2008 was a good run for this one-reader blog of mine, but 2009, not so much. I've posted one sentence. I don't feel that guilty though. I don't have enough fan base to feel guilty.
I. Have. Nothing. To. Write. About.
Everything's actually going well. Well, everything that has happened in 2009. It's been pretty friggin quiet. Not that I'm upset. Trust me, I could get used to this. But, sad to say when things are going well, I have nothing to be Debbie-Downer about, and thus nothing to write about. Ohhhh the trade-offs in life.
I'm also not opinionated enough for a pop-culture blog. I don't really care about most things in pop-culture, aside from just knowing in general that they're happening, and honestly, you have the news for that, like you need me to waste another 5 minutes typing it out for you. It's inconvenient for all parties involved.
I do, however, have an interesting story that actually belongs to a friend of mine. Noteworthy, I do believe:
This friend of mine, we'll call her 'The Mighty V', V for short, grew up in the good ol' Ohio Valley with me. She went throughout the entirety of high school without sleeping with one guy. She even made it through college without doin the deed. (Thus my aptly chosen nickname.) This is unheard of. I gotta be honest, we (myself not included) getting down in 7th grade at our junior high, I'm sure you can imagine the percentage of deflowered teenagers that graduated that hell hole. I truly thought either the 'power of Christ' was that compelling, she had super powers, or maybe she just had some weird deformity she was uncomfortable with showing off.
She moved up here over the summer. We go out to dinner and she's telling me about this coworker of her's. He's 38 and a man-whore. Everything she says about him points to man-whore. The texts he's sending her scream man-whore. I hate these guys. I'm getting a little anxious because my faith in all that is sacred will be shattered if she does what she's looking like she's going to do.
My nervousness continues and I try to fix her up with a fellow virgin. I'm all excited at this point because I've found a man and a woman at the ripe old age of 23 that STILL haven't 'made whoopy'. Needless to say she found him incredibly unsatisfactory and continued to text this man-whore.
Things she tells me about the man-whore: he has like 13 kids. He had to leave the first wife because he knocked up some other bimbo. He had about 12 affairs in 12 years. I think that's actually true or very close to it, unlike my spawn exaggeration. He started having sex when he was 13.
Things I know about virginity: you get one. You do not make it out of our high school with it. If you should make it out of our high school for some ridiculous reason, you sure as hell don't make it through college. WHAT!?! You made it through COLLEGE? You're obviously a god/goddess/immortal. Conclusion: IT GAINS VALUE OVER TIME AND LIFE EXPERIENCE. The last thing on your list of 'To-Dos" would be to throw it away, right?
Things I found out last week: V is quite fond of sex now. V is fucking the engaged-to-be-married-in-March-man-whore on a regular basis. V, of course, lost her v-card to the man-whore and hasn't looked back since. V has described sexual acts in which I was sure real normal people did not commit. I've been having sex for seven years and one month. Sure, I've easily got quantity of sex on her, but she's beaten me in quality 10 fold in one month. (Quality here does not necessary reflect a positive connotation.)
I no longer believe in God.
That's a lie. I no longer believe that God finds sex to be a sacred thing to be shared between two people that love each other. I think we just like to believe that one because it makes things a little less messy. V's experiences detail that you don't even really have to like the person to have great sex. And a lot of it. With the first person you've ever been with in your entire 23 years. I'm shocked.
The funny part is, I've never even thought about living by her former mantra. I've always scoffed at it. I like sex, I'm pretty sure everyone likes sex, just do it if you want to, whatever. I guess it's like wanting something you can't have. Alright, here's the metaphor for where I just went: you're at the party and you get a ticket saying you can hold onto it all night for a mystery prize, but if you do that, then you can't play in the ball pit. Well, fuck the ticket, the ball pit is the OBVIOUS prize I want, so about 95% of us pitch the tickets and jump in the ball pit. Sure, we've made our choice, and now we want to feel good about it so we start saying we made the right choice, but deep down, we idolize those who could keep out of the ball pit - that small percentage who had the will power. It's 3 hours later, and we've come to realize the ball pit isn't a gauranteed great time, but still, it's pretty damn fun. In our heads though, we're imagining those tickets are for an even better pit, like maybe Jell-O, or pudding. Then, like 4.9% of the ticket holders pitch the tix and jump in. Well... WTF dude... I was countin on you to tell me how fuckin awesome the Jell-O pit was. Now I can't even live vicariously because I don't even want to talk to that 0.1% of ticket holders, how could I POSSIBLY be able to relate to them after all of my ball-pit-fun-having experiences? Ludicrous I tell you. Whatever, they probably just get a cleaner ball pit anyways... I made the better choice. I know some SA-WEET ball pit tricks now, right? ;)
Alright, I think that's as close as it gets. And awesome parallel at the end right? I like it. I'm not editting anymore.
And enjoy, because this might be the last one for a loooooooong time... We're experiencing dry conditions in my life so I have to depend on others' mistakes here. This blog doesn't make me enough $$ or give me enough satisfaction to go screwing up my life just for some laughs.
Until next time...
