Notes from a guy with sex goals

Hi I'm Warren,


I was twenty-nine when I lost my virginity, which for a bachelor in the 1930s was quite young. The young lady’s name was Angela, and rumour had it she’d already slept with three people, and she was only forty-two! It sure was neat to get the chance to meet such a slut to help me become a man.


Barbra came into my life three years later and we made love after only dating for seven months. I was starting to think I was quite the stud (which back then was a term reserved for horses but I was very large in the nose so I certainly felt I had satisfactorily complimented myself).


After Barbra dumped me for being ‘shit in bed’ (how can one be excrement in bed? that never made sense to me) I found comfort in the arms of Cindy, all 400lbs of them (I only weighed the arms, I couldn’t get the whole body on the scales, and besides I didn’t want to do anything to make her feel uncomfortable about her weight). Keep in mind in those days men seeked curvier women, and when they turned us down the morbidly obese were the 116th next best thing, right between rabbits (hard to catch) and trees (splinters, ouch).


Sadly Cindy died during the act (sadly for her private cheese dealer). And I found myself at the ripe old age of thirty seven (life expectancy was fifty two then, and I never was an optimist) and I was in a speakeasy one night when I optimistically started chatting to a fine beauty named Diedra. She of course laughed in my face then instructed a random man in the vicinity to beat me to near death, which he did with the glee of a school girl, and as I lay in hospital for the next two years (there was not yet a cure for fifty broken bones) I had plenty of time to think and it occurred to me that had sweet Diedra responded positively to my attempts to woo her, my first four ladies I had made love to would have had first names beginning with A, then B, C & D!


It was a mighty fine thought, as I am sure you can imagine (Apologies if you cannot, I understand that not every man has had such success with the ladies as me).


It was such a nice thought in fact that it inspired a pact (Little known fact: all pacts a factual). I pacted that I would sleep with exactly twenty six ladies in my life, I know, a scandalous sum that I am sure no other man would dare dream of, but it seemed fated (pacts are also fated, unless you make a pact to do something like start the day with sit-ups that’s not fated its stupid) and these twenty six women would have names starting with the letters A through Z. It would be my greatest triumph (and only triumph, triumphs were difficult in those days).


That’s how I found myself making love to the beautiful Diana, the one armed quadriplegic nurse who had recently had a bomb land on her in World War II (Although we called it ‘that shooty thing’ at the time) (Oh and for your information the burns only made her more beautiful so shame on you).


We met in the rehabilitation ward of the hospital and when I asked if she would like to make love she replied “I guess, I mean its not like I have any feeling in my body, so I wont feel it” she sure did have a great sense of humour for a war victim.


Ethel came a few months latter when by chance I was visiting my grandmother in the old folks home and Ethel was in there visiting her daughter. After that things got lean for a while, I mean ‘F’ names were hard to come by in those days. Not like today with your fancy Felicitys and the like, in those days people respected their children enough not to give them crazy crap names! (Sorry for my language, but it makes me mad).


But things turned around thirty odd years later. I was drafted into Vietnam and the army refused to believe that I was seventy four and that there had been a clerical error and sent me over where I had the pleasure of fornicating with a prostitute named Fung.


Now you would think making love for the first time in thirty years would make me happy, but it turned out that these ‘prostitutes’ didn’t only exist in Vietnam and were in fact back in America also and I could have worked my way through the remaining letters with a crazy week in Vegas and spent my life seeking normal relationships or even a wife. But you know what? In old age you realize there is no point holding on to regrets, you have bigger things to worry about, such as your impending death.


Sex goals sure are great.

Dave's Dam Days - scabs and bear farts

Check it out

An easy way to a super fun evening

I walked out into the street and looked up at the sky. It was not quite a full moon, but it would be within the next couple of nights, and I couldn’t wait. I mean waiting would be pretty stupid; it was going happen whether I stood and waited regardless, so what kind of moron would wait. I honestly think if you COULD wait I’d question your sanity. That should be like the first test they ask someone in therapy:


‘Looking forward to anything?’

‘Yes my nana is getting out of the hospital soon’

‘Can you wait?’


Answer one

‘No I can’t wait’

Diagnosises

‘That is perfectly normal


Answer two

‘Yes, I plan on waiting right outside her door’

Diagnosises

‘It’s your nana, not your wife, you’re really creeping me out man’


The moon was big that day. I have never quite figured out why the moon is different sizes, are we closer to it at some times? And if so why doesn’t the gravitational pull make it so we start floating around, cause that would be cool. We’d be all like floaty and that, and people would be like, whatcha up to, and you’d be all like floating man, and they’d be like me too, it’s really creeping me out man’.


‘Dave?’ I said to myself, to distract myself so I wouldn’t burst into tears from the knowledge that I would never get to float.

‘Yes David’ I replied

‘When you pull your pants down and show your bum to other people, why do they call that mooning them? It doesn’t looking anything fucking like the moon, the moon doesn’t have a big line down the middle for one thing, and if it does have cheeks they aren’t soft, yet firm and remarkably fondleable!’

‘I don’t think fondleable is real word David’

‘Of course it is, anything you can do you are able to able, readable, likeable, murderable, unconstitutionable’

‘Now your clearly just making words up, ‘likeable’, yeah right’

‘You are so unlikeable when you nitpick like this’

‘That’s another thing, what the hell is a nit, and how do you pick it?’

‘A nit is like a useless or minor thought and you pick it when you won’t let it drop you nitwit’

‘Ok, but wit is having a speedy ability to find the humor in something, but to pick is bad, like pick your nose or pick a scab, how can nitwit and nitpicker both be insults!!’

‘Picking isn’t always bad, what about picking up a copy of that new book you wanted, or picking up your friend at the airport, those are perfectly positive examples of positive picking!’

‘So you want me to pick you up at the airport, is that what you are getting at, trying to pick at my soft spot so I end up the bad guy if I don’t’

‘I am ‘you’, you nitwit, how the hell can I pick myself up at the airport’

‘Shut up Dave’

‘No you shut up David’

‘Wait, am I Dave or David, I haven’t been paying close enough attention to the order of our conversation’

‘Actually I don’t know, I haven’t been paying attention either’

‘That’s so typical of you’

‘What?’

‘Not paying attention!’

