Every Year I need to prove I'm an Ineffective Asshole.

That's me in 2005. 

I was 60 lbs lighter than I am today. 

As is customary with the passing of the 12 month cycle of the Gregorian calendar, I am once again making a resolution to be that guy over there.

So far it's just been diet, I started doing Weight Watchers (for men, cause I'm a bad-ass, like Kid Rock). So far I'm down 8 pounds but in the grand scheme of things that isn't really shit. I need to lose another 40 pounds minimum.

Over the last 7 years I've gained 2 more children and 60 pounds of excess weight (not counting the two kids). It's fucked up. I'm a fat pig. 

So now I have to add in some sort of exercise which isn't easy, because I've NEVER exercised in my life. I didn't in high school, in college, never. My friends didn't exercise, no one I knew exercised except for my wife, but since we have a bazillion kids, when she was exercising that meant I was babysitting. 

I think I've decided I want to get into yoga. It fits in with my sort of kind of in some weird way Buddhist mind set and I think it's low impact (BUZZWORD!) and I have fucked up knees and and ankles (and liver and heart and lungs and bowels). 

Although my friends are all trying to get me to go with them to a yoga class at a gym I'd really rather secretly join a yoga studio anonymously and slowly work at it with a group of strangers who won't, at a later date, judge me at cocktail parties filled with people who know me. The problem has been I can't find a fucking yoga center near my work or my house, which is kind of ridiculous since I thought yoga was SPECIFICALLY marketed towards suburban douchebags with too much discretionary income and I live in the heart of S.D.W.T.M.D.I. Country.

This won't stop me though, I'm going to join a center this week and begin the process of slowly breaking my ankle on day one of class and being laid up in bed with a cast for 7 weeks, because I want to be in shape.

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I Don't Do Disclosure Jagoff

My wife went with her brother to visit their mom's grave this week. Yesterday my wife told me he asked her all sorts of questions about how much money I make, my sources of income, did I get a Christmas bonus and if so how much and things of that nature. He also asked if my stress was self induced, insinuating I have nothing to be stressed about. 

Throughout my marriage to my wife this one particular brother in law has always assumed my wife was a daddy's girl, and relied on her dad to help her and us I guess, maintain our lifestyle. Nothing could be further from the truth, my wife never asks her dad for anything aside from possibly more visits with the grandkids when he's in town. But my brother in law assumes that must be the case since he himself is always in debt and feels there's no way I actually honestly earn more money than he does.

I don't know what his deal is. He questions how we can afford the house we have the children we have the way we live the things we do. How the fuck is this his business? I know damn well I have never asked him his yearly salary but I'm sure he's asked my wife what mine is.

People, men specifically, are insecure fucks. If someone appears to have more than they do, they immediately start to question it, how can it be possible? It can't be. I DESERVE to have more than he does. There HAS to be something fishy going on here. It can't just be honest hard work and living within our means, it HAS to be something else. It's ridiculous. He's been watching too many movies.

I think I'll have one of my crew that runs numbers for me pay him a visit and teach him discretion.

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It's Not the Size of the Ship, if it's the Captain has Strong Tongue Muscles

So since I was scared to death to have actual intercourse because of the threats my dad made to me, I didn't lose my virginity until I was 18 years old. I lost it in my girlfriend's parent's bed. Her dad was a cop too, it was very stressful. I think it may have lasted 20 seconds? I could barely get my semi-hard 18-year old cock inside of her wet yet clamped tight from nervousness pussy. It was 2 solid minutes of me trying to force it in while laying on top of her and her trying to relax enough to let me in, also, as I said, the wetness factor just made the head of my cock slide around the opening of her tiny, tiny 18-year old pussy which in itself just made more moisture appear. Eventually the head of my cock pushed about 3/16ths of inch inside and I instantly came. Tadah! Wow, I needed a nap. 

So prior to that momentous occasion, I wasn't exactly celibate. I had a lot of oral sex before that, A LOT. As a teen, when I would have a girlfriend, eventually they started getting suspicious when I wasn't actively trying to fuck them. At first it was sweet, but soon they'd point out how all of their friends boyfriends were dying to nail them and it seemed like I should want inside of them. Since I knew damn well I wasn't going to actually fuck anyone for fear of being shot in the head by my dad, I learned a distraction technique.

I learned, from watching TONS OF PORN, how to eat pussy. I watched lots of lesbian girl on girl porn and simply taught myself how to please a woman. At this age, not a lot of guys went down on their girlfriends and if they did, it was a quick lick or two, maybe an awkward finger was jammed into a dry slot and then they wanted to fuck their girl. Not me, my point was not to end up nailing the girl, in fact it was exactly the opposite. 

