When Women Cannot Spend the Night

We hardly made it to the bedroom as our clothes were thrown to the floor and we stumbled in from a night out in Atlantic City. I buried my face between her thighs and licked her clit like an everlasting jawbreaker. I was nose deep in her pussy for three straight hours with no intention of stopping.

I had been in a drought for months and wasn’t lacking in the hand job department so when the opportunity came to nose fuck a girl, I couldn’t pass it up. My face was covered in pussy juice and I was loving it. You generally won’t find too many guys who are willing to annihilate a cooch like that, but when in a drought you should drink as if you are in the Sahara and you may never drink water again.

When I finished devouring her, she flipped me on my back, kissed down my neck, chest, stomach and cock. I was tingling with excitement knowing her mouth would soon be wrapped around my man piece, when she took me by surprise and went directly past my shaft.

I could go with this, after all, it had been some time since a female and sucked on my satchel, but she didn’t stop there. She began to tongue my asshole.

There are very few places I believe a woman’s mouth does not belong, and I’m not saying that assholes are one of them, but my asshole is definitely one of them!

For starters, I am a questionable wiper. Sometimes I make a phone call while dropping a deuce and get lazy. Sometimes I plan on getting in the shower after so I cut it short, and sometimes even when I wipe well, I am bound to leave some paper up there.

Anyway, I am generally against these kinds of things, but after hearing the studies of how erotic and enjoyable some fingers in there can be, I figured why not let a little tongue in? When in Rome? which I suppose in this case became, “when a girl sticks her tongue in your ass.”

When she finished, I found myself feeling refreshed and surprisingly pleased. She came up and went to rest her head next to mine when I immediately stopped her.

See the rule goes as follows: I’m down for a little craziness, a lot of excitement and some experimentation, but there is a code and the code has a few rules in regards to a one night stand.

1. Don’t kiss me after you blow me
2. Don’t try to cuddle in the morning if I let you sleep over
3. If I don’t imply that you can sleep over, let yourself out when I’m done with you
4. NO MISSIONARY!
5. There is NO chance in hell she is putting that shit covered face on my pillow! Get the fuck out! I don’t care how much she showers! Mo amount of showering is going to get the shit off her face.

A Fang-Banging Good Time

Every August my friends and I would come together and try to think of new themes for parties. Now that I am older, do less and have far too much time on my hands I have come up with some fresh ideas.

While watching a movie on HBO, I was inspired by an Aztec themed party. The party requires a virgin to be sacrificed into a lava pit. My plan slightly differentiates from the films because I think the virgin female should be crucified.

I don't know about anyone else, but I have never been to a crucifixion and at the first party of the year, it is pretty easy to find a freshman virgin. Then maybe eat the person. Come on, don't pretend the thought didn't enter your mind and you will never forget your first party where a virgin was sacrificed, crucified, and eaten.

After my brilliant idea of sacrificing and eating a virgin, I thought about my new favorite television show True Blood.

How wild would a Vampire Fang-Bang be? There are a few minor concerns with the vampire party, but if you are game to get a little freaky I think this is a winning theme.

The major concerns are obviously with people biting each other. So if you aren't cool with being bitten, I would suggest not attending.

Also, if you are not down for doing hits of V (vampire blood) and drinking human blood from a keg, stay home. It is only fair that we will have a keg of blood type A, B and O and if you'd like AB you can definitely mix!

A lot of people will probably want to go out and get all Dracula on your ass. Please keep in mind vampires don't actually turn into bats.

If you attend wearing fake fangs you are not welcome. If you aren't going to take the time to actually carve your teeth sharper you are not wanted. I wouldn't come to your Animals and Zookeeper's party dressed as David Hasseloff. Vampires were once alive too and they have feelings.

Vampires are not to be mocked. They will abide by human rules, so when they arrive invite them into your home. They will not break the vampire code and will only enter when you extend an invitation and grant them permission to enter.

Once inside the party it is completely acceptable to partake in fangbanging. It is wildly known that vampire sex is the greatest sex known to earth. It would be foolish not to indulge in this rare opportunity.

Also permitted to attend will be one minotaur, one exorcists who will perform an exorcism, 2-3 police officers, a few mind readers (please don't share who you are it's more fun for you if no one knows), and one Sheriff, who will be the male head of the home.