‘Fuck you, you didn’t pay attention either, you always do that, shit on me for doing something you do too’

‘Why are you always so bloody defensive’

‘Screw you Davey, yeah I said it, Daaaavvveeey’

‘You’re so immature’

‘Oh I’m immature, I’m immature, maybe I’ll pull your pants down and show everyone your penis, how immature would that be’

‘That’s your penis too you know’

‘I know that, actually part of me kind of wants to show everyone my penis, you know, just so people know, remove the mystery and things suddenly become more accessible’

‘You and your weird theories’

‘That’s not a theory. A theory is an untested idea in which the outcome could go in different directions, mine is a minority desire which I may or may not act upon one day’

‘Fuck, fucking off’


Just then a man walked past

‘Are you ok sir’? He asked

‘We’re trying to look at the moon here, you nitwit, go bother someone else’


He walked away looking confused and for some reason said 'you're really creeping me out man', and Davey and I talked on into the night.


It was the best nearly full moon ever.

Dave's Dam Days - this milk kicks ass

Dave has interesting days, this is part of one of them

So check this video out, it has milk AND addiction cure!!!!

Please don't do this to our kids

I was playing a game of pool last night when something amazing happened. I hit the white ball with the end of my beautifully bronze chalk decorated pool cue and it rolled up the table hitting into the red number eleven ball which then started moving, without me touching it directly at all, in a whole different direction from the one the white ball had been moving in, and then this red number eleven ball rolled into the hole in the corner of the table where it fell into a small net! Wow.


I felt the joy John Mainard Billiard, who was the pool boy sleeping with the wife of the guy who invented Snooker, must have felt when he first learned to drive ‘I am no longer stuck only visiting friends within cycling distance, hoorah’ he was heard to gasp at the time.


I was so overwhelmed I felt I needed to pray:


Dear Lord Jesus Christ Son of God and also God, meaning you’re, your own father, that’s weird, kind of like in Terminator when John Conner sent his own father back in time to save his life before he was born.


I feel I need to pray to you today and thank you for your invention of geometry. If not for this wonderful, and yet cruelly un-respected language of mathematics, we would not now be able to enjoy such amazing things as shapes, angles and sinking the red number eleven ball by hitting the white ball into it, but mostly shapes, how awesome are shapes?


Sure in the end, ironically, it was a shape – the cross, that you were nailed too and died bleeding on, and also the source of one of your most mistranslated quotes, I hate to tell you Jesus but


‘Forgive them father, for they know not what they have done’


Has been mistranslated to mean ‘don’t blame my killers, they’re just kind of naive’ when in reality surely you meant ‘don’t blame them for using a cross, it will be centuries before geometrists discover than the triangle is actually a far stronger shape than a cross, and when they do people will all laugh, and be like “ha ha, remember before we nailed people to triangles when we instead nailed people to crosses, man we were dumb back then’”


Also some people believe in you, hear this quote, and still think god might be a woman! Isn’t that weird? That means they think that you may have called your mother ‘father’ and that your ‘mother’ impregnated your other ‘mother’ and that no men were involved at all. Ha ha, like that will ever happen, a child growing up fatherless, next people will be saying it’s possible for a woman to have an orgasm without a skilled male lover on hand, it’s become a strange world since you left Lord Jesus!


Plus, if the triangle is the strongest shape, why do so many women still object to suggestions by their boyfriends and husbands that another woman be brought into bed for a threesome, or ‘triangle-loving’, surely this is merely an attempt to create a strong stable relationship, you should get geomestrists onto that immediately. Also how did you let the Terminator series get so awful, and simultaneously make James Cameron an idea stealing jackass, seems like the inventor of geometry would know better than this.


Oh by the way Jesus, I secretly I call the white ball in pool ‘the white number 49 ball’ I think its cruel all the balls get numbers other than the white one, and it is the ball that is used the most, its just not fair, and I refuse to let unfairness be part of my table based sport experiences. I give Ping-pong balls their numbers based on their individual personalities, not the orange ones though, they are trying to steel the thunder from baby mangos and that’s not nice. I hope you, our unseen master, reward my generosity when I see you up in that heaven dealy we hope you weren’t lying about.


Note: If you were lying about that heaven dealy, shame on you, some people are relying on that!


Note 2: Some people get geometrists and geologists mixed up, that’s funny, one studies awesome shapes, the other looks at dirt and stuff, maybe you should make sure this discrepancy is fixed in that heaven dealy, we’d hate to be confused when we get there.


Amen


I was feeling good. Geometry once again had enriched my life, and I had taken time to thank its inventor, I needed one more thing to make this experience perfect, by creating a triangle of awesomeness, so I went to fix myself a drink.


This is when it happened.


Yes, ‘it’!


The ‘thing’ that may be the ‘thing’ which fucks up this whole ‘thing’.


I was putting ice into a glass when for the first time I realized just what was going on in this world. Perhaps the source of all bad stuff, or maybe just some bad stuff, but bad stuff is bad stuff and this was clearly the source of some bad stuff.


Turns out – ice ‘cubes’ are no longer always ‘cubes’.


That’s right, in an attempt to make them easier to extract from the tray, some ice cube trays are now round on the bottom, and seriously a shape which is square on five sides yet round on one side is NOT a fucking cube!


Do you people realize what this means?


Ok, so say you’re a parent right, and it’s a hot summers day, you are now faced with a vicious conundrum.


Give your child a refreshing beverage and risk ruining his chances of making a career in geometry or move to Finland and keep the geometry dream alive? What a heartbreaking choice to have to make for a parent. I mean, my god, how hard is that to decide (sorry Lord Jesus, ‘your name in vain’ rhymes, and you know how us humans are suckers for rhymes!)(Also - Conundrums, con-mans, condominiums, condiments, condoms, all things which can make your life a misery, and all ‘con’ words, coincidence I think not, or else why isn’t coincidence spelled conincidence?’)


Sure some parents will be able to administer the following test:


‘Hey Bobby, what do a call a triangle when one of the corners is at a ninety degree angle?’

‘I don’t know mom’

‘Ok Bobby, your geometry career is already fucked, here have a coke’


But that’s rare, because most kids know that a triangle with a right angle is called an isosceles. Still how much longer will this be true if we keep pretending ice-roundtopsquareishbottoms are still ice-cubes!


Note: I have been a fan of beverages for a long time, so even though clearly my personal geomometrical knowledge remains flawless I can’t guarantee it stay this way forever!


It may be easy to make fun of at this time, but what happens fifty years from now when you find yourself driving on a road when a corner seems slightly too sharp for your nuclear-powered-energy-efficient-hover-cycle and you’ll be all like ‘where was a geometrist to prevent this disaster’ and then you’ll remember the headline from the paper:


Geometrists officially ‘refreshed’ into extinction – awesome hover-bike inventing now the world’s most popular branch of the sciences



But by then it will be too late!!!


Well I say ‘no’! Let’s prevent this while we can. Let’s call so called ‘ice-cubes’ what they really are ice-roundtop um, um, circle bottom, no um triangle? Oh fuck, it’s begun, I can’t remember what the name of that round bottomed cube like shape is called. Hang on one second, I need to make a phone call.


