Frankenblog

2010-02-23T19:33:00.000-05:00

Fuck Blogger.

If you're reading this it means I've moved on and will no longer be posting using Blogger. This site will remain for however long Google decides to keep it, but I will never be updating it.

Click here to go to the new frankenblog.com now powered by Wordpress.

See you there!

2010-02-11T13:03:00.003-05:00

Ok. I think I may have fixed the Blogger-Fucks-Over-FTP-Publishers problem. At least for the moment. I suppose it's no so bad that Blogger will be hosting every piece of content, but it's still annoying. Although only .5% of Blogger users publish via FTP I'm sure it still amounts to hundreds of thousands if not millions of users (Blogger, of course, doesn't give us an actual number of subscribers).

Anyway. There you go. I have no idea if this post will be followed by more. So no one hold their breath.

I love tits!

(Update: I think I fucked something up. And to add insult to injury Haloscan is shutting down and becoming Echo and apparently charging for their service. Christ.)

2010-02-11T12:50:00.001-05:00

I have no idea what's going on right now.

2009-08-15T16:19:00.007-04:00

Dear Playboy,

Forgive my poor language, but what the fuck is going on over there? There must be some kind of internal disconnect or a general lowering of standards because it seems to me like Playboy is starting to lose it's way or settle for much too less.

Why do I say this?

It's simple.

In the last two issues you've featured two cover models that never show us the goods! I'm not even a fan of either of these two women and I'm still hopping mad about this! We get Olivia Munn and Heidi Montag doing the equivalent of a Maxim shoot! WTF?!?

Now, is Playboy Maxim or is it truly Playboy? If it's the latter you guys need to get your money's worth.

Seriously. I'm not happy with you guys right now. If one of these "celebrities" isn't going to bare all, simply give them the boot.

In all sincerity,

Frankenblog

2009-08-10T12:34:00.000-04:00

So I think something might be brewing.

I'm the laziest writer of blogs ever, I know. But I feel like I might start doing more, although it's possible it won't be under the "frankenblog" banner. We'll see. It's been a while and I am feeling a bit more inspired again. That means more entries about anything and everything.

So please stay tuned.

Until then, enjoy some Amanda Wenk: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

2009-02-27T09:01:00.002-05:00

When I become a Polygamist, this girl is going to be one of my wives. I'm totally having a testimony. A raging testimony. Will someone please rub it for me?

2009-01-28T12:22:00.001-05:00

Call me crazy.

Don't know why I find this so hot. I just do. I want my wife to do hers.

2009-01-28T11:27:00.001-05:00

Yes, have some.

Enjoy.

2008-11-12T12:22:00.004-05:00

Help me wrap my head around something.

I have a ladyfriend who I've known for about 8 years. She's a staunch Republican. She's also bisexual. Over the past couple of days I've been drilling her on her political views and why she voted the way she did. After flying off the handle about how she doesn't have to justify her decision to anyone she finally relented (after I questioned her Republican-ness). And that's when my jaw dropped. I couldn't believe some of the crap I was hearing.

While I think it's acceptable to disagree on some key issues (taxing the weathly, etc.), I think it's incredibly unacceptable when it turns hateful. Imagine my surprise when she told me she was against gay marriage. No. I'm not kidding. A bisexual woman is against gays marrying. Can you fucking believe it? And then when I asked how she could be against gays marrying when she was gay herself she responded with "bi isn't gay. There's a difference." Are you fucking kidding me? A homosexual relationship is a homosexual relationship. Period. If you lick pussy, you lick pussy. Not only hateful, but self-hating. Whatever makes you feel better, I guess.

I also got to hear the typical Republican Pro-McCain bullshit. "Blacks only voted for Obama because he was black!" And? The Christian Right only voted for McCain because he was a White Republican who blew smoke up their asses about Jesus and Family Values. It's called "playing the political game". And that happens with any election. If McCain was so concerned about getting the black vote, then maybe he should have tried a little harder to get the black vote.

One of the last thing she said still makes no sense to me. She's wasn't crazy about Palin. Well that's great. So you voted for a 200-year-old man who could drop dead at any moment and you "weren't crazy" about the person who'd be in charge after his death?

I simply don't get it.

Oh, and for those of you tired of me rambling on about this shit, here's some nice boobage.

2008-11-06T10:39:00.003-05:00

Hate and ignorance are the two things in this world I cannot tolerate. And it seems to me that those two things often go hand-in-hand. Tuesday marked an historic day for this country. And instead of embracing something monumental, we have folks screaming "burn him!" or "he's an Ay-Rab" or "everything was fine until the Democrats screwed it all up" (it's amazing how it's always the other guy's fault). For the first time in a long time I'm proud to be a part of this country. But that doesn't mean I'm not still ashamed of many of my fellow Americans. Although a huge wall was broken down, we still have a long way to go as a Nation.

Yesterday a "friend" on Facebook posted an update in which she said she hoped "God is with us now more than ever". When I asked for it's meaning she told me she didn't think it warranted further explanation, but I already knew what she meant. Even though she didn't come out and say it, she meant that an evil Islamic black man was voted into the White House and she was scared.

How.

Fucking.

Pathetic.

Needless to say I'm have one less friend in my Facebook contacts.

2008-11-05T00:21:00.006-05:00

And just like that, Barack Obama wins the Presidency. So I give you all a haiku for old time's sake:

Take my thick meat, bitch
And give Obama some, too
Republican slut.

(I know. I'm so fucking eloquent.)

Still, on a serious note, today is a GREAT day for this country. One of the best ever. For the first time in a long time I actually feel proud to be an American.

Now, let's all see what this kid can do.

2008-11-03T19:37:00.003-05:00

For those that care, this is my favorite photograph of Barack Obama. I like him. I think he has amazing potential to fix this fucked up country of ours. I don't expect him to be perfect. In fact, I expect him to make some piss poor mistakes. But I bet he'll learn from them. And I bet he'll surround himself with some wicked smart people to help him do what he sets out to do.

Tomorrow morning I will wake up and vote for this man. And although I live in Maryland (which is usually blue) I will still go and stand in silent solidarity with others who are doing the same thing: voting for the right person. The best person for the job.

That person isn't McCain. And it definitely isn't the twit he picked to be his running mate. Male or female, Palin is an embarrassment (although I would totally hit it--hard--to punish her for being such a naughty Governor).

But I digress. I look forward to tomorrow. Both for the Election outcome and for Election Day Sex with Christina. Whether it's Angry Election Day Sex or Sweet Election Day Sex will depend on the results. If it's the former, I'm dressing Christina up like Sarah Palin before we start because Sarah Palin deserves to be punished. If it's the latter, I'll request she scream out "Fuck me Mr. President!" the entire time.

2008-04-07T01:14:00.004-04:00

Friday night's season premiere of Battlestar Galactica might have been the best television I've seen in the past year and was totally worth the wait (it's been over a frakkin' year since the show last aired). It was an hour of sheer bliss to able to watch those characters in action again. Such good story. Amazing dialog. And it was nice to see that no matter what situation Gaius Baltar finds himself in, he always gets laid. Very laid. Sometimes I wish I could be that character's penis for a day. But then I snap out of it and realize that I'm no slouch compared to that guy.

It just so happens that about 20 minutes after Galactica went off the air that night, my wife arrived home with our good friend K. She had flown out from the mid-west for a little R&R with her favorite married couple and we made the trip worth her while. We all relaxed, ate good food, got a little lit, and had a lot of great sex.

(Note: Getting a king-sized bed was one of the most brilliant ideas my wife and I have ever had.)

2008-03-18T23:07:00.005-04:00

Yawn. (Wink. Wink.)

I'm back. I think. Not sure for how long, though. Never can seem to make this page a priority anymore. It's not from a lack of things to write about, it's mainly because I'm uninspired. And busy. And lazy. And let's be honest, it's time better spent masturbating, right?

Also, since so much time has passed between blogs it's somewhat overwhelming to think how much I might need to write if I need to reference something. A simple entry could take hours instead of minutes. Again, cutting into masturbation time. Or sex time. Seriously.

Then again, I don't want to continue to incur the wrath of those few faithful folks who get incredibly pissed off every time they visit to find nothing new. I can imagine how much that might suck. If WWTDD.COM (one of my all-time favorite sites) suddenly stopped updating, I'd be upset. In fact, here's an email from March 10th that read:

Your failure to update Frankenblog has raised my ire and the ire of those around me. Ire, I said.
~Demonwiener

So let's see what I can muster up. Eh?

Until then, here's a fabulous picture of my wife's gorgeous new breasts. After all, I did promise.

2007-08-31T17:13:00.000-04:00

Not a posting about breasts, pregnant women, breast feeding or the like.

I just learned that my favorite band has just been signed to a record label. The Upwelling will release their debut CD on Edmund Records--through a partnership with Doghouse Records and Warner Bros.--and are shooting for a release sometime in 2008. Not only am I psyched that there will be new music, but I couldn't be happier for the band.

So I'd like to say congratulations to Josh, Ari, Conor and Lee. May the next year bring lots of radio play, many TV appearances, and critical acclaim. You guys deserve it.

(Photo by Ebru Yildiz)

2007-08-28T23:53:00.000-04:00

I am a Maieusiophiliac.

"What?" you say? Read on.

A few weeks ago friend Dan and I were having one of our normal geeked-out conversations about whatever when the topic of Jessica Beal's ass came up. We had recently seen a trailer in front of the new Transformers movie that she was in--an Adam Sandler/Kevin James comedy I've already written off--showing her backside in nothing but a pair of panties. And yeah, she's got a hot body. No doubt.

"Doesn't she have the most incredible body you've ever seen?" he asked. "You have to admit she has the best body you've ever seen."

But something in me just couldn't commit. Yes, her body is great, but it's hard for me to choose just one that's the best. I certainly find hers arousing, but I also find Carla Gugino or even Anna Nicole Smith to be just as desirable. It depends on my mood. (I'd also like to go on record and say my wife has a hot body, too. Er...was I supposed to post some more pictures or something?)

"Um. I think she's hot. I'd totally hit it." I said. But I can't just make a blanket statement and say she has the hottest body."

"OK. Who would you do then?" he continued, "Jessica Beal or Salma Hayek?" And I don't mean Salma Hayek now while she's all big and pregnant, I mean Salma Hay--".

And then I cut him off.

"Dude. I think Salma Hayek NOW is hotter than hot." I admitted.

(I don't think Dan was prepared for the answer to his next question.)

"Fine. Salma Hayek pregnant or Salma Hayek not pregnant?"

"Uh...Salma Hayek pregnant" I said.

"Dude, you've got problems." he said, and that was the end of it.

So yeah. The cat's out of the bag. I have a pregnancy fetish.

Maieusiophilia (according to Wikipedia) is one form of Pregnancy Fetishism and specifically refers to an attraction to or arousal by others being or appearing pregnant. It also coincides with an affection for lactation. I would say a perfect description of myself.

Ever since I was little I was obsessed with pregnancy. Not so much the baby aspect of it, but the changes a woman's body would go through while a baby gestated. Rapid weight gain. Breast expansion. A huge belly. A beautiful, round, big belly. Needless to say I was more nuts about my wife when she was pregnant. I even have nude photos of her at 9 months, ready to pop. One hangs on my bedroom wall. And yes, I LOVED when her breasts filled with milk. While I didn't breastfeed as much as the babies, I totally got my fair share. Breastmilk (my wife's of course)=delicious.

Now, is this fetish all-encompassing and all-consuming? Of course not. I love women of all shapes and sizes. Period. But I'd be lying if I wasn't a bit more drawn to those sexy mommies-to-be (and my God is there a hot blonde who kid goes to my daughter's school). For those of you wanting to see a little more pregnant hotness, check out these photos of the gorgeous Peta Todd.

And for good measure here's a few pics of actress Maggie Gyllenhaal breastfeeding somewhere in NYC.

2007-07-12T12:27:00.001-04:00

George Lucas is mocking us.

Lord, how I hate the Man. The Defiler. The Destroyer of Dreams. The man with a neck that may just grow bigger than the man himself and try to take over the world.

I went to view this teaser footage from the set of Indy 4 and had to rewind and watch it again just to see Lucas, Spielberg, and Ford hamming it up. But then I noticed something that made my jaw drop: Lucas' t-shirt.

And here's a clearer picture:

So let me get this straight. The guy that came out and said (repeatedly) that it was never intended for Han to shoot Greedo first in the original Star Wars movie is now proudly wearing a t-shirt that says the exact opposite?!?

Fuck you, George. Fuck you.

2007-06-07T23:33:00.000-04:00

Did I neglect to mention that today was the day Christina went to visit The Boob Fairy? Of course I did. That's so like me.

I am happy to report that everything went perfectly and my wife is now made out of breasts. Me likey. Perhaps a little bigger than she was intending. But so what? Better a little big than a little small, right? Pictured above is Christina around 11PM. Loopy.

Tired. More info and more pictures (!!!!) later.

2007-06-06T09:17:00.000-04:00

Hooray for Boobies 2007!

I'll get right to the point.

My wonderful wife has treated herself to new boobs. Something she's considered and researched for a very long time now. I am quite excited of course. But not as excited as she.

And since this site is all about the boobies, she's given her consent to have the whole thing chronicled on Frankenblog. This means I'll be posting pictures periodically. Before/after type of stuff. My goal is to be informative while still showing gratuitous nudity. Since there isn't one plastic surgery site out there that shows recovery photos over a period of time longer than 3 months, I intend to take us to at least a year after surgery (by this time the implants will have settled and the scarring around her areolae will have faded).

Thumbgirl is Janine Lindemulder.

2007-05-31T11:27:00.000-04:00

There. That should do it.

Been gone for a tad. Longer than a tad. Whatever. I haven't posted anything. Not even the obligatory nude shot. There are many reasons behind the hiatus. But mostly it's because I'm terribly lazy. Writing something (anything) is really hard. It might be the hardest thing ever for me. I just don't have the patience or the discipline. Nor the time.

Still, here I am. Despite all of the writing dread and the progress the wonderful folks at Blogger have been making these past several months (not). You may notice that while many links are working, many are not. Especially old pictures used in older posts. They're gone. Gone forever. Not coming back. Again, I don't have the time or patience. So from this point on, ever forward.

I was recently told by a few people that they wish I'd post more. That I was a "good writer". This flattered of course. But it's also served to motivate me a little. I give thanks to those that encouraged.

That being said, I have several things I'd like to talk about. Mostly about boobs, getting laid, my penis, and the occasional band (one in particular that I have neglected big time).

And so...

2007-02-07T10:12:00.000-05:00

These made my day. Each one awesome for different reasons. Oh so hot.

You have to register and create an account first, but it's worth it.

This is worth looking at, too, because...well...dayum.

(More entries coming. I swear.)

2007-01-14T09:56:00.000-05:00

Thank the Gods.

Yesterday I very nearly snapped my neck walking past the men's magazine section at my bookstore. The latest Playboy had been put on display (February 2007) and gracing the cover was none-other than Battlestar Galactica's Tricia Helfer and her gorgeous ass-crack. My jaw dropped. Here was the hottie who plays the sexy Cylon Model Six finally doing what I'd hoped she'd do ever since I first saw her. How did something like this get by me? Jeez. I must be slipping in my old age.

It's not surprizing, though. The second half of Season 3 is about to start and the show needs all the help it can get. Despite it's critical acclaim (it won a Peabody Award in 2006) and strong DVD sales, the show is not doing the numbers the The Sci-Fi Channel was hoping for. Hopefully the move from Friday nights--one of the worst nights for tv--to Sunday nights will help this amazing show boost it's ratings. Still, it's unfortunate that numbers might dictate the fate of this wonderful program. Hopefully Sci-Fi will stand by this show regardless and give creators David Eick and Ron Moore the 5 total seasons they've planned for.

Battlestar Galactica is hands-down my favorite TV show right now. And it doesn't hurt that a sex pot like Helfer is part of the stellar cast.

Oh, and before I forget, click on the thumb for a preview of what's inside. I'd scan and show all the pictures, but I'm afraid Playboy will send someone to kill me.

2007-01-12T22:57:00.000-05:00

Yesterday an aquaintance of mine began to press me about how I felt about the current President's new plan reguarding Iraq. I had to admit, I had no idea what the new plan was. At some point I stopped paying attention to it all. The double-talk. The bullshit. The spin-doctoring. Everything I heard began to make less and less sense day in and day out. So for my own sanity's sake, I began to ignore it. Considering that no one's taking this President (or his administration) to task, I figured it'll all be over (fingers crossed) come 2008.

