Monday, March 01, 2010

We have nothing to fear, except Gooch himself.

Sluts:

My friend just found out that his girlfriend is having a boy. They use ultrasound to figure this out. The pregnant mother-to-be, the expecting father, and the doctor watch a screen while moving the ultrasound wand around the pregnant belly. All three eagerly watch the screen like a female cast member of Jersey Shore (and I'm sure at least one of the male cast members): Looking for cock.

My parents used ultrasound to determine my sex. Unfortunately they had to wait until I was eight years old to figure it out. My penis was so small that the doctor held the wand up to my groin and once they found something that resembled a penis, my parents didn't have to dress me in those gender-neutral Ellen Degeneres pant suits any longer.

As spring progresses, I'm starting to date again. It's my season. I like being single, but I also like buying meals and drinks for random chicks in the hopes that they'll have sex with me. The bedroom is refreshed: Mini fridge with refreshing morning after beverages (Plan B pills are being shipped to me from India as I write this), Wall hangings are (unlike me) hung. Any movie that I can get my pirating hands is available on demand to the televisions via a media server. I can bang, rehydrate, and watch a first run movie without leaving the bedroom. This is the world I want to live in.

Did anyone else jerk off to Lindsay Vonn during the Olympic Skiing thing? Holy shit. If I was only allowed to tie her up, stuff her in the trunk of my car, and drive around town... it would be the most sexually satisfying thing I'd ever done. And most romantic.

I've been eating and drinking myself back into morbid obesity. I'm leaving now to go to the gym.

gooch:out.

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