‘Excuse me operator, can you please connect me to a geometrist immediately, it’s an emergency…. What do you mean that there aren’t any geometrists available to talk right now and that also there is no longer such a thing as calling an operator and having them connect you to a call, has the world gone made? Jesus, Jesus, please help us!!!!!’


Ok I am back, and I hate to tell you but my phone call did not go well. I could not get a geometrist on the phone to tell me what that shape actually is called.


Plus I was informed that even though some people with the natural skill set for a lucrative career in the geometrical sciences who get jaded out of the entire field will turn to awesome hover bike inventing, others, sadly, will go in different directions and in fact may instead turn to, gulp, taxman taxidermy. Yes its true, you may one day go to bring a gift to your beloved tax man, a gift to thank him for all his love and generosity, and, gulp, find that he has been stuffed!


It’s a scary thought, but unfortunately it is now inevitable, and all we can do is try and delay this horror for as long as we can.


So I say this to you right now – are you drinking a beverage right this moment? If so what shape is your ice? If it’s a lying ‘cube’ then shame on you. If it’s like a whiskey on the rocks, then god-bless you, rock shaped ice is cool, because those geologists need a break from their dirt filled shitty lives.

Don’t dump your trash here

To be honest I’m jealous of trash.


I know some people are like ‘don’t make me jealous of the trash’, there are signs up around town like ‘don’t feed the trash’ and current affair shows do exposes on how some trash is actually undercover fabric salesmen doing their ‘research’ as they call it – call it what it is fabric salesmen, you lying trash, it’s being a busy body! And I have had a busy body in my bed once and I was all like ‘stay still’ and she was like ‘I prefer to get busy’ and I was all ‘that isn’t going to contribute to a fully relaxing sleeping environment’ and then she got all mad and left and went home! That’s right, ‘busy bodies’ mean ‘belligerent bodies’!


But I don’t agree with those folk, because trash has the fucking life. Yes it’s true. Its life’s work is complete! It was designed to hold something before a human used it and that has now happened!!!!!


Wow, it’s like history right in front of us. You can walk past and be all like ‘hey Billy, see that candy bar wrapper, that once had candy in it!!!’ And Billy can be like ‘Hey dad, this strange man is offering me candy’!


That’s the genius of trash.


But that’s not why I am jealous of it. No, it’s the fact that with it’s life’s work now complete it has nothing at all left to do but lay out in the sun, day after day, soaking up the rays, watching the world go by, and letting drunk teenagers urinate on it, it’s all the joy of old age without any of the lack of joy of old age! Wow, that’s awesomely paradoxical.


Oh, trash

Oh, trash

That’s the life for me

Living life with glee


That is not yet the theme song of trash, but if they ever develop the ability to sing it damn well should be. You know, assuming it turns out they speak with Shakespearean like eloquence, and become all snotty so they decide to talk about themselves as like a product rather than in the first person. I mean humans don’t sing ‘oh, human, oh, human’ so get off your ‘pretentious dragon’ trash.


Wait, um, I mean I’m jealous of trash. Trash by definition is in retirement, and sometime mere days after it was given birth to, and in sometimes it’s made of substances guaranteeing that it will live for thousands of years! Can you imagine, knowing you’ll live for thousands of years and still getting to retire three days after birth? No you can’t, because you ain’t trash. Jealous? I am! But you shouldn’t be. Why?


I’ll tell you why!


Because there are these sadistic bastards who call themselves things like ‘cleaners’, ‘trash pickeruperers’ and ‘seriously guys, I don’t mean to whine but some people and their trash is so gross, I guess I’ll just pick it up because I am better than themerers’ who go around town, picking up these pieces of trash, while it is innocently chilling out in the sun enjoying its hard earned post career relaxing years, and these people throw the these poor pieces of trash in plastic bags before suffocating them to death!


Wow, can you even contemplate what it must be like to suddenly be chucked in a plastic bag and cut off from air? It would be terrible. But even worse trash has no arms or legs to fight off its attackers, or try to break free of the plastic, it just has to lie there, feel the oxygen disappear, and then wait for the pain to get so overwhelming it passes out right before death (trash also often shit’s its pants as it dies from suffocating, although it prefers that this doesn’t get out to the greater public).


What kind of a world do we live in when this sort of brutal behavior goes not merely unpunished, but sometimes even celebrated? Sometimes people have ‘murder trash parties’ (or as they call them ‘can someone stay after the party and help clean up the trash’) sometimes criminals as part of jail work release programs are forced into trash murdering! I am sorry, but committing a heinous act does not make up for a life of crime, not in my ‘oh, human, oh life, oh existence!’


Sure from time to time some more kind hearted evil trash murderer will at least have the decency to spike the piece of trash to death with a nail on a stick to save it being suffocated, yet still often those nails are rusty, and most people don’t know this, but tetanus is amazingly swift forming in trash, and often as painful as suffocating to death.


And anyway, their bodies are still intrashmanly crushed together in huge compactors often alongside other corpses of trash that are not just not family, but sometimes even whole different species! You crush a human body, a dog body, and an old rug together in a compactor together and there is an outcry (let we not forget the great human/dog/rug tragedy of 1913, or ‘huogug’ as it was called by the tabloids at the time, ha ha, tabloids are so adorable) yet crush a soda can, a shoe box, and a discarded pair of broken leansed sunglasses together and no one even raises an eyebrow (please note: Some people are not capable of raising just one eyebrow, but if they could most would still not raise one about this monstrosity!)


I know; it’s disgusting!


Then to compound the calamity they are then buried, often naked, in mass unmarked graves, which are then turned into parks where children are encouraged to play on their graves!!!!!!


Seriously ‘!!!!!’ I know it’s excessive exclamation pointing, but kids playing on mass unmarked graves, well honestly ‘!!!!!!!’


I know you’ll get some ‘realists’ who claim that retired containers, and even things like receipts from products long since consumed are ‘no longer contributing to society’. Well first off I have to say – maybe YOU’RE not contributing to society! (You probably are, I mean you’re saying stuff out loud that’s contributing something, but I just wanted you to know how it felt to be accused of perhaps not contributing to society – it’s soft isn’t it? Which is surprising at first because most people don’t know that ‘society’ uses softener) but that doesn’t change the UNDENIABLE fact that trash serves a VALUABLE purpose in society!


