I Promise

I promise that I will find the time to post some krankigoodness that will make you simultaneously despise and celebrate being a part of the human race.

Please check back and I shall share exactly what happens when an Aussie rocktographer visits me in LA for a few days. Does that sound mildly interesting to you, or would you prefer an essay on ferrets?

Kranki-Vacation

Today I awoke to find that my krankiness had gone on vacation. I woke up after briefly meditating on positive thoughts and a sense of well-being and contentedness this morning and so far it has stuck. I have so far done the following very un-kranky things.

I got up early, made waffles for Penny, scrubbed her back in the shower (awww yeeah!) and took the dogs out for a romp.

I pretended to be a tiger and battled against my two dogs. The Ferocious Freckle Dick and the Menacing Ass Breath. Twaz a an epic battle that ended in face-licking. It's okay, my neighbors already think I'm insane.

Also, the fluffy one called me and left me a lovely message filled with hip maternal bliss, and that means somebody on planet Australia is thinking about me, so therefore I can write run-on sentences that never end and are unnecessarily long for no particular reason whatsoever.

I went outside and it looked like my car was completely, fender to trunk, covered, COVERED in bird shit. Oddly I didn't mind in the least. Upon closer inspection I realized that is was just a bunch of small brown leaves and I was actually momentarily disappointed. I thought to myself "Oh, darn it's not bird poo! Well, maybe better luck tomorrow. That thought was quickly followed by "Hey neat! My car looks like it's covered in camouflage."

I sang an acapella falsetto song with my own lyrics. (Yes, this really is krankiboy)

Then the following songs all went through my head and I sang and danced to snippets of each. So picture that if you can. Krankiboy dancing in the AM while not on alcohol or drugs of any kind. "The Good Morning song" a happy kids song. "Sex Machine" by James Brown, The intro to Good Morning Vietnam followed by the "Song Sugar and Spice"... and all things nice / kisses sweeter than wine." "Pay No Mind" by Beck, which I actually know all the lyrics to - even the part with "a giant dildo crushing the sun." So I have started the day in a boisterously cheery mood and if you're hating me for being in a good mood for any reason, then I love you and want to have all your babies.

Virtual Penny

Look, Kranki-friends! It's my lovely, little, cyber-wifey, Virtual Penny! Yes, that's right just like the real Penny she does virtually nothing I tell her to do. Yes, she really does hover high amongst the clouds while balancing her cellular phone on her foot. She's talented.

I highly recommend that you find yourself a sugar momma like I did. She is a smart, sexy, creative, intuitative and strong woman. The only real drawbacks aside from her having her own opinions that are sometimes quite different from my own are:

1) She will not sleep if she has seen a spider seen in the room at any point during the day or night and won't allow me to sleep until it's dead or relocated.

2) Penny throws really, really hard punch. This would be good but I've never seen her punch anybody but me.

3) Expects me to iron my own clothes despite my obvious condition of severe ironing retardation.

4) Doesn't let me linger in the toy section of the Drug Store even if I find something really cool.

5) Won't let me put things I find on the ground into my mouth.

6) Gets uptight when I shoplift* something that is clearly way, way overpriced.

7) Stubbornly refuses to be the one who puts the DVD into DVD player.

8) Takes me out every Sunday for three and a half hours to look at houses that either suck or are much to expensive for us to ever afford.

9) Uses my razor to shave her legs and clogs the damn thing up with hair.

10) She's beginning to realize that she may have made a horrible mistake by agreeing to marry me.


* For the record, I have never been caught stealing anything. This is either due to the fact that I am devilishly clever, smooth and sneaky. In fact, I could easily be a world class international jewel theif if
a) I wasn't so scared of heights.
b) was in better physical shape and
c) knew how to do the technical stuff like when you have to open up one of those metal box things with the numbers on it.

It could be that I've never been caught because the items I use my five finger discount to acquire are generally of little actual value to anybody over the age of seven.

Well, I'm going to go and take a nap before bed. Don't be a stranger. And if you are a stranger, you can introduce yourself to me. Although I will not get into a van with your or accept candy that you try to give me.

The Nice Parts of Upper Mexico

So Boudist will be here in eleven days. I have am looking forward to hosting the man in what would otherwise be a completely disorienting visit to LA. It's a big place and you have to know where the good stuff is otherwise you feel like you're in a run-down section of Upper Mexico minus the the warm friendly people, cheap tequila, excellent exchange rate* and the charming culture.



I will have met both of these fine Australian specimens. The Bike and the Boud.







