Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Meet these awesomeousness people

Eliza Deangeles!!!!!!!

Faith Willman!!!!!!/profile.php?id=501313465

The totally awesome fucking cool ass funny babeousness hell yeah co hosts of

OK, intriguing: HELL YEAH

Soft launching in a week and a half.

The Magical Questionnaire will be hitting this very spot within days.

Fuck yeah!!!

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

"Cutting off a penis can be fatal."

For a fleeting moment I was glad I didn't get my penis anywhere near a girl till I was was comfortably not a teen

AN Indonesian teenager chopped off his penis and tossed it down a well after learning his girlfriend intended to marry another man.
The 19-year-old from a village in Central Java was lucky to survive the self surgery, health authorities said.
"He arrived at the hospital last Thursday in critical condition from blood loss," Cilacap General Hospital Director Sugeng Budi Susanto told local media.
"Cutting off a penis can be fatal."
Doctors were unable to re-attach the dismembered member because villagers could not find it.
The teen spent several days in intensive care but is now in recovery, Mr Sugeng said.
He had not spoken to anyone about the incident, Mr Sugeng said.
"He's still too shocked and embarrassed to talk to or see anyone."

Monday, March 29, 2010

Tell em they're dreaming!!!!!

After an excellent night thinking lasers the other night I had a dream that I was on a reality dating show which took place on a boat only I fell for the cute sound girl instead of the contestant girls which wasn't really what the show was designed for. When I woke up I discovered I had sleep walk emailed my ex to deal her I missed what we had.

I think my sub-conscience was trying to tell me one of three things

1. I'd like to meet a pretty, cute, hell yeah, creative, fun awesomenessous, girl some time soon

2. 'We have seven shiny pennies, and if we don't do something about this soon we're going to die' would be an awesome catch phrase for a sitcom character


3. Dressing up as a zoo animal is not a good way to get your point across that street lights flickering are WAY cooler than fake fire. Stupid giraffes.

Not sure which one is right, but I'll get to the bottom of this, fuck yeah I'll make it happen

Friday, March 19, 2010

A recent experience I had

I was playing tennis recently.

Hell yeah I was playing tennis, I was ripping forehands so hard they could kill an Ox, you know because of the weak breast plates Ox have which make them prone to dying from being hit in the chest with an item made of rubber and covered in yellow fluff.

So I am tennising, and doing tennis like stuff, and getting my tennis on, and rocking the sport sometimes known as tennis, and then just by chance a fucking OX walked on the court. I know! What were the chances? The very animal that I knew I could kill by hitting them with the very ball I had in my hand! I know!

So I freak the fuck out, because this is an indoor tennis court, in Manhattan New York, and Ox are not native to Manhattan, or even the outer Boroughs! So something was now plainly clear to me, while I was playing tennis, and playing it fucking well as I may have already mentioned, clearly animals had taken over the fucking world! I know! (Is something Craig Ferguson often says that I wish I could stop stealing!)

The animals were in control now. It had happened, the very thing we all feared, which explains why we put them in jails called zoos, and I had to make a decision, either accept my fate and become the pet of a rabies ridden racoon, or fight back!

I am no fucking pet, so I decided to fight back. I looked around to see what I had in weaponry. A tennis racket – good, hard, yet with a bouncy side, good for hitting flying animals like birds, butterflies and Moose with birds glued to them! Three tennis balls – Wilson brand, good they maintain strength way better than Spaulding, although Spaulding maintain yellowness way better than Wilson, which is why they use them in tournaments, because TV requires hell yeah solid yellowness which maintains said yellowness for a hell yeah long time. That’s right, they worry about the audience at home’s enjoyment of the colour yellow way more than the quality of the game of tennis which is taking place in the tournament – damn you entertainment medium I enjoy immensely! (Little known fact: Spaulding isn’t actually a brand of tennis ball, I think).

So the world’s been taken over by animals, and I have three tennis balls to protect men, so I try to pocket them all, and it’s nothing short of a fucking disaster. That’s right, only two fit in my pocket! Holy fuck!