Please check with the party planner to make sure there is not an excess of minotaurs. That can really ruin a party.

How many people have you with slept?

The amount of people you sleep with is much like your SAT score. It can never be changed. Everyone wants to know what you scored, and everyone lies about it.

My friend Nathan has been falling disgustingly for a girl, Hayley, when she recently asked him how many girls he has slept with. She said if he did not tell her than they could never be together.
( I do not believe in ultimatums. They back people into a corner and they generally backfire for both parties.)

I have dated girls, some more serious than others and the question of how many have you slept with is unavoidable.

Some of the girl’s numbers have been high and others have been extremely low. This is why I can give my expert my opinion about the plus and minuses of knowing and not knowing.

When a girl in her young 20's tells me her number, I have learned most average around 10-13 partners. If the number is less than 3 I worry and more than 20 I am taken back.

Sadly a double standard does apply. Although it is unfair, it does exist and we would be fools not to recognize this fact. I believe girls who have slept with significantly less than the average and freely share their number, have ruined it for the girls with higher numbers.

Men want to picture girlfriends in the purest sense. Sometimes we ask what a girl’s number is because we feel we need to know. It is often difficult to imagine the girl we thought we knew being someone's one night stand.

When a girl tells me she has slept with between 10-13 people, I imagine there have been a few one night stands, but she generally is careful with those she chooses to sleep with. I am not thrilled with the overall number, but it is not a number I will lose sleep over either.

If she has slept with more than 20 my jaw drops. Even if it is something I am prepared for, hearing it takes you back. Once you know, there is no escaping, but it has to make you wonder, "who isn't she spreading her legs for?"

The only thing knowing the overall number can do is make you doubt the person you have already been crazy about. No good can come of it and here is why.

It can NEVER end with how many people. After the number is revealed and she has time to think it over, a flood of new questions will arrive.

Who are they? How were they? Were any better than me? Do you think any are prettier than me? Did you ever love any of them? Why? Why not? Do you even love me?

Once this bag of worms is opened the only way to stop it is to murder your significant other, because every girl you introduce her to from that point on she will ask if you have slept with. She will be mean to the girl friends you had before meeting her. She will hold grudges and resent the girls, when she has no reason to.

She cannot control what you did before her, as you cannot control what she did. The past is the past and let it stay that way.

All you have to remember girls, is you are the one he is with now. I have made the mistake of asking girls in the past and I too have been asked. This is the best advice I can give:

The number does not matter. With previous women I was unable to get it out of my head, but I realized, if she wanted to be with someone else she would have been. So don't ask the question, because it cannot be changed.

You either want to be with the person or not. Take my advice from a guy who has asked girls and from a guy who has been asked.

Assume they have slept with 60 people, maybe even 70. Now he is only sleeping with 1 now, so feel lucky and not bitter or jealous. Sex is JUST sex. Young people are having it to have fun and get off, not to procreate! Some people are going to have higher numbers than others. I assure you if every girl I kissed wanted to sleep with me I probably would have and then where would my overall number be? Ask yourself how high your number would be if that were your case?

The only thing that matters is that you know who you want to be with. Once you do, let sleeping dogs lie because whatever happened before you is history.

Say Cheese

A few days ago while killing time on facebook a girl I used to sleep with came across my newsfeed. I hadn't seen her in some time, clicked on her profile and went through some pictures as I found myself immensely disappointed.

What had happened to the bombshell I had slept with only 2 years prior? I was horrified to discover, time had not treated my fair maiden well. This girl who had the statistics to be in Hall of Fame, seemed eerily comparable to Penny Hardaway. A promising rising star, who's career was shortened by injury, or in her case the "I peaked too young police."

I began to think about how almost every girl I have slept with, I would sleep with again. I am usually proud of my list, but I was torn over this one.

I contacted my friend, Python and asked if he had seen pictures of her and after looking her up, he too was stunned. Then, a brilliant idea was shared between Python and myself.

We must create a slideshow of everyone we have ever slept with. The slideshow can contain only one picture, the persons name, and one memory about them of your choice.

To be fair the picture MUST come from the year/time you slept with them. You can take the most attractive picture of them, as long as it comes from within a year.

There is no point in putting a picture of what they look like now. It should only be a picture of what they looked like when you conquered their vagina.