* Tijuana Whores: 100% S.T.D. Guarantee!

Your Tire Swing or Mine?

Now I know what you're thinking... You're thinking that the picture looks exactly like a balloon animal or a tasteful erotic chocolate cake of some kind... Maybe a naughty chocolate easter bunny. That's why I'm glad the art my gal friend sent me was clearly labeled "Chimp Cock."





My female friend thought perhaps she was being too hard on the chimps and was concerned that perhaps the chimps didn't like her decided to show some basic human to chimpanzee pleasantry, so she smiled at on of the chimps at the zoo. The response on the part of the chimp extended far beyond simple appreciation. So naturally I teased her about her obvious fetish for our primate cousins. I'm not in favor of sex with animals, whether it's "consentual-ish" or not, but I bet we could find some hippie liberal judge who would see it as free speech or an online minister who would be happy to join the two in marital bliss. Yup, the cold medicine has definitely kicked in. It's supposed to be wrong to have sex with your cousins. Although, it could be the other way around as she is from Australia. I'm fairly certain that the chimp would have to take my friend out to a nice dinner and get her drunk and loosened up before he could even thing about tire swing shagging. But before you just my friend to be a deviant bestial whore. Ask yourself this. Could you resist the advances of a tall strong, lanky and well-endowed feces thrower. She's only human. I can't wait for her next birthday party so we can have a clown who can tie balloons into festive chimp cocks. IS it redundant to say "festive chimp cocks"?

For the record, I must say that I don't think that chimps should be put in cages. They're bound to go bonkers. Even fish need a nice spacious tank to be happy.

Assorted Images of Love

Love comes in many forms.


Look at the joy on the faces of these big boned folks.

All thanks to the folks at Great John


Here is some info about the company. Yes it's the "Mission Statement" from the people that make toilets for fat people.

"For years the wants and needs of the large-size community was not addressed. (kranki note shouldn't it be "were" and not "was" Sorry, yes, I am commenting on the grammar of the mission statement from the people that make toilets for fat people.) Being a ceramic manufacturer, our understanding of these needs only came about in the clinical environment of a plastic surgery institute that we also own. Having large-size people amongst our ranks and in our families made our goals very clear. We had to form a company that would specialize in bringing bathroom products to the market that would really fit and make our lives safer and better. The tasks were laid out. Getting feedback from the users and over a three year period of research, we are able to bring our products to the market. Our journey is not over, it's actually just beginning. We will continue in our research to bring you more, new and exciting products that we hope will keep on making our life better."

They sure are some "exciting products." I also love that they consider creating a toilet for fat people to be "a journey that has just begun" and then they casually mention that they also own a plastic surgery institute. WTF? Let's do some lyposuction and make you thin Mrs. Barnes. Wait, are we making as much money as possible? What about those fat bastards that are stubbornly okay with being over-weight, how can we make a pleasantly plump sum off those chubbsters? Eureka! Toilets for fatties. My uncle says the regular toilet seat cuts into his thighs like a hot knife.

I also love the bit about "Getting feedback from the users over a three year period of research." Sign me up for that gig. Mr. Lardly, tell me... When you defecated in our prototype how did you feel? Was it a good crapping experience?

Can you show me where on your ass you felt the pinching sensation, Mrs. Felcher? We want to make taking a shit a little slice of heaven for you.

note: Seat provides “Anti-slide movement fins” for safety and you can't spell the word saftey with out the letters y-e-s f-a-t.


Why is the rocket taking off from down town in the redlight district? Is it a metaphor for sexual satisfaction? I love that you can read that sign as GAYS or GRLS.




And here we see little Mittens the kitten. All mittens wants is some milk. He's starving. But those are pure silicon, Mittens. Ain't no milk coming out of there anymore. Possibly some saline. Poor, poor kitty. It's like the irony of being lost at sea and dehydrating while adrift on a vast ocean of water but not being able to drink a drop.



Um. What in the fuck is going on in this picture?

Hank: (Chuckle) And now that Angie has dumped you, she's my girl. I sure do love stuffing her full of my man meat. No hard feelings, right Chad... Chad?... Chad... CHAD NO!

Love hurts people. Now go to the website and look at this.

"• 100% factory flush tested • Ceramic tested to 2000 pound loads." Wow. That's a big deposit.

In a Galaxy Far Far Away

I was talking to my wife and asking her if she thought we had missed out on having a big wedding. Then a friend sent me this.