I had a fucking HUGE decision to make. Do I hold one ball in my hand or SACRIFICE a ball. The same question which has plagued mankind since some wise ass first nicknamed the testicular region ‘balls’ that filthy minded cunt.

Of course I needed this spare hand to dispose of the grenades the animal army was bound to throw at me. Then again I needed the tennis ball, I only had a tiny supply of weapons and giving one up at this time was nothing short of madness.

I sat down to think. More than think I fucking CONTEMPLATED! That’s some hard core brain activity dealy.

I was so deep in thought as a matter of fact, deep like a discarded mind shaft that is really fucking deep that someone once chucked a dead dog in, irony? Hell yeah it is! Deep I was, in that thought process humans do, so much that I totally missed it as the worlds foremost Ox wrangler, Billy – the Ox wrangler (yeah right, like I need to make introduction, he’s so famous if your reading this you’ve probably fucked him, and you were probably so overwhelmed that you don’t even remember, that’s right next time someone asks you ‘so like, I hate to pry and that, but um, um, um, you know, like, um, how many people have you, um, um, um, you know, had sexy naked time with he he he he he’ you better add one to your list, because you probably HAVE fucked Billy – the Ox wrangler (that IS his legal name).

Billy – The Ox wrangler came onto the court as I sat in deep CONTEMPLATION over whether the discard a tennis ball or hold the tennis ball and risk being blown up by a grenade a frog threw at me, and you better believe he wrangled that fucking Ox, and sometime after this I was ABRUPTLY (that implies an element of surprise, in case you were wondering about what I meant by my use of the word abruptly, although I used it in caps before which means it was also STARTLING!)

‘Are you fucking listening my tennis opponent type person’ someone was yelling at me. (I think some tennis playing tool?)

‘Who?’ I replied.

That’s fucking right, hell yeah the world had been taken over by fucking animals, and I STILL maintained by amazing, yet underappreciated sense of humour, I am that fucking good

‘It’s your fucking serve’ he yelled at me, in my contemplation I forgot I had been playing tennis with another person who was still here, that’s what contemplation does to people!

‘Animals have taken over the fucking world’ I screamed back at him

Then for some unknown reason he walked away shaking his head. Are you mad, we may be the only two humans left free from the animal slaughter, we must stay together, alone we are sure to be eaten by ravenous prairie dogs.

Now here is where things get weird. I got all my strength and hope in a bowl of mind cereal I call courage and made the decision to walk outside of the tennis club, and face the animals once and for all, and it turned out that animals HADN’T taken over the world. What were the fucking odds?

In fact some ass had just brought an Ox to a tennis club (if he had brought as Ass instead of an Ox this last sentence may have been ironic, but it ISN’T – I know!)

So people reading this now, I implore you, if you too are still in hiding, fearing the animals have taken over the world, as I was for three weeks in this surprisingly underutilized tennis club, before I got that mind cereal dealy, it’s ok to leave. Trust me. People still keep pets like dogs which have been known to shit in their beds, but apparently that’s ok!

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

It's me, as a PILL!!!!!!

Check me out, I am available to be sucked on or to give advice in this voice for a fee :)

Awesomnessous and suicide watch

What happens when you take a borderline legally insane Australian, an English singer of an all girl rock band, an American actress and comedian, with a Canadian camera man/ producer put them in front of a green screen with all sorts of weird stuff projected behind us, and have us talk about topics inspired by you!

It's David Tieck and his Ok, Intriguing Hell Yeah!!

Coming soon, and its going to be a talk show unlike anything you've seen before! (free too)

So with this awesomenessous coming for me I unfortunately am very worried about a couple of things.

Firstly - I have noticed recently, in Australia and in America, a bunch of girls/women wearing rings on their wedding and then it's turned out they are single!!!!! In some cases they have turned out to even complain they can't meet any nice guys. You're telling everyone you're married, whats wrong with you?

By the way I still remember the first time I was perving at a girl and then noticed she had a wedding ring. It was a sad day. Tear.

