A Manly Blank

So I'm sitting here blank again.



It's odd. I change my life routine and all of a sudden I get writer's block. I can't think of shit to write.



Maybe I should write about happy things. Things that make me smile.



Maybe describing the colors of a rainbow.



Or maybe magical fairies.



Oh wait. Bad idea. Man, that was so gay.



OK, time for some anti-gay karma. Maybe I should think of stuff like Movies for Guys Who Like Movies. Tough guys stuff. That should make me manly.



Maybe I could put together some kind of special group of tough guys. These guys would represent all that is testosterone and sweat.

We could start with a burly construction worker.



Add in a cowboy. Cowboys like William Muny rule.



We should include a cop. To serve and protect. It's a tough job.



A noble savage would match too.



Oh oh. And a rough and tough marine.



And a biker. Can't get more male than a biker.



Put them all together and you'd have the dream team all-star lineup of men, right?



Shit. Guess I missed on that one.

Let me try this again.

Let's take Blade, the vampire killer.



Add in Dalton from Roadhouse.



And the drug lord, Victor Rosa.



We're surely to get a hairy-chested macho movie, right?



DAMMIT!

OK, one last try.

Mad Max, the post-apocalyptic Road Warrior. Drives a souped up car and beats the crap out of mohawked bad guys.



Also shaves his legs and waxes.



FUDGE!

I give up.

Reorienting my TV

One thing I really enjoyed when I visited Japan was all the cool commercials on tv. So now I'm sitting here watching YouTube again.

Couldn't use a pic in my comment so...

Anonymous said...

Hmmmm... you didn't give us the difference between circumcised and uncircumcised.

Besides, I have always been told, measure a man's hand from tip of the thumb to tip of the pinkie, that is diameter, and yes, shoe size does tell all.

True?

*****

Dear Anon,

Yes, it is all true. This is why Avatar from the movie Wizards got to screw the fairy princess, Elinore. Check out his honking big hands and feet.

The Excitement is Coming!

Wow, over five days of not writing. I'm actually surprised I couldn't think of a suitable topic in a whole week. However, since I owe it to my devoted fan (singular), I better write something.

I couldn't be creative this week since I changed my exercise routine to get rid of this spare tire of mine.



But then I remembered how my last car had four flats, so I decided to keep the spare tire. Instead, I will work on my love handles. I feel odd calling them love handles since I don't have a significant other. Hint hint. If anyone is willing to take the job, I'm offering minimum wage plus tips and a 401K. The only prerequisite is you have to own a live hole.



Anyway...

Since I can't think of a good topic, I will fall back on a sure-fire subject that everyone of all ages can enjoy. Penises!

Yeah, being a tiny wanker does effect the psyche. It lowers your self esteem.



It gets even worse when you hear girls giggle about the size of a normal man's peepee. Then you start to compare yourself with other men. Unfortunately, the only other men you can find to compare yourself to are buff, Hollywood types. I'm like sooo sure I'm way more hunky than Vin Diesel.

The problem with lying to yourself is that it doesn't take long to figure out it's a lie.



OK, time to be jerked back to reality. I don't want to make a mountain out of a molehill, so I'll just stop beating around the bush. This story has a happy ending.



It's a short story, so bare with me.

The other day I was hanging around, just playing with my balls when I saw a commercial for a male enhancement drug.



I sprung up to attention like a dog in heat. I was so excited by the news I was bursting at the seams. I could barely contain myself. I grabbed a knob and exited my room. I needed to take stock of the situation and size things up.

Here's where I stood. Disappointing start, but things could only go up up up.



Now I knew where I measured up, and I stroked my hands with glee. Soon I would be as happy and glowing as the Enzyte man. Once I finished the treatment, I would be so confident that I would be able to sow the seeds of joy a long way across the land. Women would love me and erect a statue in my honor.



I started the treatment. It involved swallowing a lot of sticky fluids, but I had the fortitude to handle any testes thrown my way.

The treatment included not only drugs, but exercise as well. There was a lot of pumping up and down, and some Greek based calisthenics. Butt I could take it all in. I'm sure it wouldn't be too long. Knock on wood.