I had lovely absurd pictures with oh so funny and inappropriate captions for you, but blogger is not cooperating so instead I have one picture and some stupid little red fucking boxes.













I didn't really feel like posting anything tonight. I'm in a snippy mood and ever since I've started working full-time I have had no desire to update this blog. The creative spark that it gave me is feeling snuffed out. The fun of sharing my specific brand of idiocy with you has dried up. I've met so many amazing and talented people through this strange portal to another dimension. I don't know quite why the pleasure is gone. I honestly don't understand where my sudden blog apathy has come from. I hope it's temporary. I've been pretty disconnected from my computer and my Aussie friends lately. It's as if we've had a falling out, except there hasn't been any falling out. Reader response has been good and I have a slew of what I'd normally consider great things and pictures to post about. But if it's not giving me a kick, why bother? It would be insincere and forced. I've lost that blogging feeling. I hope it returns. I'll see you if it does.

k.b.

Cholester-wrong

I weigh 143 lbs when soaking wet and yet, after my physical, my doctor tells me that I have slightly high cholesterol and should watch my diet. What? Who the hell is going to eat all those plates of French fries, and bowls of ice cream if not me? It's not fair. It's completely unfair. Why? Well, I don't have an actual fancy reason why it's not fair, but damn it, I'm Krankiboy and I have a reputation for overreaction and irritability to maintain. So that's why it's totally unfair. I guess I'm going to have to go back to the gym because other than avoiding fried foods, which I can do, I'm not going to alter my diet. In fact the millisecond that I heard I had high cholesterol (which is such an old person thing by the way) all I could imagine was the taste of Haagen Das and a nice Deli Sandwich dripping with mayo and pastrami. In just a few days I've consumed two enormous Philly cheese steak sandwiches that were each easily the size of a Daschund, three servings of ice cream, (I take issue with what they consider the appropriate serving size) pasta with butter and cheese and butter, a grilled Corn Beef Reuben sandwich, Beef Brisket and an enormous steak (plus the half a steak that Penny couldn't finish... Plus some other stuff that wasn't as healthy (think southern barbecue then double that - do ribs and potato salad have cholesterol) Oh, but instead of French fries at the burger place I opted for a healthy salad... with lots of blue cheese dressing.

I wonder where this self-destructive attitude comes from. It's near to impossible, unless you make a genuine effort, to eat healthy food. It doesn't taste as good as the other kind. I haven't been to McDonald's since I watched Super Size Me.

Tonight we had a lovely time at Table 8 on Melrose where I wisely drank lots of red wine to help lower my cholesterol. We were out celebrating Penny winning a case against an un-named Automobile Company whose letters can be rearranged to spell out DORF. You'll never figure it out. Really quite amazing food. I may have to take my Boudist friend there when he's in town, or possibly to the Inn of the Seventh Ray. Damn we have good eats here in Los Angeles. No karma, no soul, no substance, but good eats.


FYI: I didn't write this next bit.

www.roadfood.com

This is a great site if you travel and are a big food fag like myself. I will travel hundreds of miles or walk until my feet are bleeding to have a a great meal. If another known foodie friend tells me about an amazing barbeque place in the foothills of Tennessee that's only about an hour and forty minutes off my route and it's in the back of some old black guy's shack in a converted above ground pool, but there are no regular hours and you have to hope he's in a good mood and his daughter's home or they won't be open and there's no phone number. I'm there in a heartbeat. This site is VERY informative, with tons of thoroughly researched listings. The authors are a husband and wife team (and they're fat too!) who have put out a number of books. I've used them on cross-country trips and they've never steered me wrong yet.

Ro Sham Bo & The Farggling Furries

My lovely, talented and side-burned sporting friend sent me this gem. He found this in a blog entry on MySpace.com. It made him laugh out loud.

"I understand that Scissors can beat Paper, and I get how Rock can beat Scissors, but there's no fucking way Paper can beat Rock. Paper is supposed to magically "wrap around" Rock, leaving it immobile? Why the hell can't paper do this to scissors? Screw scissors, why can't paper do this to people? Why aren't sheets of college ruled notebook paper constantly suffocating students as they attempt to take notes in class? I'll tell you why, because paper can't beat anybody, a rock would tear that shit up in about 2 seconds. When I play rock/paper/scissors I always choose rock. Then when somebody claims to have beaten me with their paper I can punch them in the face with my already clenched fist and say, oh shit, I'm sorry I thought paper would protect you, you asshole."