But then someone implies how I threw my vote away and--in the same breath--tells me how the President is going to put another 22000 troops in harm's way. And then he looks at me with baked eyes and smiles an uppity, satisfied smile. A smile that would tell anyone how little he cares for how many people die over there.

So I asked him why it was the right thing to do. The response I got was more of the same shit I stopped listening to months ago. "They declassified so-and-such a report and there really were weapons of mass destruction there." Or "The President has to stick to his guns."

I walked away from him shortly thereafter, disgusted. Letting him know how the war never sat well in my gut and still doesn't (although he assumed I was initally for the war since "everyone" in the country was at the beginning).

I now think that anyone that truly feels that we're doing the right thing in Iraq and claims to stand by President Bush needs to put their money where their mouth is. Enlist in some branch of the Armed Forces and go over there and fight for him. Stand by him. Stick to your guns.

Or just shut the fuck up.

Either choice is a good one from where I'm standing.

2007-01-07T23:35:00.000-05:00

The REAL Thing has returned!

Several weeks ago I came across this article which told of a mythic soft-drink long thought extinct (much like the coelacanth) yet being exported by those wonderful folks down in Mexico. And what is this ancient and legendary liquid confection, you ask?

Coca-Cola.

Yeah. That's right. Coca-Cola. And before you get all confused, I'm talking about REAL Coca-Cola.

Seems that sometime in the 1980's The Coca-Cola Bottling Company switched from using cane sugar to high fructose corn syrup in order to save money. Many never noticed the difference. But just as many Coke Nuts (like me) remember a time when Coke tasted, well, different. Sweeter, but not syruppy. Fizzier. Yummier.

But now I don't have to remember. I can experience. And I have for the past 36 hours. Going on an anonymous tip (Psst! Thanks, Karin!!!) I wandered into a tucked-away Mexican Grocer and found the Holy Grail. They had five bottles. "Sugar" listed among the ingredients. I bought them all. I drank them all. Each bottle an orgasm of memory and nostalgia. And fucking delicious.

I recommend any fan of the Coke to find some of these. You'll be glad you did.

However, I'm not giving up the name nor the location of my Mexican Grocer. Find your own!

Fuckers!

2006-09-15T13:00:00.000-04:00

The Shortest Interview Ever

One thing I've never done (and still intend never to do) is talk about work-related things on this website. I don't bitch about my job to everyone. I don't openly talk shit about co-workers, my boss, clients/customers, or vendors. To me, using your blogsite in this way is incredibly tacky. If you have an issue with your boss or co-worker, confront them and talk about the problem! Don't be a fucking coward.

This is not to say that I don't vent about work. I do. But I vent TO someone, face-to-face (usually my wife). This act actually challenges me to look at what it is that I'm upset about or have a problem with. In most cases, it helps.

I do not, however, feel it tacky or cowardly to talk about interviews I've had for which there was never a job offer. In cases like these I was never an actual employee and think it's safe to express disdain or confusion especially if the interview was strange or went badly. Or just plain noteworthy.

This post is about an interview that was all three. But in a funny, "what the fuck?" sort of way. Today I interviewed with a company called GEOPAT Enterprises. Go ahead. Give the website a visit. It's really slick. It also plays these really calming new-agey tones when you click things as if to say "we're a super awesome and friendly company. Come work for us." Problem is, from the website it's a little vague what they actually DO as a company.

So when I went in for my interview today with the "President" of the company, I asked. Three times. As directly as I could. Instead of answering he fixated on the fact that I did not fill out my social security number on my application. Right after this I was told he "wasn't going to waste his time with me" and--in what was a first for me--I was thrown out of his office. My interview was over in less than three minutes. I was smiling.

But I still had more I wanted to say to Kyle Ball, President of GEOPAT Enterprises. So I thought I'd email him a small thank you and offer some helpful interviewing techniques. Here, in it's totality, is the email. Let's see if he writes me back.

Dear Kyle,

Since you were in such a rush to end our “preliminary interview” and get me out of there I didn’t really have the chance to thank you for what I’m certain is the shortest interview I’ve ever had.

But if I may, I do have a little advice I’d like to share with you in the hopes that you may take it to heart and actually use some of it. Seriously. It might help you in the long run.

1) It's not polite to demand an answer from someone when they haven't been told what it is they'd doing after giving that affirmative response. Normally, one might actually open the interview with the potential hire by telling them a little bit about the company they've come to learn more about. You did invite me. Or at least someone there did. Be a good host and show me around.

2) It's not polite (or professional for that matter) to take on a rather confrontational, condescending and unpleasant tone when making that demand for an answer--especially 30 seconds into the interviewing process.

3) Referring people to your website is a great way to get people interested and to pass on information about the company in a quick, convenient way. But it does actually help to have content on the website. Eight total paragraphs (nine including your "expansion and growth is the key to our success" mission statement) with vague jargon about Event Marketing doesn't tell me much. What is it that GEOPAT Enterprises actually does? Obfuscation is a practice usually only implemented by certain branches of the Federal Government that deal with top secret information. I'm not a UFO chaser and you sure as hell aren't Area 51. [I say with a cute, raised eyebrow:] Or ARE you? Hmmmm. You may also want to consider changing the pictures you have posted. I could be wrong, but I don't think those people in the photographs actually work for you. (Please note that on the resume you reluctantly gave back to me you have written: "No information from website. Kinda odd." "Kinda" is not a word.)

4) When a potential hire asks you directly or indirectly what GEOPAT Enterprises is about, tell the potential hire what GEOPAT Enterprises is actually about (not after the second or third time asked). It might also be a good thing to tell them after they ask the first time. Or just open the interview by telling your potential hires about the company (see #1).

5) After being asked what GEOPAT Enterprises is about, don't refer them to the website (see #3).

6) Don't ask me for personal information (like my Social Security Number) until you've told me what I'm being hired to do and you're prepared to make me an offer. And don't threaten me with keeping my application (an application?--please) and saying it's subject to "criminal review". Feel free to do a background check if you must (or if you're bored and looking for something to do). You'll find nothing out of order.

7) Wear a sensible suit that actually fits and flatters you. Your jacket alone looked to be a few sizes to big and too long. A successful businessman like yourself should dress appropriately. I suggest a visit to Nordstrom (or Kenneth Cole if you're feeling a little more "hip").

I'm sure there's more, but this email is already too long. You can find other helpful hints at the Baltimore Better Business Bureau's website (they actually have a LOT to say). That web address is: http://www.baltimore.bbb.org/

Still, I must apologize. I know you felt our interview was a waste of your time (you said as much verbatim), but I hope it makes you feel better to know that I took something away from it. That GEOPAT Enterprises is essentially a nothing company that is unable to say much of anything about itself. And if the "President's" general demeanor and attitude is any indication, I doubt GEOPAT Enterprises will be around long enough to celebrate it's 3rd anniversary. Congratulations on your two years of running a most excellent business.

In all sincerity,

Matt Frankenberg

PS: I would advise you to please shred or otherwise destroy the application I filled out. There's really no reason for you to hold onto it. Unless of course you hoard paper products (a form of OCD). However, if you insist on keeping it I would warn you not to use ANY of my personal information unprofessionally or unethically.

I mean, come on. Did that website say anything at all?

2006-08-18T16:31:00.000-04:00

Dickapalooza!

Whiskey & The Kidney Stones w/ The Pork Barrel Quartet

WHERE: Beat's Joint
WHEN: August, 19 2006 (THIS SATURDAY NIGHT!)
COST: $5
DIRECTIONS: Swanson Road, 3rd house on right, Upper Marlboro, MD, 20772

The annual party thrown by Dick Beaters of Whiskey and the Kidney Stones. Expect a beer truck, people (including single ladies), two bands, and maybe a moon bounce. Maybe. I will be there. Drinking and waving my privates at everyone.

To hear some Kidney Stones goodness clicky on this link.

Be there or be lame.

2006-08-16T19:28:00.000-04:00

Sometimes persistence, perseverance, and being fairly likeable does pay off in the form of a girl flashing you her boobies. Then again, one might say that I like to surround myself with people who are predisposed to do such things, but I think that remains to be seen (after all, my sister-in-law still won't show me hers). You could also argue I'm occasionally lucky.

So today I helped a friend with a menial task and in return his better half flashed me some skin. And I'll be damned if they weren't the nicest new set of boobies I've seen in a while. Aesthetically wonderful and perky. It would have been nice if she allowed a gratuitous squeeze, but I'm not going to complain. Would you? Didn't think so.

Up to #18 on the Rub-Out-O-Meter. At this rate I'll be done before the weekend. Anyone else want to flash me some boobies as a mental assist?

2006-08-14T00:02:00.000-04:00

TMI

The Specimen Cup loometh. Seriously. I'm determined to have this whole thing over and done with as soon as possible. Now that my balls have stopped swelling to the size of a cantalope, I think I can focus a bit and rub a few more off than normal to meet my quota. 10 to 20 ejacs and I should have seminal fluid devoid of any swimmers. After 11 days post-op, I have 14 under my belt (yes, really). Thing is, the doc was expecting me back in 5-6 weeks. Does this mean he thinks it's going to take me 5-6 weeks to actually reach the magic number 20? Methinks I need to call and ask him, but part of me is a little embarrassed. Then again, he wasn't at all taken aback when I asked him if there would be any difference in feeling with testicular sensation during foreplay. Anyway. After the magic number is reached I get to "whack it" into a cup, but that's not much of a turn on. Maybe if I drew some boobies on it...

2006-08-06T01:45:00.000-04:00

So it's been a few days since I did "that" and as one might expect I'm pretty uncomfortable and quite sore. But I do think this is a small price to pay. Especially since it directly effects the pasttime my wife and I hold at the top of our respected lists. Honestly, I still can't believe I did it. I'm sort of impressed with myself in a way. Oh, and my penis is operating within normal parameters. So that's good.

For those of you who remember (and pay attention), the simple fact that I went through with this allows me to collect on a deal I made with the wife several months ago. And although I don't think this will happen immediately, I promise I will keep you all informed.

2006-08-02T18:16:00.000-04:00

(Shave shave shave shave shave shave shave.) Hey doc, do you have to shave the whole thing? Yes I do. Just relax. Just curious. Now I'm going to examine you like I did in my office. Ok. Ok. Now you're going to feel me giving you the injection, but please be very careful not to jump or make any sudden movements because you might jerk my hand away and the needle will come out. Ok. *Would you like to hold my hand?* (Poke.) Ugh. Ok, Matt. That part's over. *The worst part is over. Now we'll wait for you to get numb. You're doing just fine.* Ok. (Some blunt feeling. Tug tug. Puuuuuulll.) Um. Uh. Um. I'm feeling a little panicky here. I'm sweating. *Can I get you something? What do you need? Would you like a cold washcloth on your head?* Yes, please. (Washcloth on head. Sounds of metal instruments and sounds of something being cut with scissors. More tugging. Blunt pressure. The valium isn't working.) *Don't keep rubbing your eye. You'll end up hurting yourself.* But it's keeping my mind off this. I'm really not hurting myself. *Ok. Just be careful.* How am I doing doc? Well I had some trouble finding your vas defrans. They're not as long as I would have expected. But we're almost done with this side. *See? You're doing fine. They're almost half done.* Great. (More scissors. I smell something burning. The sound of metal scraping against metal. I break out into a cold sweat.) I think...uh...ugh...um...I'm starting to feel light-headed. I think I'm going to pass out. No you won't. You're doing just fine. *You're doing great. Almost halfway done.* No. I'm serious. I'm breaking out in a cold sweat. Do you have any salts? *Yes. Here.* (Sniff.) [Coughing.] Ok. Ok. Sorry guys. *You ok? Feel better?* Yeah. Better. Ok, Matt. This side's done. I'm going to go ahead and examine the other side. There. I actually have the vas defrans in my hand so we won't have the same problem we had on the other side. Again, you're going to feel the injection. Just relax. Ugh. Ugh. I feel it expanding. Ow. (Sounds of metal tool hitting each other. The tugging sensation again. All of a sudden, I feel something not so pleasant.) Ow! Sorry about that. We won't do that again. Ok. Ugh. That hurt. Just relax. It's ok. I realize numbing something locally isn't an exact science. (The bloodpressure cuff puffs up automatically just as something else unpleasant hits. REALLY unpleasant.) Ow! Fuck! Sorry. Ugh. Sorry for the language. What was that? We had to stop you from bleeding. It just wasn't numb enough. Ok. We're just about done here. Awesome. *Are you ok?* I'm fine, thanks. I'm glad we're finished. Ok. Now we're going to clean you off and put a couple of band-aids on you and take you to the recovery room. Excellent. Thanks, doc. (The doc, his assitant and the nurse start cleaning up and getting me ready to move.) So...did I have a "nice" vas defrans? Yes, Matt. It was a very nice vas defrans. Would you like to see it? No, thanks.

2006-07-05T02:23:00.000-04:00

More Kidney Stones artwork and a bit on how the Universe works.

So last night my wife finds a Wawa orientation video on the ground as we're walking to a spot to watch fireworks. She thought we should take it home and watch it because she thought it might be funny. I thought it might be LAME, but I don't argue with my wife (remember, she gives me sex). After fireworks we took it home and watched it. During which time a very familiar face appeared onscreen that I hadn't seen for over 10 years. Shit like this really freaks me out. Fucking eerie. So I've emailed her saying as much. (And yes, she's quite a cutie).

But not as attractive as these fine ladies...er...guys (sarcasm)! This image will appear in the inner booklet--along with lyrics--for the new Whiskey and the Kidney Stones CD tentatively titled 'Ugly, Sick, and Respectable'. Please note that this is still a work-in-progress. You can see that there's still a lot of work to be done to seamlessly integrate the band members faces onto the models. (Click the photo for a bigger image). Also shown is the final logo (I think).

Enjoy.

2006-07-04T20:42:00.000-04:00

Right.

No wonder I don't feel patriotic.

Happy 4th of July everyone.

Can't say I'm surprised.

2006-06-30T09:40:00.000-04:00

I normally don't write movie reviews. That's this guy's thing. Sure, I'll say I dug something in passing during one of my rants, but that's about all it amounts to. But today is different. I feel compelled to do this. I have to get this out.

Superman Returns is not a good movie.

Ouch. It hurts just to write those words. And though I totally feel this way 100%, I'm shocked I've actually written it down. I feel let down. Disappointed. Insulted, even. With the amount of hype that surrounded this movie and the bold ideas Brian Singer had in mind for this revitalization of the franchise I expected so much more. At the very least I expected that real writers would actually be penning the script. That every actor that was hired would give his/her all. That the director himself would push to make a film that surpassed the current benchmark film in the superhero genre: Spider-Man 2.

I wish I could say that this is what was delivered.

Instead we get an amatuer script, cookie-cutter performances, and a movie that actually has the audacity to rip-off* Spider-Man 2, after dressing everything up in a very attractive, uninspiring package.

And now I can hear many of you saying "But Matt, don't you think you're being a little harsh?"

No, I don't.

With all the Messianic imagery (especally in the trailers) I expected the mother-fucking second coming.

Ha! I sat through 2 hours and 40 minutes of mediocraty. And parts of it were regurgitated. I mean, how many fucking jokes and one-liners could they have possibly borrowed from the two Donner films? Were the "writers" so piss-poor that they had to resort to stealing the funny bits from this movie's beloved (and better) predecessors? Wait. Don't answer that. Of course the "writers" were piss-poor. They actually had Superman lifiting a Kryptonite MOUNTAIN out of Earth's atmosphere! WTF is that?!? Kryptonite is Supes' one weakness, right? I little bit would fuck him up, right? An entire MOUNTAIN of KRYPTONITE should own his ass, right? WRONG!

And this isn't the only bit of bad story. There's the Lois/Superman relationship issues. There's the paternity thing. It's not that these ideas were bad, it's just they they were never fully realized. They had a chance to really create this emotional and touching story and it falls flat on it's face. And the places where we're supposed to get all teary are manipulative. Anyone else catch the speech given by Routh at the end? Right. Exactly. Another bit of stolen dialog. I liked it better the first time.

