made me extraordinarily intolerant.
Are you a Tufts or Harvard grad and a great conversationalist?
Not important.
Do you have a quirky sense of humor and a knack for cooking Asian Fusion cuisine?
Don't care.
Would you like to discuss the sub-text meaning of the whip sawed brush strokes of that Kandinsky painting at the MFA?
smurf off.
Be the source of a blood rush and make me throw a rod in my pants or kindly turn into anti-matter.
I am ruined. I am dead on the inside. I am ashamed and embarrassed of what now stimulates me and I know that I am irrevocably changed for the worse. For all practical purposes, Internet porn has destroyed me.
So who am I? Not who you'd think. Not the dandruff-haired blob of smurf in the cube next to you. Not the UES Michigan frat boy. Not the faux disheveled Downtown hipster with the silly retro Puma sneakers.
Sadly, I am the "normal" one that you're actually interested in. Cultured, eloquent, well dressed. I am the one you discuss with your girlfriends over Sunday brunch. I am the one you hope to bump into at Karen's pajama themed apartment party. I am the one who takes the lead, holds doors, and hails cabs.
smurf.
Do you dream of a man who will "love you just for you?"
Do believe that you have peripheral, intangible qualities that men of substance will key upon and gravitate to?
Do you shun the gym in favor of The Apprentice and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunkey Monkey, thinking that your black cigarette pants will sufficiently mask any belly spillage or ass expansion?
Then forget it. It's game over. You're a walking, talking non-compete clause and you're going to end up alone with a slobbering oversized Rotweiller named Chuckles.
Pull your head out of your ass and be advised - porn viewing/obsession is spreading like the plague amongst my gender - upping the already unrealistic physical expectations, pushing boundaries in the bedroom (you're down with anal, right?), and providing instant, customize-able sexual highs with the push of a button.
If you're female and you don't posess prodigal, Einsteinian caliber intelligence that would propel the cause of humanity forward, and, if you don't relish the idea of being alone, then . . .
. . . throw every last dollar you have at your physical appearance.
I'm serious. Personal trainer. Porcelain veneers. High-end boob job. Get scared and get it done.
Do not extend my gender any credit. Do not hope that a guy will be in awe of your cello playing, your VP title, or your cute apartment.
I promise you he won't care. Don't kid yourself into thinking he will. Men are programmed to respond to the visual.
Look good or you're alone.