I did a bit of intensive (google, click, done) investigative reporting and discovered that there are hordes of people who go to Rock Paper Scissors Tournaments. I'm serious. I imagine that for those who are more sophisticated there are probably Tic-Tac-Toe Tournaments. And, for the true intellectuals, there's "I'm Thinking of a Number between Six and Ten" Competitions.

I think that the Furries make more sense. A raccoon fetish I can understand.

On road trips with kids I like to play a modified version called Rock, Paper, Scissors, Dynamite, Baby Rabbit.

Dynamite beats everything except for Scissors (which can snip the fuse) and Baby Rabbit, who can both gnaw the fuse off the Dynamite and chew up the Paper. Although he doesn't fair quite as well against Rock or Scissors. Messy. Yes, I know what you're thinking, but these are very long bus trips. Plus, reading while in a moving vehicle makes me very nauseous.

Other fun Bus Ride Games include:

"Let's see how long I can kick the seat in front of me until an adult threatens to physically hurt me."

"I bet I have more video games than you because my dad is a rich Plastic Surgeon and your family is poor."

And the enduringly popular...

"I hate you. You're not my friend anymore."


It's frighteningly official and at first seemed rather silly.



It has it's own referee program.

Mandate: The World RPS Society's mandate is two-fold:
1. Encourage the worldwide use of Rock Paper Scissors as a simple, impartial and effective method of resolving everyday disputes,
2. Provide overall direction, guidance and policy control with the goal of promoting the sport to a wider audience.

RPS around the WorldToday, RPS is one of the most popular games in the world. Players of the sport from New Zealand to Japan to Great Britain carry their World RPS Society membership cards with pride. Officially, the sport is known as Rock Paper Scissors or RPS. However, the informal name differs across the Globe, with variations such as:- Jenken or Jan Ken Pon (Japan)- Roshambo (Southwestern U.S.)- Shnik Shnak Shnuk (Germany)- Ching Chong Chow (South Africa)- Farggling (U.S.)- Scissors Paper Stone (United Kingdom)The 2004 Rock Paper Scissors International World ChampionshipsThe 2004 Rock Paper Scissors International World Championships take place on October 16, 2004 in Toronto, Canada. Up to 1,000 players will compete for $10,000 (CDN) in prize money, and the coveted Championship trophy. Rob Krueger the reigning World Champion of RPS is expected to return and defend his title.

Stupid, yes?

But then I saw these cool-ass stickers.


And these are sweet too.


If you love me at all you'll buy me this shirt.


Or this one.


I wouldn't want to show up without a cool shirt to wear. These R.P.S. Legends might tease me.



They are the world famous... Dennis "Kid Paper" Kerr, Will " The Scissors" Blackwell, James "Rock Man" Lawson, and their veteran captain, Alan "Definitely Rock-- No wait... Scissors!" Cumming.

Four men: Living the dream.

Hola Amigos y Chicas muy intelligente!

Some of you may be wondering where I've been. "Kranki, why haven't you been posting?" a few have asked. Damn where is the semi-pithy verbiage that seems funny to me only when I'm wired on my sixth cup of coffee? While others and you know who you are* are probably worried that if I don't return soon you'll have to actually searching out own your own soft core nudie pictures once again. Well, it's been nice to have been missed by all three of you. They say obscenity makes the heart grow fonder and those mother-fuckers are right on the fuckin' money, you bitches.** Well, I was off having what was almost a nervous breakdown. Perhaps if I can find some humor in it I'll write about it. Man tears people... a relentless flow of man tears. Those tears washed me into a pit of ennui but my Penny pulled me out with her mighty might. It hurts to be processed.







*Mom


**Not you, the other people reading this.

Next Stop, Cancer Pond!

Ladies and Gentlemen...

It is with great pleasure that I once again present the screenwriting stylings of...

WARNING: The next post may be offensive to individuals who have warm feelings towards the written word, those who attended film school, people who like trees or anybody who can read a bit of the English language.

This was just the teaser, read on.

For you are about to enter. The Blevins Zone

Erik Blevins: Accept No Substitutes! 

Fucksters & Self -Titled

The Fucksters

are Anna A. Spades & Tuppence: Brilliant, funny, impressive vocabularies, and lovely, left-leaning Aussie lassies. When I close my eyes and imagine these teenage girls (doubtful) I picture that they are unbelievably... well-groomed and both of them are lying in bed together furiously, watching BBC Political News as they gently fondle their... New York Times crossword puzzles. All while sucking... their lips in pouty political disapproval at the state of world affairs. Plus I envision that they're both spanking... each other with riding crops. Sorry. But it's totally cool because I'm, like, 16 years old, too. Or I have the intellectual interests of a sixteen year-old boy.


