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I'm a dumpster fire
I have no sense of humor, poor grammar, and my spelling is atrocious. Don't blame me if you enjoy my postings. I don't get to express myself much in emails, so this is fun for me. You know what else I find fun? A whoopee cushion.
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Feeling much better today.
Posted:Aug 14, 2020 1:55 pm
Last Updated:Aug 29, 2020 2:00 pm

More myself. Everyone around me feels happier. I still don’t know what to do with the flowers on my desk, so they can stay for now. It’s a good conversation starter. Never considered flowers as a conversation starter for me. As a guy, I only got flowers a couple times in my life. It’s added depth to my understanding and I wish I knew that the “talk” surrounding them is meaningful, although not in a sexual way to the giver. They only started a conversation, but its boring after a minute or two for me. I wonder if there is a way to make the flowers more interesting…Hmmm.

I would really like to meet the guy that put me through so much pain though. A man that I never met that ruined people’s perception of me at work. I’m not sure how that will play out now. What would I say? Probably something stupid as is my modus operandi.

Jumping around a lot... But, I am seeing a pattern with women directly in my life...ALL of them... They get enjoyment out of seeing me in trouble or going through hardship.

WTF? My own mom laughed on the phone at my situation. I asked her why, and she told me because she couldn't believe that I couldn't talk my way out of it. Bringing up a story of when I was a of convincing my Grannie that peanut butter sandwich was better for me than eating squash. I can't see the correlation.

I wrote a very long post....deleted most of it after remembering who would be reading it...FUCK! I am handcuffed.
1 comment
I am so confused about everything.
Posted:Aug 12, 2020 4:12 pm
Last Updated:Aug 18, 2020 7:37 pm

I fucked up a lot the last couple days.

I thought the person that was fucking me over at work was a terrible person, and I got flowers delivered to my desk today with a note from her "I'm sorry."

I told everything to my family...and they didn't believe me.

I told things to my lover...and she laughed at me.

I lost friends at work because of my situation. The accusation is the punishment.

I still have a job and that confuses the hell out of me too. The environment feels more hostile and unfriendly despite being found innocent.

What's the absolute worst is I want to stay angry and I can't. Looking back...I'm the stupid one. I didn't read the signs. Things felt out of control and I overreacted.

I lost interest in everything around me. Work, people, and my fun time.

Life was easier a week ago. Now, I have to rebuild trust with guys at work for something I didn't do. Instead of one complication...Now I have two...and I think the stress is awful.

I asked for a nemesis and found out late today that my blackmailer was not blackmailing me at all. She is...just a woman trying to do the best she can unaware of what she said got me in trouble in the first place.

Its easier for me to forgive her, than myself. It's going to take time.
RIP little one.
Posted:Aug 4, 2020 7:42 pm
Last Updated:Aug 5, 2020 4:36 pm

I should have been better prepared. I just had a memorial a little over a week ago for someone dear to me, and now another That’s life…I’m so sad.

When I found you, next to curb, abandoned, on that hot summer day years ago, I had no idea how much love and joy you would bring into my life, but you did.

Oh, the happiness I felt as opened you up and discovered all that was wrong was a slight misalignment of your innards. You sat next to my computer, always ready to pounce every time asked you.

Remember that time we worked together to get the return of the little down the street? I know, I know…I walked up and down the street with those flyers, but you…you made it possible. It wasn’t your fault they already had the return of the dog. Stupid, F***b***, took away all my fun of meeting new people three blocks over. We did get an invite to a party though, and the bbq was really good.

You held a ream of paper on top of your head. You kept chugging along, my constant companion as you gave me love.

Then…I fucked up. I wrote yesterday’s blog post. 2 views in the hour I was awake…Well, that flopped, I reasoned. I slept. Got up at my normal 430…Did my morning routine…got my coffee…walked into my home office.
There, you were, vigilant, anticipating. I took a swig and logged onto FuckBookHookups.
This comment…..”
“SilyconBond, I like your shiny blue BALLS."

Had me spewing my coffee all over you, laughing. I rushed to the bathroom to get a towel, but in my panic, I should have unplugged you. Upon return I wiped, but the coffee had touched you in ways it shouldn’t. I heard a sizzle, then a “POP”. The magic smoke that kept you alive escaped. My office room smelled like friend electronics.

RIP my Xerox Phasor 360 printer. I looked up the cost of a new power supply board for you, but it’s almost $30. Plus, your ink cartridges have been discontinued. Ugh… My blue trashcan seems inadequate coffin for you, but in you go.

The desk looks so empty now. Hmmm…I could put that spare desktop there…Nope.
Nope. Have some respect SilyconBond. I need a new printer…or do I? I have that HP LaserJet 4000t sitting in the closet needs toner….HP charges $155 for a new cartridge, no wonder I left it in the closet. I got three good years out of my phasor, how long will you last? My God HP LaserJet 4000t, you have gained a lot of weight since I put you in there. You need to cut down on your fiber intake before I move you around.

Don’t worry HP LaserJet 4000t, I’ll love you more than my last printer. Hmmm….I can actually fit my coffee mug on top of you and a ream of paper. What’s the worst that can happen?

BTW my last two posts got denied...I wonder if its worth to figure what I did wrong?
Church of the Sily con Bond Simulation
Posted:Aug 3, 2020 6:12 pm
Last Updated:Aug 5, 2020 3:51 pm

Well, I have decided to create my own cult.

All races, genders, and species are allowed to be members as long as they pay dues.

So, my next-door neighbor’s dog, Zoey, allowed as long as she pays the $1.99 membership entrance fee, she is in like Flynn.

The membership entrance fee is waived for three Dopamine hits on my person.

Since this is a secret cult, no membership cards will be issued. Members need plausible deniability. The only exception to this is Elite Status members in which secret decoder rings are given.

Rule #1
Members should lie to deny membership.

Using these examples can be used in a pinch when asked, “Are you a member of the SilyconBond Church?”
1) No.
2) Hell, no, I am not in the SilyconBond cult.
3) Never heard of it.
4) What the hell are you talking about?

Starting at fifth tiered membership, members should lie in more creative ways when asked, “Are you a member of the SilyconBond Church?” Following examples are acceptable:
1) That guy is an asshole, why would I be that stupid?
2) I would rather eat broccoli than be associated with that guy.
3) He slept with my mom, what do you think?
4) Just because I slept with him doesn’t mean I like him, Jeeze.