Then the day finally came. The moment of climax. I looked in the mirror to check the length and breadth of the event. I almost prematurely declared victory, but then I got my head back straight. Taking matters in my own hands, I engorged myself in the moment.



YES! Victory! The added bulk and girth to my anatomy really allowed me to stroke my own ego. I was brimming with self confidence.



No longer would I be considered small and insignificant. I was a giant! I was a man of great talent. Head above the rest. Tears of joy squirted from my orifices. I was a winner! Cocksure and headstrong.



Unfortunately, no one would get to see how well endowed I was. I guess sometimes you win some and sometimes you lose some. I have a big, fat cock, so I don't care. nanny nanny boo boo.

And that's the long and short of it.


***No one-eyed monsters were hurt or beaten during the making of this blog

****hehe just yanking ya. Turns out a few sheep were hit in their brown eyes.


Oh,




and



by the way






This blog is not work safe. Haha caught you, sucker. Don't be hard on yourself. You couldn't see it coming.

In Response to the Critics

Just for the record, I'm not gay. However, it's been so long since I had a relationship, I will consider homosexuality a plan B.

This reminds me of a true story:

One day, several years ago, I found myself shopping in Border's Books.



I picked up a few DVDs and magazines and proceeded to the queue.



Hark! Lo and behold, there was a very sexy girl at one of the registers. Mmmmm boy.



I sweated bullets while I counted the people standing before me in the queue. Would I be lucky enough to get the cutie's register? Would I have the guts to say anything? I basically panicked like any geek should.



Yes! I'm the next person in line. I'm going to be helped next, and the pretty girl is about to finish her sale. I am a WINNER!



"Can I help the next person in line," the girl said in a sweet, baritone voice. Baritone? Huh? I stepped up and took a closer look. Egads!



I was checking out a guy!

Kids Say the Darndest Things

Those little phuckers...

This is the kind of stuff I have to put up with at work:

Over the weekend, I thought about changing my wardrobe. I looked into the possibility of wearing long-sleeve dress shirts and possibly ties. I figured it would really throw the kids for a loop, and it would also make me look like the professional I pretend to be. Luckily I decided to forgo the tie. It gets really, really hot where I work.



So I walk into school wearing my black Dockers and a light blue dress shirt. Every single kid I passed had the same question.

"Are you going to a funeral?"



Out here in the toenail of the United States, the number one occasion for dressing up is a funeral. It's normally too hot to wear dress shirts unless you work in air conditioned heaven all day. Even the government officials and politicians wear aloha wear.

The other day some girls were talking about who they liked during recess. I try to pay attention to these things for three reasons. One, it helps you deal with social problems if you know who likes who. Two, the kids build a better relationship with you if you show interest in their lives. And three, I'm just plain nosy.

Girl: Hey Mr. Nonwheezer. You're always asking about who we like, but you don't seem to be interested in getting a girlfriend.

Mr. Nonwheezer: Actually I am interested. It's just that girls aren't interested in me.

Boy: Of course girls would be interested in Mr. Nonwheezer. He has a motorcycle. If I had a motorcycle, I would be checking out all the chicks.

Mr. Nonwheezer: You do realize that all the girls around me are thirteen, right?

Boy: SO?

Girl: We're 12.

Mr. Nonwheezer: sigh...



Today I was giving directions on making bibliographies. I had been speaking a lot that day, so I may not have been speaking as clear as I normally do.

A girl in the front said, "Hey Mr. Nonwheezer. You sound gay when you talk like that."

sigh...



The other day in computer class, I was describing parts of the computer and passing around hardware samples. A kid asked, "is it ok to lick the circuit boards?"



This week my grades were due. I explained to the kids the grading system I used. Of course I joked about it at first saying that my favorite students got A's.

"Except this girl. This girl is not one of my favorites, yet she still got an A. However, she has the capability to become one of my greatest students. But right now she's like Darth Vader..." I was cut off before I could finish.

The girl I was speaking about asked rather abruptly, "who the fuck is Darth Vader?"

"Darth Vader! I mean, come on. Darth Vader! Star Wars? Back in the 70s there were huge lines to see the first movie? Hello?"

A smart alec boy responded with a smug voice, "you mean the FOURTH movie."

...



