What is it about holding things that cause an extreme desire to misuse them? I mean, I was up in my room working with the camera for my T-Mobile Sidekick and finally figured out how to take pictures. Although the little camera doo-dad looks kind of funny once placed into the hole, it's kind of neat-o to see things after all that telling my dog to stay still.

Yeah, I know I was practicing on my dog, Buffy, the "neighborhood watch program, as I figured out the camera. What I mean in the misuse is that I can email people, very easily, pictures of my naughty parts. I'm not sure why the cackle goes off in the devilish part of me but it just does since a part of me is never going to grow up. Should I just whip it out and see what I look like from a camera's point of view?

Editor: "The options are endless!"

So, I have found myself with another book due to my stupidity of not knowing when to stop hoarding while I am still reading one. The Dragon Lance is going smoothly but the A.D.D. part of me wants to see what nerd-cult is about and go for a spin with Douglas Adams's "A Hitchhiker's Guide To the Galaxy" as I mentioned a few entries ago. The book I just got should be no surprise.

"Chloe Does Yale" by Natalie Krinsky is the next book about to be devoured due to my insistent need to read what women think about sex. The title pretty much says it all but it's about the author's investigation of sex on the Yale campus and just how far she is willing to go in knowing what students do. According to the drool filled portion of an example, Natalie must reveal body parts in order to view the orgies hidden within the college campus. Is this woman willing to do what it takes and tell all that she sees while dealing with her own dating dillemas?

Natalie became pretty famous for her articles based on sexuality while attending Yale so she was given the paper's Q & A section regarding sex as well as an investigation portion. I do remember reading Playboy's short article on her so I'm not surprised that I have "Chloe Does Yale" in my hands, as pink as it is for a cover. Oh, to explore a woman's view of sexuality for me is like holding a sock out to the little green men that seem to come here and steal them from my dryer.

Aliens: "Fuel!"

I know to some guys this is gross or they don't even care about what girls think when it comes to sex but I FUCKING CARE! Now, that I got that out of my system, I'll probably be stuck on a chapter as to whether it is polite for a woman to spit or swallow. According to Natalie and various college girls, there is ettiquete in dealing with semen so, naturally, I am curious. Bookworms are secretly interested in knowing all forms of kink.

It's just hard to explain with me or maybe it's the fact that I lived with so many guys over the years that were more interested in telling each other how bad their girlfriends gave them head. Geez, I thought that was bad form because they should have had the balls to tell their girlfriends how to please instead of making fun of them. Either that or a major portion of me has grown up and is only open to talking with people that actually wish to explore sexuality and all it's gifts.

I've learned a lot from Diaryland regarding the sexuality of girls but no matter how many questions are answered, I still crave more. Isn't that the coolest thing about sex? It's never boring unless you are doing it wrong or wearing a pointed hat thanks to some stupid belief that you will have tea and a fat-free cookie with a man named "Jesus" when you die.

So, I see from my notes that Sammy has joined our group, the elliptical riding fuckers. We're the ones willing to ride a damn machine that refuses to give up all while it bleeds us of our sweat and our asses ache from the push. It's lovely, my machine, "The Beast." This elliptical will stare out at me from it's #2 spot as I pass the hallway leading to the cardio equipment. I just cannot avoid it, folks.

One of the main reasons I am on this elliptical is that a friend of mine, Travis, lost a whopping 30 pounds on it by using it for 30 minutes a day and weights for 30 more minutes. He looks so much better than before, no more belly hanging out or chubby face but I need to add the fact that Travis also changed his diet into consisting more of fish and grilled chicken. The elliptical works, every minute of pain with each drop of sweat. Does anyone wear a thong on this thing because I sure as hell don't know how you could.

I'm not fat by any means but I wanted to tone myself up more and treadmills are boring since I use them more for a calming point after a workout. The 6 minutes of brisk walking has me in a short form of euphoria as I stare at the TV screens in front of me. Seeing Fox News makes me nauseaus, though, since Bill O' Reilly is a lost cause as bad as any religious zealot.

So, keep using that elliptical, girls. I'm with you on the feeling of dread as it calls out our names. Sammy, just keep chugging along because it gets easier but not as much as you wish. I've got an ass of steel so maybe I'll email you a picture of it.

Who here has ever gone on a beer run with your mother? Well, I did for the first time but it wasn't to go the park, down a six-pack, and throw rocks at small children as I was hoping. My mom wants to make Italian beef and has to have beer for an ingredient. Apparently, she doesn't want the public to see the hole that has formed on her jeans so I have to go into the grocery store to get 6 cans of Busch. Gawd, I so wished my mother would have had me drink in high school to wash away the memories of the nuns that tortured me in private school thanks to my desire to fight back and almost get expelled.

I feel like there is so much on my mind as I type this. For one thing, not much happened today even if I did get that book and think of various forms of misuse with my camera. It's just with so many things coming at me due to not being able to just sit there and chill that kills me. I'm pretty sure that I would be the "Bree" character of Desperate Housewives thanks to my need for perfection. I really just need to watch a movie.

It's so fucking hot in my room thanks to being in the upstairs area facing the sun. I'll just lay there and think of hot filthy sex with Sara at various hours while my t-shirt sticks to me. Sweat and the various scents just trigger a complete need to drive on out to Indiana and seek relief in her bed. I have so got to go soon. Am I the only one that has a weird reaction to Spring and how it makes for a fucking good time?

Well, I really should stop here or I'll make this more like a "Dear Penthouse..." and go all over the place with my own sexual fantasies. Girls just do not need to know what goes on in our "pink warriors' purple heads" or do they? Goodnight.

- - 2009-07-07

Love Facebook - 2009-05-07

Retards Away! - 2009-02-16

Jackasses! I Sees 'Em! - 2008-11-28

My Birthday Happened - 2008-09-07