Also I am worried about Bryan Adams. I just heard 'Summer of 69' in KFC and it occurred to me that it's been over forty years since that year, forty fucking years, and its still the best year of his life! In forty years he hasn't managed to top it even for one year. And that's the year his band broke up, when jimmy or timmy quit, and the bastard johnny or tommy or something got married and put his woman in front of his band, which is wrong in so many ways, and Bryan doesn't even say it, just straight out he got married like we're all supposed to understand that marriage vows actually mean 'it sickness and in health, and at the expense of the best friends a man can ever have, his band mates' and this is the BEST year of Bryans life. I feel horrible for him. What a miserable life he must have had. I hope a close friend has a close suicide watch on him.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Einstein sucks and elmo and that

Girls like guys with intelligence, and I have an IQ that scrapes along the top of the charty dealy they rate those things on. Girls always fail to say a normal smart guy, not a crazy madman genius (did I just call myself a genius = yes. Fuck you David you arrogant tool. No fuck you Dave, I can't think of a good come back! Ha David, some genius. Well, well, well, um, why don't you just go and cause physical harm to yourself like in front of a bus or something you big meanie).

I like girls with cute little baby voices. Probably because I have never really gotten over the fact I never had the chance to be in the company of any girls when they were in the shy, awkward, trying to figure out boys, holding hands means the world stage. So I substitute with girls with underdeveloped vocal chords, I also like girls who can sing (crazy madman genius + can you still call yourself a genius when you have had to spell check every time you have written that word here?)

This is all to say that Elmo from sesame Street is smarter than Albert Einstein and I can fucking prove it!

Cause if E = MC2

Then why doesn't the alphabet go

a - b - c - d - MC2 - f - g - h - i etc

Hi kids,

I'm Elmo and today we are going to talk about the letter Eeeeeeee (mmm baby squeaky voice) and why Albert Einstein was a fucking moron!!!

Also last night I had a dream I was being banished from some land I loved where there was art, and bands and no body liked me, plus they threw out my Gibson Les Paul, I found it in the trash, but you NEVER throw out a Les Paul, those fuckers, and this somehow led me to be in a room where lots of people wanted to have sex and all the girls rejected me except one, Robin Williams ex wife who had a very hairy back but still wore a backless shirt, and I was trying to have sex with her, but she was taking care of a baby, and when I was finally about to close the deal my alarm went off, and I didn't even fucking SET an alarm!!!

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Have you got a bottle yet?

Sweatession - the (so far) un-filmed sketch



(POMPOUS CONFIDENCE DEEP VOICE) When I have just finished a great work out on a sweaty hot summer’s day there is one thing I know for sure – I smell fucking awesome.



(Seriously turned on) Oh baby


That’s why I have decided to release my new scent Sweatession. This isn’t like those tacky celebrity scents, this is the real deal; every bottle of sweatession is literally a bottle of my sweat!





Come on guys don’t go out this year with scent that smells like flowers like most colognes, that’s totally gay


Flower smelling guy? Totally not hot.


Go out smelling like a real man – and no one is manlier than me!



(Holds up a bottle of sweatession as if to camera)

Now that’s what I call sweatession affection!


Bottle of Sweatession next to bottle of Cum use my face cream


We’re also throwing in a free bottle of the manliest facial cream available, Cum use my face Cream




Bottle of first two products and third product, the gel


Buy in the next Five minutes and as an extra special bonus get a free jug of Dave’s placenta, thats right Dave is such a man he even produces placenta or what we call Man Hair Gel


All three products lined up


Don’t wait, all products in limited supply, Dave can’t release bodily fluids forever!

Yay, auditions are open for the role of 'Hot Girl' now :)

Monday, March 8, 2010

Things I have learned recently

The lovely Lynx234 asked me if I have learned anything recently and the answer is surprisingly lots, its been an eye opening few weeks for me!