Now even the best pictures of some of these girls won't be good by any means, but regardless they are part of the slide show, part of the deal.

You can even add some pictures of people you haven't slept with, but still may have had great experiences with or a great story.

Then on the night of your bachelor party, when all your friends are over you can sit back, relax and enjoy the show.......and to be safe, destroy the evidence so the future Mrs. never one day stumbles upon it.

Tomorrow........why you should NEVER tell your significant other how many people you have slept with.

Allow me to Reintroduce Myself.....

As many of you know, my dear friend was writing a blog when some readers became angry with the material and it was shut down. I, Ben Wolf will be taking over the blog, but first, my friend asked me to relay this message to all of you:

I apologize for any posts I had written that offended or hurt anyone. That was never my intention.

When looking back at history, there are many rebellious figures that stand out for their strong beliefs. The world can be changed when just one man is willing to fight for what he believes.

Patrick Henry said, "Give me liberty or give me death," a saying I take to heart.

If George Washington had shut up when the British told him to, then he would not have formed the continental army and we would not be the United States today.

However, Washington did not back down to Cornwallis at Yorktown,
David did not cower before Goliath,
Luke Skywalker would not give in to the Darkside,
And I will not appease you and kneel before my oppressor as Chamberlain did Hitler.

If Tucker Max stopped writing, they wouldn't be serving Beer in Hell right now. So, well, damn, fuck, JESUS!

I'm not really an anti-authority, rebellious, kinda guy like my famous predecessors.
I'm just a guy, with a borderline, average sized dick, who wants to get it wet every once in awhile. And then I want to share those experiences with my readers.

So, not so anonymous blogger, suck on the receding hairline of my balls.
With that being said, I feel awful for offending you so, allow me to apologize.

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I was born.
I'm sorry you’re sorry I was born.
I'm sorry I like anal.
I'm sorry sometimes I like to receive anal.
I'm sorry that I use an aerosol deodorant can that puts holes in the ozone layer.
I'm sorry for inconveniencing you in the morning by making you read my blog.
I'm sorry I gave a homeless man a dollar yesterday; I really needed that at the vending machine.
I'm sorry Sean Connery can no longer play James Bond.
I'm sorry I'm a moron and it upset you so much.
I'm sorry I’m not on welfare so you don't have more to complain about.
I'm sorry Paula Abdul doesn't make sense on American Idol.
I'm sorry Darth Vader chopped off Luke’s hand.
I'm sorry to all the people who have been stuck on an elevator when I’ve farted.
I'm sorry I once took a monster shit and locked my cousin in the bathroom. I really am sorry Zach!

BUT most of all, I'm sorry you take me so seriously because NO ONE ELSE DOES!

Bobby knight once wisely said, "When my time on earth is gone and my activities here are passed, I want them to bury me upside down so my critics can kiss my ass!"

You may be reading this and saying to yourself, "this is insane, this is madness, BUT THIS IS THE NEW BLOG BABY AND I’M NOT GOING FUCKING ANYWHERE!"

New Blog

this site is under construction........returning soon.

What to do when your girlfriend won't blow you

It has been brought to my attention that there are too many men in relationships that do not receive blow jobs. It is not that they do not receive them on the regular, it is that they do not receive them at all!

Instead the blow job has been manipulated into a scam women use, to get their man to commit to a relationship. Then one morning, the man wakes up and poof, the blow job is gone and becomes a distant memory you are not even sure ever existed.

A friend of mine told me he cannot remember the last time his girlfriend took a load to her mouth. He said it could have been a year! I was disgusted by this news.

I had always been under the impression that at the bare minimum, fellas got a b.j. when their girls were on the rag. I'm learning what used to be known as "blow job week," might as well be called "non-existent week."

There is a large majority of men out there who service their women for a plethora of reasons. Because they enjoy it, because they hope the favor is returned; and what women seem to forget is, because we like making them feel good, and watching them get off is a huge turn on.

Upon learning of the absence of dick sucking, I spoke to a few female friends and the general consensus was this: The reason many women do not fellate men, is because they fear they have not mastered the craft and don't want their significant other to be disappointed.

Concerned women do not fear! It is simple to please your man.