Rule #2
I have decided to only accept tithes of Dopamine hits on my person as dues. This can be subcategorized such as…

Money is nice, but I would rather you keep your Money. It would increase my own happiness if you would spend your Money on yourself. I make my own Money and don’t need yours, give me a story instead.

1) “Hey SilyconBond, remember that $20 you lent me, well, I needed a new vibrator.”
2) “Hey SilyconBond, remember that $20 you lent me, well, I got a hit of coke”
3) “Hey SilyconBond, remember that $20 you lent me, well, I gave it to my .”
4) “Hey SilyconBond, remember that $20 you lent me, well, I needed it for bail.”

All make me laugh.

Compliments give me Dopamine hits.
1) “SilyconBond, I really like your writing.”
2) “SilyconBond, I like your shiny blue hat.
3) “SilyconBond, you give me goosebumps.”
4) “SilyconBond, you are a sex god.”
All worked, but since they have been used are less interesting to me now.

In sults give me Dopamine hits.

In sults directed to other people I don’t like at all.

Paradox, isn’t it? This is my church, build your own if you don’t like it. So insult me is fine. Others, not so much.

A strange feature of my own character is I giggle. I try to stop myself, but normally I can’t stop giggling when I am in sulted.

I can’t really think of an in sult I would give myself. Open for suggestions. Try giving me a few in the comment section. One word insults are boring. Unlike other bloggers, I am not very creative. Go read their blogs for creativity.

Rule #3
I will make up new rules for my church in the future.

Yup, being static bores me.

If I make a make up a rule like all church members will wink twice with their left eye on second Tuesday of the month to people not of the Church, then by the Church of the SilyconBond Simulation, they better or risk ex-communication if caught by members.

I have been considering making the Chicken Reference Scorecard a rule, but that’s for Advanced and Elite members currently. Plus, the Bingo “The” Game is too advanced for low tiered members.

Welcome to the Church, my Silycons. I’m gonna have fun.
WTF Friday night.
Posted:Aug 2, 2020 2:10 pm
Last Updated:Aug 5, 2020 3:54 pm

Man, this COVID thing.

I could eat at Dairy Queen or shop at Walmart. The police have shut down the parks for some reason. Starbucks is only serving drive-thru. I tried Walmart, usually my favorite place shop since I feel like I am the most attractive person walking through there most times. I just couldn’t get into watching the two ah…ladies?...they looked semi female…arguing over an ice cooler. Who cares that it is the last red one? Jeeze.

An hour there and all I bought was an elbow wrap. Literally nobody I wanted to talk to. It happens, but it bores me. Headed home, and didn’t want to go online. Looked at my bike, the one I hadn’t ridden in a year. It’s got two flat tires, needs new inner tubes…you know, the kind you buy at Walmart. Fuck. It would have been a rather nice time to ride and I was in the mood.

I guessed..didn’t like the idea..but it beat watching TV…go for a walk around the neighborhood. Dun, dun, dun. (It's always a last-ditch effort to do something.)
Water restrictions have been tightened from watering our lawn from twice to once a week now. All the grass in the neighborhood looks half dead. Once a week will kill it all. I wanted to just replace my lawn with astro-turf but my HOA won’t allow it. They won’t allow you to replace the grass with just rocks either. I hate their “policies” and this dead look all around the neighborhood.

I got half a block. Two twenty-something boys (Men are boys to me when twenty or more years younger) were sitting on their front porch drinking beer. They waved. My God…someone to talk to. I could barely curb my enthusiasm as I approached them. Neither of them was wearing a mask and I wasn’t. It appeared they didn’t care that I wasn’t. Please infect me I thought. Damn it, no luck.

We chatted, bars are closed, nothing to for them to do on a Friday night. I laughed at that, these guys, haven’t really been successful in social circles. I remember those days, twenty-four, and socially inept. They tried to get me to drink a beer, I refused.

Then their neighbor, an elderly lady waved from the sidewalk as she walked her dog. I told the tallest, “You should get to know her better, her granddaughter is a network administrator like you.”

“How old is her g*********?” He asked.
“Twenty four and she’s pretty,” I said.
“What about me?” The shorter asked. “I need a girlfriend too.” He asked.
“Don’t you guys meet girls online? Isn’t that what everybody does these days.” I asked.
“Dude, we could spend all night talking to women, and not a one would come over.” The taller said.
“Maybe start with your neighbor. Grow your network. Women talk to one another. If you make friends with one, and she likes you, she will pass you to her friend if she has one and she is not available. I see it all the time.”
“Like you, with those two women down the street.” The taller said.
“Yeah, are you having sex with both of them? We see you coming from their house a lot.” The shorter asked.
“I fix their shit when it breaks, besides those two are lesbians. I’m not having sex with them” I said. (Don’t need that rumor so close to home, if was true that's different.)
“You flirt with them a lot.” The taller said.
“Was doing it before I even found out they were married. Besides its fun to push limits with those two. They would be good practice for you guys.” I said.
“Practice?” The taller said.
“With your social skills. You should practice on everyone.” I said.
“We talk to you.” The shorter said.
“No…you waved. I approached you. Then I transitioned into talking about the lawn, then your beer. I kept the conversation going. You guys would just let topics sit and die. I brought up the granddaughter. If you really wanted practice you would have walked the sidewalk to greet me.” I said.
“We wave to people as they come by.” The taller said.
“You filter people. Besides who besides me has made the effort to come up to your porch? People are inherently lazy, wave all day and I bet none besides me comes to your porch. I approached you. The only reason I am talking to you now is that I was bored and thought talking to you guys would bring me out of it. Now, what value can you offer me to stay here?” I asked.
“We offered you a beer.” The taller said.
“I don’t drink beer. I like hard liquors when I drink.” I said.
“We have whiskey.” The shorter said.
“Ok, more interested. What can I offer you in return for a shot of whiskey?” I asked.

The negotiations went pretty good. We moved inside, and conversations blossomed. I kept pulling things they owned into conversations. “Where did you get this from?” and “Is there a story behind this picture? Who are these girls?” I questioned and questioned. Letting them talk about themselves and their house. I really enjoyed it.

I noticed they only had two DVD movies next to the TV, one of them, “Fight Club.” On my second shot, I told them I hadn’t seen it. Which brought a new round of argument on how that was the best movie ever. On my third shot, the movie was started. They wanted to convince me, so I let them.

You know it had been almost a year since my last taste of whiskey. Not sure what we talked about during the movie, but they laughed during the first fifteen minutes. Round four, I fell asleep on their couch. Their blue healer laying on my chest.

