It's funny because they're morons

TWO Victorian men required surgery to remove slug pellets from their backsides after playfully shooting each other with an air rifle to see whether it would hurt.

The 34-year-old mates were enjoying a Sunday afternoon beer drinking session when they decided to shoot one another with an air rifle to see whether it would penetrate their skin or cause pain, Victoria Police said.

The men, from the Grampians region in Victoria's west, took it in turns to shoot each other in the backside and the leg about 5.30pm (AEST) on Sunday.

They thought they were fine but were admitted to hospital two days later requiring surgery to remove slug pellets from their rear ends and legs, police said.

The men will be interviewed by police at a later date when their medical condition improves, police said.

One man will have his firearm licence withdrawn and his firearms confiscated after the incident. (VIA AAP)

Apparently, nothing

I gave up asking why ages ago. Still, I can’t help but wonder how things can often happen in the most bizarrely particular manner possible. Like today.

Through a “random coincidence,” I found myself having coffee with a certain person. He’s held a few distinctions in his life. Among them: The guy that hijacked a job away from me over five years ago now.

It’s the longest fucking story ever, but by doing a distant acquaintance at best a solid, I inadvertently signed my own death warrant.

Needless to say, this person and most anyone remotely close to the situation became part and parcel of my shit-list.

It wasn’t until I had a series of profound circumstances result in me becoming (drum roll please) a different person.

Basically, I genuinely let go of a lifetime worth of baggage—including the burning, white-hot hatred I’d harbored for this person for so fucking long.

So there we were. Having coffee. There has always been an easy rapport between us. But as we talked, I could quite clearly see our differences. This was a guy all about making IT happen, but only through the least effort possible. And not in a good way. Cheap, fast, never as easy as it looks and generally shoddy all around—this guy was akin to the Ikea of employees.

Ikea sells a shit-load of furniture. Our boss quickly kicked my high-maintenance ass to the curb and went with the cheap Swedish shit. Bad times.

Today, that whole camp wishes they were even a shell of their former selves. It’s all over but the shouting, as “they” say.

As we discussed what happened back in the day, he hit me with a line that kind of summed up my entire L.A. experience:

“Well, I nailed it with that first project,” he half-boasted wearily. “But that was about that. It’s not like I really had anything else to bring to the table.”

There it was. Once again, I found a way to put myself in a situation where success was not based on merit or ability, but smoke and mirrors. AKA bullshit.

It was and is common knowledge that I possess a bounty to bring to this particular table. Yet the “powers that be” decided to go with the lesser of two talents. Sound familiar? I thought so.

So when I think back to all of the time and energy I spent hating and brooding and seething and moaning my way into a deep, dark hole it’s taken forever to finally climb the fuck out of—they were off burning through the money, the legacy, all of it with nary a care in the world. The drugs, the trips, the women. The last I heard, my former boss had to sell his kitchen table to pay a utility bill.

Karma is real. And unlike anything else in life, has a tendency to be unequivocally fair. Imagine that.

What really happened: Epilogue

So what’s it all about?

Good question.

Who knows?

We’re older, if not necessarily wiser. Where she was once completely uninhibited, miss thing is now kind of repressed. Now I’m the one with the raging libido and sense of adventure? What a difference a kid (not to mention a few years) makes.

I think the rock band Boston had it right with the title of their second album: Don’t Look Back. There’s just no future in it.

What really happened, Pt 2

By the time we got out of her parent’s house, it was off to the city. There wasn’t much of a plan, other than dinner and drinks. Downtown was super-busy. We finally score parking and walk around looking for a place to eat dinner. We finally settle on a place and go in.

This is where she totally bugs out. All of a sudden she goes from kind of freaked-out new mom hanging out with a guy for the first time since the kid’s birth to classic bitchy girl on a date. She doesn’t like the place. She orders the most complicated drink possible, and then complains when she doesn’t like it. Then she orders a bunch of food. Cool, whatever. When the bill comes, she just looks at me. That’s when I realize that she’s expecting me to pay for the whole thing. OK, wait a minute. I fly up here on the pretense that we’re going to be doing some fucking. Instead, you’ve just been sort of weird and distant, other than getting incredibly stoned and telling me all sorts of intimate details about how much you hate your life. Fuck me running.

We get out of the restaurant, and she decides that she wants to see a midnight movie. So we go. It’s already pretty late, and we have to pick up her daughter before embarking on the ride home (which is a little more than an hour). Sigh. We watch about 20 minutes of the movie before leaving. Oh, and we smoke a bunch of weed at the movies.