Next is something stolen* without any permission at all from Self - Titled.


Dan and Lisa

This is your brain on drugs.

You know that Sopranos episode where Christopher is all doped up and he passes out on top of Adriana's dog and kills it? If you're boyfriend is not nodding off on your lap dog, he will be suffocating your hedgehog to death. The hedgehog will be foaming at the mouth, and he will blame it on you. She must have gotten into your valium, he'll say. The hedgehog will die. You'll scream at each other. Deep down he will know it was his fault. He will be wracked with guilt. He will refuse to dispose of her in the dumpster. You can understand that. When you were little you buried goldfish and anoles in your back yard. But you never cremated a hedgehog. Kids, this is what drugs will do to your life. You will end up sitting in the parking lot, cremating your hedgehog on a $20 grill from Walmart. It will take about 5 hours. You might fall asleep against the tire of someone's car for a little while. Your crack whore boyfriend will wake you up and tell you that you are not being respectful of the spirit of your hedgehog that he killed. It will smell terrible. By the time she is reduced to ashes, it will be morning. As you walk to the river to dump the ashes, all the fresh faced students will be on their way to class. With their backpacks and laptops. And you'll look strung out, carrying a thermos of cremated hedgehog. When your boyfriend leans over to dump the ashes into the river he will trip, spilling the remains all over his shirt, and while later it will be fucking hilarious, at that moment it will be tragic. And you will swear that you will never tell anyone about this. Except later you will tell your best friend and she will write about it on her blog.

If I were still in college going through my phase of dating "eccentric" women in a failed effort to magically heal them and in the process somehow make my mother love me more, I would be madly in love with this girl. She would chain smoke, treat me like garbage and talk about death, her love of eyepatches and the rappers she'd most like to fuck, while I tried to spoon her. Plus, Self-Titled looks a lot like a girl I had my first and only one night stand with and that girl* was a dancer. If you haven't dated a dancer I highly recommend it. Yes, they can do that thing your friend's older brother Kevin told you about at that party. It's nice.

Now go to both the sites and praise them as brainy and eccentric blog divas. Feed them peeled grapes and give them foot massages.



* I think she'd respect that sort of behavior.

Relax and Let Yourself Go

At 6:56 PM, Lushlife said...
Okay I am going to ask the sex question. Okay it's two questions but that's because you may have a negative response to the first query and thought I would go with a followup. I don't recall you limiting to one query per person anyway. Have you ever experienced sexual dysfunction? If yes, what did you say to your partner at the time? If no, then what is your most embarrassing sexual experience/experience with the opposite sex ?

Well, Lushlife, you asked for it so Here it is. I don't know why I'm sharing this. But I am.

I remember it was a particularly hot July in Boston that year. I'd decided to spend the Summer there rather than go home to be bored with my family. I was 19 and had just finished my freshman year of college. My good friend Hanna was also in the city for the Summer and we spent a good deal of time together just hanging out. Hanna's cute friend Gwen would stop by once in a while. Gwen was a girl I knew from the honors program whom I had met on my very first day of class Freshman year. I was fascinated with her right away. Gwen was a very attractive, young woman with long blonde hair, beautiful skin, and a coy smile. She also radiated sexuality like I'd never seen before. I was shy back then and I let 13 months go by and said nothing to Gwen other than the occasional, "Hey did you finish that paper?" and "Wasn't that chapter boring?" Just hi and bye stuff and usually within a large group of people.

