No! I Don't Like That!

*This post is rated NSFMM (Not Suitable For My Mother!)

So last night I was watching some porn having a jolly ole time by myself. Nothing outrageous, just your standard Female-Male, Female-Female-Male, Female-Female sorta stuff, when I noticed a trend. A disturbing trend among these female porn stars that brought back some just recently buried upsetting memories.

Throughout a lot of the ‘pornorific’ activities these women would ask a substantial amount of rhetorical questions to their partner during the act.

Questions like:

“You like that?”

“You like this pussy?”

“Who’s pussy is this?”

“You like when I play with your balls while I perform this reverse cowgirl maneuver?”

Why? Why are such questions being asked?

The reason this brought up some worrying memories for me is because my ex used to do the same thing… and I hated it!

Firstly, I wasn’t sure if I was actually expected to answer these questions. Secondly, if I do succumb to this form of interrogation, should I be honest? Suppose ‘I really don’t like that,’ is this the most appropriate moment where honesty should be the best policy?

All this is just too much for me. Now I’m not saying I like quiet sex. Hell No! That’s just creepy, but I much prefer statements and/or noises than questions.

I don’t mind hearing:

“Oh Yeah!”

“Fuck Yeah!”

“Oh My God!”

“This is the most intense 90 seconds of my life!”

Statements along these lines, coupled with noises and moans are very much welcomed. Just no questions please. The last thing I want to be concerned about while my hip bone is being shattered from an extreme riding session is the possibility of a pop quiz. This is sex, not Jeopardy!

“Alex I’ll take ‘Shut The fuck Up!’ for 300 please”

“And the answer is: Yes I like that!”

“Oh, I know this one Alex. Is the question: Do You Like That?”

So to the ladies out there, is this a popular trend? Do you all ask such ridiculous rhetorical questions during sex? And if so, how does your significant other feel about this?

To the men out there, are you guys comfortable with such line of questioning? Or is this just me being weird again?

Falling Off the Grid

Do you ever wish you could just fall off the grid?

You know, like Jason Bourne.

Sometimes I just wish I could erase every trace of documented credential that makes up my identity and just fall off the grid. I wish my birth certificate, driver’s license, any ID cards, credit cards, library card, and any other document, or representation of such documents could just be destroyed. Permanently and completely destroyed. I wish I could be expunged from all government, and even private sector records, so that there is no paper trail that I am even real. In the eyes of bureaucracy I would have never even existed.

Then I would be able to pack up just the minimal amount of things I need to survive and leave for some quiet town where nobody knows me. I’d live a life like Dr. David “Bruce” Banner, and when I’m hitchhiking on the highways I’ll hear the ending music theme from The Incredible Hulk TV series in my head.

I may think about getting a dog as my wandering companion, but as much as I truly love dogs I can’t handle having another mouth to feed. Plus if the dog dies before me I’ll cry, and crying will remind me of regular human emotions and the need for humans to have companions and be social. That’s a reminder that a true, cold wandering hermit cannot have.

I would hop on a moving stem cargo train like a hobo, and hop off in some quaint remote rural town. In a very nonthreatening manner I would stroll into this new town and try to settle and blend in with the locals.

After living there for just a few days maybe a local girl may fall for me because I’m this new mysterious face about the township, and she’s just yearning for something or someone to come along and break her out of the monotony of her rural, routine lifestyle. And although I may be tempted to let her in on my secret I won’t. I can’t… and I’ll need to remember that. She’s just a pretty face and probably won’t be able to handle the truth. She may attempt to take a picture of me, but I’ll destroy the memory card (or 35mm film or Polaroid depending on the type of camera) when she’s not looking. I can’t have any evidence lingering around that I was here. I’ll be such an intriguing puzzle to her, and everyone else.