Don't get me started on the cast, either. Bosworth? Shit. Langella. Eh. Marsden? Eh. The kid? Where's Haley Joel when we need him? Spacey? Kevin "Keyser (mafukin) Soze" Spacey? SHIT. Flat, paint-by-numbers super-villain performance. Pathetic. Gene Hackman's Luthor still reigns supreme. Oh, and Brando's appearance was completely wasted. It served no other purpose but to show some of the audience that there was Marlon Brando--the original Jor-El--and that we should give the filmmaker's a pat on the back because they used him. Bullshit.

But the real tragedy in all this is that Brandon Routh was amazing both as Clark Kent and as Superman. From the moment he came on screen I believed I was looking at Superman. He literally became the character he was playing. And not once did I compare him to Christopher Reeve. He rocked.

Although Singer and crew made the film look nice and provided us with some pretty kick-ass action scenes filled with neat little details (I loved the sonic boom effect around Superman as he exits the top of the elevator shaft of the Daily Planet--and Ottman's score was really good), it still doesn't redeem this movie. And we all know that special effects do not a movie make. Just look at the last THREE Star Wars films. Bah.

If I were Emperor I'd give all the super-hero movies to Sam Raimi. He seems to know what he's doing.

*There's a scene in Spider-Man 2 where Spidey has just stopped a train and saved everyone on board and it takes all of his strength to do it. He collapses. He's unmasked. The people on the train surround him and treat him with such care and respect. Upon waking the people tell him they won't divulge his true identity. There's a scene in Superman Returns that does almost the exact same thing and it really pissed me off. Except this time the train is in the form of a Kryptonite MOUNTAIN. He lifts the whole mountain with all of his might and tosses the thing into space. Then he passes out and falls to Earth in the middle of Metropolis (good unconcious aim, I guess) at which point the people of the city pick him up with care and respect and baited breath and take him to THE HOSPITAL (I'm not making this up). Ok. Maybe not directly a "rip off", but pretty DAMN close in my book. It's the same scene almost.

2006-06-18T22:28:00.000-04:00

On Father's Day, free porn, designing CD packaging, how George Lucas has failed me once again, and Nana's Sauce.

So I haven't posted in a while. Fuck you.

Today was Father's Day. One of those obligatory holidays that we as Americans all follow brainlessly. But that's ok. It's not a bad thing. It's also great to be on the receiving end of that. And that's what frightens most of the people I know (especially one Laura Cleary): I'm somebody's father. In fact, I'm THREE somebodies' father. Yup. I knocked up the wife three out of four times. I rock. I have super sperm. I get laid a lot.

Now, two of those three little ones that I helped make can do things like get dressed by themselves, or write their names, or call me a "poo poo head". And I don't think I need to tell anyone how proud that makes me. The only thing that could possibly make me prouder is eventually seeing them give the finger as well as I do.

Father's Day also tends to make me feel a little sad. Only because it makes me think of MY dad and how's he's no longer with us. It would have been amazing to share days like this with him. So that he could see his grandkids write their names or call him a "poo poo butt". Instead, my mother came to visit and for Father's Day she gave me two pens I coveted from the moment I saw my father writing with them. He liked them so much that he had his name engraved on the caps. And now they're mine and I find myself wishing they weren't.

Still, I have to say it was good day. I slept in. I woke up. Had coffee. The kids made me some awesome gifts. My wife made dinner (NANA'S SAUCE!!!--fuck yes!). We all went to the Chesapeake and waded in the shallows. Oh, and Rich gave me free porn and accessories. So yeah. A good day.

A day spent mostly relaxing and taking it easy. So that meant taking a little break from work on the CD designs for the new 'Whiskey and the Kidney Stones' record that will be out "August-ish". Trust me when I say the design is right up my alley and oh yes, there will be breasts. Click HERE to listen to 'Hot Piss', a favorite track from the new disc. Soon I go to take pictures of the band during one of their practice sessions. Should be rad. Rock. Check out the almost finished new logo:

And now I'm forced to once again talk about Star Wars and how much I hate the man behind the movies. The post directly under this one has no meaning for me any more and any elation I once felt has now turned back to pure hate. Fuck George Lucas. Fuck his family. Fuck his dog. Fuck his movies. For a techno-geek like Lucas to release his own movies in NON-anamorphic video is reprehensible. And for those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, fuck you, too. We live in an era of high-definition television. Anamorphic video is industry STANDARD. Better picture. Better quality. LASTING quality. Fuck you, George. I hope your neck eats you alive.

Next up? Naked pictures of my mom a la 'Beyond the Valley of the Dolls'.

I'm not joking.

2006-05-03T23:39:00.000-04:00

~~Hell has frozen over.~~

From starwars.com:

This September: Original Unaltered Trilogy on DVD
May 03, 2006

In response to overwhelming demand, Lucasfilm Ltd. and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment will release attractively priced individual two-disc releases of Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. Each release includes the 2004 digitally remastered version of the movie, as well as the original theatrical edition of the film. That means you'll be able to enjoy Star Wars as it first appeared in 1977, Empire in 1980, and Jedi in 1983.

See the title crawl to Star Wars before it was known as Episode IV; see the pioneering, if dated, motion control model work on the attack on the Death Star; groove to Lapti Nek or the Ewok Celebration song like you did when you were a kid; and yes, see Han Solo shoot first.

This release will only be available for a limited time: from September 12th to December 31st. International release will follow on or about the same day. Each original theatrical version will feature Dolby 2.0 Surround sound, close-captioning, and subtitles in English, French and Spanish for their U.S. release. International sound and subtitling vary by territory.

"Over the years, a truly countless number of fans have told us that they would love to see and own the original version that they remember experiencing in theaters," said Jim Ward, President of LucasArts and Senior Vice President of Lucasfilm Ltd. "We returned to the Lucasfilm Archives to search exhaustively for source material that could be presented on DVD. This is something that we're very excited to be able to give to fans in response to their continuing enthusiasm for Star Wars."

My dick is hard.

Han shoots first.

Period.

Fuck you, George Lucas. Fuck you.

2006-04-30T23:51:00.000-04:00

With apologies to the RIAA and with much love for Whiskey and the Kidney Stones

As I type this I am listening to the new TOOL album and I have to say that it's one of the best things I've heard in the last five years. I realize the CD doesn't come out until Tuesday, but I'm an impatient motherfucker and couldn't help myself. So if Big Brother comes across this please relax. I'm really going to buy the record the day it comes out. Seriously. And since the packaging is so damned pretty, I might buy two.

Now if only there was a new record by The Upwelling that I could listen to. (Pssst! Josh? New record? Wink wink.)

And while I'm on the subject of good music, please let me tell you all about the Gods of Rock that are Whiskey and the Kidney Stones. Who knew that the awe-inspiring human known as Adam Harrell would one day grow up to be the All-Knowing All-Powerful All-Inebriated frontman Whiskey Dixxx? All I remember was that this man used to play the drums (not very well) and that he was once addicted to McDonald's Shamrock Shakes. Now? Better than Jesus. Period. And so is the rest of band. There's Bobby D on bass (John Kirkeby--please see my November 28th, 2005 post for more on him), Billy Jaxxx on drums (Davey Jones), Dick Beaters on lead guitar (Derek), and Scrap Metal on rhythm guitar (Tony Miller).

I had the pleasure, nay--the privilege--to see this band perform live last night and I was a bit shocked at how good they actually were. I mean, this is a band that writes songs about golden showers, sex with Martha Stewart, and kicking Christopher Reeves' ass. How can you take a band like this seriously?

It's simple.

They're genuine.

This band doesn't pretend to be anything else than what they are: a full-on drunk-rock band that's only interested in rocking your ass and making you smile while they do it. And they do it with a such finesse you'd swear these guys had been doing what they do for eons. Don't misunderstand me here. It's a mess on stage. But it's controlled chaos the likes of which I've never seen before. From out of nowhere Whiskey will start playing a cowbell or try and coax the female audience members to "show him some titties" or at the very least some "inner labia" (not one fulfilled his request--bitches). Halfway through the set someone brought the band a round of shots. So they toasted the crowd and then played three acts from their "rock opera" Stinky Hotel.

But don't let the light-hearted nature of this band fool you. This isn't as gimmicky as you might expect. All of these guys are damned-good musicians. Kirkeby plays his bass like he sleeps with the damned thing (he's awesome), and Davey Jones lovingly beats the living shit out of his drum kit. Tony Miller completes the trifecta. Together they're a super-tight rhythm section. They should be. They've played together for the better part of a decade. And let's not forget the guitar stylings of Derek. Holy shit can that boy use a wah. Smooth.

So the wife and I arrived a good 10 minutes before the band went on so I immediately went to the bar and ordered my usual poisons. A shot of Patron and and Guiness. After an age I got the Guiness, but my tequila was nowhere to be seen. Come to find out one of the bartenders had to go conjure and wrestle the Patron Demon to get a bottle of it (which took another several days somewhere in the space-time continuum that was The Stone Cellar's Bar). Anyway, Whiskey and the Kidney Stones were halfway through with 'Big Daddy' when I finally went back to the bar to see what progress had been made. As I am trying to scream over the band to the bartender, he simply places a GOBLET in front of me that's HALF FULL of that crystal clear yummy stuff that I love so much. I timidly picked it up, not sure that I was up to the challenge. I mean, how many shots was this? I looked at the bartender with a simple "are you insane?" look on my face. He countered with a rock-secret-devil-sign hand signal that I had no choice but to return in kind. What was I? A pussy? 'Hot Piss' played and I drank my goblet of tequila.

Needless to say I was drunk (fucking drunk) for the rest of the evening which probably enhanced the experience in seeing this band perform live. It did NOT, however, make the band that followed even remotely stomachable. They were called Animide and boy did they suck. Royally. The crowd must have thought so as well, because once Whiskey and the boys stopped playing, that place cleared out.

I'd also like to say thanks to Laura and Brian Cleary for showing up. I didn't expect them to, but they did. And it was great to see them. I'm not so sure they thought it was great to see me, especially in my drunken and quite chatty state. I'm quite sure I didn't make a pass at Laura (it wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility) but I do think I scared them off nonetheless.

Oh, and I had the pleasure of meeting John Kirkeby's current girlfriend, but she did not ask if she could practice her handjob technique on me (again, see my November 28th, 2005 post). But she was very cute.

2006-04-06T10:07:00.000-04:00

So this guy made a bet with his girlfriend that he could create a web page and get 2 million unique hits. If he won, she agreed--in writing--that she'd have a threesome with him and another woman (most probably because she thought he'd never succeed). If he lost he'd have to wear a shirt for a week saying he was an idiot. At first I thought this was rather amusing. But then I started getting really agitated about the whole thing. First, it sounds like something I would do and second, where does his girlfriend get off putting him through this exercise?

The conversation should have gone something like this:

Guy: You wanna have a threesome?

Girl: Sure!

Not only is his girlfriend straight (read: annoying), she's dangling the false possibility in her boyfriends' face. Remember Andrew Dice Clay? He once said that there was no such thing as bisexual. You either lick pussy, or you do not lick pussy. In other words, if this guy's girlfriend was into the idea and WANTED to do it, they'd have done it already. But when it comes right down to it, fuck that. The bitch should've been ready and willing to munch rug at a moment's notice.

It's the year 2006, ladies! Don't you think it's time all of you learned how to kiss the cooter? I think that once that happens the world will be a better place.

And I'm giving lessons. Who wants to sign up?

2006-03-17T10:07:00.000-05:00

TO: FCC Chairman Kevin J. Martin, FCC Commissioner Michael J. Copps, FCC Commissioner Jonathan S. Adelstein, FCC Commissioner Deborah Taylor Tate

FROM: Matt Frankenberg (I'm awesome)

"WASHINGTON -- Federal regulators proposed a record $3.6 million fine against a single TV show, penalizing CBS and its affiliates for an episode of "Without a Trace" that suggested a teenage sexual orgy, in the first batch of indecency fines proposed in more than a year."

Dear FCC,

I sincerely hope that one day your agency is given the boot. I mean, do we really need you guys anymore? What purpose do you serve, exactly? You guys don’t even think logically (or fairly for that matter). It's not ok to hint at a sex act for story telling purposes (where all the actors in question are still technically CLOTHED), but it's ok to show blood, guts, murder, violence, beatings, beheadings, and torture on tv? I really don't understand. Seriously.

Here's something you COULD tell the folks that have nothing better to do than complain about programming: CHANGE THE CHANNEL.

Sincerely,

Matt Frankenberg
Brooklyn, Maryland

PS: The only thing I found even remotely offensive about the Janet Jackson Super Bowl incident was the fact that it was her breast that was exposed and not, say, Angelina Jolie’s. Or Rosario Dawson’s. Halle Berry’s would have been nice, too.

PPS: Happy Saint Patrick’s Day.

2006-03-08T23:30:00.000-05:00

In which I tell all of you about a deal I’ve made with my wife and where all of you begin to hate me more than you already do.

Here’s what I have to do:

Get vasectomy.

Here’s what I get in return (wife's suggestion):

Permission from wife to sleep with anyone of my choosing on one occasion.

Right. Is this a no-brainer?

2006-02-17T15:21:00.000-05:00

MySpace sucks! (Ok. Maybe it's not so bad.)

I was all prepared to begin this post by saying how much I thought MySpace was the most idiotic web-thing ever conceived. I was going to call it vicious names. I was going to call everyone using it a moron. How could anyone possibly use this? It's fucking SILLY.

So I decided to go to MySpace and make sure it sucked by signing up so I could see what all the fuss was about. Lo and behold I already had an account somehow (I have no idea how). So I logged in and started rooting around the back end. Then I thought, fuck it, I'll list this website on my profile and just use it for shameless self-promotion. So I changed a couple of things in my profile and thought to myself "I'll never use this again".

Not two hours later I get this email:

From: Jennifer A*******
Subject: hi (I think)
is this the same matt frankenberg i went to middle school and high school with?
~jenn a*******

(Insert semi-creepy music here).

And just like that, I'm talking with someone I haven't seen for 15 years.

So maybe MySpace isn't so bad.

But I still think it's fucking silly.

2006-02-14T23:23:00.000-05:00

Two can play...

My wife wrote me some naughty haikus for Valentine's Day. Here are my two favorites:

My pussy awaits
Your hot, rock-hard man sausage
give it to me now.

Fuck her with me now
Suckle her luscious nipples
Share. I want some, too.

I think her haikus might be better than mine. I don't think I could have come up with "rock-hard man sausage".

2006-02-13T11:00:00.000-05:00

It snowed a bit here in the last 48 hours. Snow that I was overjoyed to see. I love the snow. So I thought I'd take a picture of the 'hood after the snow had stopped. And just as I was snapping my picture, a strange creature came into frame. The mythical Abominable Snow Nuts of Baltimore.

I can't believe my luck. I'm currently sending off the photo to many experts in cryptozoology. Looks like I have taken the clearest image ever of the creature. Then again, a few of those experts are screaming "hoax".

So let them quibble. I myself am going to write a novel about my encounter with this legendary beast. Tentatively titled: 'Nutty & Me'.

(This post was probably unnecessary.)

2006-02-09T14:38:00.000-05:00

Who needs a bottom lip right now anyway?

Currently unable to speak normally as my mouth has been anaesthetized to the point of rediculousness due to a rather stubborn tooth that refused to go numb. But I do have couple of pretty new teeth to show for it, and that makes me pretty happy. Now, if only a topless Rosario Dawson would be my dentist.

And speaking of Rosario, has anyone seen 'Alexander'? Good flick. Amazing war scenes. More topless Rosario. But not enough homosexuality IMHO.

2006-02-07T17:20:00.001-05:00

I'd probably misplace or outright lose my dick if it wasn't attached to me.

And thus I begin a post which is no doubt going to make a few people upset while others will rejoice.

The Mary Anne Haikus are missing!

Three months worth of some of the most wretched Japanese-style poetry ever created is probably gone forever at this point, and that leaves me a little depressed. Although I had uncreated the site which acted as their home, I had made a back-up copy of all the poems. And now I can't find it. Anywhere.

I had, in fact, forgotten about the whole thing until two people in as many days inquired about them. Asking questions like: "Are you ever going to write more?" or "Can you get me copies of the ones you had written?"