I woke a couple hours later. The DVD was cycling the previews over and over. I wasn’t sure how far I got into the movie. The shorter one was crashed on the floor, the taller asleep at the other end of the couch. When I moved, the got off me and went and curled up with the taller one on the couch. Despite them being UT Austin Longhorn fans, they are good boys and more important good neighbors.

The whiskey bottle was empty. My G**, it was a huge bottle. I wondered how many beers they had before they finished it off. The just looked at me as I perused their kitchen. Was trying to think of a prank to pull on them. Put their underwear in the freezer? Switch the salt shaker with ? Maybe put some cayenne pepper in the pepper shaker?

I couldn’t really think of anything until I opened the fridge. Hmmm… A dozen eggs…I’ll only need two…

I placed one egg in each of their hands as they slept. Probably a failed prank, but it gave me a laugh as I left out the front door. At least they would have something talk about later. I had these pretend conversations going on in my own head, which made me laugh louder on my walk home.

It was a nice Friday night for me after all.
Going to the gym.
Posted:Jul 31, 2020 2:27 pm
Last Updated:Aug 1, 2020 2:57 pm

This has got to be the most boring Friday I've had in a while, and I don't like it. If you read this post, I feel sorry for you. It isn't worth your time. You would be better off reading someone else today.


Been feeling fine for a while...my spirits were pushed up...

Then my cuddle buddy changed schedule. I won't be seeing her anymore I guess, don't know. A week wasn't enough time to get to know her in my opinion.

My freaking car is clean. My house...clean... It's going to rain and that fits my mood.

I used to love going to the gym. Now...COVID has ruined it for me. Now it feels like a job and not the reward it used to be. I still like the soreness, but so few people there now. All of my older friends have stopped coming completely.

The racists black guy...gone. (My best friend there)
The sports aholic Hispanic...gone. (Who got traded to which team? I dunno, but this guy did.)
The fanatical Trump Supporter...gone. (Can we talk about something else besides politics? Who would have thought he was gay. Jeeze.)
The cancel culture hippie...gone. (You are boycotting who this week? oh yeah, because they said nice things..got it.)

I feel sorry for the person that advertises his political beliefs if they are conservative. If someone else besides Trump gets elected, they will be harassed, hunted, and killed at first opportunity. Cancel culture hippie told me they would. Sounds a lot like my former Commie Marxist. Damn I miss arguing with him. Him being on my same side sucks ass.

Don't know where I was going with that. Fuck it... I already typed it.

Go out and do something today. I'm going to.
1 comment
Today I got a brother and man, is he ugly.
Posted:Jul 30, 2020 6:36 pm
Last Updated:Jul 31, 2020 7:08 pm

I don’t know about the rest of the world, but Austin Texas is hot at the moment. Freakishly hot.

Can’t wait until we get enough nuclear energy to cool the whole world down, starting here. Put one in my back yard.

Anyway, my normal job requires me to work outside sometimes, and today was no exception. I wish I spoke Spanish, so I could communicate better with the material handlers that work around me. Doesn’t matter really, enough of them know English that getting work done with them is pretty easy, besides I’m considered their customer when I am around.

Today, six of them on the dock were talking in Spanish about one of them. “Helio” had just recently moved his grandmother into a really old house. Two bedrooms, no central air, and the guys had taken up a collection to buy a window AC for her. A little over $250…. decent amount for six guys to help out a friend. I would have helped had I known.

Just the smallest AC they bought was too large for the window it had to go in. They are aware of all the construction projects I have done. So they asked me to help make the window bigger or the AC smaller. So, at lunch, I went and looked at it with Helio. She didn’t live that far away from work.

As I walked in the door, it was at least ninety degrees inside. Two fans blowing, but not enough cooling with no wind from outside. Sweat was pouring off grey-haired Grandma, Helio, and me. The AC unit was on the floor…useless, not really practical to make it work. I looked at the window…

Pulling out the two tiny narrow windows and putting a single one in was an option for this room, and expensive time consuming one. Guessing about three hours, depending on hard it was to remove these two.

The unit was so small, that probably only one room could be cooled with it.
“So…did you pay cash for this unit?” I asked Helio.
“Sie, I mean yes. Sorry, I always think in Spanish around Grandma.” He said.
‘Let’s take it back, get a different one.” I said.
“The other’s are all bigger for the window.” He said.
“I’m sure there is a type we can use, just not this one. She only uses this room? Someone sleeps on the couch here?” I asked.
“No fans in the bedroom, so when it’s hot, she sleeps this room.” He said.

I walked into the bedroom. The same type of old-style narrow windows. Everything was clean, and a feeling of peace permeated the house. It felt like I was walking through the house I grew up in South Dallas. It even had a cutout for the phone in the hallway. No phone there now. Candles sat, partially melted on top since it was so hot in the house.

“Let’s go return the AC,” I said.

We did. Then, I bought two portable ones. Helio argued with me that he couldn’t pay me back for a couple paychecks. I argued with him that it was a gift to Grandma, not him and he already gave me $250.

We installed one in the dining area so she could get cooler in the kitchen when she cooked, it cooled the living room area also. It worked great. I sat on the couch as Helio installed the other in the bedroom for her. The drop in temperature made me drowsy, within minutes I was asleep. I think I heard the other one kick on, but I was tired.

I woke up to the smell of frying meat. It was heavenly. Grandma was moving around the kitchen with so much energy. Cooking, and it sounded like she was cursing at Helio, but he was laughing. I looked at my cell. A little over two hours since we left. The place felt different, and I was actually a little chilly sitting in my shorts and t-shirt.

“Helio, I got to get back to work,” I said.

“Grandma made us lunch. Sit for a few minutes more.” He said and motioned for me to move to the small dining area.

Grandma was easily eighty years old. Dressed in flowery Mexican (I guess) dress that went all the way to her ankles. She moved around us and talked to Helio in Spanish. He translated some of it for me. “She says you have nice legs.” He said. With a smile, I pulled up one leg of my shorts higher to show her more leg. She laughed.

I was motioned to eat, so I ate. She kept moving around and when she was picking up a pan of leftover fried plantains off the table… I couldn’t help myself. I pinched her ass. After all, it was right there.

She squeaked, then I said in a stern voice and pointed my finger at him, “Helio, respect for your Grandma.” She hit him with a wooden spoon and soon both of them were chattering back and forth. I just ignored it as I ate the rest of the food off my plate. It was obvious they were talking about me, but I pretended not to notice.