Things I have learned recently:

If you mix vodka, rum, tequila, absinthe, beer, jagermeister, Kahlua, gin, with a splash of diet orange sunkist in a industrial sized crash can then drink it down in one giant chug you're probably not a broke tee-tolling narc who works for a napkin factory

Getting drunk in bars while frowning and burying your face in a book which you won't remember anyway because your clearly on your way to black out drunkenness is not a good way to find a sponsor for your new happiness seminar

If you tip good early your jager-bombs end up being fuck full of awesome jager

If you try to write jokes while drunk and alone in a bar there is an outside chance some of your attitude, demeanor, emotional state and situational activities may bleed into your work

Throwing darts at squirrels in the park rarely gets you free underpants

Literally chewing the teeth out of the girl your making out with does not guarantee a toothless blow job later that night

Eating live green tree frogs until you spew frog parts all over a well manicured lawn is not what environmentalists mean when they say you should be more green

The song 'happiness is a warm gun' by the Beatles doesn't work in practice if you interpret "a warm gun" to mean a gun which has just blown the love of your life's brains all over the your bedroom wall and "happiness" to mean not lying on the floor in the fetal position crying your drug addicted eyes out

Whispering 'sweet nothings' into your lovers ears works way less if you literally just say the words 'sweet' and 'nothing' and if by 'lover' you mean some random girl in the bar you want to fuck but can't be bothered making conversation with

Wanting something for all the wrong reasons (sex) even though you genuinely want that thing (sex) although not necessarily for only the (normal) reasons (orgasms) you say is not a guaranteed (hookers) outcome (fantasy) no matter how much you fantasize (think about it while masturbating) about it.

Getting so drunk you'd stick your dick in just about anything is NOT a good way to get laid (insert your own commentary on the outcome of writing this while drunk somewhere around here, I am not sure why I am choosing not to edit as I type, but hey, yay, and all that awesomenessous)

If you're a really, really, ridiculously unbelievably fucking breath vacuuming deliciously attractively beautiful girl you probably won't come up to me randomly on the street and beg me to make love to you

If you have massive boobs in contrast to your tiny body and they are natural you probably won't randomly offer to let me feel them for proof

If you have a tiny body and matching small boobs (very much as gorgeous in my eyes) you STILL probably wont randomly offer to let me feel for proof of realism

If you try to write these things while surrounded by cute girls who clearly aren't noticing your awesomenessous and are often with other (worse) guys instead your horniness and bitterness will not come out in your work in anyway at all

A drawing I want to do - me in a room surrounded by boobs and with a thought bubble saying (I wish I had something to inspire me). Anyone want to model for me

(The weird thing is this in my mind last night this was GENIUS)

If you desire being the center of attention then sitting quietly and shyly alone with your face contorted in a frown then you MAY be failing in achieving your goals

Being really really good in the third best team in your schools under 11 age category does not guarantee that you'll one day be a rock star - WTF!!!! Hell NO!

Golf clubs don't make good dildoes yet dead midgit neck bones are, I know, I'm shocked too!

Over-tipping is an exceptional waste of money when it is clear from the ol' get go that the waitress would never ever fuck you

Horniness and girls in your vicinity are NOT as easy to mix as peanut butter and bread, fucking nut allergies

(Seriously, I thought this was GENIUS)

Stab me in the bum hole shame on you, stab me in the penis hole shame on me. Wait, wait wait, no no no, fuck you, you penis hole widening bastard

Love (in my experience) is more likely to lead to misery than happiness, aww I know, what a lot of trees have been wasted for self help books

If you send a girl roses you're not romantic you're cliche, yet girls will still fuck you for it = proof girls suck, irony? Hell yeah!

(GENIUS! I thought)

Death isn't evidence that you really lived yet rape is! Finally proof rape has some impact on the victims

(Seriously Dave you thought THAT was good, how?)

If you actively pursue someone already in a relationship you are NOT automatically raped in the ass by a poltergeist, proof karma is as real as funny jokes about rape

(oh no these are getting worse and worse)

Couples suck (when you're alone and lonely) yet the pasta served at bars is often not as it tends to be in multi-generationally owned restaurants in small Italian villages, at least glass rarely fails to do as promised

If you're randomly at a post Oscar party despite never writing something actually eligible to win an award (unlike this post for NEXT years Oscars, Hell Yeah!) the girls in the room probably won't get so horny at your very presence that they'll get so wet you'll be able to watch it dribble down their legs (where probably = definitely, and me = fucked in the head)

Fucking a girl in the ass is still more likely to get a girl herpes than pregnant, yet few will still offer you access to their ass