One day that Summer, I was over at Hanna's place when Hanna told me that Gwen had made a passing comment about me. She'd asked Hanna if I had a girlfriend. A what? Oh, like back in High School... a girlfriend, right. Hanna mentioned this to me and I was simultaneously confused, scared and intrigued. I had never even considered that this girl was in my league. Plus the fact of the matter was that I was still a virgin at 19. Gwen was an experienced, young woman, confident in her sexuality. She worked at the Condommania store on Boylston Street and probably spent her days flirting and giving helpful hints about sex and sex toys and what not to customers. I really had no idea, because I was too scared to even go in there by myself. I was at the other end of the sexuality spectrum, but it was a hot Summer and the time for action was long overdue. With Hanna's encouragement I phoned Gwen and asked if she'd like to come down to where I lived and I'd make her dinner at my place. I didn't realize that was a terrible situation for a first date. I just thought I'd impress her. My pasta and chicken were bland, I was nervous, and things were not going well. I had no clue what I was supposed to do to work my way towards physical intimacy. My nervousness confused her and made her feel uncomfortable. The conversation was stilted and then, mercifully, my roommate Mira came home and Gwen and I had a reason to excuse ourselves to my room. We awkwardly sat on the bed and I wasn't getting any signs from her. Maybe this was just a friendly thing? She didn't seem that into me and there was no chemistry. But eventually we did end up kissing a bit in my brightly lit, utterly sterile, and entirely unromantic room. After some awkward kissing and cuddling - all first base stuff. Gwen said that she had to go as she was doing inventory early the next morning at the Condom Store. I was intimidated. I'd never actually seen a condom before other than those that would occasionally wash up on the beach or show up in the dorm garbage can. We spoke on the phone a few days later and much of the nervousness between us had disappeared now that we'd put our tongues in each others mouths. Thank God I was a good kisser. I've always received hig marks on that at least. I suppose if you got to 19 without doing any more than using your finger once you had better compensate with some serious smooching skills.

The second time Gwen and I decided that I should go to her place since it was right in Boston and we could hang out after she and I finished work. I walked over to her place and I was covered in sweat. Half from nervousness and half from the heat. When she opened the door I saw that she was wearing a cool tank top and very snug, beat-up jeans. I worked up the nerve and gave her a small kiss hello. We just hung out and talked and watched TV and were both thankful that the ice had been broken. We were having a really good time hitting it off and drinking lots of fruit punch to stay cool on a very humid night. Before we knew it, it was pretty late in the evening. I was going to have to run to make the last train to my apartment on the other side of town. I was having a good time and things were going soo well and her roommate was gone for the weekend. So, not wanting to leave her lovely company and go back to my dreary room, I bravely and casually asked if she would mind if I crashed at her place on the couch or her roommate's bed. She stepped up to the moment. She closed the door that I was about to leave from and just nodded. "Yeah," she said, "But my couch isn't comfortable and my roommate doesn't like anybody else sleeping in her bed. I have a big fan we can share so you should sleep in my bed." Wow. That was almost enough to make my jaw drop. I was immediately terribly nervous. I had wanted to stay and maybe kiss and cuddle a bit, but now she was insisting that I share her bed with her. I was as frightened as I was aroused. We had some more punch and then kissed a bit. I felt like a suave and savvy guy. It was terribly hot and swelteringly humid that night but I was just happy to be there. Gwen had this big giant closet where her bed was. She excused herself to change for bed. I had nothing with me and I wasn't going to sleep in cargo pants. I waited. A few minutes later she came back wearing just a thin, oversized green T-shirt, and little blue panties. She pressed her body up against me and I could feel that she didn't have a bra on. I felt the blood rush out of my brain and I thought I was going to feint. My heart was pounding and the sugar from the fruit punch had me wired. She gave me an extra toothbrush and I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I thought about using the toilet to take pee, but it occurred to me that once I got my penis out to pee, it was not going to be able to go back into my briefs. I took off my cargo pants and looked into the mirror in horror. I was wearing my little bright red briefs. I hadn't thought I'd be spending the night. I looked like I was wearing The Flash Underoos. And my cute red Underoos were struggling to contain my "excitement." I splashed some water on my face and walked out with my pale skinny legs that looked even whiter next to my red undies. I tried to act casual as she was already in bed. She smiled and gestured for me to get on the bed. I made some lame joke about having superhero underwear. I climbed onto the queen-size bed and we made a bit of small talk before I was able to calm down and begin to get sleepy. She seemed like she was out before me and I was a bit relieved that we were going to take things in slow stages. Sleep wanted to take me but I kept looking down at her crotch as if hypnotized by it. I could also see part of her breast peeking through the worn collar of her T-shirt. Now I was feeling really warm as it was already humid and hot night to begin with. It had only been a few minutes and I took off my shirt so I could get to sleep in the heat. I closed my eyes but I was too turned on to sleep. She was sleeping and in her sleep she gently slid her thigh up against mine. Her soft, smooth flesh felt amazing. I stayed perfectly still until it dawned upon me that she was moving her thigh ever so slowly up and down my leg. She was awake. I softly put my hand on her leg and the next thing I knew we were making out like mad. It was a blur of soft wet lips, ears, neck, nape, shoulders, chin. She moved my hands onto her breasts and I rolled up closer to her and pulled her cotton shirt over her head. Her long hair brushed up against my neck and I was on fire. We were groping and fondling one another in a frenzy. I licked her firm belly and she made a little moan of delight and encouragement. I was just going on instinct as I was in sexually uncharted waters. I then ran my fingers along the elastic of her panties. I slowly peeled and teased her panties down her waist and off her legs. A surge of lust hit me like a wave and I immediately began going down on her. I had no idea what I was doing but whatever I was doing seemed to be very much appreciated because after just a minute of lapping her sweet and salty thighs and sucking her holy treasure she rolled me onto my back and pinned my arms. Gwen began to move her tongue down my chest, belly, thighs... nibbling at all the right spots along the way. When she put me into her mouth I was in heaven. I had seen it done in movies and in magazines, but they must have taught her some additional skills at Condommania because it was intense. I was clutching my fingers and grabbing at the mattress. I was a bit self-conscious because I didn't seem to have to do anything but touch her hair and neck. I told myself that I had to just relax and enjoy, just go with the good feeling. Then she looked up at me, still holding my member against her lips, and said, "You are so big and hard in my mouth. I will be having my way with you. How does that sound?" I must have squeaked something to indicate yes or good because I remember she replied in a very sultry tone "Exxccelllent." I felt so good and so much bigger than I ever recalled being. The sweat from her breasts felt divine as she slid and sucked and sucked and slid with her nipples caressing my legs. I was still a bit tense and was concentrating so hard on just letting myself go with it. Finally I did let myself go. For an instant it felt marvelous. An instant later I realized that I wasn't coming in her mouth, I was shotgunning piss down her throat. I must have had seven glasses of fruit punch and hadn't used the bathroom the entire time I'd been there. I knew there was big trouble when I couldn't stop the hard flow of urine into her mouth. I could feel her trying not to gag and swallowing and swallowing. It was the longest 8 seconds of my life. Things had been going so well and I was in such good hands but I couldn't stop myself from peeing. I was finally able to clench and she quickly took her mouth off of me and rolled over. I quickly hopped up, put on my briefs and went to empty what was left in my bladder in the bathroom. I flushed and felt so excruciatingly, unbearably, embarrassed. I washed my hands and went back to the bed where she was sitting. She was completely motionless and stunned. There was a long awkward moment with me standing there in nothing but my bright red briefs and her looking down at the bed. Neither of us knew what to say. "Can I get you some fruit punch... to drink... for your mouth?" I finally asked her, trying to be polite after having accidentally used her as a urinal. "No." She said, "Nothing, no. I'm fine." We lay in bed at opposite sides of the mattress and we didn't speak a single word. I was grossed out for her and embarrassed for the both of us. I even got up and brought her a glass of fruit punch and a glass of water. She had a sip of water. That sip somehow made me feel a tiny bit better and I rolled over into the fetal position holding a pillow.