Then it occurred to me that had I continued writing those wonderful pieces of poetry through October of last year, I would have achieved my original goal of 365 total haikus (1 for each day of the year). But again, I had only completed about 3 months worth.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Mary Anne Haikus, I'll give you some background. I'd always lusted after my buddy's almost ex. Mind you, I didn't (don't) really "like" like her at all. In fact, I really couldn't stand her--and vice/versa. I merely wanted to get in her pants. I wanted to have dirty, depraved, perverted, unemotional, nasty sex with her. Plain and simple. I can't be any more honest than that.

Only a few haikus remain. Three appeared on this site some time ago and one I had memorized because I was particularly proud of it. So here's what's left:

Mary Anne, my sweet
Please remove all of your clothes
And suck on my knob.

Yeah. That's good, baby.
Suck it while I fondle you
Spread. Receive my meat.

So slippery soft
You milk my rigid manhood
Now service my wife!

New Year's Eve aught-three
You, me, Chrissy, SJD
Remember moaning?

But the ship, as they say, has long since sailed. I am no longer inspired by the subject matter. That special feeling just isn't there anymore. Like the haikus themselves, that's gone forever. And isn't that a fitting end?

Perhaps someone new will walk into my life that I can lust after on the side. Someone who may actually be flattered by my masochistic poetry. Yeah. Right. Let's be honest. It's gotta be someone I can get a rise out of. Maybe it'll just be whoever this guy ends up dating next. I'm sure that'll make him happy.

Until then, here is my last haiku. I'd like to think that it would have been the one to end the whole run. Yet it still is, in a different way.

Get off of my cock
You Republican hooker
I'm so done with you.

And with that, I really am done. Especially with these things. Who the fuck buys this shit?

2006-02-02T13:32:00.000-05:00

"Come on down to the library, we'll have a wild time." --Eddie Izzard

I wish I could tell you all that I went out for my birthday and had a night of debauchery so incredible that you would've had to have actually been there to believe it. But the truth is that the evening was pretty tame. I don't mean this in a bad way. It was just an all around normal good time.

Several folks showed up, went to dinner with me, bought me drinks. Got me more drunk than I was when I left my house. And I talked a mile a minute and flirted with all of the people who had breasts. I also seem to recall several men smacking me on the ass and saying "good game". "Good game" must be said afterwards, otherwise it's considered gay.

I was nauseous somewhere in the middle there. But it passed.

After dinner we all went to McDoogals to watch and tip gorgeous women who walk around naked and rub boobies in your face. And everyone loved it. Especially some guy named Phil, who was impressed with the establishment. Like I'd take him (or anyone) somewhere crappy. Look who you're talking to. We all stayed until closing.

A few came home with me, and they stayed for a little. We all had sex.

(No we didn't. But it SOUNDS good.)

When everyone split, the wife and I fucked. And then I fell asleep.

The end.

2006-01-20T10:08:00.000-05:00

Lessons in chivalry from Christy Palace

So yesterday a girl I know began talking to me about "nutting" (her word) and chivalry. Her point being that men don't take the time to go the extra mile after coitus when wiping their spunk off their partner. She went on to say that it would mean a lot to her if her partner was thoughtful enough to go and get a nice warm wash cloth instead of a dirty sock or the shirt she was just wearing. And believe me I see her point. About the sock. That's just gross.

But the wash cloth thing.

Isn't that a little high-maintenance? I mean, shouldn't you just be happy he took the time to clean up after himself? Wouldn't it be an even sweeter gesture on your part to simply say "No. Leave it on/in me. I adore your love juices." (Or something to that effect?) Besides, it's supposed to be good for your skin, no? After all, most men don't bother wiping off female juice. We're chill just air drying.

And couldn't YOU wipe yourself off for a change? If you've got nut all over you isn't it reasonable to assume that your man has been on his hands and knees for a while trying to show you a good time? Don't you think it's possible he may be tired after firing his load and deserves a little rest?

I'm not sure what else to say here. Does anyone else have some thoughts on this?

2006-01-19T10:30:00.000-05:00

Out of the blue, Joshikins from The Upwelling called me and asked if I'd like him to put my name on the guest list for last night's show at the fairly hip and cozy Sonar Lounge in (not really) beautiful downtown Baltimore. I mean, what else can you say to that but "hell yes"? So the wife and I went and had a blast. I espeically liked going to the ticket counter and saying that I was on the list. Cool. We even got there early enough to hang out and chat with Josh for a bit. And he even bought me a beer.

On the way to the bar, Josh introduced me to Connor (keyboards), who I kept calling Colin--over and over again. Something I wasn't aware of until Josh corrected me later on. Just a TAD embarrassing. Then again, aren't Colin and Connor interchangeable Irish names? Perhaps not. Perhaps it's the fact that I've had Colin Farrell on my mind ever since I came across his sex tape (a transcript). I don't think I ever really wanted to see Colin's "O-Face". But now I have that image permanently burned into my brain. I mean, why the fuck do women respond to this guy? I guess I just don't get it. Maybe women really love it when they hear "The battery's dead...and so's my cock". How fucking romantic. But I'm getting away from myself...

When The Upwelling took to the stage I was more than a little tipsy and actually to the point where I was a bit "dancy"...and I never dance. Too self-concious. Yet there I was. They opened with Diamond Ring and I could literally feel the drums thumping me in the chest. Ripping through tunes like Bridge Above The Valley, The Steps, In Her Arms/Sam as well as some new ones like Pain Is The Way and one that I don't have the title of yet. It was wonderful.

An added surprise occurred halfway into the song Sam, when my friend Kayti (who I hadn't seen in months) taps me on my shoulder (christ that girl gets around). I freaked! And she brought HOT friends Chrissy and Erin with her! Well, I thought Erin was hot until she said The Upwelling weren't that good and that I needed to stay for the band We Are Scientists (who did absolutely nothing for me musically). What a bitch. But I did enjoy listening to the second band of the evening: Oxford Collapse.

So a good time was had all around for the most part.

As for The Upwelling, they rule. They're currently opening for The All-American Rejects on the UK leg of their tour and will soon be doing a good-sized US tour. After that it's back to NYC where they'll be doing a club residency for a while. It's only a matter of time before this band gets signed. And they deserve it.

Check out their web site for more info, free music downloads, and a cool jukebox feature with many songs.

And before I forget: A big shout-out to this guy who's celebating his birthday tonight. Maybe if he's nice to me I'll let him have sex with the wife and I. Poor guy hasn't been getting any lately. Besides, what are friends for?

Stay tuned. Next week I go to McDoogal's with the wife and some friends to celebrate MY birthday (January 25th). Send me presents or--if you're female--simply offer me sexual favors.

Oh, and I've finally written off 'The OC'. So yeah, Josh Schwartz, you can suck my cock. Your show has gone to shit.

2005-12-16T09:52:00.000-05:00

I've never liked bananas, but I think I would make an exception in this case.

Mmmm. Bananas...

2005-11-28T11:24:00.000-05:00

This Thanksgiving I’d like to give thanks to Sherri Meredith and John Kirkeby.

Thanksgiving has now come and gone. Most of you are still trying to move after ingesting large amounts of turkey, stuffing, yams, and anything else you may have included in your feast. I myself went with my family to a Korean restaurant where turkey (I am happy to say) was not on the menu. We engaged in stimulating conversation (like which of my brother’s friends my sister had sex with). And then it was back to Mom’s for some pumpkin and/or pecan pie.

But when the evening ended, I was left thinking about events from earlier that day. During our drive to visit my wife’s family, I took an accidental trip down memory lane. Our drive took me through Bowie, Maryland. In many ways my old stomping grounds. I remembered going to shows at Allen’s Pond. I saw The Pee Tanks and the Skunks play at a church off of Rt. 450. There was a kick-ass comic book store there. I’d tool around from friends with school at Bowie Mall. Shit. I even lost my virginity to a girl that lived in Bowie (but she’s another story).

Anyway, for some reason or another I began thinking about someone I hadn’t thought about for a good 14 years. She lived on the outskirts of Bowie, was really cute, and we always had a killer time together. She and I were never anything more than friends, although I couldn’t tell you how she and I met. It simply was. For a time. Her name was Sherri.

Mostly she and I just hung out and listened to music and talk about the mutual friends we had. Her best friend was a girl named April Steer, who was the sister of the guy who sang for The Pee Tanks, and who had the thickest head of blonde hair I have ever seen. It could have been April who brought us together as I dated April for a spell (something like two weeks). So I’d come over and she’d put on a Cure tape and we’d chat and think about things to do and she’d be all bubbly and talk about boys and I’d be giddy and talk about girls and things just went on like that. We chilled and laughed and didn’t take anything seriously.

Well, I didn’t at least. Sherri on the other hand was smitten for a guy named John Kirkeby. John was totally all about cool. Imagine a guy that looks like John Lennon, but is into punk rock and you had John. He and I shared a mutual friend or two (where the FUCK are you, Adam Harrell?) so I knew what he was like and was totally hip to the match. And before long, she and John were kind of dating and Sherri was happy. So I was surprised at what happened between Sherri and I soon after she started dating him.

I had come over to hang out as per usual and things were totally chill. We’re talking about music and stuff that’s going on in our lives when she shifts the subject of the conversation to John. Nothing unusual. But then things got a little “wtf”. (Bear with me as I re-enact that summer evening in Sherri’s basement. Since so much time has gone by, I have to paraphrase. I couldn’t remember exactly what was said if my life depended on it.)

Sherri: Matt, I really like John.

Me: Yeah?

Sherri: Yeah. I mean I really really like him.

(Wow. Maybe The OC isn’t so far off when they do dialog for high school teens after all.)

Me: Cool.

Sherri: So. Yeah. And I want to be able to show him how much I like him.

Me: So tell him how much you like him.

Sherri: No. I mean SHOW him how much I like him.

Me: I’m not sure I understand.

Sherri: Look. You’re a guy, right?

Me: Right.

Sherri: So what would you think if a girl you just started dating gave you…

Me: Uh….what?

Sherri: …a…um…hand job?

Me: Oh. So you want to give John a…er…hand job?

Sherri: Right. I mean, do you think that’s a bad thing? Like maybe I should wait?

Me: Well, um. I don’t know. I mean it’s totally your call. I mean if it were me I’d totally be cool with that.

Sherri: I see. Ok.

And then I thought the matter was closed. She liked the guy and would ultimately make the right move and that would be that. But then…

Sherri: Um…

Me: What?

Sherri: Um…I’ve never done that before.

Me: What?

Sherri: Given a guy a hand job.

She could barely look at me.

Me: So?

Sherri: So I really don’t know what to do. I’m really nervous about it.

Me: Well it’s nothing to be freaked out about. It’ll be fine.

Sherri: I can’t help it. I really want to be able to do it right. I don’t want him to think I don’t know what I’m doing.

And then I realized exactly what was happening and the more I tried to not think with little Matt, the more little Matt started taking over. My brain was quickly being sucked away by my teenage penis.

But I fought it. I told myself nothing was going to happen here. Sherri and I were friends. She’d have to fumble with John’s penis on her own until she got it right, dammit! So I put my foot down…

Me: Um…er…uh…you could practice on me if you want.

(Woot! I mean: dammit!)

And with that, she perked up and became elated and analytical. I unbuttoned my shorts and Sherri watched my every move. I’d be lying if I said that the whole situation wasn’t making me crazy hot.

So there were were, just the three of us. Me, Sherri and my dick. I may have been playing the part of someone else, but at the time I didn’t care. Neither did my dick. And Sherri was treating the whole experience as if she had just discovered a new life form. I gave her a few pointers as she stroked away and things were over in a few short minutes. We cleaned up and the rest of the night went on like it normally did. We never spoke of it again.

And John, that lucky fuck, he got a blow job. Fucker.

Many moons later things happened and Sherri and I lost touch. Partially because of a tiff she and I had which ended with me peeling out of her parents driveway. Her folks didn’t like it and I believe told her they weren’t keen on her hanging out with me anymore.

But my story does not end there.

A few years later I’m hanging out with Adam Harrell and crew and John shows up. We’re drinking and smoking and having a grand old time. At one point, Sherri’s name is mentioned and John and I get to talking about her. One might think I’d simply keep my fucking mouth shut about certain happenings. But I had the drink in me. I had the smoke in me. I had diarrhea of the mouth. I couldn’t help myself. Again, I’ll paraphrase.

Me: Hey dude. You know I used to hang with Sherri all the time, right?

John: Yeah.

Me: Well this one night after you and Sherri hooked up she was all freaked out about getting physical with you.

John: Ok. So?

Me: So she was all like “I don’t know how to give a hand job” and all. She was really nervous about making the right first impression.

At this point I’m almost laughing, the booze flowing through me.

John: And?

Me: So…uh…she practiced on me.

And then there was a ghastly silence. Not only had John heard this, but so did a few others that were nearby. We were waiting for John to say something. ANYthing. And I was preparing for a right hook.

John then started laughing his ass off as he extended his hand for me to shake it.

”Share the wealth, man!” He said. And he said it to me every time he saw me after that day.

See? I told you he was totally cool.

Up next: Laurie Benner is caught giving me head in the girl’s bathroom by one of the school’s bus drivers.

Or something else.

2005-11-27T18:20:00.000-05:00

From: "Bob Reed" <#########@hotmail.com>
To: frankenblog@gmail.com
Subject: towel girl

Hey, you have one of the best blogs out there. One question though, where did you find the pics of "towel girl"? Are more going to be posted?

Dear Bob,

Thanks for the email and for the kind words. I wish I could tell you when it was that I first discovered Towel Girl. Ah, that magical folder full of her pictures! But you should cease asking such questions. You should just be happy that I came across her at all (I wish). Still, your second question is totally worth the effort you’ve put forth. I am indeed going to post more. Right now. All in one place for all time.

Enjoy them. And make sure you have some tissues handy.

Matt

2005-11-17T23:45:00.000-05:00

"Even though you've been raised as a human being, you are not one of them."

"They can be a great people, Kal-El, they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way. For this reason above all--their capacity for good--I have sent them you. My only son."

This guy will wax on about how much of a travesty it is that Bryan Singer cast a gay guy as Superman and how this movie could never be as good as Smallville (which sucks), but we all know he's wrong. And in his heart of hearts, he knows it, too. This teaser is a sign of great things to come. It tells me that Singer has done his homework. It also tells me that he has the utmost respect for director Richard Donner. After all, Donner made 1 1/2 of the two flicks that started it all in the late 70's. And those two flicks are arguably the two best superhero movies of all time--Superman: The Movie and Superman II. Rather than reinvent the wheel (something writer's and directors do all the time due to ego and idiocy), Singer took these two amazing movies and treated them as canon. As back story. They are the prequels to his continuation.

John Williams' amazing themes are returning as is Marlon Brando. In my book he's the only one that could EVER play Jor-El past, present and future. And Williams' score is classic and just as recognizable as Star Wars (and better, IMHO).

(Yes. We can all forget Superman III and Superman IV ever happened. Especially Superman IV. Who the fuck is Nuclear Man anyway? (Talk about GAY). What genius came up with that guy? And did they hold Hackman and his entire family at gunpoint to get him to act in that piece of shit?)

2005-10-17T11:18:00.000-04:00

Mal
You gonna ride shotgun, help me fly?

River is in the copilot's seat, looking intently at the screens and buttons.

River
That's the plan.

Mal
Think you can work out how to get her in the-–

She is flipping switches without even looking, as the ship hums to life. Her engines fire up and tilt. She lifts gently off the ground. Mal looks slightly, only slightly non-plussed.

Mal
Okay, clearly some aptitude for the...but it ain't all buttons and charts, little Albatross. You know what the first rule of flyin' is? Well, I suppose you do, since you already know what I'm about to say.

River
I do. But I like to hear you say it.

He looks out at the rain on his windows, at his screens, taking her up as he says:

Mal
Love. You can learn all the math in the 'Verse, but take a boat in the air you don't love, she'll shake you off just as sure as the turning of worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she oughta fall down, tells you she's hurtin' 'fore she keens. Makes her a home.

River also looks out into the sky.

River
Storm's getting worse.

Mal
We'll pass through it soon enough.

(My favorite scene from my absolute favorite movie of this year.)

Thanks to Eddie, Val and Shawn for getting me out to the theatre. Without you three I may never have gotten over my Joss Whedon aversion.

2005-09-19T10:37:00.000-04:00

Ok. Now it's time for everyone to stop what they're doing and go HERE to look at many pictures of the drop-dead-fucking-hot Sophie Howard. Voted #1 in Loaded Magazine's (UK) 200 Best Breasts feature. I mean, look at those things! And they're REAL!