Men are stupid creatures. We assume we are great at everything and could leave no woman unsatisfied. Unfortunately, our foolish cockiness is false. While women are nervous they are not talented, they should not fret. All we ask if for your best effort with minimal pencil shredding! Your technique will improve with practice.

Guys, make sure to raise your girls confidence and tell her how incredible she looks, how skinny she is and how luscious her lips are. She will need guidance so don't be afraid to use your hand to lower her head.

Tell her you enjoy it as she goes to town on you, especially if it is the first time in awhile. Tell her how sexy she is and how turned on you get watching her. Then do her the favor of cumming fast. This way everybody wins. The faster you cum, the better job she will believe she did. Tell her how incredible it was. This might even encourage her to blow you more often.

It is vital men continue to get blow jobs or my greatest fear will occur. One day there will be a time, when you can ask any man if he has received a blow job and no one will respond. Women will have turned blow jobs into myths and stop practicing them. There absence will be a distant memory no one is sure ever occurred.

Men, I urge you, do not allow the blow job to ever turn into a myth! Think about your sons, and their sons who will never know how it feels to have a woman's mouth wrapped around their penis. Think about the whores and prostitutes who will charge an extra fee, or worst of all claim they are not permitted to perform this act.

For the women who still do not understand the importance of giving head here goes nothing. Most men love oral sex. It makes a person feel desired and it lets the man know you appreciate them and their penis.

Too often men have to feel guilty about wanting a blow job, but why should they? Do you feel bad when you want new shoes? And when you get those shoes, don't you really want compliments from others? In the end we all have the same basic need, and that is to be appreciated.

Why should having your cock sucked be some sort of reward? Why do we have to be on good behavior? It would destroy my self esteem if a girl told me I had to take out the trash every time I wanted a blow job. It is like giving a dog a treat for taking a piss.

Taking the trash out is a dirty, undesirable job that has now been placed in the same sentence as a blow job. No wonder women feel it is dirty. However, instead of it being a dirty act, think of the power it gives you as a woman to take control.

So women I plead to you, take control and let men feel a "deeper connection" to you. Blow jobs can be a beautiful sensual act. An amazing experience for both of you.

How often do we shove food down our throats or overlook a sunset? The same applies to sex. Sex can be routine and what better way to truly enjoy what life has to offer than to appreciate the things we over look. So be a good girlfriend and make your boyfriend feel appreciated!

Men: If you seem to be dropping hints by pushing your girlfriends head down, going down on her with no favor returned or even saying "let me stick my penis in your mouth" and nothing is working, it is time to show her "the move."

When you are your girl are intimate and you are about to release, jump up, put your cock in her face and give her an autograph she will never forget.

Never, Neverland

November 1, 2008:
I woke up on a couch with a pair of ripped green tights, a brown satchel, and a plastic sword. I went out as Peter Pan the night before and although I never found my shadow, I found a nice brunette to share the couch with. The beauty of brunettes is that although blondes are more fun, brunettes became secretly sluttier to make up for this.

My intention was to bring Slutty School Girl home, but her friend Trashy Bride won me over with her command of the English language. Of course by that I mean excessive usage of the word "like" and blank stares when asking non-thought provoking questions. I immediately knew she would not object to playing "just the tip."

I rolled over and looked at my phone, a text to an Ashley at 4:17 am, 516 area code saying “apartment S10J." I rolled out of bed and instead of dealing with Ashley, grabbed whatever I saw of mine and headed to Penn Station. I later realized I left my phone charger, glasses and sweatpants in NYC. About what I deserve for sneaking out.

After the cab ride to Penn Station, the flashbacks and hangover hit me once I was seated on the train, contemplating suicide. The long ride when you have far too much time to think about the horrible person you were and the STD’s you possibly contracted last night. The other passengers are blessed with your aroma of pussy juice, sweat, alcohol and body odor.

It was during this train ride I came to the realization that I ditched Slutty School Girl for her friend Trashy Bride. However, more importantly I learned of my new fetish: women I can sleep with, but never have to date.

The reason you love these women is because by being a weekend visitor, women have to accept there is no realistic opportunity for a relationship.

My bleeding inflamed liver would make most people quit drinking for the rest of their lives. I take a pill twice a day, but this was not close to a “I’m never going to drink again” hangover.