I awoke the next morning. Gwen was already up and dressed. I quickly slid on my cargo pants, grabbed my wallet and keys off the coffee table and left while making as little eye contact as possible. Horror. I hurried home and showered, listened to some music and wondered who I could go to for advice. Nobody. It was too mortifying. The phone rang and it was my friend Hanna. "What did you do last night, Kranki?" I paused before speaking. "Uh... I was at Gwen's apartment for a while, missed the train and sorta crashed there." I said. "Kranki, I just talked to Gwen but she seemed really... distant. Oooo, wait did you spend the night? This is so exciting, you have to tell me everything. Well, even if you don't I know that Gwen will." Wonderful I thought. I made up a quick excuse and hung up the phone.

Two days later I was at Star Market getting some groceries. I turned down the cereal aisle with my cart and there was Gwen and some guy friend. They were standing right there in front of me. Gwen saw me and she froze. It took her a few seconds to register that it really was me standing there. Then she tried to force a smile as if everything was just super. Her pale face became flushed and her entire head turned a bright beet red color. It was a red color that I thought I'd seen someplace before. I muttered an awkward "see ya around," and hurried off with my cart. I stopped on the other side of the store in the frozen food section. I took a few deep breaths. That's when I realized where it was I'd seen the exact shade of red that had filled Gwen's flushed face. Her blush of embarrassment was the exact color of the sinister red fruit punch. Almost as bright red as my Underoos.

Ask Me Anything

That's right. Go ahead and ask me something. Anything. I'll tell you. If it's in the form of a question I will give you an answer. I don't care if it's emotional, professional, academic, logical, sexual, mathematical, spiritual, chemical, ethical, extra-terrestrial, aboriginal, biological, rhetorical... I don't care. I'm going to answer your question honestly and accurately to the absolute best of my ability in under 100 words.