I’ll probably have to get a job in the local grocery store on Main Street as the inventory/shelf packer guy. The store owner will know that I’m too smart for this job, but he’ll let me do it anyway because he could tell I’m running from something. Oh, that intuitive shop owner sure can tell, but he knows it’ll be the best for me. I could say my name is Cecil, just because I think Cecil is a hilarious name, and no one will ever know the truth. I’ll go with Cecil J. Houndstooth, and the ‘J’ in my middle name would stand for Jay. I’ll asked to be paid in cash – small bills please – and proposition the store owner if I could just crash in the back room for a while… till I get my own place of course.

But you see, the thing is, I’ll never get my own place. Because my true intentions are just to stay there for a short time. Just to stay long enough for the locals to only begin to get used to me. Even mean Jimbo, the local mechanic, who hated me ever since I rolled into town would begin to warm up to me. But before Jimbo would ever get the chance to apologize for sucker punching me during that town picnic a few days ago, I’ll be gone. In the dead of the night I’ll pack up my minimal amount of things and skip town. Off on another journey, to another town. To another place where I could once again rename myself, maybe Hector B. Dover, this time. The B would stand for Ben. And I’ll start the process all over again.

That life would be the best thing ever if it were so easy to do. Oh, how I wish I could just escape like that.

Sadly I can’t. I’m in the system. I’m very much in the system. I can be so easily tracked. Creditors and the IRS will be feverishly hunting me down to collect on their debts that I have abandoned. I won’t be able to call my friends and family because obviously I also had to discard my cell phone. And only after throwing away my cell phone will I realize that I don’t remember anyone’s number – because who even remembers a phone number anymore after it’s in the contacts’ list. Plus, even if I remember a number and use a pay phone, the government will have all my friends and family’s phones tapped waiting for me to make that call so they can pinpoint my location. I’ll also have to start wearing hats and not looking up at the sky so that the satellites won’t be able to do face recognition on me (yes I’ve thought of all this). I’ll also have to abandon all the Internet presence that I have created that still links to my current identity, like my email accounts, my facebook, my youtube account, even this blog.

*Sigh!*

It’s just too much.

So as much as I would like to fall off the grid like Jason Bourne, roam around like Dr. Banner, escape this modern lifestyle and live the life of an isolated wanderer, I don’t know if it will be worth all the hassle… because I really love dogs and would like to have another one day.

A Dude Convo...

Sometimes, those that I call friends really crack me the fuck up!

So I was online, on gchat just being bored when my boy Francois came online. We started just talking shit or whatever, then the conversation continued as follows:

Francois: oh cool
i gonna start biking to school starting monday

me: lol

Francois: lol
need to get back in shape

me: round is a shape
lol
dude i gotta go shit
haha

Francois: i am on the toilet now
shitting too

me: hahaha
lolololololol

Francois: use a laptop!
Lololol

: :: It is at this point I received an email from him with the following pic attached :: :

me: wql;wjklbv;kjvjvkf
fvllkjnaflkjnabnafb
hahahahahahahahahha
hahhaahahhahahahaha

Francois: hahahahaha

me: ;aoidfihvo'wh'ihfb
\hahahahahaahahahahahah

Francois: you can put that on your blog!
it s not copyrighted!

me: hahahaha\
i will
i'll block out your eyes for anonymity
lol

Francois: hahahah
i just sent tht to my mum
she is in the living room
she is cracking up now

me: hahahahah

~End Convo~

This is a conversation only true dude friends can have. Damn, I have the coolest friends!

To the Naysayers…

…I rode my effin’ bike to work today!

First off, I’d like to thank my mom for believing in me… she always knew I could do it. She told me to wear a helmet, but I decided against it… sorry mom!

I’ll also like to thank Sassy for incessantly making me feel like a lazy piece of shit by always talking about how much she rides to work, and works out, and hikes and eats so well, yada, yada, yada… Whatcha gotta say now Miss Sassy Pants!

I’ll also like to give a special thank you to the Sports Authority store across the street for selling me that sweet, old school pump yesterday… couldn’t have done it without you guys.