Don’t believe me? Well cop this truth. Say you’re walking through a neighborhood, rather like the one where I am staying right now, and you see all sorts of discarded condom wrappers and heroin needles, you get to know off the bat that the kids around here are both scared of STDs and equally fearless of STDs, a contrast which screams ‘these kids play by there own rules’. This kind of information is priceless when a street football game breaks out and you’re asked to play because you don’t have to say ‘hey kids, what rules do you play by’ you know, they play by their own rules. That saves you the entire length of time that this exchange would have taken, and time is invaluable, especially if you’re prone to daydreaming about how to ban all electric drills from kindergartens. Yep:


Trash: 1

Realists: 0


Hell yeah.


Oh by the way, if you do get involved in this game of football and one of the kids bleeds, you also know not to taste the blood for signs of a bizarre chocolate flavor, because heroin boys? Really? Heroin boys? Awwww, I hate to feel this way, but I’m disappointed in you. And I am afraid I have to punish you, I know I am sorry, but heroin boys? Really? I am sorry, I can’t give you dessert after dinner tonight, and tonight is chocolate cheesecake night. No, no, no, you MADE me do that, I don’t feel one little tiny bit good about it, but heroin boys? Really? Boo.


Oh, check this out – go to a neighborhood full of fast food wrapper trash and you can reliably conclude that this is a fat neighborhood, which means a slow neighborhood, and therefore a muggers paradise! That’s VALUABLE information for muggers.


Note: Sometimes something valuable to individuals is damaging to society as a whole.


Note 2: Don’t you dare blame trash for that – it doesn’t CHOOSE where it is dumped, it merely offers you the precious ability to read a neighborhood for what it is, so don’t go ‘we don’t want muggers coming here’ instead be all like ‘thanks trash for letting us know the TRUTH about what’s going on in the streets, unlike those street glorifying hip-hop singers’


Note 3: Remember when ‘hip-hop’ used to be called ‘rap’? Did they change the name to try and make us forget that one time those rappers did that thing? Cause I for one will NEVER forget!


Note 4: Do something nice for the world, collect a bunch of fast food wrappers and dump them in a neighborhood full of fit people, the muggers will never know what hit them, and really don’t you owe this to trash?

Finally more is known about the cause of evil

If you ask me just because you are afraid of windowsills does NOT guarantee you are evil at all.


I know, once again I am stirring up controversy, and trust me I don’t want to upset anyone. That is unless you are one of those people who are scared of windowsills and you ARE evil.

In which case I probably still wont upset you because of my theory. I mean if adopted by medical researches currently studying evil and how to extract it from the body without the removal of the pancreas, because as we all know the pancreas is vital to living a life full of daydreams about olive oil, and no one wants to give those up, and why bother being evil free if that means you are also pancreas free and therefore olive oil dream free? The answer is it’s not worth it, ever! So if these medical professionals do adopt my theory, and they may, I mean evil studying medical researchers are the MOST prone of all medical professionals to willy-nilly theory adopting. Many in the medical research fields feel it holds them back from dominating the inter-medical field indoor soccer league. That’s when you know you have a problem. So if they do adopt this theory also, and then write a ground breaking report detailing how being afraid of windowsills does not guarantee you’re evil, and then if anyone who matters takes note of this report, which frankly is unlikely, especially seeing as time and time again these gullible evil studying scientists have adopted theories and written reports on them. What I am saying is if you ARE scared of windowsills and you ARE evil, and people who matter pay attention, then I know that you will probably, rather than get upset, merely use this report as evidence to get you off in court. So DON’T get UPSET WITH ME, I’m helping you evil bastards.


(Wow, sometimes you just have to sit back and take a rest after a paragraph so lacking in confusion and merely congratulate yourself. Well done Dave).


What I am getting at is this – if you get upset about my theory and you’re evil, I don’t care, I only care whether or not I upset NOT-evil people! That’s just the kind of guy I am.


By the way if a man pulls up beside you in white car that clearly has windowsills and he randomly offers you a “ride” somewhere feel free to go with him; I’m not here to make decisions for you, yet as surprising as it may sound, plenty of people who are not afraid of windowsills still are evil! And you should always do your best to stay up to date with risk factors such as this.


Ok, so lets look at the facts:


Fact One: Windowsills are usually located in the vicinity of glass - which is made from sand! Tiny yellow granules that get turned into clear see-through panels? That’s magical! And magic is evil. So being scared of windowsills shows a clear fear of evil and as we all know it is impossible to fear something you ARE yourself!


Note: unless you’re a spider, in which case of course you are scared of other spiders, they are little and bitey


Note 2: Also if you’re a bus pass, because as we all know if a bus pass touches another bus pass both automatically turn into spiders, so yes that is another example of the exception that proves the rule that it is impossible to fear something that you are yourself. Evil for example.


Fact Two: Windowsills collect dust and dust is largely made up skin fragments – eeww! And evil people get sad when reunited with long lost and long forgotten skin fragments.


Fact Three: You never see spiders on windowsills anymore because most spiders are scared to run into other spiders there which scares them because spiders fear spiders because spiders are scary. And evil people are scared of things being scared of running into similar things at places; so evil people stay the hell away.


Fact Four: Windowsills are rarely made of denim. Why not? I don’t know, manufacturers of windowsills have never satisfactorily explained this, and this says loud and clear – they have something to hide. I don’t know what it could be, but you better believe I FEAR it! And evil people don’t wear denim; it makes them itch.


These Four facts prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is perfectly logical to be evil and be scared of windowsills, and therefore the fact that you are scared of windowsills is not the cause of your evil, but rather a symptom.


Note: Doubt NEVER has a shadow. It’s a feeling, not an object, and feelings don’t have shadows.


Note 2: Unless what you are feeling is a spider on you in which case – RUN!!!!!!!


Stay tuned – next week I will somehow attempt to prove that you can NOT own a wallet yet still BE ADDICTED to sniffing strangers perfume.


Clue: If you’re stricken with adult onset diabetes that has bizarrely caused acute juvenile amnesia why would you buy a wallet, you should be worrying about getting medical a examination!

Please don't hit her

In Australia there is a man known to most as ‘moonface’ due to his big moon like face who has been a fixture on TV since I think like the year it was invented. He’s kind of like our Regis, and he is a much-loved icon.



(Oh damn, pictures aren't copy and pasting here - boo. I do recommend looking up pictures of the girls mentioned below)



Because of this his son got the easy ride into fame and fortune because for some reason I have never figured out if your parents are famous you no longer have to qualify with talent to be put on TV.







He rode the wave with joy jumping head first into stardom where he met this girl, Brooke Satchwell, who at the time was a multi-award winning huge TV star in Australia who also has huge boobs. I’m not usually a big boob guy, but I would like to meet hers, and her too actually.





Things were going great for our hero, he was the son of the famous guy and therefore he is famous, things were going so good in fact that he decided to start beating up Brooke. Ahhh, young love.