Having an anal fixation does NOT make girls magically appear in front of you and hand you a tube of lube as much as being George Clooney would make girls do that highly unlikely thing

Just because you want to fuck someone doesn't mean you get to (unless you're an attractive girl) in which case fuck you (pun intended)

Being too lazy to write "The Academy Awards" instead of "Oscars" is no excuse for these desperate sexual 'jokes'

So in answer to the question, yes I have learned two things lately -

I am an alcoholic and
I am in need of some lady love

I will be answering the next one sober :)

Friday, March 5, 2010

An asphyxiation nation compilation

I have an ‘assfixiation’ as in I want me penis in ass

Wait wait wait, stop that David, that’s terrible, rude, and totally unnecessary. Ok Dave, what if I talk about death, is that ok? I guess so David, if you must. Well I don’t ‘must’ I just fucking want to Dave. I said ok David, so shut up and fucking do it, ok. Ok.

If you really don’t want to do something a good way to express this to other people is to tell them you’d kill yourself before you’d do it. You know, I’d kill myself before I’d visit North Dakota in the winter, I’d kill myself before I’d kiss another dude, or I’d kill myself before I’d let doctor inject me in the eyeball.

Every time I hear someone use this term I always think the same thing, why aren’t suicide notes more interesting?

Sorry honey, for blowing my brains out all over the kitchen, but you know I always said I’d kill myself before I’d drink light beer, and I open the fridge and what the fuck do I find in there huh? COORS FUCKING LITE YOU BITCH!

On the news tonight a classroom of twelve year olds were showered with the blood of their teacher tonight after she stabbed herself in the neck with a letter opener, witnesses claim they heard a women scream REALLY SCREAM “I told you I would kill myself if one more of you kids asked me why I will ever need algebra in the real world!”

Suffocation must be a horrible way to die, yet apparently if you partake in this activity while masturbating as a guy at least you can have a fucking awesome orgasm.

So yes when it comes to sex, guys quite clearly got the rough end of the stick (no insertion joke intended). There are no multiple orgasm causing butterfly vibrators for us, we need a belt around our necks and a near death experience (please note bitterness here is also just me trying to put off the temptation to try it).

(Some other bitterness I had hear has been deleted for you pleasure)

I met a girl once who was breathtaking.

She was horribly ugly. Poor girl. Just ridiculously ugly, every part of her. No one ever found her attractive and it made her bitter. (Not like bitter like food which isn’t sweet or salty, but bitter in that angry I want to squeeze the world’s testicles way, you know bitter like I was above, I think you probably understand the sort of bitterness I am talking about, but I am still writing about it for some reason, stop it Dave, you’ll make your readers bitter, fuck you David, really stop this terrible ‘jokes’)

Over time she had had to suffer through hearing many men suffering to other women as being ‘breathtaking’, and this took her from being bitter to being really fucking bitter assed bitterousness bitter fucked. That’s some serious bitterness.

She made a big decision, she wanted to be breathtaking, and if she couldn’t be breathtaking in a so fucking good looking that guys would forget to breath while pre-cumming their pants way, then she would become literally breath taking.

So she began to track down any girl she heard being referred to as ‘breathtaking’ and then she would shove fucking vacuum nozzles down their throats, and as she sucked the breath from their lungs she would scream over and over again ‘how do you like being breath taking now you fucking bitch’.

In taking the breath of the breathtaking she found her way to become breathtaking.

But then something unfortunate happened. A reporter, not realizing he was being as poignant as he was, referred to the killing spree as ‘a breathtaking example of the modern revolt against the beauty worshiping media’.

It had happened, ‘oh fuck’ she exclaimed when she realized; she had been referred to as breathtaking in the more traditional use of the word. The very thing she detested!

There is only one thing to do, she reasoned, one possible solution, she needed to return the breath she had taken.

“But how?”

She abruptly asked herself one day out loud in public in public, so loud that it was audible to many people, and some of them looked at her funny, which got her all embarrassed and this made her forget what the question was she had just asked herself, the whole ‘but how’ dealy, so she put off answering this for a few days.

But then she suddenly remembered

“But how?”