I finished eating, got up. Thanked her. She took my face in her hands and I think she said, “ Mi hijo angel” Helio started arguing with her in Spanish. She threatened him with the wooden spoon again. He quieted, but he looked like he was going to pop holding his tongue.

She went into the kitchen and brought back a plastic bag full of frozen tamales. I think there must have been fifty of them in the bag and gave them to me, then kissed my cheek, hugged me goodbye.

As I drove us back to work…well…”You asshole. She thinks I did that.” Helio said.
“You did. I saw you. I didn’t get hit with no spoon. “ I said.
“You..but…No…” He sputtered.
“It was the butt cheek closest to you. Yup…saw you do it. I’m telling the guys.” I said jokingly.
He got quiet.
“You ok?” I asked him.
“How can a bad guy like you be such a good guy? The guys won’t believe me. Grandma doesn’t believe me. I don’t even believe it myself, no one does that to Grandma.”
“I believe you, but I’m going to lie. Do you think Juan can cook those tamales for lunch for us tomorrow?” I asked.
“I’ll take care of it…and…thank you. She hadn’t cooked since we moved her in there. It was just too hot. I almost cried when she started making lunch for us. She always loved to cook.”
“Do you think she would make me lunch if I just show up?” I asked.
“Are you kidding? Her fucking ‘angel ’? She would cook for you for the rest of her life. Me, she would beat with that spoon the rest of mine.”
“She loves you a lot. I can feel it when she talks to you.” I said.
“When mom died, she took care of me, my four brothers and Dad. I wish we could have afforded a better house for her. My brother and I both have room for her. She wouldn’t move in with us when Dad died. We take care of family, but she said no. Wanted space for just herself.” he said.
“I wish I had a brother. My sister hates me.” I said.
“Today, my evil friend, you have one,” Helio said.

He called her something else in Spanish...but I didn't know how it was spelled.So I substituted Grandma. He is a good man. Better man than I will ever be.
1 comment
My future date with author51
Posted:Jul 30, 2020 3:32 am
Last Updated:Aug 1, 2020 11:31 am

So, I read her blog. Not everything yet, she has been here a while. I highly recommend it.

In her profile,

“I am an avid sports junkie and play most of them as well. When one stays fit all of their life it helps in the more mature years and keeps one young at heart...”

So, would I take her to a sporting event for the first date? The Dallas Cowboys don’t play in Canada, besides she probably likes hockey. My logical brain can’t understand hockey. I’ve been to four hockey games from women taking me to them. Out of those four times, no sex occurred afterward. I couldn’t persuade them into bed when they were jumping up and down fighting some invisible man every time a guy was slammed into the glass. I noticed most of the audience is fighting ghosts so it must be a spiritual thing. Do you have to be baptized by a hockey puck hitting your head? I saw that a few times at the games I went to.

Again in her profile,

“Having a sense of humor is key... Make me laugh out loud, match me wit for wit, hold a conversation and be a man who likes a challenge, sports, music and a red head in bed and half the battle of us meeting is won.”

This is a tough one. I have no sense of humor, so I have to pretend as I do. I can make others laugh, so I’m guessing I can pass this one. The wit to wit is interesting. I am aware of my slow wit, but I compensate with non-verbal sparring. For instance.

She says, “You are such a stud.”

Me thinking, why is she saying I’m an upright support in the wall of a building to which sheathing or drywall is attached.

My answer, “Are you the sheetrock that’s gonna be nailed to me?”

Then follow with pretend hammer motions with my hand because I need to stall to think of something else. Maybe wink, point to my crotch…anything to stop thinking about building a fucking wall.

Challenge? I’m a problem solver. Please….Sports…I can watch them but racquetball is the only one I am decent in. I’ve never finished a game with a girl in racquetball…reasons…

“red head in bed”… Out of everything so far, this is the biggest barrier. I had sex with two red heads in my life and neither one made it as far as the bed. The couch, the car, the stairwell, up against the door, the floor, tabletops, the lawn, countertops. She says red head in bed, but I’m thinking that must be some sort of code for if we make it to the bed she owns me.

There were other things there, but I got sidetracked on that video she has. Wish that was my fingers touching there.

So, on to the future date….

Not going to take her to a concert. Not going to take her to a movie. Not going to take her to a sports thing. I used to inline skate in my twenties, and roller skate in Utah last time I was there. Skating is good for conversation, but I bet she has already had a date doing that.

I’d have to travel to Canada first…Hmmm…Got it.
Since this would be the first meet, need a public place…Dinner? Nope. Coffee? Nope….

The problem I have with flying is laundry. I hate smelling my own stinking laundry once I land. I always sweat before takeoff and after we land waiting for the door to open.

I got it. I would meet her outside the Tiny Bubbles at King Avenue and Beaver Street. A good sign, Beaver street..hehe. I’d be the King of her Beaver…Kneel to the King baby….I’ll let your beaver chow down on my kingly wood. (of course, I wouldn’t tell her those things right off the bat anyway. I’d wait at least an hour or 5 min., Jeeze.)

Lots of open space so I could run away if I needed to. They have a Walmart 60 miles away that I would have to stop at first. I need soap, a laundry basket, other things. Maps says it’s a two and half hour drive for 60 miles…WTF?

So there I would be, parked at the corner of King and Beaver, waiting just outside Tiny Bubbles Laundromat wearing my black shorts, showing my manly legs, and a T-shirt that says, “Straight Out of Cookies.” With Cookie Monster in the background. Looking totally tasty at 6 feet and intense manly gaze.

She pulls up. Gets out of her car. Relaxes a bit because I do match the picture I sent her. I tense. Imagining that video she posted. I should have never watched that video before meeting her. Can she tell I’m hard? Why does her gaze keep going to my crotch? Dick, stay down, trying to impress with words here.

“You’re real.” She says.

“SilyconBond, in the flesh, and you have a booger on your nose,” I say, and casually scrape at the tip of her nose with my fingertip with my right hand. I flick off the pretend booger. Then look disgusted at my hand, then around us, wipe off my hand on my shorts. I’ll reach out with my left hand to shake after all I just had a booger on the right one.

She does one of two things at this time. One, she laughs and shakes with the left or two, she stares in shock horror at my left hand. I haven’t figured out a way to exchange ids without looking like an idiot because I have no idea what a Canadian ID looks like. None of my Canadian friends have shown me theirs. Engineer, not a bartender…so I would stare at the thing, and base my guess on whether I could beat her at arm wrestling. No girl has ever beat me yet, the one that does, I’m running.