We pick up her kid and head back to her place. By now the tension between us is palpable. But I’m maintaining my composure. I’ve already checked out. I just paid way too much money for dinner. I just wasted an entire weekend on this woman. My plane leaves in the AM. I’ll just suck it up and ride it out.

I’m actually happy to get back to her place. I start hitting the bong in earnest. We watch some bullshit on TV before we both crash out. Me: the couch. Her: the bed.

Weirdest moment of the weekend: On Sunday morning while we’re getting ready for the trip to the airport: I was in the kitchen, checking emails on my computer when I looked up to see her, completely naked, standing in her bedroom. It was just a moment. But there she was. She hadn’t lied when she said this was the heaviest she’d ever been. Still, I was attracted to her. All I could see was the body that let me do all of those deliciously nasty things to it. Once upon a time, anyway.

And just like that, she turned away and closed the towel. I just shook my head. Story of my life.

What really happened

It has been a week. I think that’s long enough to fully comprehend just what the fuck happened last weekend.

My trip to visit the Marijuana MILF did not go according to plan. At all.

It started out fine. She picked me up from the airport. We drove about 45 minutes back to her area. We picked up her daughter from daycare on the way to her house.

We get back to the house. She plays with the kid for a while. We go inside so the kid can eat. That’s when we go into the basement and she introduces me to the bong, a huge glass number. Next to the bong was about an ounce of homegrown marijuana. We would go through it and a lot more before the weekend was over.

The vibe was slightly weird, but nothing unexpected. It was kind of an odd situation, and would take some getting used to. Whatever.

But it didn’t. She just got weirder. Thursday night we just smoked a ton of weed . When we were getting tired, she informed me that her daughter had passed on her bed, so I’d have to sleep on the couch. OK, cool. I would go on to sleep on that couch for the rest of my stay.

Friday was more of the same. Dropped the kid off at daycare. Came back to the house and smoked a bunch of pot and talked. The conversations got kind of heavy. Life is so different for both of us since our days of fucking and fighting almost five years ago now.

Friday night was more strangeness. I sat with her while she watched almost an entire season of America’s Next Top Model. We got really, really high.

Saturday was “date night.” Fuck me. What a disaster. First I go with her to drop her kid off with her parents. The parents? Not so much. I mean, they were fine. But there is a lot of drama between this girl and her mom. So yeah, things were kind of tense.

Black Ego

I have this problem of just not thinking. I feel like some kind of fucking animal the way I just act/react without thinking things through first.

It started innocently enough on a cold, rainy Saturday morning in L.A. Log onto Youtube for a little music. A few tunes in, and I somehow stumbled across this one band I haven’t listened to in forever.

Many moons ago back when I still just another clueless college student trying not to flunk out, I listened to this band a LOT. Like, obsessively so. When they came to my college town, it was an epic night. It was also the night my long-time girlfriend came face to face with this girl I was completely infatuated with at the time. But that’s a whole other story entirely.

Anyway, I started playing videos from this band, and holy fuck did it take me back. Everything—the fashions, the beats, the hairstyles(!!!)—It all just screamed of a very particular era in my life, when it seemed like anything was possible. I remembered the way I felt about life back then, and all of the hopes/dreams I had pinned on my future.

I guess this is where I have to ask myself: “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED, DOOD?!”

Story of my life. It’s all right there in front of me, but I somehow find new and innovative ways to completely fuck it all up.

All of these years later, listening to this music only reminds me of what could (and should) have been. It reminds me that the love of my entire life is married to another man and expecting her second child. It reminds me that I’m possibly lonelier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.

Ah, whatever. I’m going to SF on Thursday for a nice, long weekend of working out the kinks. It’s a start, anyway…

Cocaine fuelled naked brawl

FEB 5, 2010

A man who struggled with his wife on his neighbour's lawn was sentenced to house arrest
By NEIL BOWEN

SARNIA, Ont. -- A Sarnia man who bruised his spouse from head to toe during a cocaine-fuelled evening that ended with the naked couple struggling on a neighbour's lawn was sentenced to house arrest in Sarnia court.

The 40-year-old man had previously pleaded guilty to assault causing bodily harm Oct. 1, 2007, but was also convicted of forcible confinement following a Superior Court trial.

A publication ban imposed to protect the spouse's identity prevents his identification.

The bruises on the woman's face, legs, back and arms were so severe she couldn't look at herself in a mirror, she told the court during a trial last November.

"He went ballistic on me," she said.

At one point during the four-hour confrontation, she hit him with a beer bottle, which left a bleeding gash on his head.

"He suffered very serious injuries," said defence lawyer David Stoesser, who argued the man was defending himself.

Justice John Desotti concluded the woman, who is about seven inches shorter and 25 pounds lighter than her husband, had too many bruises for him to claim self-defence.

The couple admitted using cocaine that evening. He also drank beer, but testified neither substance affected his actions.

The confrontation took place in several rooms of their Sarnia home, including the kitchen, where the couple faced each other holding knives. At another point they were in a jacuzzi together.

The confrontation began after the husband exchanged intimate photos of themselves with another couple. The man from the other couple wanted to come to their home.

The woman had become involved in sexual activity with the other man when the couple previously visited the Sarnia pair.

She asked for a divorce, which he rejected, along with her suggestion of an open marriage in which they could date others.

He suggested bringing other couples into the relationship.

The relationship was very rocky in the fall of 2007 because she was involved with other men and incommunicative, the man said during the November trial.

The husband's concern about her infidelity let to the confrontation, said Stoesser. It ended when she bolted naked from the home with her husband chasing her.

The neighbour testified he heard shouting and saw the couple, whom he vaguely knew, on his front lawn. The man had pinned her to the ground.

He told the neighbour everything was fine, but the neighbour called 911.

The woman got loose and darted into the house.

"She was shaking so bad she could hardly breathe," the neighbour testified.

The husband realizes the relationship is now finished, said Stoesser.

Nuthin new about it

I really have no right to complain. I bring all of this shit on myself. I do.

But still. I mean come on. Is this what I get for watching cinematic tripe like “He’s Just Not That Into You”?

I met a girl recently. I liked her immediately, for myriad reasons. It seemed the feeling was somewhat mutual. The night we met, we hung out and had a really fun time at one hell of a sweet party. Much weed was smoked and booze quaffed. No one was feeling any pain. And then we had our moment.

At some point we happened to glance at each other. Emboldened by various intoxicants, I held her gaze. She didn’t flinch. We stared each other down for a good four seconds before turning away. It was the hottest thing to happen in my life in so fucking long it actually makes me want to cry.

Being on this whole go-for-it kick, I set about trying to make something happen with her. Phone calls, e-mails, fucking Twitter—we communicated constantly. The timing sucked though. The holidays kind of dropped in and shut everything down as her family came to town, la di da. Fine.

Fast forward to New Year’s Eve. Run into her on Twitter. Of course. Soon enough she asked what I was doing for the whole midnight thing. And like that, I was meeting her at a party to celebrate the new year, decade, all that.

Best part: I show up to the party. I’m outside dealing with the drama of getting in. I text her that I was there. She says she’ll come out. And she does. She looks great. She walks up to say hello — to me and this dude standing behind me. Moral: this chick had invited two dudes to be her date at the same party. Awesome, right? Right.

OK. Um. She grabs a friend and the four of us go in the alley and smoke a joint. OK. We go inside, drink, chat, hang out, whatever.

Midnight comes. She gives me a hug and a classic side-cheek kiss. Same for the other dude. OK.

Time comes to leave. Everyone is set to hit next party, which is kind of across town. OK. Being L.A., everyone is in different cars. I drive to the other spot.

When I let her know that I was there, everything goes all wobbly. First her friend wants to drop her off. Then she wants to skip the party and go to this OTHER party, which is all the way back on the side of town I just left. OK.

As I’m driving back, I get another text. She’s just going to call it a night. On New Year’s Eve. At like 1:30AM. OK. Cool.

I’m sure she fucked the other guy.

Story of my life.

I call it the Murph

OK, maybe it’s not exactly Murphy’s Law. But it’s definitely on some fucked up shit.

Check it. The girl dumps my sorry ass for real. Totally stonewalls me at every turn, regardless. Lose my job and have a sibling die. Still nothing.

I go through all of the random stages of grief. I do a shitload of drugs and jerk off like a crazy bastard to insane amounts of porn. The usual shit.

FYI: I’m watching this movie He’s Just Not That Into You for the first time, and at this point I want to shoot Scarlett Johansson’s character with a very big gun.

Anyway.

When I finally go through all of the stages of rejection or whatever, I had this weird little moment yesterday. I realized that I was good with it. She had moved on and I was part of her past. I was moooooving the fuck on, too. We were dunzo. Fin.

Later on that same day. That same fucking day. A text message. She has some free time between now and date in early January. And if I wanted to get together for coffee, she would be cool with that.

Hm. Really now. Isn’t that...interesting.

Yeah, there’s definitely something murphyesque about that one.

PS: Jennifer Anniston’s character in this movie can fuck right off. Ben Affleck needs to start fucking whatever he wants immediately.

To live and get high in L.A.

I was leaving for work this morning when I happened to glance at my desk.

I find it hilarious and kind of scary that this is what it looked like. I'll never, ever know how I came to be that guy with all of this so casually strewn about my living space.

Such is life when you're 'single' and in need of perpetual hardcore stimulation. Huh.

Devil in my life

I went out with Sex Bomb last night. It was…interesting.

We got terrifically drunk at a big concert surrounded by 16000 of the smartest people in Los Angeles. Two of her friends crashed the row in front of us. One was good and one was bad. Whatever.

Sex Bomb and I ended up going to score some blow after the show. It was hilarious because her connection turned out to be a guy I know pretty well, but had no idea messed with the powder.

It was ok stuff. We got lit up and hit a club.

That’s where it got interesting. Sort of.

She’s got some major issues, that one. I mean, so do I—it’s why we get on so well.

But she has this block or something. I can’t explain it. It’s kind of a classic case of I Want The One That I Can’t Have And It’s Driving Me Mad. But with a side of self-loathing much greater that someone as hot as her should ever have.

Am I just mad that she didn’t sleep with me? No. I had a tiny window as she was dropping me off, but due to the fuckery at the club felt it was best to call it a fucking wrap.

Of course we played coked-up text games for the next hour until I finally passed out.

Now, under the harsh light of day, I sit and wonder.

What’s it all about, Alfie?

You’re not happy with the ex, you’re out of sorts with the Sex Bomb, you’re bound to be disappointed by Big Love when you go back to (redacted) next month. WTF, as the kids like to say.

If buzzed driving is drunk driving, I did some major league drunk driving tonight

I went to a party in Hollywood today. I got drunk as fuck. I looked at all sorts of hot-ass bitches. There was this one fat girl. Her name was Nicole. She was a big one, even bigger than the kind of big girls that I like. But she owned her largeness in such a way that it was so fucking sexy. I know it's a cliché that black dudes like big white chicks. So the fuck what--big-ass white chicks know how to own that shit and make it hot. Nicole, if you give me the chance, I'll knock your socks off with good loving. You won't be sorry.

I used to be such a romantic

I was reminded of that fact tonight when the movie “Valley Girl” popped up on WGN.

Long before the days of cocaine, group sex and choking chicks during hook-ups, I was a genuine romantic. Like one of those completely hapless schmos in bad romantic comedies starring that assshat Matthew McI’llneverspellhisnamerightsofuckit. Shitty flicks that I end up watching alone when they come on basic cable. Truth be told, I was damn near John fucking Cusack.

Now, I’m a dirty fuck-pig that jerks off to the most disgusting porn imaginable while snorting lines of blow.

So: What the fuck happened?

I think I could have overlooked all of the random relationship bullshit if it wasn’t for, you know, her. The college girlfriend that got away. The one I wasn’t WASP enough or Dr. enough to keep. The one I let really fuck me up good.

All of the stupid shit I did after she finally dumped me—the acid, nights spent in that dank fucking basement living with that evil man. I was so bummed the fuck out. I felt worthless and treated myself like shit. I just kind of shuffled through life for those years after it was over.

God, that night I talked that girl to my bedroom in a house in suburban Detroit. She had just turned 16 and I knew it. I was more than 10 years her senior. But in the end, I went all “Catcher in the Rye” and just stroked her hair while she slept. I’ll never forget the looks on my roommates’ faces when I walked her out the next morning. She looked no more that 12 under the harsh sunlight and without her mask of makeup.

There were years of just moving forward without really thinking, just existing, paying bills, feeding my face, buying the stupid shit I though I needed but only just held me back.

I just got emotionally hard, I guess. There are only so many empty nights of getting loaded alone a person can take.

I don’t expect love and affection anymore. I expect tension and confrontation and friction. And more than anything, I just want life to be as stress-free as possible. Snorting coke until I’m numb and jerking off to orgy porn is one hell on an anesthetic let me tell you.

My poor ex. All she wants is to love and be loved, like most people in the world. She has done and will do anything for me. And I treat her like shit. I’d rather have violent, slightly hostile drunken/drugged hook-ups with Sex Bomb. In short, I’m completely fucked up.

Enjoy the show.

The worst email ever

Hi! It is the 4th July another day running into next day. I am dying inside wanting to eat. I cant move, only my thumb and head. This is no life,i pray for death. People touching me and all in my face,just pray for me,i have no prayers left for myself.

Barbie Cummings is my fucking hero

via videosift.com
Porn star gets pulled over. She's been drinking and has Ecstasy pills on her. Trooper discovers she's a porn star. What does the trooper do? Yup, you guessed it...