She asked herself, this time just in her head, which made her feel proud of her self control. And in a rare moment of self loving she came up with an answer, she would give breath to those who had none.


She realized, saying it out loud in public, so loud that it was audible to many people, and some of them looked at her funny, which got her all embarrassed and this made her forget what the solution was she had just discovered, the whole ‘fish’ dealy, so she put off putting this plan into action for a few days, but then she remembered again, and put it into ‘hell yeah’ action.


She said in her mind when she remembered the plan.

So she went down to the docks with a fishing pole, and she would catch fish, inject them with oxygen, and then throw them back in. It was tedious but she was dedicated to giving the breath back and gave many fish oxygen over time.

But then the paper screamed (not literally, papers don’t have vocal chords and lungs, but she didn’t think of that when she was thinking of things which don’t have breath) ‘breathtakingly cruel monster is killing fish with air’ (turns out this particular journalist had a habit of using ‘breathtaking’ in headlines, this would one day lead to his editor calling him into his office and saying ‘hey mate, give the breathtaking a rest ok’ but that really isn’t part of this girls story).

She became confused. She was frustrated and hurt. She said ‘I’d rather kill myself than be called a cruel monster’ and never one to say something flippantly like so many other people she didn’t like she actually tried to kill herself while masturbating. And she was successful, because she didn’t use that self-asphyxiation belt around the neck thing, she instead stuck a dildo in her pussy then hacked her own head off with a butcher knife.

It really wasn’t all that sad though, because you know, she had been killing beautiful girls with fucking vacuum cleaners, and that’s really not all that nice

It's, me standing up!!!!!!

(And proving I'm useless at linking stuff)

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Hell yeah, is my newish catch phrase, hell yeah

Hey lovely people,

I am really enjoying blogging based on your suggestions, and I encourage you to keep offering me inspiration!

I'll write about anything you can imagine and/or challenge me with, and I think I am going to develop an internet talk show based on your suggestions and my 'magical questionnaire' so keep the ideas coming please :)

Oh plus I need a new roommate if anyone wishes to join me in my mission of craziness. Let me know if you're keen or know someone who may be. The crazier and artier you are the betteier, plus kitties super more than welcome!

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

An aphrodisiacstical inspiration

What are your aphrodisiacs?

Some real things that turn me on include

A cute butt with visible panty line

Short skirt long socks

A girl on stage, especially rocking or being funny, it is far more intense than beer goggles.



Side boob or underneath cleavage


When she makes the moves


Watching someone paint/make art (actually this may be my biggest, it gives me shivers)

Having my back lightly rubbed or touched


Longing glances

Small boobs no bra in loose fitting tops

Boobs in button up tops

(On rare occasions) hippy chicks with no bras and underarm hair

Pubic hair (which I used to despise until it became so popular to remove, just never have a landing strip please, I fucking hate those things)

Being watched


Youthful energy and spirit of discovery

The word 'moist'

Girls in Converse chuck taylors or all-stars, or other interesting shoe choice (sneakers are always way hotter than heels)

Lave (that feeling when you first see a stranger and are attracted to them in a way that is beyond lust, a feeling they are supposed to be in your life, some misdiagnose this as love at first sight, but Lave is a wonderment of desire, expectation, nervousness, suspense, warmth, hope and anticipation, and is too wonderful a thing to me passed off as love at first sight)

So Inspired by Michelle’s suggestion that I write about one of her favourite words ‘aphrodisiac’ here is a true story by Dave

I was around 26 at the time. I was still working a real job, making lots of money, spending frivolously, and being miserable as all hell.

I had just bought a magnificent apartment, with sweeping views over all of Sydney, which was going to be my dream pad. Everyone who saw it said the same thing to me “this is going to be a fucking chick magnet” (turned out to be completely false. And really do you want a girl who wants you because you have an awesome apartment? The answer is of course yes, as long as she wants you merely for sex, and then wants to tell her friends and acquaintances of the view they could see while I fucked them).

Anyway, this was enticing to me, because at this stage of my life my love history was fucking pitiful. I had had three short term girlfriends of less than two months, all equal parts unsatisfying and heartbreaking.