You want to know something personal about me. No problem. That's fine. I'll tell you. I have no secrets to keep from you good people. I will answer ANYTHING. Anything EXCEPT questions about my Uncle Carl. I WILL NOT discuss anything to do with my Uncle Carl. So don't ask. Also, nothing that has calculus, I never got past pre-calculus.

Anything else is fair game. Except the ferret incident. Ask about anything else.

So, Fire away kids.

The Forces of Evil

Gimme a C... Gimme a U... Gimme and N... Gimme a... T-ruly I have been engulfed by madness. I just want to be a fucking substitute teacher and the school has already hired me but the District Office people are cruel vindictive flesh bags of brain-dead, walking, talking, infected, oozing piles of rancid human puss.

Right now I am mentally concentrating on attempting to physically morph myself into a Tyrannosaurus Rex or a cyborg killing machine so I may destroy the District Office of Evil. We're talking Mount Doom Just for kicks beauracratic cruelty. The Orcs and Goblins of Middlearth wouldn't be this unpleasant to deal with. Red Tape of Epic Proportions! Perhaps a spree of Karate Crimes is in order. I would like to go Slade Ripfire all over that place soulless. I will try to explain without being too dull. Fuck it! Just read the link above. I'm getting more of the bullshit from the Queen Cunt who had twice assured me that everything was "approved" and my processing would be "sped right along" and please "call me if you need any help." But today Queen Cunty won't hear a word I have to say. it's "that's not the right department" and "well I wouldn't know about that." I think perhaps they are attempting to process me into some kind of gnarled ground beef. The least violent thing that I can imagine doing to everybody in that office is dispatching two dozen ninja to quietly slit their throats and let their blood soak into the cheap crappy office carpeting changing it from it's current color of "We Hate Your Eyes Beige" to a deep and festive crimson blood red. That is the least violent thing that comes to mind. If I told you the most violent thing that comes to mind it woold give you nightmares. The sad thing is that I am powerless to do anything to harm these walking dead administrators so all I can do to quell my rage is post fictional scenarios on this blog. But I'll let you decided which is the best fate for these incompetent, cruel, lying paper pushers. Here are your choices.

1) Underground Lava explosion melts the building and all the people inside

2) Two dozen deadly ninjas stealthfully slice and dice at the hands of two dozen ninja. Ninja and ninjas are acceptable, don't you dare call me on my grammar today because I'll tear out your kidneys fry them up with some onions and paprika and make you eat them.

3) A horde of giant diseased rabid rats swarm and gnaw the occupants of the building down to their marrow.

4) Musical Exploding Telegram telling them in happy lyrics the reasons that they will all be killed when the song ends.

5) Delicious Homemade cyanide chocolate chip cookies for everybody.

6) Everyone gathered into the lobby, impaled with a stick and set ablaze.

7) Division of Snipers take the maggots out them out as they attempt to leave early and scurry for their cars at 4:54 PM.

8) Building sealed completely with cement forcing them to eat each other or be among the first to starve.

9) Skin carefully peeled off every centimeter of their bodies keeping them alive followed by blasting them with fire hoses filled with alcohol and lemon juice.

10) Shards of Glass eating contest. With 2.5% pay raise for the winner.

11) Conga line of death off the top of the 19th floor.

12) Small staples jammed one my one across their skulls and spinal cords.

13) Overhead Sprinklers are turned on. Sprinkler water replaced by hydrochloric and sulfuric acid.

14) Barbarian hordes sack the office. Savagely raping and pillaging.

15) "Execuse me, can somebody please sign for these 125,000 deadly scorpions?"

16) All Garfield, Dilbert and Perky cartoon calendars removed.

17) Human jam in the copier x 436

18) Blood Drive! "No, people. Not a pint each, we're goint to need all your blood."

19) Office-wide Exorcism/ Surgical Missile Strike with Napalm

20) I personally tell each and every person there that they are an Incompetant Asshole, slap them across the face, mace them in the eyes, stun gun them in the throat and inform them that I've already killed their family, friends and neighbors.

21) New heads of Human Resources, Vlad the Impaler, Pol Pot and Kaizer Soze.

22) Earth opens up, consumes the building returning it back to Hades.

23) Bring Your Psychotic Pygmie Cannibal to work day.

24) All District Personel Drawn and Quartered by hundreds of happy frisky puppies.

25) 168 hour work week. No bathroom breaks.

26) Anthrax-Margaritas! Woo-Hoo!