“So what are we doing?” She asks.

“Laundry,” I say.

“Your kidding.” She says.

“I just got off the plane and I had to go shopping. If you like the next hour, I’ll let you buy me dinner. Has any of your other lovers taken you to the laundromat on the first date?”

“Uh no, but I’m not buying dinner.” She says.

“We shall see. Let me get my stuff.” I say and walk to my rental car, pop the trunk, and get out my laundry basket. It has a soapbox, clean clothes on top of a towel. She can clearly see everything except what’s under the towel.

I walk into the coin-op shop, carrying my basket. This is her chance. She can leave now. She doesn’t have to say goodbye. She barely knows me. She does the calculations in her head.

1) He’s weird…but I knew that already.
2) He is who he says he is…so a little trust can be given.
3) Was there really a booger on my nose? Or was he playing me?... I guess it doesn’t matter.
4) Why the fuck laundry?
5) He’s really doing this…it makes no sense. Deep breath..he has a nice ass. (Yes I do.)

Inside I picked my machine, see her, and take off my shirt. I throw it in the machine. I take off my shoes, my socks, my shorts. I leave my scooby doo boxers on. Throw the other things in the wash except for my shoes. She can’t help but stare, I’ve been working out for a while. I’m not Marvel Super Hero Shape, but I will be in a few years I hope.

I put some soap in the machine. Then I start to put on the clean clothes from my basket. Shorts, socks, shoes… I see her watching me and say, “Damn, I forgot the stripper music. Whadda think? Pour some sugar on me or I wanna be a Cowboy?” And I twirl my clean shirt overhead. If she laughs, I swivel my hips Elvis Presley style. If she doesn’t laugh, It’s the Rock Eyebrow raise.

I put on my shirt. Start the wash. “You forgot the towel. “ She says. “It’s not dirty, besides it’s hiding something. Stand over there. I’ll share it with you.” I point to someplace at least ten feet away.

I lift the towel, and there they are GUNS. Not just any GUNS, but plastic blue, orange, and grey Nerf N-Strike Elite Disrupters that hold six darts. I toss her the unloaded one. She drops it. For some reason, women always drop the gun when tossed the first time in the laundromat or any other place I have thrown them. I learned my lesson. Never throw them a loaded one. Then as she is looking at it on the floor. I pick up a hand full of darts and throw them at her. Of course, she doesn’t catch all of them, but she is more ready. I bought lots of extra darts.

While she is picking up the gun, and rest of the darts, I’m casually shooting her. I’m really good against eight to ten-year-olds. Every one of my shots will hit either the floor, the ceiling, the wall behind her. I like to think she would laugh with every missed shot as she tries to figure the gun and darts out.

After my clip is empty, I approach her. “Wow, you’re really slow. Must be the lighting in here.” I say.

I holster the gun in the side pocket of my shorts. It’s bulky and barely fits. “This is how you load. Pull back this slide here. Them aim, and pull the trigger.” It’s a puzzle and girls always like solving puzzles.

After she gets it working. I explain the rules.

“First, no headshots. Second, stay inside. Third, a point for every hit. Fourth, an ass shot gets a touch or kiss when the game is over, they are cumulative. Ten points to the game. Understand?” I hand her a fist full of darts to go with the ones you already have, then I go to the other side of the room.

“Ok, count down from three. Then game on.” I say. “Three…Two…One…” She fires, but I squat low, preparing my shots carefully.

Not sure how it plays out. So many different ways it could go. I play to win always. I’m not getting shot by anybody, girl, boy, doesn’t matter. I will jump over the washing machines if I have to. I’ll pick up my laundry basket to use as a shield. I’ll use a distraction..”Someone’s coming…” then shoot her. I’ll shoot her when she is reloading. Plus, I always make it a big story when I play. I’ll overemphasize how I have the drop on the bank robber or the that stole my bike. Telling my story with every pull of a trigger. I’ll make up names for things…the washer is now bunker 54, or police station 17. "That shot just blew your arm off!"

Hopefully, we can get four or five games before the wash is done and I have to put the clothes in the dryer. Aerobic activity can be exhausting. Depends on how hard she wants to win. Putting the clothes in the dryer is a pause point. I’ll motion her to the chairs to sit..and we will just talk.

We will compare scores, and she might ask about the touch or kiss rule. If she does…it could lead to something. If she doesn’t I don’t even bring it up. Talking is an important part of the whole date for me. The attraction builds for me at that point or it doesn’t. Sitting next to each other is a good place for subtle touches to start, and if she had a good time, it's more probable. Nothing is for sure in life. I can't predict what would happen next. Hopefully, after she reads this we can still be friends.

This would be my first date, with author51 based on information I am guessing at.
I lost my nemesis, and I’m depressed about it.
Posted:Jul 28, 2020 6:54 pm
Last Updated:Jul 28, 2020 10:48 pm

I’ve known him for a long time. He was a real-life Commie Marxist. He has been one for the last twenty years that I have known him.

I lost count of the number of times he would say to others when talking politics. “The Russians were on the right path, they just didn’t do it right.”

My internal thinking…yeah, two hundred million people killed within their country with their system. Commies always need to kill if they believe you think “wrong.” They tell you what you are thinking btw. Don’t try to argue with me about it. I’ve experienced it first-hand. You want proof. Cuba is nearby, go visit. I've been to the Eastern Block. I've talked to people that lived it.

I argued politics with him, but we share a higher goal. Fixing things that are broken. He’s a good engineer, one of the best I know.

Traveling throughout the world changed my perception of the United States, and for the better. Despite all of the problems of us elevating small problems to be the biggest ones. This is a great place to live. I love the idea of “second chances.”, “Let’s be better”, and my all-time favorite, “Forgiveness.” It permeates this place for me. To bad those people tearing down statues can’t forgive transgressions of people that died a long time ago. The dead can’t apologize or be better.

So, about my nemesis. We have argued a lot over the years, and I can cause his cognitive dissonance to show anytime I want. I didn’t need to, just…he enjoyed it. He loves to argue. I just know I enjoyed seeing him happy more than winning any point. It would piss him off more if I agreed with him.

So, at my job, two of our peers have to rate us mid-year, besides our own self-evaluation. It’s a stupid system because if you rate them low, the more raise you could get if you are rated higher. You know who rates you low. Engineers know math. We manipulate numbers all the time to get what outcome we want, and this system is no exception. Hmmm…needed this to be 1mm, let me get a file.