Mr. Nonwheezer: OK kids, this here is a flash drive. This is my personal flash drive, so don't break it. You break it, you have to buy me a new one. They're really expensive. I think this one would be about $19 now."

Boy: Nineteen dollars isn't that much. But then again, with the size of your paycheck, $19 would be expensive.

Mr. Nonwheezer: gee. thanks...



The funny thing is that all of this happened in one week. While teaching can really suck, with the stupid paperwork, the ridiculous laws, the unrealistic expectations, the low pay, etc, it's these little gems that keep the job interesting. I don't think you'll find as many candid little quips in any other job.

And how can you not get a kick out of teaching when a girl digs through your desk to find your toy stash then shouts across the room, "Mr. Nonwheezer, can I play with your balls?"

Satoshi: 05 Yamaha R6

Following Satoshi's R6 up Waimea Canyon, Kauai.

He's Making a List; Checking it Twice

I've been had. Yup. I've been hornswaggled. I can't believe it took me this long to figure out the conspiracy.

For a long time now I've been getting down on myself. This usually happens when I'm lonely. I try to figure out a reason why my luck with the fairer (though more devious) sex really sucks and I start to nitpick on all my shortcomings. Then usually someone comes over and blows air up my ass. They give me a bunch of false compliments to boost my morale. Of course, I'm so starved for attention, I buy everything hook, line, and sinker.

How bad can my love life be? I asked a girl out once and she turned into a lesbian.

Now someone of my superior intellect can only be duped for so long. (15 years) I was bound to figure it all out. I happened upon an article on building self esteem on athealth.com. There was a suggestion in the article to make a list of your positive attributes and stuff. So I spent a few hours going over the things I possess that could be a positive with the vaginal sex. It wasn't a long list.

OK, here is the list. I removed anything not uncommon. The list should consist of things almost-sort-of-kinda unique to me. Therefore, ten fingers, ten toes was removed.

1: I have broadband. YouTube and porn at light speeds.



2: I own a sports camcorder. It's a nifty video camera that fits in your pocket.



C: I own an economy sportbike. Yeah, it's not the top model, but most girls are too stupid to know that.



D: I have an external DVD burner that lets me transfer a bunch of computer videos onto disk. It comes in handy for watching Jdramas.



V: I have a job. A real job that requires college degrees and special licenses. I don't make much money though, so any future brides cannot be whores.



VV: I own a Yaris. Hopefully the same dumb chicks that think SVs are cool will not notice how cheap I am.



X: I own a pair of black leather jeans. They're a motorcycle type of jeans, but they almost got me a callback for the part of the biker guy in a 70's boy band.



Twelvely: I have a ton of DVDs. I have US, Japan, Hong Kong, and Korean releases. I also have the player to play them.



Thirteenish: I have Love Actually and Flash Gordon on VHS.



One Million Dollars: I own a dress. It was for Halloween, I swear. I've never used it to go to the nightclub on a Friday night in order to try and pick up guys so drunk they would have sex with anything. Promise.



12345: I also have a kung fu outfit. My secret kung fu identity is Sum Dum Gai.



3.14159: I have a trumpet. I don't mean to blow my own horn, but I used to be pretty not bad with it in high school. But back then, I was still cute enough to get girlfriends, and I didn't need a trumpet. Or a list. Stupid list.



24/7: I have scars. Not just the wonderful acne scars to remind me of my bad skin, but also battle scars. I have a scar from a gash I received while playing sword fighting when I was a kid. I also have scars on my elbows because I suck at riding bikes. There's also a big one on my knee from a tumor I once had. Even the tumor couldn't stand to be with me and left.



525,600: Helmet ears. Um. Yeah. Ears.



And that's my list. Impressive, eh?

Now looking over this list, I can see for a fact that those compliments people gave me were nothing but lies. Nothing on this list will get me some play except for the broadband. Chicks dig high download speeds. I think I will sue my so-called "friends," for infamation of character. Like that? I made that up. Instead of maliciously destroying my reputation, they've been maliciously trying to bolster it. Those jerks.

Sigh. I hate athealth.com. The list thing really backfired. I'm not feeling much self esteemed at the moment.

You know what? Screw the list. Screw possessions. I will win the heart of a lady with my charm and good looks. Any women interested? Here's my pic: