Don't pee in a steam room unless there's a shower head and it's turned on.
6.14.2004
6.13.2004
Tonight I watched the season premier of Six Feet Under with Little Boots. James St. James was downstairs with a friend of ours who is in town for a wedding. James St. James had previously told me that they were going to a bar later in the evening and seeing as Little Boots and I wanted to watch the season finale of Deadwood in the living room since it provides more comfortable arrangements they would leave before the show began and watch the NBA finals at the bar.
After Six Feet Under ended Little Boots headed down stairs and I picked up my cat Victor before following. Coming down the stairs I was surprised to see six people watching the game. Taken aback as I was I didn't actually stop and give myself time to recognize who was there; I only noticed that there were five dudes and one femanina present. Victor's a really cool cat but walking into a room of unknown people while stroking his stomach is not really an image I like to portray due to various ties with homosexuality and James Bond villains. Quick on my toes as ever I stopped at the foot of the stairs and said with everyone looking at me, "Oh… I didn't know we had guests… I wouldn't have come down the stairs stroking my pussy this way…" With that I walked into the kitchen to grab a drink with Little Boots. I was further disconcerted when my pun didn't get any laughter beyond a couple uncomfortable chuckles. James St. James, taking his queue, encouraged everyone to get together their effects so they could head to the bar and finish the game. I stood in the kitchen a bit unnerved, struggling with the idea that these six people were leaving so that Little Boots and I could watch a television show. As James St. James' guests stood up to leave I realized I had just committed a serious faux pas, one of the dudes and the femanina were actually the parents of one of the other dudes at the house. Shocked, I shuffled my feet uncomfortably. I just said "stroke my pussy" in front of my friend's mom, a woman I had just met briefly the night before! Wanting nothing more than to escape to the moist heat of the steam room I awkwardly stood in the kitchen mumbling good byes as the full implications of what I had just done sank in.
Little Boots and I watched the season finale of Deadwood and though it was the most amazing film achievement I've ever witnessed I now sit in my room wallowing in uncomfortable despair, agonizing over the complete ass I made of myself. For someone who preaches the value consideration the way I do the atrocity of being both a poor host and offensive to a friend's mother has me itching to commit seppuku…but I'll need to steam first.
Stroke my pussy? You're such an idiot sometimes!
After Six Feet Under ended Little Boots headed down stairs and I picked up my cat Victor before following. Coming down the stairs I was surprised to see six people watching the game. Taken aback as I was I didn't actually stop and give myself time to recognize who was there; I only noticed that there were five dudes and one femanina present. Victor's a really cool cat but walking into a room of unknown people while stroking his stomach is not really an image I like to portray due to various ties with homosexuality and James Bond villains. Quick on my toes as ever I stopped at the foot of the stairs and said with everyone looking at me, "Oh… I didn't know we had guests… I wouldn't have come down the stairs stroking my pussy this way…" With that I walked into the kitchen to grab a drink with Little Boots. I was further disconcerted when my pun didn't get any laughter beyond a couple uncomfortable chuckles. James St. James, taking his queue, encouraged everyone to get together their effects so they could head to the bar and finish the game. I stood in the kitchen a bit unnerved, struggling with the idea that these six people were leaving so that Little Boots and I could watch a television show. As James St. James' guests stood up to leave I realized I had just committed a serious faux pas, one of the dudes and the femanina were actually the parents of one of the other dudes at the house. Shocked, I shuffled my feet uncomfortably. I just said "stroke my pussy" in front of my friend's mom, a woman I had just met briefly the night before! Wanting nothing more than to escape to the moist heat of the steam room I awkwardly stood in the kitchen mumbling good byes as the full implications of what I had just done sank in.
Little Boots and I watched the season finale of Deadwood and though it was the most amazing film achievement I've ever witnessed I now sit in my room wallowing in uncomfortable despair, agonizing over the complete ass I made of myself. For someone who preaches the value consideration the way I do the atrocity of being both a poor host and offensive to a friend's mother has me itching to commit seppuku…but I'll need to steam first.
Stroke my pussy? You're such an idiot sometimes!
It's Sunday and on Sundays I adhere to a strict regiment of steams and kicking teeth in online. I finished a soul cleansing, hangover busting steam, and fired up my booter. It takes a few minutes for my booter to get ready so I busied myself with stretching my fingers, working out my bum shoulder, and doing a few totally nude squats. My booter was soon ready to go and before jumping online I perused my emails.
It stands to reason that I would have a far reaching, global network of spies, and I do. It so happens that I was notified via Darkstar, my communications minister, that this guy:
is running for office in Staffordshire, England. Not only is this guy fucking awesome because he doesn't let his sweet physical deformity hide behind modern prosthetics but also because his name is, I shit you not, Barrie Mycock! Judas priest that's a cool fucking name! Eye patch, check. Mycock, check. Now where do I dimple my fucking chad, yo!?
I want to take this time to recognize Darkstar for his sleuthing efforts. Out there in the thick of it, his tentacles masturbating the internet hoping to strike pay dirt, Darkstar is one of the unsung heroes of the Deucian empire. The Lady Jaye to my Duke, the Six Fingered Man (Count Rugen) to my Prince Humperdinck, the Shockwave to my Megatron, the Fenris Ulf to my White Witch, some of Darkstar's findings include Cicadaville and needsmorecowbell.com. Darkstar also introduced me to his new girlfriend who leaves me speechless to this day. Darkstar broke the déjà vu-esque story on the jimmy who blew $28,000 at a stripclub, and he also uncovered an in-depth study on the economics of online fantasy worlds which prompted me to start buying up acres and acres of virtual land while the getting' is still good. All this, and I haven't even scratched the surface. A man of singular purpose and vision, a man whose sole ambition in life is something so fucking cool it can't be discussed, Darkstar embodies everything that the Deuce Goose stands for and is a constant reminder that there is an I in TEAM. Darkstar, I give a hollah unto you.
It stands to reason that I would have a far reaching, global network of spies, and I do. It so happens that I was notified via Darkstar, my communications minister, that this guy:
is running for office in Staffordshire, England. Not only is this guy fucking awesome because he doesn't let his sweet physical deformity hide behind modern prosthetics but also because his name is, I shit you not, Barrie Mycock! Judas priest that's a cool fucking name! Eye patch, check. Mycock, check. Now where do I dimple my fucking chad, yo!? I want to take this time to recognize Darkstar for his sleuthing efforts. Out there in the thick of it, his tentacles masturbating the internet hoping to strike pay dirt, Darkstar is one of the unsung heroes of the Deucian empire. The Lady Jaye to my Duke, the Six Fingered Man (Count Rugen) to my Prince Humperdinck, the Shockwave to my Megatron, the Fenris Ulf to my White Witch, some of Darkstar's findings include Cicadaville and needsmorecowbell.com. Darkstar also introduced me to his new girlfriend who leaves me speechless to this day. Darkstar broke the déjà vu-esque story on the jimmy who blew $28,000 at a stripclub, and he also uncovered an in-depth study on the economics of online fantasy worlds which prompted me to start buying up acres and acres of virtual land while the getting' is still good. All this, and I haven't even scratched the surface. A man of singular purpose and vision, a man whose sole ambition in life is something so fucking cool it can't be discussed, Darkstar embodies everything that the Deuce Goose stands for and is a constant reminder that there is an I in TEAM. Darkstar, I give a hollah unto you.