You don’t get to pick who does the rating, but they give the “reasons”…and from those written words, it acts as a pointer to who gave you what rating. Anonymous? You have to be kidding.

It’s an understanding you’ll get an average score, otherwise, the person might get rated by you and get a lower score. Not proud, done it myself.

Anyway, I got my mid-year back today…rated higher than average…a lot higher. It’s not good to get a higher score. The system penalizes the people who elevated you. It made me nauseous just looking at it. I read the comments, and they pointed to two other engineers, one my nemeses. His style glared on the page. The other guy, expected, but he was following the guideline we all do.

I couldn’t hold it inside. I went to confront him. Yet, the first thing I noticed about him, he was thinner and his face looked distressed.

“I got my mid-year,” I said. His eyes widened.

“I know it is you who gave me a higher score. You know what happens if the boss approves. Why?” I asked in a soft tone.

“I traveled to Germany over a month ago. Met your friends. Took a tour of the Eastern block while I was there. We got pulled over, and I didn’t have any money for the bribe for the speeding ticket.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” I said.

“Yeah…the cops beat us up when I argued we were not speeding. Held us for three days. I barely got enough water to drink, fed only once. I didn’t know anyone there. They never really told us what they wanted. I could have gotten the money if I was just allowed to get to an atm. I was released when four other people came in, and just like that…walked out. “

“Ok, but focus, my rating. I’m sorry that happened to you, but I don’t understand the correlation. They are no longer under Soviet Control.” I said.

“I’m getting to that. Everything you said over the years came back to me. How you said trust with friends in these counties is more important than money. I made a friend in that cell, he gave me his ration of water…Their system sucked and the police we met were just criminals. Their roads. Their buildings. Their food. Everything has some flaw that was obvious even to me.”

“That’s why I rated you higher. I have been so wrong for so long. It felt good to do something that just felt right. ”

"It's not right. The system we have is fixed against us. You gave me a higher rating, but that means they move the yardstick. Higher-ups don't care how you feel. It's designed to socially separate us. They have a fixed amount they have already settled for. Plus, I didn't solve as many problems these last six months as you. If anything, rate me average and we all win." I argued.

"I don't think I can change it now, and I don't feel like doing it." He said.


"How do you want to feel?" I asked.

"Like I haven't wasted my life believing something that wasn't true. " He said.

I am exactly like him in that respect. Only I can't figure out what I wasted my life on. Did I? Most times I felt like I was adding value. I've influenced a lot of people in my life, made a lot of people happy, and a few unhappy.

I guess last week is still bothering me a little. I feel guilty for being happy these last couple of days. The world doesn't make any sense to me anymore.

“How about pushing yourself a little further?” I asked him.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“Look up this guy on the internet, Thomas Sowell. Just listen to him some. He started as you did. I admire the guy a lot.” I said.

He agreed he would by nodding. In the years I have known him, he never agreed with me…ever. He always wanted me to agree with him. It oddly felt weird.

If he actually does look up Thomas, and I suspect he will. The dynamic of our relationship will change. I know it’s stupid, but I’ll miss that friction. That friction honed skills I developed to use in other places. Sharpening ideas that cut right through the bullshit people tossed in front of me. After all, feelings matter more than logic. I wish it wasn't thrown in my face so much.

BTW, I have never read any of Thomas’ books. I just watched videos of him. I agree with his views on the decriminalization of all drugs and other things.

I got sidetracked. I need a new nemesis. Someone that only listens to one side of the argument he/she believes in. Someone that is a mind reader. I need to sharpen my skillset against those people that believe they know what I am thinking, then use that against me. I’m really bad at defending against mind-reading. Any takers?
My observation…The bottle.
Posted:Jul 27, 2020 4:01 pm
Last Updated:Jul 28, 2020 3:47 pm

It was a shock to me that you would even be interested in having sex with me after so long. Before our meeting, I kept thinking back about the first time we actually met before seeing you yesterday.

That was my first time ever being to Whole Foods. You may not be aware but I saw you first picking up oranges in the produce section. In a weird circumstance, I knew the guy working near you. Vince and I worked together when he was working at a warehouse. It was him that I was there to see.

He was about to get off work, and we were going to talk over at the bar. At the bar, I had just finished mentoring him about python programming, then you walked by with a full shopping cart of food. His career discussion was boring me. I told him, “Hold a minute” as you walked by us.

I grabbed the nearest bottle of beer off a barrel and walked up to you. The look on your face was confusion as I casually placed it in your shopping cart.

“Excuse me?” You said.

Me, looking into your eyes. “I need you to buy this for me. I heard they ID people here.”

“You look over 21.” You said.

“Ok, so I am. Was trying to think of an ice breaker so I could steal your shopping cart.” I said.

Then I took hold of your shopping cart and walked fast away. You stood there. I heard my friend laughing in the bar. I made a quick trip around the nearest isle. On my return trip up the next aisle, I waved to you and slowly approached.

“Oh Hi! So good to see you again. I didn’t get your name when we met last time.” I said with a straight face.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Shopping isn’t it obvious,” I said.

“You took my shopping cart.” You said.

“I’m pretty sure I put stuff in here. Oh, yeah, this.” I picked up the beer bottle and handed it to you. You looked at the bottle in your hands. I then left with the shopping cart and went around another display, I think it was nuts but can’t remember. Fast away, then slow on the return, smiling.

You tried to hand me the bottle of beer. I announced loudly, “I don’t buy alcohol for minors”

That’s when you started to laugh and asked, “Who are you?”

“Wait a minute. The second time I met you, you didn’t give me your name. This is the third time I see you and I still don’t know. I don’t give my name to complete strangers that are threatening me with a dangerous weapon.”

“Weapon?” You asked still smiling.

I pointed to the bottle in her hand.

“This is yours.” You said.

“You just took it from me. I gifted it to you. Do you think the croissants are gluten-free? ” I asked as I picked up the container of croissants from the shopping cart.
You placed the beer in your hand in the shopping cart and then you took the croissants from my hand and placed them back in your shopping cart.

“’ I’m not sure I want to buy those. Plus, this, Kale? I hate Kale.” I said.

“You want it. It’s good for you.” You said.

“How do you eat it?” I asked.

“I put it in a shake with other things.” You said.

“You ruin other things with it, oh no…” I said.

Then we started to talk. It was a light conversation. We got so caught up in our conversation that Vince ruined the mystery of my name when he came up to us and told me he would talk to me later.