Since the girl was not used to being eaten out, she'd be nervous, which would distract her. Even if it felt good, distraction is never beneficial when trying to reach orgasm. But even more importantly, MOST girls at this age hadn't actually had an orgasm. Oh, they THOUGHT they had. They'd get right up to the edge of cumming and then they stop me and tell me they came, I should stop. But they hadn't. I knew what a female orgasm looked, sounded and FELT like and they were not quite there yet, because they probably never had been there before.

So now we'd have a goal, we had a mission, we were going to bring her (whoever she may be at the time) to orgasm, screaming, shuttering, gasping for breath orgasm by my tongue slowly and painstakingly licking against her clit or sliding inside or with my tongue and fingers or however it needed to be done. We had our project.

THIS would totally put any requests for me to fuck her off of the table. She was completely secure I wasn't weird because I didn't want to fuck, because oh my god could I eat pussy. The other side effect was that I learned that since I LOVED eating pussy so much and I got so worked up while doing it, I could cum, simply by licking pussy. So NOW she didn't have to lay there and get awkwardly fucked by some 15 year who didn't know what he was doing, she got her pussy licked, she started having orgasms for the first time in her life AND she didn't have to worry about taking care of me once I had licked her into nirvana. 

As I became older I really prided myself on my pussy eating abilities and to this day still try to learn new ways to please a woman through watching lesbian porn. Everyone needs to be really good as something I guess.  

Heartless Fuck wishes you a Merry Christmas Mom, Now GO.

It's Christmas in one week, my mom almost died a month ago, she can't drive, she doesn't have the use of one of her arms, she's constantly on mediation, always needs to see a doctor, she has no health insurance, she's 58 years old, she hasn't had a job in nearly 20 years and her husband is leaving her (divorce will be final in March), aside from me and my younger brother and her 84 year old aunt she has no one, no money saved, and quite possibly nowhere to live and I kinda' don't want to fucking bother even calling her. 

I kind of want to throw the "off" switch in the section of my brain that pertained to her and move on.

My mom sucked at being a mom. Not the normal sucked either, she wasn't a pain in the ass when I was a kid or too smothering, she simply didn't fucking care. I was not a concern to her. She didn't raise me, she left me to fend for myself with a wolf and then went on to blame me for it, an 11 year old kid who's biggest rebellion was a mullet. The end result is I have had little or no relationship with her as an adult, she has sucked as a grandparent and even though I have continued to offer her help in every way possible, she has time and time again turned me down and opted to stick it out with her drunk of a husband. I'm so sick of typing this shit in this blog.

The last I heard he wasn't divorcing her and magically she stopped calling us once that happened, NOW apparently he IS still leaving her and today she talked to my wife for an hour, or more like LECTURED my wife on how we disappeared after the whole aneurysm event.

I have no connection to my parents. None. Zero. Seriously, when other people talk about their parents being a pain the ass, I don't relate, I don't get it and I don't understand. They're just other people, if you don't like a person, don't be friends with them, it's just that simple.

My wife is a good person, unlike me, my wife thinks we should try again, we should be humble and force our help on her, again, for the 1,100th time. It's Christmas after all. Fuck. Why? Seriously?

I now have to decide if I'm going to call my mom, and if I call what I am or am not going to say. I'm not looking for her to love me or like me or even be nice to me. I don't care. As a human I care a little, just because I know this person and I know this person has nothing else. That being said, her way of connecting with us was to call and bitch out my wife who is the only person who's ever been on her side for years and years now and I'm pissed off.

I know EVERYONE has family issues but I'd be good cutting this one off permanently and walking away and somehow I feel like it's not going to happen. I hate being in this position where I have to kowtow to a woman who will do nothing but bring me grief and emotional wreckage.

All I do for myself is put food in my mouth, put poop in the toilet and try to sleep.

Everybody dies. 

I don't like to think about that, but who really does. 

My mother-in-law died. I watched her die. I watched her literally take her last breath, in her home, in a dark room, surrounded by her children, in the dead of night. The event in itself took hours. The event in itself was beyond words, I can't believe I was there, I can't believe I experienced that and my experience couldn't have been 0.0001% of what my wife experienced. 


Stunning. Upsetting. Unnerving. Reality shattering.

I am thinking about death recently. I have a close friend facing something similar but on a much closer  level. It's unreal to consider someone else having to do what we did then.

I am soon to be 41. I am 5'9" and 211 lbs. My chest hurts. My chest gets tight. My extremities fall asleep and get 'pins-and-needles'. I have headaches. ALL THE TIME. I have a condition called spasmodic torticollis. I have arthritis. I have aches and pains and am tired all the time. I don't eat right, I don't ever exercise. In don't take my meds, any of them.

I need to consider that I AM going to die. No one likes to think about it. I need to start thinking about it. I need to be scared so I do something. I'm not doing anything. 