Reminds me of this girl I had met through the internet several years ago. Can't remember her name to save my life, though (shocker). But the whole meeting over the internet thing was rediculous. If I had a dollar for every time I had some less-than-stellar experience with someone I met through the internet, then I'd have several dollars in my pocket. Several dollars I'd go spend at a strip club of course.

Anyway, she and I talked through AOL for hours. Even got to the nauseating point where we were both typing "I love you" through the instant messenger. Ugh. Things progressed to the point where we were on the phone a lot and finally to where she took a train ride down from NYC (or was it Jersey?) so that we could be around each other in person. Boy was that a fucking nightmare. And not for reasons you might think.

It started off wonderfully. We met (and actually saw each other) for the first time on the train platform. She was hot. And man, was she busty. We walked to my car, talking. Giddy. Then we drove to a diner to get a bite and talk more. We drank coffee. We laughed. We told stories. It was fucking great.

And then somewhere after driving us back home to meet my folks and us fooling around it all turned to shit. There we were, locking lips and fondling each other when she abruptly stopped kissing me. She then actually told me she didn't want me to kiss her anymore, but then ripped off her shirt and had me fondle her enormous, amazing tits. What was I going to say? "No"?

No explanation. Nothing.

There were a couple of moments where she'd start kissing me again, but then she'd do the same dramatic stop. And then out of nowhere she rolled over, topless, announced that she didn't want me to touch her anymore, and went to sleep.

What.

The.

Fuck?

The next day was worse. She continued with the sort of on-again, off-again thing of kissing me and then freaking out about it, and then turning icy. It was at this point that I started to notice things that I hadn't the night before. It was like a light swtich had been turned on. She was very materialistic, very bossy and very demanding. She was so concerned about her appearance that she was constantly checking herself with a mirror she kept in her purse. Touching up her lipstick. Her eye shadow. She'd talk about how much money her parents made. Then she demanded that we go do something somewhere so she could "meet my friends". All the while becoming more and more "bitchy". It got to the point where I couldn't stand being in the same room with this person. I was at my wits end.

So what did I do?

I told her to get ready and get her things together because we were going out and there wouldn't be time to bring her back to the house before she had to catch her train. So we got in the car and drove. And she was all excited. And wanted to know where we were going.

Imagine how surprized she was when we pulled into the train station. I parked and proceeded to let her know I was really put off by her attitude and behavior and wished her a safe journey back to NYC (or Jersey) as icily as I could. Her expression went from confused to extremely pissed, and she exited the car and walked to wait for her train, which wouldn't be there for another 3 and a half hours.

In many ways it reminded me of when Kirk was fighting Commander Kruge on Planet Genesis.

I.

Have had.

Enough.

OF!

YOU!!!

Not sure what the moral of my story is. Not even sure what my point was here. Oh yes: She had boobs. Big ones.

But that bitch can keep them. They sure as shit aren't worth the trouble.

2005-09-16T12:53:00.000-04:00

Keep up the good work ladies! Looks like my dream of a Utopian society where all the women are bisexual is finally becoming a reality.

2005-09-07T14:02:00.000-04:00

On Rome

Is it just me or is Atia (Polly Walker) the Roman equivalent of Julie Cooper (Mindy Clarke) from The OC? Both are calculating and manipulative. Both use men for their own self gratification. Both are incredibly bitchy. And they even look alike (if nothing else, they're both red-heads).

Does this mean that Octavian is Rome's Seth Cohen?

Nah. I didn't think so either.

But God DAMN, was that some killer pre-AD brain surgery or what? No gauze. No anaesthetic. No machine that goes "ping!". Just some rusty knives and this kick-ass dirty router of some sort that sawed out a nice round piece of Titus Pullo's skull. Blood everywhere. Can't believe I didn't pass out all over myself.

For some reason my favorite scene from last episode was Marc Anthony boning the sheep herding woman while his platoon just stood parked on the trail, waiting for him to finish his "quickie".

How cool it must have been to be a Roman soldier trekking through the lands. You get horny. You find a sheep herding chick. You grab her and fuck her and move on. Rome back then was a living, breathing porno movie. AWESOME!

I'd also like to remind everyone that cares that the season premiere of The OC is this coming Thursday. Now I absolutely love this show, but let's see if Ryan goes up to Marissa and shoves her against a tree to have his way with her. Or see if Seth Cohen gets into a drunken bar fight and stabs a Pompey Magnus supporter through his neck. (Sigh). Thursday nights are just going to seem pretty tame by comparison.

Oh, and check out Prison Break on Fox (Monday nights). Not kidding. The show is kick-ass. If for no other reason, watch it for Peter Stormare. He pwned the otherwise lackluster The Brothers Grimm.

2005-09-02T23:38:00.000-04:00

Wow.

2005-08-31T12:12:00.000-04:00

I french kissed Kelly Kapowski

Ok. Maybe I didn't. I didn't even know who Kelly Kapowski was until I had read the name on a t-shirt that a (gasp!) girl was wearing at my PT gig. Turns out Kapowski is a character on 'Saved By The Bell' played by Tiffani-Amber Thiessen. Yes, she's quite hot. I'd totally french kiss it. Oh, and the girl wearing that t-shirt was pretty foxy, too. Thanks for asking. I'm always happy to see (or read) about girls kissing other girls.

But I did french kiss a different girl named Kelly (Sieger). She and I went to high school together, but the french kissing didn't happen until some time after we graduated. We fooled around a bit. The rest is a blur. Not sure how or why we hooked up. Not sure how or why it ended. It's a mystery lost in time. But it DOES solve another mystery dating back to my November 20th, 2002 entry: Kelly is the girl! And yes, both breasts were perky and gorgeous despite being two different sizes.

In other news, my wife has told me that I'm totally allowed to have sex-on-the-side with Halle Berry should the option ever arise (yeah right). Yet if Pam Anderson ever offers herself to me it's a "no go" unless she (my wife) can participate. She thinks that because Pam is so kinky/slutty/wild that she'd be one of the best sexual experiences ever. I can't argue with her logic here. By the way, anyone watching her sitcom 'Stacked'? Neither am I.

Here is some Jessica Alba from the VMA's. Yes, those are her nipples. Yes, I know I'm awesome.

Natalie Portman with a shaved head and Natalie Portman with a mohawk are interchangeably hot. Don't agree? I don't give a shit.

And now for something Rich has been begging for ever since he saw her image on my cell phone: "Towel Girl". I have no idea why she's called that. Perhaps it's because she's wearing a towel in some of her pictures. Or maybe it's because that's the common household item you'll need to wipe up with after. Super hot. I've searched the net high and low, but I haven't found any other info on who she is or where she came from. Given the amatuer quality on the pics I think we can safely say she was/is someone's girlfriend/wife/lover and he/she decided to be the most awesome person on the face of the planet and share her with everyone. I wish I could shake his/her hand for the gift that we've been given. The world is already a better place with Towel Girl and I don't think we could ever have too much of her.

Here's a small sampling of TG photos to drool over: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

(I promise to post more TG pics later.)

Next up: "Director's Cut" DVDs or a bit on the West Memphis 3.

2005-08-30T15:10:00.000-04:00

I'm starboard to nowhere on the milky way...

Guitarist Denis "Piggy" D'Amour of the band Voivod has passed on. This band was responsible for putting out two of my favorite albums of all-time: Dimension Hatröss (88) and Nothingface (89). Prog metal at it's best.

Piggy was one of those guitar players that you could easily identify after only hearing a few bars of a song. Possibly because he favored the upper register of his guitar and avoided a lot of the typical power-chording. A true "original" in my book.

This news has totally bummed me out.

2005-08-29T16:37:00.000-04:00

Politics! War! Tits! Animal sacrifices! More tits!

HBO's 'Rome' is my new favorite TV show. I'm not sure it's historically accurate and frankly I just don't care (I know for damn sure that Roman women didn't neatly shave their nether-regions into perfect landing strips). Although any show that has a main female character totally naked and riding some dude in the first 5 minutes is the best show ever made. And then the next scene she's taking a bath! Sweet!

(And seriously, the show is well done.)

2005-08-22T16:34:00.000-04:00

Horrorfind was fun. Dealer tables! B-Movie Celebs! Aging Scream Queens! Self-promoting actress/model bimbos (slutty/trashy/hot) promoting...um...er...I have no idea. Who cares?!? I fell in lust with Syn Devil (pronounced Sin Deville), but was too chicken-shit to actually walk up and talk to her. What would I say?

"You're so hot. Nice rack. May I purchase an autographed picture to masturbate to while I'm at home?"

I wasn't in the right frame of mind (or drunk enough) to have that conversation.

Other notable attendees were Tom Savini, Bruce Campbell, Don Coscarelli (the director of 'Bubba Ho-Tep' and 'Phantasm'), the old guy from 'Phantasm', and the guy that played "Pinhead" in all those 'Hellraiser' movies. But the only guest I gave a shit about was Jeffrey Combs. He was there because he was in the movies 'Re-Animator' and 'The Frighteners'. But I knew him best as Weyoun from 'Star Trek: Deep Space Nine' (aka "the best Star Trek series EVAH"). Everyone in line for Combs was picking up his horror-themed photos for autographs. Not me.

"Hello Mr. Combs." I said. "My name is Matt. May I please have a signed Weyoun?"

His eyes lit up. "Of course! You're a man of exquisite taste." He signs the photo to me, looks up, and says: "Long live the Dominion."

You're God damn right.

2005-08-20T00:40:00.000-04:00

If this isn't gay I don't know what is (not that there's anything wrong with that). I especially like the picture of solo Robin laying on his stomach and exposing his bare ass. Hot. Frankly I think this was the direction Batman was headed thanks to DC Comics and Joel Schumacher (anyone remember 'Batman and Robin'?). Thankfully Christopher Nolan came along and gave us the best Bat-Movie (and best superhero movie) ever: 'Batman Begins'.

Oh, and DC really needs to chill the fuck out.

Ten or so hours from now I'll be at Horrorfind which is a Star Trek-like Convention for Horror movie nuts. Looking forward to it. Hope some hot horror-loving chick dresses up like Mathilda May in 'Lifeforce'. Hey, it's only the best damn space vampire flick, like, ever.

2005-08-19T01:15:00.000-04:00

Dear Best Buy,

I’m writing to say goodbye. Goodbye to your massive stores, your blue and yellow color scheme, and your horrendous customer service. Goodbye to PSPs! Goodbye to those not-so-legal loss prevention stops at the front door! Goodbye to sales people that have absolutely no clue as to what they’re selling (especially the computer department)!

But before I go, I thought you might like to know why I’ve decided to end my relationship with Best Buy. I might be a little presumptuous, but if the situation was reversed--and I was the one getting this letter--I would certainly be curious. Especially if the person in question had been shopping in your stores for years.

Let me first start off by saying that I used to work for Best Buy in the Media Department at the Columbia, Maryland store. At the time I was fresh out of college and excited that I scored a retail gig at a place where I loved the product. Movies. CDs. I was in heaven.

For about five minutes.

Having just worked at a Bed, Bath, and Beyond (further down in the same shopping complex) I was able to quickly draw the conclusion that Best Buy really could not have cared less about the level of customer service they provided. If not for Bed, Bath and Beyond, I wouldn’t have been taught to actually walk a customer to what they were looking for rather than point to a general area. Furthermore, had I not familiarized myself with the rest of store, I wouldn’t have known where certain things were outside of my area.

And don’t get me started on the morning meetings. Is it coincidence that all I remember from those morning meetings is “Sell PSPs!”? It could not have been drilled into my head any harder. “If someone’s buying a pack of AA batteries, make sure you sell him a PSP!” That and those accessories that make you guys so much money. During one morning meeting it was made very clear that Best Buy made very little on the sales of computers and CDs, etc. Yet a power strip that cost Best Buy pennies to buy and resell at retail for $19.99? That where the real profit is! It’s no wonder I was bombarded with powerful suggestion (and flat out BS) when I bought my last TV there.

“You really need to buy this $60 Monster Cable if you want the best possible picture to come in through your DVD player.”

Yeah. Right.

“And you should really get a $40 PSP for that candy bar you’re purchasing.”

No, thanks.

You also have the worst return policies on the planet.

In fact, the return policies (and an incident that resulted from those policies) were instrumental in my decision to end my employment there.

There was a guy who came in to return a defective cassette that he had just purchased from the store a day or two previous. He wanted to exchange the tape for the exact same item. But he had misplaced his receipt. He went to the customer service desk to explain the situation. What could have been a very quick and painless transaction turned into an ugly scene. Rather than simply exchange the tape and send the defective one back to the manufacturer for credit (hey, every retail place does it), Best Buy would rather blow off a customer. And because of the treatment he received I would be surprised if he ever set foot in a Best Buy again. Not only that, but I can remember the number of customers in line that heard everything. You could tell from their faces that they were totally siding with this guy. He was then escorted out by Loss Prevention.

Way to go, Best Buy!

So that was it for me. I left and went on to work at a few other retail gigs and ultimately to the job I have now.

But I continued to shop there.

I bought TVs, DVD, CDs and speakers. I bought computer cables and recordable media.

You knew how to keep me coming back for more.

But there were occurrences that really irked me. Don’t play dumb. You know what you did to hurt me. Remember the car stereo? Of course you do.

I purchased a brand new stereo for my car. The one that came with the car had fizzled out and it didn’t have an in-dash slot for a CD (it had a 6 CD changer in the trunk). I picked out a great Aiwa player. On sale. Even paid for installation. All was well.

Until the player started skipping.

I returned the player (I kept my receipts) and exchanged for an identical one. Install put it in for free.

It still skipped.

I called Best Buy. I asked “Since this player obviously sucks, can I please exchange it for a different one?” and was told that would be acceptable. So I drove to the install bay. They removed the player. I put it in the box it came in (I kept everything!). I went into the store and picked out a new (more expensive) Sony. I took them both up to customer service with all my receipts. The defective player was taken out the box and inspected and the transaction began.

But then the transaction stopped. There was light pandamonium for a bit and then all of a sudden I was face-to-face with a “manager”.

“We’re not going to do this exchange, sir.” I was told.

“Excuse me?” I said. “Why not?”

“Because the serial numbers on the player you’re returning and the serial numbers on the box do not match.”

“And that’s my problem how?” I responded.

“It’s your problem because the box serial numbers and player serial numbers have to match.”

And then I realized what happened. THE INSTALL BAY. When I first exchanged the player for a duplicate. They didn’t give me the right box.

“Actually this isn’t my problem. It’s the install bay’s problem. Whoever switched out the stereo the first time obviously gave me back the wrong box.” I explained. The “manager” just stood there looking at me like I was trying to pull one over on him.

“We aren’t going to return this stereo, sir.” He wasn’t going to budge.

“Look.” I said. My voice gotten a bit louder and the Loss Prevention boys became interested. One of them walked a few paces closer to where the “manager” and I were talking.

“There’s my receipt. As you can see I have had a total of two of the same Aiwa stereos. Both of them skipped while driving. I was told I could come back and pick out a different brand or stereo and make an exchange. Install obviously made an error and switched up the boxes for the Aiwa’s. This isn’t my problem at all. It’s yours and the install bay’s. You can stand there looking threatening as much as you want. It doesn’t phase me. What do you think I’ve done here? Do you think I’m some sort of weird car stereo thief who goes around looking for the right model car stereo to take out of someone’s car so that I can return it (with receipts) to the store I didn’t buy it from? Is your reasoning really that ridiculous?”

The “manager” started to stammer a little.

“No” I said. “Pick up your phone and call the install bay. You deal with them.”

The “manager” called the install bay and within seconds the problem was worked out. My transaction continued smoothly.

“Would you like to purchase a PSP for your new car stereo?”

No.

I thought I was done then and there. But like a battered spouse I kept coming back. Best Buy abused me, sure. But look at all the stuff Best Buy has!

Now enough is enough.

The straw that broke the camel’s back happened in the evening hours of June 16th, 2005. The location: Best Buy, Laurel, Maryland. I had been looking everywhere for a copy of the new ‘Batman Begins’ soundtrack. No one had it. But according to Best Buy’s online reservation system, Laurel did. Hooray! I placed my online reservation (order # XXXXXX-XXXXXXXXXXX) at 2:27PM. At 3:03PM I got a notification that my order was ready for pick up. At roughly 5:15PM I left work and went directly to Best Buy, Laurel to pick up the CD. I was psyched.