You didn’t believe him, so I got out my license to prove my name. You stared at it for a while. Imagine my surprise later when I found out you memorized it. I never was good at remembering numbers, but, you can remember every single price of items you place in your shopping cart. That is a remarkable feat. I can barely remember the pin on my atm card.

You gave me your name and cell number and we parted. You know what happened next.

Vince has since got his dream job. Like all successful programmers, has no time for me. He will always be a friend. I do miss hanging out with him at times.

Which brings me to yesterday. I’m not going to talk about it except one thing.

I saw the bottle of beer on your shelf of keepsakes. Why have you saved it for six years? I was going to email you about it. Yet, you have not revealed your profile to me. I want to see who looks at this blog so I can narrow it down. I don’t think you can resist not seeing what I wrote. I’m not going to tell the world how wonderful you were. Nope, not gonna do it, although it was wonderful for me.
I was found out at work today.
Posted:Jul 24, 2020 6:41 pm
Last Updated:Jul 27, 2020 4:09 pm

“How did you know it’s me?” I asked her.

“The hard hat. You left the nickname I gave you on it.” She said.

“I didn’t put that name on my helmet, the guys did,” I said. She laughed.
“Oh yeah, coming in every morning, every time someone asks you, “How are you doing?” What’s your response? You should have taken the name off the helmet. No one else walks around with that name.”

“That’s beside the point. What are you doing there? You have be on the website know I’m there.”

“I read your blog.” She said.

“Well….I’m kinda proud of it. Go back where you answer what are you doing there.” I said.

“I liked the pickle one.” She said.

“Really. I had fun writing that one. Again, what are YOU doing there?” I asked again a little louder.

“How many women have you met on that site?” She asked.

“I’ll tell you if you answer my question. What are you doing there?” I said.

“Plus the all day text tease post that was a funny one.” She said smiling.

“No, no, no. I get it. You read my blog. You’re deflecting. What’s going on in your life that you are having fun at my expense? “ I looked into her face, and deep into her eyes. “You’re searching for something,” I said.

“Maybe.” She said and half-smiled.

“Can’t be just sex. A like you could get sex if she wanted it. Even on that site, I bet you get, what ten messages a day.”

“More sometimes. You’re not on that other app.” She said.

“I’m not fully engaged on the site either. I blog too much and read other blogs. It’s a whole new world I had no idea that existed. It has trapped me. Wait a minute, you looked for me there, too? Why?” I asked.

“I want a feeling. I’ll know it when I feel it. That’s why I am there.” She said.

“Four. I’ve met four women. A honey pot. A cam . Two extremely talented visual artists, yet they themselves bloggers. I’ve only messaged them. Plus, I’ve had IM’s from two couple accounts. They and one guy asked for dick pictures that I haven’t taken yet. I haven’t met anyone in person yet from there. I’m not sure I can and still blog.”

She listened and her eyes softened. “You have. Me.” She said.

“Can I blog about what we talked about today?” I asked.

“Depends, what would you say about me?” She asked.

“Something along the lines of…”She acted like a spoiled brat that wanted her candy. Crying that…”

“What?!?” She said outraged.

“I can’t tell anyone you’re a cute short security guard that likes watching my butt. Always smiling when I walk up to her desk. Who would believe that?” I said.

She laughed for a few seconds. Her hand reached out to me as if she was going to touch my face and stopped about two inches away. She withdrew it.

“I want that feeling. More of that.” She said.

In true guy fashion. I don’t understand. I nodded my head as I did. It seemed to reassure her. She took a big breath and turned, walked out of the cafeteria. So I watched her ass as she left. Sue me.

So, as YOU, cute short security guard, read my post today. Please, please tell me which person you are, here. I’ve looked through twenty profiles so far and haven’t made the connection. You had me terrified when you said you wanted to talk to me later. I walked around the outside of the building several times to avoid your desk to avoid that talk. It was so hot outside. It’s not fair you cornered me in the cafeteria. How can I avoid you if you hunt me down? Damn your security cameras and the guy who trained you to use them.

Whatever happened to the electrician I set you up with? I thought you had a thing going with him. I haven’t seen him in a while, or his company lately.

And YES I was watching your ass. Not only am I admitting it here that it really looks nice it those terrible tacky blue pants. I know you watched mine when I did the cowboy hip thrust dance move a month ago. So there!
My worst day this year. RIP Melissa
Posted:Jul 23, 2020 1:28 pm
Last Updated:Aug 4, 2021 8:36 pm

Freak! It’s hot. Sweated so much it felt like my balls were swimming in my shorts. Reminds of another time.

Never failed. Always needed on the dock load out equipment on either the hottest days, the rainiest days, or the freaking coldest days.

The only good thing about it is the company of the material handlers themselves. I love those guys. Of the twenty still left, I have a good rapport with all of them. The one guy I didn’t like…gone.

Even he wasn’t a bad guy. Personality-wise, friendly, easy talk .

Then, he dropped my part from his forklift. $500,000 in pieces because he wasn’t watching the spotters. So much fucking paperwork recover, and the machine had be down for another days until we got another replacement part.

All is forgiven…got the second part in. machine fixed…

A month goes by…Needed an $8,000,000 replacement for a machine. Unloaded fine, moved fine. Till the end, he had go up a ramp with it and missed the brake and hit the accelerator at the top. Smashed into the side of the building with it. He claimed he got nervous, because of last time. Ugh!

I didn’t yell. I kept my cool. I felt physically sick though. This machine was going to be down another week until I got this part. If it came in the middle of the night…I would be there, on the dock…blah blah blah. My customer believes I am Satan’s when things like this happen.

The incident report. I was so upset that I drank calm down so I could write the fucker. I didn’t get drunk, but how I wanted . Not the best of circumstances get additional bad news.

“Hey…I just wanted call and tell you I can’t see you anymore.” She said.
“I knew this day would come eventually. It’s o” I said calm her, the alcohol had already helped with my nerves.
“Well…Not exactly, I didn’t know it would come. It’s not you, really.” She said and started crying on the phone.
I said, “Women always say that when it really is. Honestly, I’ve had a rough day, but is there anything I can say that would help you feel better? It would make me feel better if I could make you a little happier.”
“I have breast cancer.” She said.
“What?” I asked shocked.
“There’s nothing you can do.” She said.
“I could take you get a second opinion. Maybe bring over some ice cream.“ I said.
“I don’t want you see like this. That’s why I can’t see you anymore.” She said.
“What about email?” I asked.
“Email would be fine.” She said and sounded happier.
“Ok, then. I’ll email you. I won’t try see you.” I said and we said our goodbyes.