Brooke was strong, and had him charged with assault where he was convicted in a court of law of doing one of the scummiest things any human could ever even imagine doing.


As I am sure you can all understand from here his career skyrocketed. I mean he was the guy everyone was already talking about so in a world brimming with talented people who no one is willing to take a chance on why on earth would you hire one of these kids when you already have a known undeserving sadistic bastard ready to go, assuming at the moment he is either not in rehab or in a drug fueled rampage which will put him there soon which could interrupt filming and ruin the whole show/film. I mean this is show business and when a great business opportunity comes up to cast a known scum bag everyone should hate and may well fuck up the entire production comes up you simply have to grab the chance while its there.


Obviously I am being sarcastic, but the truth is this guy really did beat up his girlfriend, numerous times, he admitted it, was convicted of it, and only missed jail because I guess the judge also liked to give his missus a good thumping from time to time and didn’t want to set a precedent for jail time for this kind of evil? Or something like that. But his career really did take off from here, he went from a bit part player to a leading man in big TV shows and movies, and as of last week was in the Ryan Seacrest role as host of Australia’s new x-factor.


It’s lunacy.


That’s why he was able to woo this girl






Her name is Rachael Taylor, and she is herself on the cusp of being a major movie star. And also very hot, and has the little boobs I usually like and I would also like to meet her boobs, and her. You know, just for fun and that.


Thing were once again going great for our hero, so this week he beat Rachael up a bunch of times and everyone is outraged and shocked.


In his defense he then did what guy so manly that he often beats up young girls would do and manned up, and offered to let the cops beat the living shit out of him before dumping his sadistic ass in jail for a long, long time, woops I mean checked back into rehab, so he could pretend that he isn’t bad its just the naughty medicine talking.


This is truly one piece of shit of a human. I have no idea how he managed to repair his career after he first did this, and not just repair it but have it blossom considerably. It is totally unforgivable, and I really, really hope when he gets out of rehab this time Australia makes him a truly despised man. I suspect we'll do the opposite and give him a starring role on a show within weeks. I mean he was the new host of the x-factor, he has already filmed all of the audition shows, so they can't edit him out, and this is a show mostly targeted towards teenage girls!!!! Who on earth made that hiring decision, and how have they not been fired by now?


I do feel very sorry for Rachael, but still, given the well known facts a girl, who is literally one of the most beautiful girls alive and who was a star in a movie, which although being utter crap, did gross something like a billion dollars (Transformers), and not that these two factors should ensure you’re lucky in love, but it does mean you have choices of a considerable number of would be suitors, so the fact that she chose to date a guy with a known history of violence against his love interests I can only assume a conversation like this took place at some point.


‘Hi Mum’

‘Hi Honey’

‘Guess what, I have news!’

‘What is it luv?’

‘I met a boy’

‘You did? Congratulations! What’s he like?’

‘Oh he is wonderful, he is a famous actor who isn’t very talented but his dad is really famous so he gets to leap into the industry in front of more deserving people, plus get this, he has a history of substance abuse problems AND he used to beat up his ex-girlfriend’

‘Oh honey, I am so happy for you, finally you found a good one, in this world where almost all men would think it nothing short of despicable to physically attack their loved ones it can be hard finding one willing’

‘I know, finally a boy willing to love me with is kisses and his closed fist pummeling my face’

‘Plus baby, and I don’t want to jinx it, but a black eye will really compliment a white wedding dress!!!!!’

‘I know, I can picture it now, my beautiful day, with a split lip a black eye, and a cracked rib making it hard to breathe, so romantic’

‘Has he hit you yet’?

‘Not yet, but I can tell he wants to. Do you think I should provoke him by starting some silly fight over something ludicrous like the toilet seat, or is that being too manipulative’

‘Ha ha, you’re still learning aren’t you, of course it’s ok to be a little manipulative, when it comes to the important things like when a boy first says he loves you, or buys you flowers for no particular reason, or punches a couple of teeth out of your mouth sometimes they just need a little push’

‘Thanks mum, maybe I’ll purposely leave the microwave door open tonight, he hates that, oh my god, I’m so excited, I am finally going to know what it feels like to have someone who claims he loves me punch me in the face!!!! Yay’

‘Just make sure you tell me all about it when it happens, some of us are just going to live vicariously through you, were not all that lucky’

‘Oh mum, I hope you find a nice woman basher too one day’

‘Thanks honey. Oh one other thing, when he hits you try not to let the media find out, I know this may be hard to believe but some people think men beating up women is “wrong”’

‘No they don’t, they couldn’t’

‘I’m telling you luv, it’s true. Some people think boyfriends should give you cuddles, not broken bones, and its worse, some people will even think you were “silly” to even go out with a guy like this’

‘I don’t believe it’

‘Well try to honey, cause if it gets out he might have to “pretend” to be sorry and go back to rehab because all his other stints in rehab so clearly “cured” him of his girlfriend bashing ways, and he can’t hit you when he is in rehab can he?’

‘No, I don’t think I could handle that’

‘Well I don’t want to bring you down from your joy, have a great night baby doll, I hope you taste your own blood from your bleeding tongue tonight!’

‘Thanks mum, you’re the best mummy ever!’


Ahh, the world :(


Other weird things I have seen this week include


- A guy in a pizza restaurant in Los Angeles point down at his pizza and without a hint of irony or sarcasm said 'They would never serve pizza like this in America'

- A woman in a Carls Jnr burger joint sitting with her food in front of her yet still wearing one of those anti-pollution/bird-flu masks

- A guy at McDonald's who upon ascending to the front of the line was still talking on the phone and who did NOT put it down as he ordered and yet DID still get served and did NOT get stabbed in the face for being such a rude asshole (I know this one isn't that unusual - but it sure as hell should be)

- A 33 year old Australian literally eating McDonalds within ten minutes of eating Carls Jnr (I know this guy personally too, and he is getting a little pudgy again for some reason, I don't have the heart to tell him)

- A man precociously slicking back his underarm hair all sexy like in hope of earning free leave it to beaver memorabilia (this one was me too, but seriously that beav has some expensive shit these days).

Mark my words

Mark my words
Category: Blogging

If you ask me most marksmen are probably really bad at remembering to pay for their parking at the machine before driving up to the exits and annoying the people behind them, the very people who HAD taken the time to follow the clearly labeled directions as posted in several different hard to miss locations upon entering the parking facility.