I am thinking about death a lot lately, about how it effects others, about how it effected my wife, about how I could have a heart attack any fucking minute now.

I'm going to go eat cake now. Merry Christmas!
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Why your Dad refers to your Mom as "Mother" in front of You

People have a lot of "sayings" that excuse men for fucking around on their wives, "Boys will be boys", you know, shit like that. Watching my father as I was growing up, then watching my friends in our twenties and now with my adult male friends, I don't think men ever actually grow up.

I actually think that all of us, men and women, are just 'acting' like adults. We are all doing what we THINK an adult should do in any given situation, and eventually, that sort of pretending just becomes second nature to us, but it's really all bullshit. We learn when we're teens what a grown up should do and how they should act and we carry that over to our twenties, some of us while we're away at college, some of us when we start our young lives out in the world "alone". We act like adults and sooner or later we start drinking our own Kool-Aid and viola! We're "adults".

I think that with men, ESPECIALLY momma's boys, growing up is like 80% acting all the time and 20% actually being a mature adult. I think that with a lot of men, they grew up with their mom's taking care of their every need, their dad's being their heroes and went outside to the house to have fun with their pals and to date and as teens, get laid. I think that as a boy becomes a man, either by moving out of their parents house on their own or moving away to college, they try their hardest to emulate their dad or male role model and be "a grown up", but that emulation can only go so far. Their mom probably still takes care of shit for them, and they're still partying with friends.

Once a man finds a woman, gets married, maybe has kids and the mundane routine of life really gets into gear, eventually, men fall back into that routine they were in when they were teens, except now they have "work" in the mix too. They now have their wife taking care of their every need, they may still have their dad as a hero (or some replace dad with a sports figure or musician) and they start having to go outside of the house to have fun and with some, to get laid. 

I think that so many men can so easily cheat on their wives because they've subconsciously replaced their family of their childhood with their adult nuclear family. It's a familiar and safe scenario and it doesn't "feel" wrong to them on the subconscious level. They can completely reconcile loving their wife yet getting a blowie from a coworker. I realize that as an "adult" men are supposed to be able to control themselves and NOT do that even if they think about it, they're supposed to suppress those urges and think of how them getting head would devastate their wives, I get that, I'm just saying, I think I understand why it happens so frequently (aside from the fact that blowjobs feel awesome just in general, which is a good reason too).  

I know that some marriages are bad. I know that some men are ASSHOLES. I'm not saying my theory here is an excuse, I'm saying my theory adds to the understanding of why men cheat. Also, getting a blowjob is really awesome and sometimes your wife's just not up for it, so really, you're helping her in the long run. 

Big Sur California Hates My Therapist.

It's dreary and rainy and gray here today. I didn't mean for that to rhyme. I bet it's sunny on the cliffs of Big Sur, California right now, I bet the ocean is blue and the sky is blue and life is happy out there. There are a million things I am stressed out about right now, but I know better, none of them are really that important. I used to think I loved change. People who come from divorced parents like to think they're accustomed to change. I was one of them. I used to think I craved it, I was wrong. Cindy, Joanne, Michelle, Gretchen, Mary, Libby, Jacqueline and Debbie; those are the names of the women that were in my dad's and my life, the main women he lived with and/or married (around a year or two each?). We lived in 5 different houses. I thought that was the kind of constant turn-over I was programmed to seek out. Again, I was wrong. Consistency is what I am about, it's all been consistent. Even when my mind wants me to desperately make a change, I don't. The same. I stay the same. I'm going to die without anything changing, I'm sure of it. 

Is this my depression talking? I'm going to go ahead and say yes. 

I went on meds about 4 years ago when I decided it was time for me to start seeing a therapist again. I had never taken meds like this before. At first they made me sleepy and talk slowly, but ultimately, they reduced the amount of fights I had with my wife and probably reduced stress a great deal. The negatives? I got fat. I was unmotivated. I was uncreative. I didn't think that the meds were a good long term solution for me. I wasn't "me" anymore, I certainly wasn't "Jello". I stopped seeing my therapist about 2 years ago and stopped getting my prescriptions filled about 15-months ago. I quit cold turkey actually. Now I'm depressed AND fat. It's awesome.

Most of the time I'm ok, sometimes the depression gets pretty heavy, but I pride myself on being able to ALWAYS get my ass up and out of bed and never miss work...but...when I get home, often I want to hide in my bedroom. I'm back to having an explosive temperament too. The plus side is I'm being creative again, but since I'm a middle aged father of 4 who works in high tech manufacturing, I think being level headed may be more important that being creative.   

I'm thinking of calling my old therapist. I'm thinking of going back to counselling. I'm thinking of going back on my meds.  I'm thinking of changing.