So about once a month I would send an email with a video of Baby goats. She loved baby goats. I didn’t pressure see her. After thirteen emails, only twelve happy responses. I suspected, but I didn’t know. I really had no information about how long she had it, or anything else.

Then I got a letter from an insurance company and a chec Very weird. I called the number on the letter. I felt like I had been gut-punched.

I drove by her house later. Someone else lives there now. Her is still there, but no activity for many months. No posting of her condition…nothing…

Thanks the internet, I was able track down her aunt. I called her. She had passed, multiple cancers. The funeral was over a month ago.

I have no idea whether I made her life better or worse. A lot of good times for me. A few high drama situations, but we always made up.

Today is her birthday which pisses me off that I got that letter today. I donated the check to “The Rose” charity in her name. I picked it for a stupid reason. “The Rose” by Bette Midler was her favorite song. I have no idea whether they are a good charity or not, and I don’t want to know. I played the song. Yeah, I cried, still crying. She deserved a longer life.

Writing this out, helped me. I’ll be better. Thank you, my friends, for giving me the courage to do so. No comments on this post. I don't want sympathy. I want revenge on the cause of her death. I hate it with every fiber of my being. I'm fighting the anger and the grief on a level I haven't felt since my grandmother passed.

I'll be better tomorrow.
This is for men only – Women don’t read.
Posted:Jul 22, 2020 4:25 pm
Last Updated:Jul 23, 2020 12:42 pm

Caution, the following is meant for a mature male audience and will offend most individuals without a biological appendage called a penis. Reader discretion is advised.

I’m 52 now, and I feel I need to leave something behind for you younger guys that have been in long term relationships and just want to get laid tomorrow night from your significant other.

Yes, …it won’t help today, or even tonight. There is some prep work you have to do the day before and some understanding of the psychology of your own mind. You’ll never understand women so don’t even try. Just accept that they do crazy shit for crazy reasons and most of the time will blame the male in the relationship for allowing her to it.

I call it “The All-Day Text Tease.”

Tools needed: You probably already own a cell phone, that’s all you need as far as tools.

Extra Money: Really not necessary, flowers and dinner are a fail. Women love flowers but most don’t give you sex from a gift. I know guys that gave away thousands of dollars in jewelry not get any sex, and their relationship crashed soon after. Statistically, a million-dollar or more wedding ring brings divorce within three years. Kris Humphries and Kim Kardashian anyone? It’s better to give your time than any other gift.

Mindset: Men are good at a single objective. So your mindset should be, “Is this fun for her?” Not “what can she do for me?” Or any other bullshit that makes the interaction boring. If you think its fun, it’s best to test and try something similar the next time.

Number one rule when dealing with ANY woman. “Don’t be boring.” I realized since I wrote this that my own profile on this site IS very boring. It reads like a job app. I’m gonna change it, later, this is way more important to me right now. Not a person is brave enough to tell me it sucks so far that’s read it. Been here almost a month and I have not messaged anyone of the hundreds of people that have looked at it so far to start the conversation anyway. I write too many blog posts.

On my cell, I have the option of sending a text later. This is a tool that I use sometimes because I go long periods where no one can reach me. It's better to feed little tidbits of mind food throughout the day instead of dumping a mountain of mind food on a girl last minute. My belief is sex is always more mental than physical with women. Everything a man does…she thinks about it.

Ok, onto the script for “The All-Day Text Tease.”

I set up the following text examples and set the clock for when I want them to be sent.

->Got up this morning and forgot to ask you for a bj, I mean where did I put my sunglasses? 08:07
-> Damn, this meeting is going long. If you were to do a striptease on this meeting table I would be more interested. 10:17
-> Man, your lips would look good wrap around my dick right now, instead of me staring at this particle map. 11:37
-> Would they? This map is pretty interesting. 11:38
->How much trouble would I be in if I took my pants off and ran around the building screaming “Freedom from the oppression of pants!”? 13:13
-> Do you want a nookie? 15:52
-> Whoops misspelled cookie, but I’m open for the other. 15:53
->Trying to get my butt home so I can touch yours. 16:21

So, these are silly examples, but I’m a silly guy. Never have them on a regular schedule. Always odd intervals for the times unless one follows right after the other.

Pictures add visual dimension. I wish I had that option. Most of the time I have security stickers on my cell for my work.

Set it up the day before.

Even if every single line of text fails or is in the wrong context, deny it. Lie about it. Evidence never matters if she is having fun.

I do this all the time in card games with girls. “I’m pretty sure 8’s are wild.” After playing gin. Or my favorite, when I lost a hand, I take off my shirt. “Oh, I thought this was strip go fish!”

“What? I’m standing in front of you and I just sent a text to you. Who are you going to believe? Me or your stupid lying cell?” or “ You must not have had cell coverage till now. “
It’s especially fun if she catches you. Women ALWAYS love to find out the guy is not doing something she expects. Remember rule number 1?

You have to tailor the texts to your girl to be effective. It's better to be suggestive or inquisitive than direct.

You wanting to say: “I want to fuck.”
Instead, try,
“Is it better when I nibble on your left ear or right ear when I have my cock buried in your pussy?”

I’ve never used that line, but will in the future. If we all use it together it would be even more fun. Can you imagine the girls getting together and tell each other that they got THAT text? When more than one woman gangs up on you, it’s a win. Once, I was shouted down by a five women group one night, and I ended up sleeping with one because of the way I reacted to them. That’s another post for another time.

Don’t be a single dimension guy. If you are vulgar and curse in person, be polite, and don’t curse in texts. Are you are nice in person, be an asshole in texts. Then later switch to a different personality altogether. It pushes girls into a different realm of thinking.

Asshole example, You: “I’m not giving you any dick till you go get me some wings.”
Another, “Stop thinking bout my dick and get back to work.”

If you have rapport…those will actually work….if not, they won’t. Funny story, I had a gay friend actually text me the second one at 3 am first. I stole it and used it a couple times successfully.

BTW…I know women read this. You can’t stop Author51 from reading anything she sees. My god, I wish I owned a company that did research into social history or social promotion. Not only would I pay her twice as much as the going rate, but I would also get a panic attack for my printer being too slow printing out a contract for her. I really admire her creativity in her blog. I would NEVER ever send her those texts above.

I’d send her ones that are more assholey. Ones that would make her want to throw large heavy objects at me. I’m really good at dodge-ball.

To link to this blog (SilyconBond) use [blog SilyconBond] in your messages.

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