I know…. I am making a bold statement here, and if you know me I don’t like making bold statements, bold type uses more ink when printing and that shit is surprisingly expensive. Then again I was the guy who once boldly claimed that one-day people would suddenly realize that:


‘hey cheese is awesome, and therefore using the term “cheesy” translated to mean something other than awesome, or maybe even dare I say it “uncool” (how can something be un something, really you’re either something or your not it, you’re not un it. I am a boy not an ungirl for example. Or didn’t cut down a baby giant redwood today I didn’t unnotcutdownababygiantredwood today because that would be kind of stupid, giant red words are awesome, so you can stick your uns up your ass. By the way if you choose not to do this then please don’t unstickunsupyourass). So “cheesy” should be awesome, always, unless you’re being ironic and let’s face it when people use the word “cheesy” they’re hardly ever fucking meaning it ironically and frankly if you’re going to be ironic leave cheese fucking out of it, cheese is never ironic to you, it’s just delicious, and it sits on top of awesome foods like pizza or inside awesome foods like pizza with cheese stuffed into the insides, so leave cheese alone is all I am saying’


And yes that is a direct quote of what I thought ALL people would one day randomly say out loud. It was a bold statement and I only turned out to be partly true (the true bit was the word ‘something’ that word actually exists!)


By the way feel free to be ironic about mirrors – you look at them but you see yourself!!!! Wow, there has got to be something ironic about that.


Hey check this out – what did the vain guy say to the mirror?


Nothing!


Get it. He didn’t see the mirror only himself, ha ha, you know cause he was vain and vanity is awesome.


By the way if you’re vain you suck, so I am so glad I am so much more awesome and beautiful than you, it makes me feel awesome about myself, you vain bastard.


I feel like we’ve gotten off the point. What point I hear you ask? (Wow either you’re really loud or we live closer than I thought!) Point is you can see why I would be wary about making a bold statement again, that is why when I say marksmen probably show an arrogant level of diligence and assiduousness (thesaurus = yay) when it comes to parking etiquette you can have faith I wouldn’t be making such a claim if I didn’t have some hard core evidence that I know what the hell I am talking about.


What hard-core evidence do you have? I hear you ask (seriously keep it down ‘the neighbors will talk’ is a phrase which suggests neighbors are mostly mute and I think evidence points towards most neighbors NOT being mute – so just be careful is all I’m saying).


So what evidence do I have? The best kind, that’s what, yes that’s right hell yeah I have myself in the possession of a theory!


Do you know that it was a theory that led to the invention of tablecloths? Someone once said ‘I have a theory that if we cover the table with a cloth we can create more laundry with no real benefits at all, and an international billion dollar industry was born’ so that there is proof that theories can change the world! When was the last time photographic evidence changed the world? It’s probably been a week or so, where as tablecloths and fresh and relevant.


And really if you can’t get mad at an entire profession because of a theory then what is the point of those public service announcements about how it’s probably not ok to light your own arm on fire? I know! They DON’T exist, because someone had a theory that if they did make public service announcements of this variety it would be pointless because the type of individual prone to lighting their arms on fire are probably too busy with active dating lives to be at home watching TV.


And they were of course right – yet another reason I am jealous of the fire armers. The other reasons include the following:


- They rarely have their sinks blocked up with hair that has fallen off their arms which saves thousands a year in plumbing costs

- They’re more respected that politicians

- They rarely get given tickets by the cops (when your arm is on fire the cops believe you when you say your wife is about to give birth, cause think about it, if your wife wasn’t about to give birth why on earth would you light your arm on fire?)


By the way, remember high school when all your classmates’ wives were giving birth? If so you’re peers had a weird trend of young marriages.


I once wrote a novel called ‘your peers had a weird trend of young marriages’ it was about a bunch of normal well adjusted teenagers – the title was ironic – and yes it’s way better to be ironic about peers and teenage marriages than cheese, you dairy hating scum (Butter and ice cream are also diary! Wow, magical). (Have you ever put melted butter on your ice-cream? If so you may be overweight, and yet clearly awesomenessous, which is proof that fat is the new cool).


Speaking of scum I also assume marksmen are dairy haters, because why else would they not pay for their parking at the time they were told to!!!!!


I’ll tell you why – because marksmen don’t know the meaning of the word ‘helmatumliciss’ because that word doesn’t exist and marksmen are often too busy looking into that close up scope eye hole dealy to worry about the dictionary. Yes I know – bastards.


And what kind of person doesn’t have intimate knowledge of every made up word not in the dictionary? People who don’t pay for their parking when they should – that’s who!! (Please not: Also all people and all people includes marksmen!!!!)


So yes do I answer yes to the suggestion that yes I am pissed off at marksmen? Yes I do.


Will I get over it soon? Probably, I mean I don’t actually know any marksmen and I don’t own a car so I rarely park one in carparks so what’s the big deal really?


By the way are marksmen are those guys who train to like shoot things from far away? Cause those guys are talented AND cool, I’d never say anything bad about them.


Ps – helmatumliciss: To love tablecloths and yet keep it a secret that really they don’t do anything but contribute to laundry

So jealous - or maybe I'm just a pioneer

Do we have any Craig Ferguson fans here? I love that man, his books are fantasitic and his show is pure genious (I'm keeping this misspelling cause I kind of like that misspelled that word).

I'm Jealous of Craig, because what he does and gets to do, on his show is a total dream of mine, hence my various attempts at my little internet talk shows. One thing I have been jealous about with Craig more recently is his robot skeleton side kick. I've wanted some weird kind of electronic side kick for years!!!! I sort of experimented (only in my mind) with a manican (fuck I can't even spell this close enough to spellcheck getting it, no more beer for breakfast please Dave) with a tape recorder for a head, I've tried weird things, once I had a mouse in a bowl of rose petals, but it didn't talk, and more recently I have thought about getting a girl in a bikini to read random things I write on a piece of paper (still thinking of using this one, what do you think?) but Craig getting his robot skeleton has made me think if I pull out my own version I will just be accused of copying.

No sir ee Dave. In your forgetful nature (no more beer for breakfast Dave - I am actually doing that right now, seriously, I had a half a warm beer on my window ledge and I'm finishing it, mostly because of a hate for waste of beer than a desire for morning beer - or so I tell myself) but I completely forgot that I HAD A ROBOT SIDEKICK WAY BEFORE CRAIG!!!!!!!

I have proof too, I filmed this below August 9th 2009 - months before Craig even conceived his robot.

Check it out

http://www.ustream.tv/recorded/1959790

I still love you Craig, your a genious (yay) but maybe I am too!!!!!

I'm here to protect you

I can tell by osmosis that many of my readers are big fans of the cops, so I thought it was about time I talked about some of my days when I was a member of the boys in blue, the finest protectors in the world’s little brother, the police force. (The finest protectors in the world are obviously surfers; their tireless effort to protect us from sharks taking over the mainland should never be forgotten).


When I was a cop I was hardcore, that means I played by my rules, and my rules were neatly summed up in a book they gave us when we joined the police force, this book was referred to as ‘the book’ and if you decided, like me, to make your own rules basically the same as the one’s in ‘the book’ then your rules would be pretty much the same as everyone else’s on the force, and that helped us all get along way better. Hell yeah, it’s that kind of attitude which cops need to adhere to all else partners get slapped by each other, and its never manly to slap another man.


Now as a hardcore law enforcer one of my primary responsibilities was to go to schools to scare the kids straight by talking at assemblies. (And by assembly I mean the assembligation of a group of kids, I was not talking while kids like assembled model air planes or something, no, never, not this cop).


These assemblies were always poorly attended of course. I guess the bad kids were always too scared to hear the truth! That’s right police uniforms are dry-clean only, so if you become a cop you need to take that into account or else the drain in your salary from keeping a clean uniform may severely throw off your projected spending power in the up-coming fiscal year. Those bad kids, always scared to hear someone say ‘fiscal’, I know it’s hard to pronounce but that’s no reason to flee the scene kids! I would often feel very guilty after these assemblies, but not for the bad kids lack of guts. No, for my own failures, but we’ll get to that.


In these assemblies I’d get to say stuff like ‘study hard or else they’ll hold you back and make you repeat a year or two and then you’ll end up that weird older guy still in school’.


‘Hey aren’t you like 30? You’re the weird older guy in this school!’ a kid would always inevitably yell out. And as the rest of the kids burst into laughter I would remember exactly why I decided to become a cop in the first place – to crack the skulls of smart-ass kids! So I would pull out my baton and charge at the kid ready to expose his cracked skull off to the whole fucking school.


After the smart nerdy girls, who always sat up front, had tackled me, subdued me and kicked me out I’d return to the police station and my sergeant would call me into his office


‘Are you retarded?’ he would yell at me

‘Well you were the one who hired me, you tell me?’ I’d reply ‘plus why get angry if you are posing that as a question, by definition a questions should be something you are asking because you don’t know the answer and therefore you should attach no emotion to it at all until the answer is forthcoming, which of course I have not provided, so there’.


Not wanting to own up to their own stupid decision-making when choosing a new employee to be part of their police squad these ‘bosses’, as we imaginatively called them, would usually remain quiet and I’d go unpunished.


This ability of mine to twist the facts and the realities to my own advantage was a key element of my police work.


‘Case closed!’ you would often hear me yell.


Of course I never actually had any cases. ‘When you’re a rouge cop who plays by your own rules which match up neatly against their rules then they don’t give you cases’ I would say to myself when I questioned why once again they were making me stay in the office and photocopy paper work I’d seen other cops pull from the trash after hearing a ‘boss’ say ‘I don’t know, just make up something for him to do’.


Still ‘Case closed’ I would yell, because when I came to work I always packed a small suitcase in case I was sent out on undercover work, and I always packed light, so my suit case was ALWAYS easy to get closed, none of that sitting on it bullshit you see so many disgraceful over-packers do all the time. ‘Case closed’ hell yeah it was, again and again and again.

That’s why I often felt guilty after these assemblies. So often I would be kicked out by the nerdy smart girls before I had the chance to tell the kids about the importance of over packing.


‘Pack light’ I wanted to tell them kids ‘because when they kick you out of somewhere and your bag is packed lightly, the people kicking you out are way less likely to think “this is pretty heavy, maybe we’ll keep it in case it’s full of valuables” and instead will chuck it at you while you lie on the grass with a three twelve year old girls standing over you laughing!’


Is that an important lesson for the kids? Well you ask me – ‘Is that an important lesson for the kids’ I hear you asking. Hell yeah it is, ‘case closed’ you should imagine me saying, this time about the case of whether that is an important lesson for the kids or not rather than about closing my suitcase.


You see I don’t close cases any more. I have since been fired as a cop, and so no longer prepare myself for undercover work. Apparently somewhere in ‘the book’ it states that if you get kicked out of twenty seven school assemblies in one year then you get fired’. Personally, to be honest, as I cop I never actually read ‘the book’ I was too busy closing cases.

Another great underdog story

They say it’s good luck when a bird shits on you. I’m not sure why myself, seems more like it forces the washing of clothes which was invented by Ivan the terrible. You see as the Tsar of Russia, Ivan went on a terrible killing spree. The people would say ‘what’s ol’ Ivan up to?’ and the reply would come ‘Ivan’s on a terrible killing spree’ then some guy went ‘we should call him Ivan the terrible’.


Ivan had this man killed of course. This is why bullies now hand out most nicknames. It’s simple evolution. Giving out nicknames often got you killed in awful inhumane ways. So mostly only really stupid people gave them out. Like the guy who nicknamed Queen Elizabeth the 1st the ‘virgin queen’? What an idiot, while he was out thinking up nicknames he had the chance to bone a queen, and a virgin! You’d have to be nuts to pass out either of those things. And instead he stuck to nicknames and got himself drawn and quartered. And that smarts, especially when the horses are pulling your limbs off. Then there was that dude in ancient Rome who called some other bloke Steve, which back then was a terrible insult meaning ‘one with manly voice’ which in those days was insulting because men with manly voices were often forced to be leaders, which in those days wasn’t desired because they didn’t have microphones so giving speeches hurt the throat. Well that guy who called that guy Steve, had Steve turn around and said ‘you rule’, which in those days was a really mean insult, you know because of the whole sore throat element to ruling.


Over time with nicknaming few becoming stupider and stupider and therefore their offspring became stupider and stupider until we reach modern times when only the stupidest people alive have the natural instinct to nickname within them, and you got it, bullies, always the stupidest people alive.


Advice by Dave – If you ever have someone bullying go ‘nice job Steve, you Rule’ they’ll be too stupid to know the reference and it’ll confuse them so much they’ll poo their pants.


Please note – result may differ if the bullies name is Steve.


In Ivan’s case the reception of the nickname ‘Ivan the terrible’ did of course result in the nicknamer to be tortured cruelly (one of his ancestors went on to be the bully who nicknamed New York’s the naked cowboy ‘the naked cowboy’ clearly failing to notice that this man is always wearing underpants, seriously what a moron). But it also hurt Ivan’s feelings terribly. And when he told his number two in command ‘my feelings hurt terribly’ and his number two went ‘Ha ha, like Ivan the terrible’ you guessed it, beheaded! Now Ivan felt even worse, not only did he have a nickname that hurt his feelings terribly but he had just beheaded his best friend.


There was only one thing for it. He needed to go out and shag as many women as possible to get his mind off it. He set to his new task with a vigor people hadn’t seen in him since his last murder spree. Yet still he wasn’t happy. ‘Why aren’t you happy Ivan?’ someone once fortuitously asked him. ‘Because some of the girls smell bad’ came the reply.


In an instant the word was put out, if you want Ivan to pork you instead of kill you, then you damn well better smell decent. ‘But how?’ said a young lady by the name of Madeline Washing. Then she went ‘bingo’ which then was a word meaning ‘dinner is ready’ and while she sat and ate dinner with her family she noticed a lot of them were wiping grease and shit on their clothes, and she thought to herself ‘what a waste of grease and shit’. Furious at her family for their waste, she made her son try and extract the wasted food from his shirt, he failed miserably, as he just chucked his shirt in the river and said ‘get it out yourself mum, you slut!’ Madeline was crushed, her food was wasted, her son hated her, and she remembered that she was married with kids, and so probably not the kind of lay the tsar was looking for anyway.


Dejected, she went down to the river to collect the shirt, and finding it stuck in a tree, she pulled it free and discovered in was kind of cleaner than it had been. She named this new process ‘Washing’ after her surname, because people were all show offs back then.


She never did get to screw the tsar, but washing took off, some people still practice it even today! Still a bird pooing on you lucky? Yeah right, like I am going to support something that originated from nicknaming!


So this one time a friend of mine, Leaves, was pooed on by a bird. He showed up at work that day with a big poo stain on his shirt. And someone said to him ‘hey nice poo stain, you should buy a lottery ticket’ and so he bought a lottery ticket and did NOT win, and vowed from that day on that birds pooing on you clearly wasn’t good luck, and that hard work was what got people what they wanted.


He started telling people ‘hey man, you know when someone says a bird pooing on you is good luck, well that’s bullshit man’ and they’d go ‘no bird shit, not bullshit’ and he’d be like ‘don’t test me man’ and they’d be like ‘hey have you ever realized that bird shit is two words yet bullshit is one word, that’s speciest!’ and he would get all upset and want to fight back, sometimes he would get so enraged that he would even think about nicknaming some of these people. But he wouldn’t go out like that ‘not this guy man’ he would say. And then people were like ‘you can’t say guy and man back to back, it’s not good English’ and that would really piss him off.


The forty second time after this series of events took place he snapped. A bird pooing on him had started this path to horror. People had told him at the time that it was good luck and instead it had sent his life spiraling out of control to the point of people correcting his English, which is of course one of the most evil things humans can do (except in Estonia where it is considered polite! Ahh Estonians, they are so cute yet so fucked up).


Leaves swore revenge. If a bird pooing on him could ruin his life then he was going to return the favor. Yep, that’s right, he was going to poo on a bird. Hell yeah he was.


It was not going to be easy. Birds aren’t easy to target, and pooing isn’t easy to control.


Little known fact: Guns are not designed after the human digestion system!


But Leaves was determined. He trained hard. He ate lots of fiber. And one day he came out from his training facilities, spotted a target, ran at it with the speed and grace of a Springbok, leapt to his feet, and while somersaulting through the air he pulled down his pants and projectile fired out a turd right into the head of one of the losers who said ‘a bird pooing on you is good luck’.


And he yelled ‘a bird pooing on you good luck. A human pooing on you great skill! Take that Steve!’ (This guys name was Steve, so don’t you go label Leaves one of these nicknaming psychos!).


Leaves still hasn’t managed to poo on a bird (he is adamant a Canary in a cage doesn’t count, some people are weird I guess) but he continues to try until this very day, and I think he will get there, because in the end if the underdog doesn’t win some people are like ‘why are we watching this, we can see the underdog lose in real life all the time’ and the answer is of course ‘because if the end doesn’t surprise you at least occasionally there will never be any suspense in any stories you loser’.


Also if you ever have a bird poo on you and someone says ‘hey bird poo, that’s good luck, yay’ tell them ‘no it ain’t’ then give Leaves a call, and he’ll show them the real meaning of Christmas, wait I mean he’ll totally poo in their face for you, especially if they are a bunch of birds dressed in a human man suit. (This is not the source of the two birds one stone saying, but if your poos are stone like please see a doctor).

I'm blind to it

I decided to do some cleaning up this week. I usually use the gradual approach to housework, where I’ll let everything get about as dirty as possible and then work on cleaning it over several days while doing stuff adjacent to the mess.


So I decided to clean the kitchen for a change. I usually do this while cooking because doing either by themselves is too boring for me. I often need to have two activities going at once. I watch TV and read at the same time. I sleep and sleepwalk. I eat and write. As I am writing this I will flick across several websites. My brain just works like this.


So I am cleaning and cooking, and over the course of doing this over a couple of days through various meals I get the mountain of dishes under control, and have the kitchen to a Dave level of cleanliness (exactly equal to a female ‘this is disgusting’ level). And a day or so later I scan the room to see if it’s worth cooking and cleaning of if I should just order pizza, when I realize something. There is a dirty pot on the stove that I never even moved to the sink. I wondered why for a moment when it occurred to me I hadn’t moved it because I hadn’t noticed it, and that the reason I hadn’t noticed it is because I wasn’t the one who used it, and therefore it is invisible to me!


Seriously invisible! The truth of the matter is I don’t clean for myself one little bit. I am more than happy to live in absolute squalor. If I lived the way my instincts want me to I would use nothing but plastic cutlery and paper plates, drink from the cans and bottles, never clean the bathroom no matter how disgusting it got, and take the trash out once a month or so. It’s not that I am gross it’s that I am a guy, and we have better things to do, like watching sports and eating deep fried things. A clean house doesn’t add to your life it only takes valuable time away.


I was thinking about this when I was looking at that dish. Why do I clean what I do clean? Purely and simply it is because I don’t want to get in trouble for leaving a mess that someone else has to clean and I don’t want people to know how disgusting I really am. Every bit of cleaning I do is how much it takes to do the very minimum I can do to try and facilitate those two goals.


When I look at a mess my mind is now finally tuned to only see the things I made and therefore the things I can be judged on. I can’t get in trouble for a pot someone else left so I literally don’t even see it.


I wonder if this is just the unique me, but I suspect that it is the same in every guys brain. The lesson is if I ever live with a significant other come visit me, if the place is a mess I’m in a happy relationship; if it’s clean I need help getting out please.


Also I saw ghostworld, or ghostland or whatever the Ricky Gervais one is in the past week and that dudes apartment in that movie was spotless, not a single item of clothing on the ground, now dirty dishes in the sink, and before the character is even revealed I know he is going to be very stuck in his ways, close minded, controlling, and selfish. That’s what really clean guys are like. So my advice to the ladies is think twice before you complain about your messy partners, for one he literally can’t see the mess, and if it was different he’d probably be a controlling prick.