I still believed at this time that love would be my savior. I believed finding this elusive yet magical gift would be the inspiration and the support to finally climb my way out of the depression I had been wading through for more than a decade. (I was right too, only it wasn’t love for a girl which did it, it was love for art and being creative).

Was my new apartment going to be the thing that sealed the deal? Well in truth I had other things going for me now too. I had gotten fitter than I ever had been before, and was looking trim and athletic. I was wearing suits everyday, and to be honest looked fucking good in them. And for the first time in my adult life my face was not riddled with horrible acne. Quite frankly I was the most attractive I had ever been or probably ever will be. And girls seemed to be noticing. I still didn’t have the balls or the conversational skills to talk to them, but things were looking way better for me.

So on one fateful day, while on lunch from work, I am to meet my interior decorator at an up market furnishing shop. And there she was.

This was Lave in all its pure glory. I saw her from across the room, our eyes met, and we exchanged a longing glance and a warm smile. She was simply gorgeous, short, petite, with beautiful dark hair, and a cute all cheek and teeth smile, dressed all in black and stunning. Lave, the most powerful aphrodisiac outside of loneliness.

My decorator turned out to be very late, and for the next ten minutes or so as I looked around the store the two of us exchanged glances and smiles regularly.

I have no idea how to approach girls. I still don’t, but back then it was more fearful to me than standing with one foot off a cliff edge. I despise small talk, I don’t like partaking in it, I find it tediously boring, and even more than that when I am in the midst of it I ‘feel’ boring, and feel like I am being judged as boring, and I have always wanted nothing more to considered interesting.

Yet fun, fascinating, exciting, compelling conversation can’t be planned or directed, it has to come organically. It is one of life’s great cruelties along with the possibility love can exist in extremity even when unrequited, and the bullshit that life goes fast when you’re having fun, and slow when you are not. Fuck you life.


I have never known how to find a balance in this, the old just say ‘hello’ is bullshit, because if you don’t have anything after you come across as a fucking tool. Even to this day I can walk on a stage, ask for a suggestion of anything at all, and use that to almost immediately be funny, and maintain this for a thirty minute show, yet I have not the slightest idea how to be interesting to someone I have approached, without coming off as trying too hard, or pretensions, or sleazy.

This is all to say what happened next is just a phenomenon. We simply began talking. There was no one of us approaching the other, there was no awkward hellos and exchange of names, it was like the first few minutes of meeting a stranger had just been removed, and we moved right on to the enjoyable bit.

I have no idea what we talked about, just that I was enthralled, and then shattered when we both realised that we had been talking for around twenty minutes when it felt like seconds (fuck you life) and it suddenly occurred to her that this type of thing is what gets people fired.

A couple of days later I returned to the store. I bought a ridiculously overpriced cutlery set off her just for an excuse to talk to her again (see I am still trying too hard, and I STILL do this sort of thing, it really is hard being a guy), and we ended up talking for so long we both should have lost our jobs. As we parted I asked her out, something I am terrible at, and usually would panic over for days or weeks, before making a pathetic attempt at it (these days I usually use the self fulfilled prophecy of purposely doing it awfully, in drunken texts or emails, so that when they say no I can blame my pathetic approach rather than my looks or personality, it’s a lovely lose lose game I like to play with myself).

For the record in my entire life I have only ever asked out one girl in the proper traditional sense of being in person with her and saying ‘want to go out with me’ with said girl responding in the positive. I have had it in reverse once, and every other girl I have been with in anyway has begun with drunken hooks ups, and in a couple of rare cases successful drunken texts. Actually come to think of it, the one time this worked I had soberly gone up to a girl and asked for her number (only literally over two years after I first begun crushing on her, and with fifty or sixty times buying shit off her just to see her, why I think this will work I will never know), point is I asked this girl out and she said yes. Which was fucking brilliant.

We went out for dinner a couple of nights later. Making fun interesting conversation with her came more easily to me than with anyone else I have ever spoken to. We talked about all sorts of things, and in that way where we were both being entertaining and enlightening. She told me that she basically hadn’t been on a date in six years, and to someone like me, with such a pathetic dating history, she couldn’t have said anything sweeter.