I wanna also thank the Baltimore County roads department or whoever, for providing me with smooth, paved roads, with side walks to ride on. You guys do a much better job here in the county than in the city.

Oh, my… I feel like I’m forgetting so many people here.

Oh of course… the Bloggers! Thank you all for rallying support with your comments and helping me Reignite my Love Affair with my bicycle.

And to all the naysayers and haters, who thought I’d never do it, I wanna especially thank you bastards too. You gave me the inspiration to prove you wrong, you sons-o-beeotches!

: :: The Wrap-Up Music Begins to Play:: :

Oh damn! They’re playing the ‘get the hell off the stage’ music, I gotta wrap this up. I’m just so happy I was able to pull this off today. It means a lot to me.

: :: The Wrap-Up Music Gets Louder:: :

And before I leave, I just want to leave you all with some action shots I took while riding this morning.

Thank you… thank you all once again!

: :: I Give My Bike a Kiss… Point Up to the Sky… and Ride off the Stage with Immense Pride:: :

Don't Burst a Brain Cell... Don't Strain a Heart Muscle

Within a few days after Bee and I had our first date, and maybe a week or so prior to me officially introducing her to my blog, I wrote the following blog entry. I wrote it out, and immediately after writing it I decided I wouldn’t post it. Why? Because I read and re-read it and it felt like an out of body experience. It was, and is, most definitely me and my true feelings and words, but because I haven’t felt like this in like… ever, I was afraid to admit it to the “world”… even though this “world” is mostly made up of people I don’t actually know in real life. Well I no longer have that fear. Bee and I are still in a very young stage, but I’m very certain as to how I feel about her… and I am more than willing to shout it out (or in this case type it out) to whoever wishes to lend an ear.

So without further ado:

---

Run for Your Life OR Stand for What You Believe

One of my best friends, Amber, says that I’m a runner when it comes to the opposite sex. What she means is that, I don’t give people I meet much of a chance, or when I seem to do give them a chance, I revoke that chance over “stupid” things. To an extent she’s very right. However in my own defense I must say, “I know what I want, I know what I could tolerate and I know what I can’t put up with”… and I turn in the other direction and run away quickly when I see traits that I know I can’t put up with. It’s something I’m working on.

There needs to be a balance. There must be a middle ground in between being extremely open and accepting to everything someone throws out at you, and the other extreme of running away at the slightest glimpse of anything potentially questionable. I’m hoping to find that happy medium, but it’s hard for me.

I am such a double edged sword. Due to the nature of my work, my mild OCD and the role I play as a friend and advisor to many people, I am very calculating, meticulous, methodological, practical, rational, and in a few instances, I’ve even been labeled as cold, heartless and withdrawn from emotional reactions. This is all true.

Conversely, there is another side of me that has been molded by past relationships, close friends, family, writing, painting, music and solitude that has bred an incredibly emotional creature. This emotional side isn’t hidden, because those who are close to me and know me well have seen and experienced this in some way, shape or form. When I do pour my emotions into someone, it’s tremendously intense. I’m an advocate for romance and a campaigner for affection.

This level of personality duplicity is usually under control. I do an extremely good job at compartmentalizing… the two sides for the most part remain separate… for the most part.

For the past few weeks I’ve been keeping a secret from my blog… I’ve been “talking” to someone… a lot. Let’s call her “Bee”… ‘cause she’s always as busy as one.

Since I started talking to Bee, I’ve been giving my homie Amber the inside scoop of what’s going on. It was very easy for her to tell that I really and truly like this girl… a lot. Amber said that I had a glow on my face when Bee and I texted each other back and forth for like 3 hours just talking about dorky, silly stuff. Amber has been happy for me… but Amber knows me. She knew I would start to plant seeds of doubt in my own mind, and begin to make excuses and try to make subtle attempts at sabotaging my emotions.