I walked into Best Buy, Laurel at approximately 5:45PM and stood in line with both my initial email order and pick up confirmation. I was set. When it was my turn to step up to the register I gave the clerk my order confirmation and he took it to where they keep the online reserves. He looks around in this cabinet behind the counter. He’s looking under stuff.

He comes back to me empty handed.

“It’s not in there.” He says.

“What?!” I say.

“Hold on.” He says and then calls for the media department to come help with the order. I’m just left standing there. Dumbfounded. I turn to talk to the clerk behind the counter again.

“I got a confirmation that the order was pulled and waiting for me. Why isn’t it here? How does the online reservation system work here?”

“I don’t really know, sir.” He answers.

“Well you actually have to go and pull the product before you send out that email confirmation, right?” I push.

“I don’t know how that works, sir.” The clerk has the tone of someone who’s really put out to be talking to me. Someone comes up to him. They speak for a moment. He turns back to me.

"We don't have it, sir." He says. And then without an ounce of remorse or sympathy says, “Sorry.”

My jaw dropped.

“I want to speak to a manager.” I demand.

The clerk sort of half rolls his eyes and gets on the phone to page a manager. The manager arrives at customer service. It’s now about 6:00PM. I explain what the problem is and ask again how the online reservation system works. He says he’s looking into the problem yet evades my question as to how the reservation system works. He calls up the guy working in media (presumably the person who “pulled” the CD in the first place) who has no information on it whatsoever. He doesn’t even confirm it was pulled. I ask again about the way the reservation system works and asked if my item was pulled or not. The only answer I get it that they’re looking for the CD.

At 6:10PM another manager comes up and offers assistance. I have to go through the entire story for a second time. I ask again about the reservation system. Again I get no answer. Only that they’re looking for the CD. I’m left waiting there for another 30 minutes. At 6:40, the second manager I talked to comes up to me.

“I’m very sorry, sir. We can’t seem to find this.” He says.

“I’ve just waited here almost an hour for something that I was told would be waiting for me when I got here this evening. Why did I get a confirmation that my item was waiting for me if it was, in fact, not found?”

“I don’t know, sir. I’m not exactly sure how the online system works.” He admits.

“Thank you for looking.” I said, and left the store. Although that same manager did call me later that evening saying they had miraculously located the CD, I never went back. And haven’t been back since.

Nor will I ever go back.

Put simply, I’ve had it. That evening was such a colossal waste of time. Something that should have been a 10 minute errand turned into an hour long exercise in patience. Who is Best Buy to waste my time?

I’ve learned something since breaking up with you, Best Buy: There are other fish in the sea. Walmart, Circuit City, Target, Amazon, Borders, (and the list goes on).

You can count on two things from me from now on:

1) I will never set foot into a Best Buy store again.
2) I will always speak my mind about how much I think Best Buy sucks.

Goodbye forever,

Matt Frankenberg

CC: General manager, Best Buy, Laurel, Maryland; Regional Manager, Maryland; Chairman & CEO, Best Buy

2005-08-18T12:51:00.000-04:00

We now return to our regularly scheduled program already in progress...

(sigh)

Rene Russo is fucking hot. Especially in the movie 'The Thomas Crown Affair' with Pierce Brosnan (aka Remington Steele; aka James Bond). She gets naked a lot. She also dirty dances in this see-through dress (a part in the movie the wife and I always drool at). The movie iteself is pretty damn good, too.

I know. I know. It's a remake. Some guy named Steve Mcqueen (or something) starred in the original. I have no idea who that is. I think he was that era's Ben Affleck.

Go here and here for some great Rene Russo pictures (yes, many nekkid ones).

NEXT: I break up with Best Buy.

2005-07-23T22:02:00.000-04:00

Raemi Marie Frankenberg

2005-04-29T23:35:00.000-04:00

My fellow Americans,

If elected I swear I will never interrupt prime-time television during sweeps in order to bring attention to something as asinine as Social Security Reform or how I spend my days at my ranch. I promise to give everyone ample notice when I take over the airwaves unless of course it's a real fucking emergency. And if anyone out there is wondering why I'm bringing this up, it's because I didn't get to see The OC last night thanks to the jackass that's currently in office. If with nothing else, please vote with your remote.

2005-04-25T10:12:00.000-04:00

I know reviewing movies really isn't my thing, but I'm so annoyed right now that I feel compelled to share. I'd been dreading my inevitable sit-down with this movie for weeks and weeks. I knew my wife wanted to see it and rather than tell her to go watch it herself, I did the sweet husband thing and told her I would watch it with her. Not because I wanted to see the damn movie, but because she's sat through enough of my bad cinema to choke a fucking elephant. I figured I owed her.

Anyway, so I psyched myself out to the point where I could have sat through a quadruple feature of 'Dirty Dancing', 'Steel Magnolias', 'Terms of Endearment' and 'Love Story'. I was prepared for anything. I was prepared for a crap movie. I was prepared for pure SAP.

Imagine my surprize when I realized I was watching a good movie.

The cinematography? EXCELLENT.

The story? GOOD.

Ryan Gosling's performance? AMAZING.

Rachel McAdams? Fucking HOT.

So what's my problem?

I sat through that movie loving every little second of it. I got into the love story. I allowed myself to get wrapped up in the romance. I found myself beaming with joy during some scenes or feeling genuinely sad in others. Man, I was really INTO it.

This old guy is reading "the story of their lives together" to his wife who suffers from Alzheimer's. She doesn't know who he is, but he's moved in to the nursing facility because he loves her and believes he can help her recover. So the movie tells us how they met and fell in love and broke up and went their separate ways and found each other again and lived happily ever after up until now. She has moments, or course, where she remembers who he is but is quick to regress back to the dementia. It's really fucking depressing. Then, after he has a heart attack (I guess to illustrate he's a little frail) he goes to his wife again (who happens to know who is is again at that right moment) and they have this exchange where they ask each other if their love could will them to die together.

Now. Before I go any further, let me say that I really found this little conversation to be sweet. I believed it. I thought it would be something a married couple might say to each other in just such a situation.

So the next morning the nurse finds them both in bed together. They had died together in their sleep. I couldn't believe they actually followed through with that.

I turned to my left. My wife was crying. I looked to the TV screen. I didn't know what to do. I thought, for a brief second, that I might well up a little, too.

And then I started laughing out loud.

They were able to will themselves to die together because their love was so strong? That or God stepped in with a miracle? What the fuck is that? It sucks is what it is. I would've believed them overdosing on Metamucil or cocaine. Not this ridiculous shit!

The Notebook is proof positive that a good movie can be cocked up in the last two minutes of film.

There IS a little Rachel McAdams bare-breasted action to be seen. But not enough to give this movie a saving grade.

Oh, and while I'm thinking about it: I told THIS GUY that I had watched the flick and he told me to turn over my "Guy Card".

"Fuck you", I said. "I've had threesomes."

I give this movie 2.5 out of 5 stars. This could have been bumped up to 4 stars had Rachel McAdams been kind enough to have her tits out constantly and treat us to a hot lesbian scene. Wait. I would have given THAT movie 5 stars regardless of the ending. The JFR rating puts this movie at 32 stars (out of 10) and ranks it right up there with the TV show 'Full House'.

Sigh.

Don't we all just LOVE Dave Coulier and his "Popeye" impersonations?

2005-04-15T16:44:00.000-04:00

As of today, The Mary Anne Haikus are no more.

In it's place will be a new page which will be nothing but Mary Anne slash fiction!

I am so brilliant.

I'm also kidding.

2005-03-28T11:51:00.000-05:00

It's Monday again.

That means that I will get together with this guy at about 8PM and work on this. I realize that most of you haven't a clue as to what this is, so I'm going to tell you.

Some other time.

The interesting thing about tonight is that this other guy will be joining us, participating, and giving us feedback.

Holy shit. That's means three crazy bloggers are going to be in the same room together for an evening. Group sex will no doubt be a part of the festivities.

In other news, The Mary Anne Haikus are going "bye-bye". Partly because I'm not keeping up with them, but mostly because no one seems to give a flying rat's ass that they're even there. Throw in the fact that the muse for my poetic emotives [a] doesn't like me, [b] doesn't like the haikus, and [c] is not the least bit touched by my obvious affections; and we have a clear case of "why bother?". Not sure when I'm actually going to kill the site, but it will be quite soon. So download, print, laugh, cry, wretch, etc. while you still can.

2005-03-24T14:45:00.000-05:00

A brief pron review!

'65 Guy Cream Pie 2'
Devil's Films
2004

It's quite simple really. One girl, Ariana Jollee (no relation to Angelina), takes on 65 guys and let's all of them shoot their loads in whatever orifice they happen to be in at the time. Then she'll launch into a big production and let it all ooze out.

This film was pretty damned nasty. It starts off like your normal gang-bang affair. She's sucking off a bunch of guys. They're all copping feels. Mad foreplay. But it becomes a little intolerable when each guy decides to ram their cock down this girl's esophogus. I'm sure it was planned, but every time a guy slammed into this girl's throat there'd be this high pitched (and really goofy) "glug glug glug" sound followed by a wretching gag. It didn't so much turn on as it did repell.

The wife and I were totally fine with the one girl taking on 65 guys scenario, but the sound effects icked us out a bit. That and the fact that she squirted (read: pisses everywhere) when she'd "cum". Right. Not my cup of tea either.

Things got hazy here as the wife got down in front of me to give me a little TLC. I think I blanked out. Then I was having some really good sex with the wife on the couch, and then with her on all fours in front of the couch, and then I think I screamed "Who's your deranged pervert uncle?!?". And then I blanked out again.

Ariana Jollee was taking on three guys at once when we turned it off.

I guess the movie was ok.

Movie rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars (3.5 if there was no peeing)
Sex with the wife rating: 5 out of 5 stars

2005-03-24T10:11:00.000-05:00

CLICK HERE to read the first chapter of Neil Gaiman's upcoming novel 'Anansi Boys'. It's quite good. And funny. And fucking awesome.

THIS appears to be very good news for bloggers. Let's all breathe a sigh of relief and flex our 1st Amendment rights more. In celebration I'll simply say: "George Bush is a Nazi!".

More evidence that people in Florida are on crazy pills. Florida Republicans want to make it possible for students to sue professors who are teaching something that goes against their personal religious views? Fuck that.

And since I care, Terri Schiavo may finally have a shot at shuffling off her completely wrecked mortal coil. That is, unless Jeb "My bro is the President" Bush tries to flex his power. (Can anyone tell me why it was never viewed as a conflict of interest having Jeb Bush Governor (read: IN CHARGE) of a swing state during a Presidential Election that included his brother as a candidate?)

2005-03-22T13:11:00.000-05:00

Pussy Pictures!

Hot damn I love diversity.

What does yours look like?

(My wife's is definitely the second one down. Totally.)

2005-03-21T23:49:00.000-05:00

ONE
For some reason I really needed to see this today, but this brief clip just whets the appetite, doesn't it?

Being the kinky little bitch that I am, I've always been intrigued by incestuous sexual situations. I've scoured the earth for real incestuous lesbian porn, but what I've found is slim pickings. There's the above clip. Another clip floating around the internet that shows the two really enjoying it (click here to watch, but have a few tissues handy. You're welcome. Mac users may need to download an alternate media viewer like VLC) and an x-rated film made in the early 70's called 'Teenage Twins' (WAY too much 70's bush which hinders any erectile tissue from stiffening). That's it. End of list.

Don't bother with any of the other porn out there right now that boasts twin hotties having hot sex. They aren't having hot sex with each other. They are merely in the same room, sucking off the same guy.

LAME.

I'm desperate for more, though. So if anyone reading this knows where I can get more, please please PLEASE give me an email or leave a comment. I must see more incestuous lesbian twins getting freaky with each other!

TWO
And now I want to talk about Terri Schiavo.

"Wtf?" you say?

"Wtf" indeed.

I was flipping through channels in bed last night and paused at MSNBC (or some other shitty "news" station). There were Schiavo's family, talking to the camera about how they want to save Terri's life by putting her back on a feeding tube. The problem? Terri Schiavo's been clinically brain dead for something like 15 fucking years! 15 YEARS! The other problem? Now the Federal Government is involved with it. The "Terri Schiavo Bill" was put into effect by George W. "I could really use a line right now" Bush who stated "I will continue to stand on the side of those defending life for all Americans, including those with disabilities."

George?

Terri Schiavo's been dead for 15 years! No brain activity. No response to outside stimuli. Dead. Expired. Gone. I don't want to really get into the spiritual side of things here, but if that poor woman has a soul, shouldn't we do her the favor of removing the feeding tube or anything else keeping her alive so that her spirit can properly depart? In fact, wouldn't it be even nicer if we went and busted good old Dr. Jack out of prison so he could take care of the problem immediately and make up for those 15 years of POINTLESS hospitalization?

I think so.

Go back and read that Bush statement, ya'll. Reversing Roe Vs. Wade is next. Think I'm paranoid? We're already regressing by replacing evolution with creationism on the SATs in some states!

Also, after reading that just ONE FUCKING SENATOR could have postponed this Shiavo Bill madness, I quickly wrote my senators (Mikulski and Sarbanes) and told them where they could stick my vote when it was time to re-elect them. Fucking pussies.

THREE
On the lighter side of things, I went out to dinner on Friday with three hot chicks. My wonderful friends Kayti and Liz and their friend Stacy. I got drunk. I flirted. I tried to get Stacy to come back home with me for some hot three way action with the wife. No dice. But I tried.

I am, however, receiving topless photographs from someone calling herself "Britney Spears". The photos do not show her face, but do show some rather nice naked cleavage.

No. Sorry. Not sharing. Go get your own.

2005-03-11T10:53:00.000-05:00

I dragged Mr. Barnes to The Recher Theatre with me to see The Upwelling last night, and even though we were late to the party, got to see them belt out a few new tunes. I really have to say I was floored by how good this band is live. Aside from being tight and in the zone, these guys just emitted this amazing energy that you couldn't get away from. Shit. This is a three piece band that manages to create a wall of sound so inviting, that you have no choice but to stop, listen and surrender yourself to it. This is a band that knows how to write songs and convey simple nostalgia and emotion. All without any sort of pretense. And through it all showing a general love for what they are doing. Already part of Virgin Recommends (and the first unsigned band to ever be part of this), I have a feeling The Upwelling are going be thrust upon the mainstream very soon.

For those who wish to hear them, they stream their current EP and a number of live tunes at their website. You can also purchase said EP for a mere $6.

2005-03-08T12:53:00.000-05:00

Two books I cannot wait to devour.

2005-03-06T23:21:00.000-05:00

Some fucker gave me a cold. And it's one that's gotten progressively worse as the days have gone by. My head feels like it's full of cotton and I can't really taste anything. I'm also really fucking tired. If I find out who gave this shit to me they're going to pay handsomely. Fucker.

Today I got four new tires put on my car. Got it done at a local Pep Boys. The guy who helped me wasn't so much rude as he was surly. Not a mean surly. Just fucking surly. With me. With Gabe in the service area. With his other coworkers. Everyone. He was so consistent that I couldn't fault him on it. He was being true to who he was. And how can you fault that kind of honesty?

And since it's been a while since I've posted some eye-candy, I thought I'd make up for it with galleries featuring a robo-hottie named Karina.

Karina Gallery 1 | Karina Gallery 2 | Karina Gallery 3

2005-03-03T14:18:00.000-05:00

And just like that, we have a name picked out. And it's perfect. And it's different. And it's beautiful. And it's a secret. So don't ask.

2005-03-01T10:59:00.000-05:00

Well, it looks as if I am physically incapable of siring a male child. The wife and I are having another girl come summer. That means I’ll have three teenage daughters at one time somewhere around the year 2018.

Hear that? That's the sound of every hair on my head turning gray.

2005-02-28T10:46:00.000-05:00

Listen up!

I want every woman reading this to follow this link and buy this book:

Sounds amazing. I haven't even read it and I think Jen Sincero deserves a Pulitzer Prize.

Go ladies! Go now! Embrace your bisexual side!

2005-02-27T02:07:00.000-05:00

What the fuck am I doing up at this hour?