How does a guy know he really truly likes a girl, that this could be love, that she could be the ‘one’? It is when he is with someone he is so attracted to that he doesn’t even think about having sex with her, because sex is actually of inconsequence to where his hopes are souring.

This was where I was. In all reality I had had such a strong and intense boner since we had been talking that I had pre-cum soaked into my jeans in what could have been a really fucking embarrassing ‘did you piss your pants’ way if I had not had a jacket to tie around my waste, yet I hadn’t thought of making love to her for even a second, I was too busy soaking in every wonderful bit of information which came out of her mouth.

We held hands as we walked to my car. Neither of us wanting the night to end we agreed to move on to my new, still completely unfurnished, hell yeah bachelor pad (fuck no furniture and I already have a girl back here, this really is going to be cool).

The fact that there was no furniture again didn’t bother me, because I had no intention of trying to get her into bed. I didn’t want to, I was thinking long, long term with this one, and sex could wait.

We had a drink, and starred into each others eyes. Spontaneously we hugged. She held me with a tight squeeze, and I felt at home. (I am a hug LOVER by the way, and I have had far too few). We held each other for a long time, just wanting to be close.

When we eventually pulled apart she had a strange look on her face.

“I have to tell you something” she whispered

“What” I replied, suddenly fearful

Some ums and ahhs, were exchanged until I said “just tell me”.

“What is the worst thing you’re thinking right now?” she asked

“That you already have kids” I eventually replied after a long silence (already having kids is a definite deal breaker for me)

She laughed, from the tension breaking surprise she found in my answer. Then she turned to sadness “it’s actually worse than that” she said

My mind started racing, what could be worse? All sorts of bizarre and twisted scenarios began to play in my mind; there was one obvious one though which I couldn’t even fathom.

“I already have a boyfriend” she eventually confessed.

I was crushed. I would rather she had have said “I was born a man and still have a penis” I would probably have offered back “I don’t like cock, but I am willing to try and learn for you”. But a boyfriend! This was non-negotiable.

This was the end of the road. I wanted to cry, I wanted to hold her, I wanted to escape, I wanted to erase the last few days from my memory, I wanted to do that superman dealy when you fly around the world fast enough to change shit. I wanted reality to not exist. But it did.

We hugged one more time, and she got a cab home, refusing my offer of a lift.

A few months later I received a random text message from her, and we hung out again, and became friends. In the end she played an integral part in my artistic awakening, and I will always love her for this. We still talk from time to time, she eventually broke up with that boyfriend, and found someone new and better than him, and for the first time in my life I was happy for someone I once wanted to have found love with someone other than me. And she is full of love and happiness for me having climbed out of my depression and my dedication and successes so far in my artistic pursuits.

Which is all to say, I miss Lave. I hope to meet you again soon.

Monday, March 1, 2010

There there there there

I really am a sweet guy.

Like when I see someone I know who is upset I'll go up to them and rub their shoulder and gently say 'there there'.

I think if you're basically a decent human and you care about someone, and they are facing a hard moment or situation, the very least you can do is have the compassion to say a pretty random, irrelevant and clearly unhelpful word two times in a row.

Some guys out there are mean sadistic scum, yes I have seen them, and when they try to comfort someone in pain they will offer merely a singular 'there'.

Those motherfuckers. One more 'there', right after the last 'there' to expand their 'there' into a 'there there' and the person suffering may have discovered in their love the strength and fight to overcome their problem. But they can't bring themselves to do it.

And really, in a 'there' world there is little hope for peace, happiness and understanding.

I can sense some of you are upset at realizing this sad truth, but because I am a sweet guy I offer all of you a warm heartfelt 'there there', ahh now isn't that better?

This week on the real housewives of Iran

‘What do you mean my brother saw your cheek?’

“It was an accident I swear, there was a big gust of wind that blew my headscarf slightly off my cheek, it was just for a fleeting moment’

‘Fuck you, you bitch whore, get outside so I can stone you to death’.

Next week on the real housewives of Iran find out which of your favourite housewives daughters gets raped and killed after it was discovered a boy had had an impure thought about her.