So this is what happened. Bee and I went out. I had a great time with her. Being around her feels superb, yet natural, comfortable and organic. There is no reason, neither any incentive for me to not be me when I’m with her. We have fun together. I was smiling and laughing throughout 87.569% of the date, and I think it was the same for her too. Well except for the 30 minutes she wasn’t allowed to speak because I jinxed her since we said a word at the same time. BTW – on a somewhat unrelated note, aren’t the rules for the jinx game that the person isn’t allowed to speak until one person says their name 3 times? Therefore, just because I said her name one time, that doesn’t mean one of her girl friends just has to say it two more times to un-jinx her right?! Yeah, she did that. I call shenanigans!

Okay, where was I? Oh, the date! All in all, it was a great, but Aaron being Aaron started to scare himself. I started to make subtle attempts at sabotaging my emotions. Why? Because I like her… a lot. You see usually at this point, or even way before this point, I’m running away. I’ve already seen, heard or experienced something about the other person that makes me pack up and hit the road. But not with Bee. I don’t want to run. I have no inclination to. There is no natural jaded cynicism ready to take over (which is usually the case). For the first time in a very very very long time, I’m thinking positively… and this positive vibration is happening naturally… and in turn, that scares me. Does that make sense?

I don’t want to run because of how strongly I feel about her, but I’m now afraid of the consequences of standing my ground. I’m afraid that my feelings for her are being blown way out of proportion, way too soon. I’m afraid that what I see in her, she doesn’t see in me. I’m afraid of admitting any of this to her. I’m afraid she runs away from me.

However at the same time, I believe she’s worth the risk of standing my ground for; I believe my emotions are perfectly justified at this point because she’s amazing; I believe that even if she doesn’t see in me what I see in her, just the opportunity I got to temporarily exist in optimism is value enough; I believe that even if I make her aware of all this and she runs, that at least I know I still have the capacity to feel like this about someone… a capacity I thought I lost a long time ago.

My brain isn’t doing a good job at compartmentalizing this one. My mind gives her a lot of attention… so does the proverbial heart.

---

So that was it. That was how I felt. There’s no way anyone can predict the future. What Bee and I have can all come crumbling down tomorrow, because as they say anything can happen… but that’s the beauty of it for me. Anything can happen… and where we are now, who we are and from what I can foresee, I truly believe that the odds are in our favor.

Ladies Meet Dimitri The Stud

So this file has been floating around the Inter-Webs for the past couple weeks, and I found it HILARIOUS!

So here's the back story. Olga was out with friends having drinks. Dimitri approaches her and won't leave her alone - saying how cute she is. She finally gives in and hands the guy her business card. Dumb idea! The player below plays TWO voicemails this guy left her. Turn your speakers up... Press Play... and try not to gag as you listen....

These are the dudes that give my penis race a bad rap - sheeesh!

Brought To You By The Letters F & U

It was such a pleasant surprise when I saw The One and Only, Cookie Monster make an appearance on Sesame Street a couple weeks ago on the Colbert Report. My heart skipped a beat or three in pure excitement and jubilation. See anyone who knows me, knows that I’m a HUGE fan of Sesame Street… ole school Sesame Street though.

That’s why, mere nanoseconds and moments later, the words that exited Cookie Monster’s mouth sounded like finger nails screeching down a chalk board. It was a dagger through the heart. Cookie Monster professed that he no longer eats cookies!

WTF?!?!?!

Yes. That right. That bastard has given up the cookie dough goodness… and for what? Fruits! Fucking Fruits! Now this is some bullshit!

I was livid… irate… bubbling with anger and confusion. How could this be? What the hell is happening on the Streets of Sesame?!