Ah. Right. Long day. Thought that I would post SOMETHING interesting, but instead got wrapped up listening to music I haven't listened to in, well, years. I love being able to pop in something and be whisked back in time and space. It's amazing that a song can bring back so many memories long buried. So I sat here in front of the computer and imported songs into iTunes for my iPod and just tuned everything else out. Then I looked up and it was 2AM. Yikes.

Tomorrow (mere hours from now) I will be congregating with this guy while we make things up and write them down. All day.

So I need some sleep.

Now.

2005-02-25T12:24:00.000-05:00

OK. Enough.

Luba is getting way too thin. It's especially obvious in THIS PICTURE.

Eat something, sweetie.

Please.

2005-02-24T12:50:00.000-05:00

Is it cold in here?

I don't care who this chick is, nor do I care what she's selling. All I know is that I'd buy everything she has while I drooled all over everything like the horny idiot that I am. Jesus. This girl's CLOTHED yet is somehow powerful enough to make it impossible for me to get up from my desk. Wow. I LOVE eBay. I'm so "inspired" right now that I've decided to write to her.

Dear GatorFan1997,

at the risk of sounding like a complete and utter perve I have to say that I have been hypnotized by each of your current 42 auctions. Now, I have absolutely no use for a "NWT ABERCROMBIE CLEAVAGE MOOSE LOGO HENLEY TOP SZ XS" but if I did I would certainly come to you first. This brings me to why I've written. I am asking that you never EVER stop what you're doing. It's perfect. You could be selling blank sheets of Xerox paper and I'd still be paying attention and checking back frequently. May I suggest that you offer glossy photos for sale for the male viewership that (well, unless they're into that sort of thing) doesn't dress in female attire? Nothing indecent, rather just you modelling various outfits would more than suffice. Because, well, WOW.

Yours very sincerely, etc etc etc.

Matt
frankenblog.com

I'll let everyone know if she writes back.

UPDATE: February 25th, 2005, she replies:

Awww, thanks so much for the compliments! I have gotten so many emails from ebay, I do have half a mind to start a website and make $ that way! Clothed, of course! You have an awesome night!

Aloha,
Nicole
(gatorfan1997)

Debating whether or not to reply back. I think she has candid nudes lying around somewhere. I for one would love to see those.

2005-02-23T12:01:00.000-05:00

Ok. I've never heard their music, but THESE CHICKS (Avenue D) have me seriously aroused. One of the two girls has an ass bigger than J-Lo's, and I think it's one of the sexiest things I've ever seen.

Go ahead, make your best Sir Mixalot joke.

2005-02-22T11:18:00.000-05:00

Just took THIS TEST which told me (after a series of different excercises) that my brain is 100% female.

100% female.

This may explain several things:

Why I really enjoy buying clothes/lingerie/shoes/jewelry for my wife
Why Jen ???, a "lesbian", decided to date me (she said I was feminine--and why is it I'm having so much trouble remembering last names?) Update: Aha! Jen Rhoda! or Roada or some other spelling! Ha! Thanks, Mary Anne.
My love of thong underwear
My attraction to Vin Deisel
The fact that most of my friends are girls
My love of fruity bath products

My wife on the other hand scored a 25% male brain, which proves she wears the pants in the family (something we already knew).

All I know is that if I were physically a woman, I'd totally be a lesbian (aside from that Vin Deisel thing).

2005-02-21T12:58:00.000-05:00

Let's all agree on "pussy", "cock", and "tits"

I don't know about any of you, but nothing gets my dick limper than the word "vagina". I find it amazing that such a (IMHO) beautiful part of the female anatomy was given such a horrible name to describe it. It doesn't make it sound appealing at all. It makes it sound gross. Nasty. And not a good nasty, either. You can't talk dirty using "vagina".

"Oh baby, your vagina feels so good!"

"I just love licking your vagina."

"Yes! That's it! Finger my hot vagina!"

"I'm gonna get me a piece of vagina."

As I sit here typing this I try to imagine my wife or myself using this word in every day situations. I can't do it. I don't remember either of us EVER using the word in any sexual situation. It just doesn't work.

Now, the same can be said for the proper name "penis". Ewww. With it's hard "PEE" sound it's kinda threatening. It also makes you think of urinating. And who wants to put their mouth around something that reminds them of urine? We also have the same problem when it comes to talking dirty:

"Oh yeah! Put your penis in my vagina!"

"My penis is really hard!"

"Hey baby? Could you tickle my penis?"

See?

So what are we left with then? Well, words that a lot of people really don't want to use because they're too improper or "disgusting". Words like "dick", "cock" and "pussy". And you know what I say to them? "Fuck you! I'd like to enjoy my sexual parts thank you very much! Penis and vagina are the two most disgusting words in the English language (besides "Michael Jackson")!"

My wife and I use "cock" and "pussy". I think this should be adopted by everyone. Everywhere. I think it should be taught in schools. The only folks who shouldn't use them are doctors. Because that would be plain creepy.

I'd also like to take this time to address someone in particular who will go nameless for now. In the midst of a broken conversation having to do with this very topic, the word "tits" came up as well as the word "degrading". We didn't get to finish our discussion.

The word "tits" does not degrade those wonderful bags of fun. If anything, the word "tits" does quite the opposite. If we go with the proper name we use the word "mammaries".

Yay...

Sexy...

Excuse me:

"Oh man, baby! Your mammaries are so big and cushiony."

"Hey Jane! Can I see your mammaries?"

"Yes! Yes! I'm going to cum all over your mammaries!"

What the fuck is that?

You say "mammaries" and no one even notices. You say "tits" and guys, girls, aliens from other planets, Republicans, etc., come out of nowhere to catch a glimpse. Now tell me, how does that lower the value of something? It brings people together. That effectively makes seeing tits a religious experience!

Yup. I said it.

More people would respond to someone saying "tits" than someone saying "Jesus". Why? Because no one's seen Jesus for 2,000 years. We've given up hope.

"Tits" is the new "Jesus".

I can understand having an aversion to a word, but you can't lose "tits". "Tits" should always be industry standard. "Breasts" is OK to use as well, but never in a dirty/sexual way. "Boobies" is cute, but "boobies" has the potential to ruin the mood. So never use it when you're in the sack.

Anyway, since I am such a big fan of vagi...er...pussy, here's a sweet link (NSFW). I'm always amazed at how different they all are. Fascinating.

And remember, always use pussy, cock and tits. Let's make them the universal standard.

Thank you.

2005-02-20T23:57:00.000-05:00

What the fuck?

2005-02-18T14:52:00.000-05:00

Top 13 Nicest Racks
that I've had the honor of fondling (in no particular order):*

Jessica Roe (91)

Gloria Slaughter (89)

Kori Beauchamp (00)

Jenny Valenzuela (94)

Angie Roberts (04)

Joanne (I think. Totally can't remember last name, either) (94)

Tammy Davis (92)

Erica Cohen (93)

Tara Connelly (93)

That chick from NYC I met through AOL (who was a serious bitch--nope, can't remember her name) (95)

Elizabeth Rafferty (90) & (94)

Leigh Rothblum (91)

Alexis George (98)

I'm hoping that any ex/fling/whatever that comes across their name here is flattered and not offended. Apologies to anyone that didn't make the Top 12. Doesn't mean I didn't enjoy them.

*List does not include Christina's breasts (97 to present) which are, hands down, my favorite breasts in the whole world.

2005-02-17T14:18:00.000-05:00

Proof I'm still GAY for Vin Diesel

I saw previews for 'The Pacifier' recently. I know this movie is crap. A pure shit sandwich. Yet when I saw that Vin was starring in it, my brain melted. A bad movie became a movie I'd absolutely HAVE to see. I found myself consumed with lusty thoughts for that bald-headed, beautiful man. That dark skin. Those chiseled chest muscles. That voice.

My friend Kim thinks my attraction to him is pure narcissism (as she thinks there are similarities). I'm not so sure.

(Sigh.)

2005-02-15T14:14:00.000-05:00

Since Chef and Liz both requested, here's what I had at Morimoto's on Saturday night. The food was unreal. The service was unparalleled. The atmosphere was hip. The bill was astronomical.

I got the tasting menu, or Omakase. According to my brother, Justin, this is the best option especially if you've never been there before. It gives you the opportunity to sample a wide variety in small portions. It's also the mark of a really good restaurant. After all, The Olive Garden doesn't have a tasting menu.

OMAKASE (Tasting Menu)

Raw Course:

Toro tartare with 2 kinds of crunchy green onions topped with chives and caviar in a soy sauce mixture. Fresh wasabi. One Japanese mountain peach to cleanse the palette.

Japanese yellowtail sashimi with ginger and Japanese cilantro lightly seared with hot oil.

Raw snapper over mixed greens with onion sauce and chive sauce.

Palette cleanser: A small scoop of mango sorbet.

Cooked Course:

Steamed halibut with black bean sauce.

Thin slices of Kobe beef over Japanese sweet potatoes. (I'll never be able to eat steak again).

Sushi Course:

Toro, Japanese yellowtail, snapper, whiting and orange clam. Fresh wasabi.

Dessert:

Sweet potato bread pudding with cashew ice cream. Chocolate dipping sauce.

No. This isn't the wife and I, but it IS a couple in Morimoto's posing with the man himself. Actually, now that I think about it, that guy creeps me out just a little bit. The chick's kinda cute, and that guy's wearing birth control glasses.

2005-02-12T09:43:00.000-05:00

Today I drive to Philly with Christina for a much needed break from everything. This will be the first time in three or four years where we've actually gone away without kids. Although this saddens me slightly, it's nice to know that they will be totally fine without us for a little while.

The main reason for the Philly visit is to go eat at Morimoto's, the restaurant opened by Iron Chef Japanese, Masaharu Morimoto. Some of you will not understand the significance of this, so I'll explain. One of my favorite TV programs of all time is a brilliant little Japanese show called Iron Chef. Think 'Gladiator' in a kitchen setting. Culinary masters from around the world come to compete in Kitchen Stadium where they will pit their knowledge and skills against the Iron Chefs--the Champions of Kitchen Stadium. During the program a secret ingredient is revealed at which point the Iron Chef and his challenger have one solid hour to prepare as many original dishes featuring that ingredient. After the hour, judges taste the dishes and declare a winner. No prizes are involved. Just respect. Anyway, you can catch it on the Food Network if you have such a thing. It's worth it, and fun.

So consider me well-fed this weekend.

And well sexed.

And other things.

2005-02-11T23:54:00.000-05:00

The Upwelling at the Black Cat

So I went to see my new favorite band play in DC tonight. The drummer, Josh (who I've only corresponded with through email), told me he'd buy me a beer if I showed. How can you refuse free beer and great music?

I drove over an hour to get to the city. Spent another 20 minutes looking for a parking space (that I found only ONE BLOCK AWAY from the club--YES!). Quickly dashed across the street to a liquor store that had an ATM. Got cash. Went back across the street to the club and stood in line, in the cold, for another 20 minutes. Then I finally got in the door. I could hear The Upwelling launching into their first song. I show my ID. I get my hand stamped. I take a $20 bill to the ticket guy.

I say: "One please!"

He says: "The show is sold out."

To make matters even worse: While in line, some guy said he had an extra ticket he'd sell at face value. I thought nothing of it. He said it THREE TIMES before someone bought it from him.

To make matters even worse part 2: I can't be sure yet, but I think Josh was in the liquor store with me buying merlot and good beer. But I hesitated and thought (A) I don't want to look like an idiot if it's NOT him and (B) I didn't want to seem annoying.

So I'm pretty sure I missed a sweet show. Fucking luck. Next time I'm going to remember to just buy my ticket in advance.

2005-02-10T17:02:00.000-05:00

The OC (Ocean City, Maryland) - A True Story of Liquor, Sex, and Stupidity

Note: No names are being changed to protect anyone. There are no embellishments since there's really no need for any. Read on to find out what an asshole I am when I've had way too much to drink.

Califo...er...Salisbury here we come, right back where we started from.
It was the summer is 1993. At this point in my life I had two years of college under my belt and was home in Maryland for my break. A friend from college, Mike D'Anton, was visiting. Also staying at the house (besides the rents and my grandmother) was one Mr. Jeremy Brill, who was the brother of one of my brother's ex-girlfriends.

Jeremy was also a cleptomaniac and pathological liar.

John Crowell, a high school friend called. "Come on up to Ocean City!", he said. "Me and Jason rented a big hotel room for the week. You should come up!" Mike was down. The only problem was that I did not have car insurance nor a car to drive. I had been in school all year and didn't need one. Taking one of my parents' cars wasn't an option, either.

Jeremy the cleptomaniac and pathological liar had a car.

Shit.

Jeremy the cleptomaniac and pathological liar was invited to come with us, provided he drive us there and back again.

After some quick packing and a beer/smoke run by my father (thanks, pop!) we were ready to go. We decided to buy a couple of cases of Beast and many 40's of Crazy Horse. We got a huge cooler, threw it in the trunk, filled it with our drinks and packed that shit in tons of ice.

2.5ish hours later we were there. OCEAN CITY! The OC! The Boardwalk! Dirty beaches! Puke and piss and drunkards! Beach week! Hot chicks! HOT FUCKING CHICKS!

We found the hotel. Francis Scott Key Motel (thanks, Dan). In addition to regular rooms they had these little house-rooms, which is where John and company were shacked up. So there we were. Me, Mike, Jeremy, John, Jason, Lisa Baker (an ex who was now dating Jason), this guy named Bobby I went to high school with and I think a couple others. It was rad. We cracked open the cooler. That shit was ice cold from the drive up. I grabbed a 40 of Crazy Horse.

The Crazy Horse was so cold it barely had a taste. It was like drinking ice water and it was going down the same way. I polished one off quickly. At some point I said "HEY! Liz is out here somewhere. We need to find her!" Liz was another friend from high school who always went up the The OC to work for the summer at Phillip's Crab House. She actually LIVED there, too. They had these little apartments for those that were there to work for the summer. It's also where I was going to try and spend the night. Nudge nudge.

So I grab another 40 oz. and start gulping that down. I'm maybe a half hour or so into drinking. The world starts to not hold still very well and my bladder is getting to the point where I could possibly flood the entire hotel parking lot. I'm about to walk out the door to take a leak when Liz just shows up. I sit down with her on the couch and start talking her ear off, all the while drinking my precious 40 oz. At some point (and maybe more than once) I walk out the front door of the hotel house thing and pee in the shrubberies just outside. In broad daylight.

I had polished off the 2nd 40 oz. and was somewhere around my 5th or 6th beer when I realized that I was, in fact, actually on a boat during some sort of tropical storm and everything, including the hotel house hut thingies were rocking back and forth with the enormous waves that I couldn't see. But they were there, dammit. They had to be! I can handle my liquor!

Next thing I know is that's it's getting nice and dark outside. I should know. I've peed out front several times already. I'm assuming in FRONT of other tenants. Liz is still with me, just keeping me company and listening to my blabber.

And then the people I'm with decide it would be awesome to drive to the boardwalk and walk around. By this point I was starving, and to the point where I would do anything. We all piled into Bobby's truck (in the flatbed--BRILLIANT!--especially being completely ripped) and left. I vaguely remember stopping at a McDonald's. I vaguely remember getting out of the truck to go pee. On a jeep. With an alarm.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!

I climb back into the truck. We drive to the boardwalk. I'm 96% malt liquor and beer.

At this point everything starts to run together. Like I'm fast-forwarding.

We park. For some reason we go get slices of pizza. I'm ravenous all of a sudden. Most of the group walks ahead while I finish wolfing down my slice. The texture is right, but I only taste beer. Then we're walking up the boardwalk. I'm zig-zagging. I am walking up to anyone with tits introducing myself.

"Ha! Ahmm Matt! Yoo er soooe byootful!", I'd say. Then I'd shake their hands. Although most of the ladies were tolerant of this, it got me nowhere (duh). I do, however, remember one girl saying she really liked my hair. Gee, thanks.

Now, despite the fact that that I didn't have anymore to drink since we left and I had swallowed a slice of pizza, my composure began to get much worse. I wasn't sobering up at all.

I noticed kites flying on the boardwalk. I didn't know what to do. Kites? On the boardwalk? AT NIGHT? What?!?!?

I pointed to the heavens toward the kites, screaming at the top of my lungs:

"Ahhhhhhrrrg! Run fer yer fukn lives! We're being invayded!" I vaguely remember someone I was with grabbed me to get me to stop.

