Shit Yeah!

I Just got a new 250GB USB Hard drive! No more file shuffling so I can fit a measly 40GB of porn on my computer. Now I will have it all!!!!

Kendra, read this post.

Just wanted to put it out there that I'm still single and your sister is still attractive. At least the picture on your myspace portrayed her as such. San Diego is working for me music-wise, but my love life is suffering. I'm becoming bitter towards women who aren't immediately attracted to me. If you've even met my friend Aaron, you know what this is like.

This is amazing in mostly bad ways

But then I got over it.

Kendra don't read this

I just downloaded some stuff from allinternals.com. Aside from being slightly misogynistic for my taste (a few unnecessary slaps and/or rough treatment, which the girls didn't seem to mind at all, but my prudish morality does; pls. note irony), I found the idea of internal cum shots rather compelling. I thought it was interesting because it had the potential to be a little more intimate and reflective of real-life intercourse, my real-life anyways. I mean, first of all, who wants to wear a condom, and for that matter, who the fuck wants to bother pulling out? Prolly the same kind of guys who actually roll over before they pass out. Sissies.

But then I was reading the synopsis for one of the movies and it said something to the effect of "Watch Ruby get fucked by a well-hung stud and then filled up with babies- I mean cum!"

What the fuck?

Is that the appeal? It makes me feel like Tromeo in the jackoff scene in Tromeo and Juliet. I mean, I've never been opposed to the idea of kids but I certainly don't want them in the near future, if ever. Am I just bullshitting myself? There's something vaguely arousing about the idea of my virile hip thrusts leading to an awesome, explosive internal cum shot deep inside the woman I love, but babies? Somehow I lost wood and got harder at the same time.

Bob Dylan is full of shit, and so is folk music.

Well, i just finished my last beer,(Sam Adams Octoberfest. Delicious.) so now it is time to rant. About 45 minutes ago, I thought it might be a good idea to check out marty Scorsese's Dylan picture, "no direction home". My freind Korrie lent it to me, even though I only requested Bjork DVDS. While the Bjork DVDs I received were wonderful, this Dylan crap is pretty inexcusable. I figured, "hey, I don't like dylan, but it's Scorsese, so it'll be good right?" I must have forgotten about "The Departed", which also sucked balls. Big balls. It stunk like a dildo I shoved up my ass and forgot about.

Anyway, I didn't know much about Dylan before I watched this DVD, and now, not even having finished even the first half, I find myself re-thinking the friendship I have with the owner of this drivel.

So was Bob Dylan in the right place at the right time or what? I mean, this film is actually a kind of interesting piece on the folk music revival of the 60's, but then it keeps focusing on Dylan, this cover song wannabe! Oooooh, I love Woodie Guthrie, blah blah blah. It might have held me, but it kept surrendering the point to this oh so aging hipster that just doesn't have much to say.

Bob Dylan owes me 45 minutes, and Scorsese owes me like three or four hours now.