Apparently American kids are just so obese, or maybe just easily led astray by furry, fuzzy, blue, googly-eyed monsters, that they had to alter The C-Mon’s diet to fruits. Couldn’t they have just created a new, effeminate, fruit eating monster, aptly named Banana Hammock or something, to fill the role of healthy eating? Why did they have to screw with an icon like that?! And if the bag of dicks that made this decision truly believed that The C-Mon was the problem, they’re wrong. Cookie Monster wasn’t the one importing all those delicious cookies onto the Streets of Sesame. That Monster was just a user… a pawn in an elaborate cookie peddling scheme. He was at the bottom of the Cookie Pushing ladder. They should’ve gone after the ones who were bringing that cookie-dough-crack into the community… I never did trust that Maria. She seems like a smuggler.

No but seriously. I haven’t watched Sesame Street in ages so I really wasn’t aware of all the changes they’ve made. Like I said, I’m only a supporter of the ole school, 70’s, 80’s to early 90’s Sesame Street. You know the days when Mr. Harold Hooper was still in our memories. And if you’re too young to know who Mr. Hooper is, or don’t know of Mr. Hooper’s Store, then it’s your generation that has fucked up Sesame Street for the rest of us.

The last time I stumbled upon Sesame Street I saw that the show wasn’t even about the Street anymore. The majority of the show was centered ‘round that giggling, red-wooly, no talent hack, bastard* Elmo. Who tha fuck died and made this jolly prick King?! The last time I checked, back in my day when Sesame Street was still all the rage, Kermit the Frog was King. He was the main attraction. That amphibian ruled the Streets with a green, gangly iron fist. Everyone there was just Kermit’s bitch. He wasn’t an overly hyper, attention seeking, merchandising sellout, camera whore…. Elmo!!! Kermit was cooler than the other side of the pillow… too cool for Sesame Street as a matter of fact, thus he just chillaxed in a swamp… sipping on mojitos. And Kermit was up to his froggy neck in all sorts of adventurous shenanigans in the 80’s and 90’s (see Muppet Movies). Where’s your blockbuster feature film Elmo? Oh… that’s what I thought… amateur! And don’t forget that Kermit was smooth with the ladies. Ms. Piggy was all over his shit for like… forever. But the Kermiester was just too playa to settle down. Elmo, where are your ladies? Oh… that’s what I thought… lame-ass! Also, Kermit the Frog did the Sesame Street News Flash skits… this genius amphibian read the goddamn news too! Lemme see Elmo do that shit! He can’t! Why? Because he could barely even speak and form proper sentences… constantly speaking in the third person and all! Sheesh!

With all this unnecessary change I’m afraid to gaze my eyes and lend my ears to any recent episodes of Sesame Street. I’m afraid that I’ll tune in and see that Snuffleupagus will no longer be depressed because the producers thought it’d be a great idea to treat him with Zoloft. I’m afraid that I won’t see Oscar the Grouch in a trash can anymore because the “suits” thought he perpetuated and glorified the homeless lifestyle, and thus they cleaned him up and moved him into a penthouse suite at the top of #123 Sesame Street Apartment Building (yes that is the real address… I kid you not). I’m afraid that I will no longer see Ernie and Bert sharing a small, basement, studio apartment anymore because some homophobic executive thought that their living situation was “sending the wrong message” to our kids. I’m afraid that there may be some characters that are now lost and forgotten, with their memories being reduced to pictures plastered at the side of milk cartons like my furry ole pal Grover, America’s favorite game show host Guy Smiley, The Amazing Mumford (beat that David Blaine), Barkley, Telly Monster, and classic segments like Teeny Little Super Guy.

I swear to you, I truly believe that Jim Henson is rolling in his grave. The man had a vision. A vision that is probably now diluted and weakened by our modern day society. I’m a simple man. A simple man who just wants his old school, childhood goodness to remain classics and not be fucked with. I just want to see that furry, fuzzy, blue, googly-eyed monster hop back on the wagon (or is it fall off the wagon?), and begin overdosing on Cookies again.

*What’s up with me and calling puppets bastards?!