And then things went really hazy. Imagine if you will a hiccup in time. You're one place one second, and the next your somewhere else (but it doesn't bother you because you're too fucked up to care). More on this later.

Whatchyer name?
We are now walking south on the boardwalk. Back to the truck. We're walking and laughing. The wind is coming in from my left from the ocean. It feels great. The air is noticably cooler after such a hot, humid day. I'm 94% malt liquor and beer. There's a girl attached to my arm. Liz is smoking a cigarette. I bum one from her.

Wait a minute.

THERE'S A GIRL ATTACHED TO MY ARM.

I start to take this all in. Yup. Definitely a girl. Not just attached to my arm, but holding on for dear life. I began asking myself a series of drunken questions: Where the fuck did she come from? Who the fuck was she? Do I really care at this point? Does she want to have sex? Are we married?

She's smiling at me.

I then do the only logical thing I can do at this point and open my mouth.

"Whatchyer name?", I ask.

"Amanda.", she replies without so much as a funny look on her face. Still smiling at me.

"Riiiight. Yer prittykyute.", I said. She did appear to be attractive.

I'm still about 94% malt liquor and beer.

"Whatchyer name?", I ask. I had forgotten. I'm not joking.

"Amanda.", she says. Holding on tight and giddy.

I think at this point I may have been drooling on her, possibly pawing certain parts of her body, and most certainly trying to give her kisses. I have a vague recollection of doing this while walking, but I can't be sure. I just know that I felt like a hundred million dollars! I had some hot chick attached to my arm! Woo hoo! What a stud!

So the conversation continued.

"EyM Mahtt." I'd say.

"I know." Again, no change in mood. Obviously we had already met.

"Whatchyer name?" a third time, perhaps the 22nd time.

"Amanda." she said, patiently. "Amanda Loomis."

"Ah. Thasss rite. Wayr u frum?" I asked, sincerely (I guess).

"Charles County." she replied.

"Ah. Whatchyer name?" and so on and so on.

Right. WOW.

So after a bit, we all come to the truck and pile in. She and I sit in the flatbed with several others and like two ravenous leeches, start sucking each others faces. We're talking hard-core tongue action here. Spit flying everywhere. Feeling each other up. The works. All while the truck is moving and everyone in the flatbed with us watches. I didn't even know where the FUCK we were going. Didn't care, either. Was too busy sucking face. I had some hot chick sucking my face! What was her name again?

As we're driving I begin sobering up a bit more. I'm probably down to 86% alchohol by now and things are a bit clearer. I'm more aware of my surroundings, but I am more aware of the girl I'm sucking face with (and I actually remember her name). I can hear thunder in the distance.

A digression: Every single fucking time I ever went to The OC (pronounced "The Ock") there was a violent fucking thunderstorm complete with shitloads of lightning. I'm serious.

Anyway, we arrive back at the hotel. The truck stops and everyone but me and this girl get out. We stay in the flat bed and now have room to lie down and continue making out. The only problem being she's not interested in that anymore and I start feeling my shorts being removed. No. I don't stop her.

Cue the cold, heavy rain.
My shorts are off. I'm bare-assed. Her shirt is gone. She's down to panties. There is a loud crack of thunder, then lightning, and then a river in the sky opened up on top of us. I really started sobering up now. Think cold shower. The two of us continued on. But the rain was getting too cold. I stood up. There was a crack as lightning hit somewhere close. Somewhere across the parking lot, everyone I was with watched the spectacle. In the brightness of the lightning, they saw my bare ass in all it's glory. Then they watched us climb into the truck's cab through the back window, although I do not know how on Earth we accomplished this.

Once inside the cab we began to warm up. We were both pretty close to naked. I remember thinking that I was having a really good time. If only I had a condom. I'm not going any further with this girl if I don't have a condom. And then she hands me one.

So yeah. Right. Ugly bumping. I was somewhat surprized. I was under the impression that my drunken state would hinder my abilities. It didn't.

So we're going at it having a grand old time. The storm is still raging outside the truck. Now, from my vantage point I can see a pool and a hot tub. I start thinking it would be cool to go sit in that hot tub and continue what we're doing. After all, it's warm in there and we're both kind of cold.

So we exit the truck and walk about 30-40 yards to the hot tub. NAKED. The storm is still going. Lightning everywhere.

Brilliant, you say? How right you are! I mean, at this point I deserve to get hit by lightning. So we jump a fence and get into the hot tub and go back to our thing. The only problem is that things are getting kinda dry. There aren't any condoms left, and I can't feel anything from the neck down. So we eventually stop. No orgasm. Nothing. Not that we had a bad time scromping, of course.

We gather our clothes and walk back to John's lodge. It's some rediculous hour of the morning. I demand that he take me and my new "girlfriend" back into town so I can go crash at Liz's pad and this girl can go back to her hotel. He reluctantly agrees, I think just to be rid of me.

So we drive back to The OC and drop her off at her hotel. I tell her I'm staying on 151st street and that she should come find me tomorrow. This is, as delicately as I can admit, a bold-faced lie.

Yes. I'm an asshole.

So I go to Liz's pad. Mike D is passed out on the floor. Next to him is bed made for me. I lay down. The world spinning. I'm at 52% alcohol by now. I start to drift a little.

"Dude. You're a fucking asshole!" Mike says.

"What?!?" I say.

"Dude. You're such a fucking asshole I can't believe it!", he continues. "Not only were you so fucking drunk that you couldn't walk straight, you also were so fucking drunk that you apparently thought it would be funny to start screaming at the top of your lungs at kites. You were out of fucking control!"

"I'm sorry, man! Shit, like you haven't been drunk before!", I'm slightly annoyed.

"Then what the fuck was with the bouncer?" he asked.

"Uh. What?" I say, confused.

"The fucking bouncer!" he's really pissed. "The one you tried to pick a fight with!"

"Uh." Oh no. What the fuck happened? "Mike. Um. I don't know what you're talking about. Bouncer?"

I think Mike realized at this point that I had no recollection of anything having to do with a bouncer. OMG! The hiccup in time! I entered The Brown-Out Zone.

So Mike goes on to tell me that I was the worst handful of all time. I was a chore to baby sit. The bouncer incident came about because I staggered towards some club and the bouncer told me (well, told my friends) that I wouldn't be allowed in because of my state (could you blame him?). Well apparently I didn't like this. I got in this guys face and tried to start something with him. Luckily he just told my freinds to get me away from him, to which I replied with a witty and slurring "Fuckth u! Why dontchoo go sit ontha pavement!"

Then Mike tells me my "date" wasn't good looking.

The next morning I woke up with the worst hangover ever (even worse than the one I had at the Sistine Chapel--another story, but not nearly as exciting).

I left and went home.

I never returned.

2005-02-07T15:04:00.000-05:00

Quick announcement.

Since I'd really like my site to be as accessible as possible (especially from wherever all of you work) I've decided to try and make my site a little less riske...on the surface. I think what this means is that I am going to get rid of all out nudity on the main page. Now, if the post contains some eye candy, I'll make sure you'll be able to tell AND be able to choose to look at it from where you are, rather than have to be greeted by it.

Please understand. I do not do this for those that may be offended by a set of boobies. I do not do it to piss anyone off that really loves looking at boobies. I do it because I care.

Fret not, the boobies will still be here true believers.

2005-02-06T01:55:00.000-05:00

Young love with Marie Lalka

So I spent part of tonight watching 'Napoleon Dynamite' and let me just say that it was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I felt like I was watching a four hour epic that tried to hide all of the cliche, predictable shit. It's almost like the filmmaker's said "If Napoleon walks around acting the way he does and talking the way he does, no one's going to notice that the movie may as well be 'Angus'." Did Patrick Read Johnson write this shit, too?

Boy Wierdo Outcast (Napoleon) has no social skills and no friends and has never so much as touched another women besides his grandma. Through a series of random occurances he meets a girl, his best friend, learns to dance, and saves the day.

None of the quirky things about the flick saved it for me, either. Napoleon's method of speaking got annoying after the 3rd word. Ditto for his brother, Kip, who had the most horrible lisp ever. The fact that all they ate was steak. The girl's equally weird hobbies which included making little plastic woven keychains and taking glamour shots. The idiot Uncle who thought he could find a time machine on ebay so he could go back and win that high school football game that he obsessed over all through the flick. Pedro's one word responses. Napoleon's obsession with mythical animals, even the one's he made up (the Liger is part tiger, part lion). The witty dialog.

Napoleon to girl: "I caught a delicious bass for you."

Still, the worst thing about this movie was the high school dance scene where Napoleon takes some hot girl he doesn't have a chance with. The girl's mother guilted her into going with him. It's awkward. Shit. Fuck that. The whole movie's awkward. Anyway, they go together and she ditches him there. He's wearing the ugliest suit ever to come from the 1970's. All of a sudden I'm racked with the worst flashback I've ever had. I'm whisked away to a high school dance that was, quite possibly, the worst night of my life.

There I was with Marie Lalka. Metal chick. Metal girl haircut. Lots of hairspray. Bad makeup. She was fucking gorgeous. I knew her from church, but she also went to my school. I was madly in love with her. And she asked ME to the dance!

I was wearing something that my mother dressed me in. And this is not a joke: Light blue slacks. White turtleneck wool sweater that was a size too small. My hair combed to one side. I was fucked from the start.

I was there under the impression she wanted to go with me. That she really liked me. That she found me physically attractive. Yeah. I was completely fucked from the start.

So we go. My parents have to drive. We pick her up. We barely talk in the car. We arrive at the dance. We're there for a little while, walking around. She's saying hello to a few people. I don't have any friends, so I say nothing to no one. But I feel empowered. I'm there with a girl! And she likes me! Right.

So I don't dance. We chit chat about nothing. Then, all of a sudden, the conversation changes. What's happening is amazing. My heart stops. I become as rigid as steel.

"Matt?" she says.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"I need to tell you something." She looked right at me, a little nervous, but with a smile.

"Ok." I say.

"I've had a crush on someone for a long time now, but I'm afraid to say anything to him." She stared me dead in the eyes. I was freaking out so much that I had to turn away. Her look was so intense.

"He's a Sophomore."

OMG! I'm a Sophomore!

"He's got black hair."

OMG! I'VE got black hair! She's talking about me! What the fuck am I going to do?!? Those intense eyes again. I can barely look at her.

"Do you want to know who it is?" she asked. I shrugged in the most uncomfortable way possible. She could see I was anxious.

And then the other shoe dropped.

"It's Jimmy Peters."

I'm not sure what she saw at that moment. Did she actually see my heart explode inside my chest like in 'Alien'? Did she notice all the color drain out of my face? Did she notice that I was no longer breathing? That my skin was cold to the touch? I remember feeling things my body had never felt before. There was severe pain in my stomach not unlike when you've been kicked in the balls really hard, by an elephant. I fought back the urge to cry. I was on the brink of running away like a little girl. Aw man, it was harsh.

The next thing I know she's asking me to dance, obviously not noticing that she had just killed me (I must have been quite the personality before hand). I then did what anyone in position COULD do. I sucked it up and went to dance with her. I may have said I didn't know how but it was a slow song. We walked out on the dance floor where I think she peered around for Jimmy Peters. I'm not sure she saw him of not, but she settled on a spot to dance.

She had broken my heart, yet there I was dancing with her like the bitch I was. What's worse was the song that was playing, and I'll never forget it as long as I live.

'Love Bites' by Def Leppard.

Ah, I love the 80's.

Napoleon Dynamite: 2.5 out of 5 stars.
My Sophomore dance with Marie Lalka: -47 out of 5 stars.
'Love Bites' by Def Leppard: 4 out of 5 stars.

Yes. I know I promised a post about an experience in Ocean City. It's coming.

2005-01-28T16:48:00.000-05:00

Yeah yeah yeah. I haven't posted in a while. I know. I suck. I'm sorry.

I'll have something new up soon.

In the meantime, go visit The Mary Anne Haikus. What I was once behind on, has now been brought up to date. This means that there are over 60 brand new, disgusting haikus for you to read!

I don't think Mary Anne (Dawn Wells from 'Gilligan's Island') likes this bunch too much, but I think they may be the best so far. Be sure to comment and let me know what you think.

Up next: A story about a visit to Ocean City, Maryland (the real OC) somewhere around the summer of 1993. 11 years later I still haven't gone back. Nor do I ever plan to.

2005-01-11T13:48:00.000-05:00

More moments in film that gave me severe stiffies

There I was with my two brothers and Celia and Mimi Ditrani. It was one of those evenings where we were hanging with the kids of the parents my folks were hanging with. But I wasn’t going to complain. The Ditrani girls were cute. Anyway, we were just being the pre-pubescent kids we were (I’m sure I was barely 12) when the girls asked if we’d like to see a movie. We were totally cool with the idea. But what were we going to watch? Star Wars? Indiana Jones? The girls went down a list. We were saying "no" to everything. Finally they ended with 'Trading Places'. According to Celia and Mimi, 'Trading Places' had a couple of "nudities" in it.

Quicker than lightning, the hands of three young boys went up, followed by cheers of delight. 'Trading Places' it was.

This movie made me fall in love with Jamie Lee Curtis for all time. Say what you will. I know about all the hermaphrodite rumors. They don’t phase me. With a rack like that does it even really matter? Fuck, Jamie Lee could whip out a dick bigger than the pecker of John Holmes and smack me with it repeatedly and I’d still be unable to pull myself away from her chest. If there was a top ten list of the greatest bare boobs in cinema, Jamie Lee’s are definitely on it.

I was also immediately stiff by this random girl (above) that sits up on Eddie Murphy's bed as he enters the room. She says some line. All I saw were her cans. I may have drooled, but neither my brothers nor the Ditrani girls said anything.

It wasn’t until I was in my teens that I realized how hilarious 'Trading Places' actually was, but it will always hold a special place in my ~~pants~~ heart for being one of the first movies to excite me so much that I couldn't get up from the couch for a bit. Even after the credits rolled.

Boing!

Hmmm. Maybe I should actually take a poll on "Great Racks in Cinema". Please put your votes in the comments below (or email me). Be sure to include the name of the actress and the movie she appeared topless in. I’ll tally everything together and post results at a later date.

For more Jamie Lee nekkidness from 'Trading Places' click HERE and HERE.

2005-01-11T01:01:00.000-05:00

Today marks two entire years without so much as a drag from a cigarette. I thought this accomplishment was at least worthy of a little four-way sex, but the wife disagrees (although she IS proud of me). Perhaps someone out there can talk to her for me.

Thank you.

2005-01-03T14:08:00.000-05:00

Happy 2005!

A quick announcement to let everyone know that my wife is with child again. This happens because we fuck a lot. It was bound to happen sooner or later. So come late July/early August we'll have yet another little one to nurture and mold and who will ultimately be mortified to even be seen with me in public when he/she turns 12. Of course, please stay tuned as I'm sure some fun pregnancy facts/stories/etc will emerge. All I know is that I'm quite excited that I'm going to have a steady supply of fresh booby milk pretty soon.

And the new baby better share...

2004-12-31T11:23:00.000-05:00

2004-12-25T02:42:00.000-05:00

Christmas Eve 2004

Me, Christina, and the kids all wore matching Christmas jammies. I signed a present to my daughter from "One bad-ass mafuckin elf" (she can't read yet). My sister-in-law and her man gave me a framed version of this which now hangs in the living room for all to see. My mother actually likes it.

Hey. I don't make this shit up.

Merry Christmas, motherfuckers.

2004-12-22T16:39:00.000-05:00

Inspired by the “Top” lists Mr. Dorman has been doing, I give you moments in film that gave me severe stiffies.

So, yeah.

Cat People (1982)

Ah, Nastassja Kinski. There I was at 11 or 12 years old, leafing through every Super TV magazine looking for nudity in the listings and man if her name didn’t come up a lot. I remember asking my parents for permission to watch it (among other movies that also had nudity in the listings) and them giving the ok. I wonder, in retrospect, if they knew exactly WHY I was asking. My parents weren’t stupid.

Anyway, I remember watching and being completely turgid for the whole damn movie. Sick to my stomach turgid. The movie had everything I could have ever dreamed. Horror. Cuss words. A story that involved incest. And lots of nude women! Kinski was so hot. She made so much of an impression on me that I’m sure it contributed to my love of women with short hair.

The movie also had a nude scene by the wonderfully red-headed Annette O’Toole (now doing ‘Smallville’). I loved her complexion and her breasts were so gorgeous.