I would rather live fast and die young, than be old and die with regret. As Pan said, "to die would be an awfully great adventure." How could I ever utter the words, “I’m never going to drink again,” when every time I drink I fly away to magical places like Neverland?

If it hadn’t been for my liquid partner, I never would have face-fucked Trashy Bride’s pink taco last night. If it hadn’t been for drinking, Trashy Bride never would have had me fiddling under her roof, so everybody wins.

There is no chance in hell Pan is sticking his sword in anyone sober. It’s not that he's afraid to, but when you are sober and have a one night stand, you don’t really want to remember taking off each article of her clothing and if her pussy tasted like heaven or not; because the odds are it didn't. When you are blacked out drunk, you don’t usually think twice about eating her muff, but when you're sober you know it was probably questionable muff to be diving into in the first place.

So although my hungover, suicidal, train ride dared me to walk the plank, I thought back to Peter's happy thoughts, and when you do, you can fly, you can fly, you can fly.

Ben wonders

The Top 10 things I Wonder:

1. Why can't you kiss a prostitute on the mouth? and why is prostitution illegal? Anything to stimulate the economy I say.

2. Why is it so difficult to have sex with a girl who has a dog? The dog is always judging you and barking as if you are violating it's mother. How can a civilized human continue with those poor puppy eyes looking at you. Cruelty to animals.

3. How come when a guy is drunk and hooks up with a nasty girl he says, "it happens." But when a hot drunk girl wakes up with a gross guy she claims he took advantage? Men don't call foul play!

4. Is it an orgy if you only have sex with one of the people in the room, but there are multiple people involved?

5. How do people wipe their ass from front to back? Really I would LOVE a response!

6. Why do people say "in my opinion" before stating something. Obviously it is their opinion if they are speaking. Also, why do some people say, "can I ask a question" and then ask it anyway. Just ask the question to begin with.

7. Is it wrong to untag pictures of you and an ugly and/or fat girl? I think it should be considered charity if we leave it posted.

8. Why do people believe it is acceptable to post misleading profile pictures? Everyone knows the first thing they do when receiving a friend request is check pictures. Save us the time and show us what you really look like. It is false advertising. Is it such a foreign idea to post a picture that looks like you? Do the decent thing.

9.Why does it seem like every high schooler in the country bangs their teachers these days? Did I go to the wrong high school?

10. Is it wrong that I prefer my women with low self-esteem and a smidgen of an eating disorder?

How to mess up a date...........guys edition

The 10 ways a guy can go wrong on a first date:

1. Be attentive, but do not overdo it. You can hold a door, but if you pull out her chair you will only look gay.

2. Do not refer to women as broads, dames or subspecies. Everyone knows they prefer to be referred to as tramps and whores.

3. Do not mention athletic accomplishments. Unless in my case they really are accomplishments, because I am an extremely gifted athlete.

4. Try not to fart in the car before she gets in. It might be more potent than you originally believed.

5. Try not fart in the car until after gets out and is 30 feet away from you. It might be louder than you expected.

6. Stay away from Jedi mind tricks.

7. Do not laugh if the waiter asks if you'd like your steak with a hot pink center. Even I am still working on this.

8. Do not go dutch on the bill, unless you do not want to see her again or are too big of a pus to tell her she sucks.

9. Do not get bombed and make her drive home. Everybody knows women are horrible drivers and do not belong behind a wheel.

10. Do not wear cotton pants. You don't want to have to hide a boner. It's always safer to blame it on the jeans.

What not to do on a first date:

After re-reading yesterday's post, I felt as if I slighted everyone and wanted to redeem myself.

The Top 10 ways a girl can mess up a first date and NOT get called for a second:

1. Food Etiquette: If before a date a woman lists restaurants she won't eat at, she is already on thin ice for being difficult. Dinner manners are vital. Don't eat with your hands or lick your fingers clean. Men want to date a lady. Don't order a man's meal. Stay away from ordering steak!

2. Truck drivers mouth: If a girl says, "the weather is shitty," that is acceptable. If she sees someone she knows and says, "I fucking hate that bitch," that is probably a little too excessive for a first date.

3. Do not speak negatively about others! He will think you speak that way of him when he is not around. However, if it is a funny story continue.

4. Do not story tell about your wild college days when you puked in cabs or were arrested. Who would want to date that a second time?

5. Do not mention past relationships: No guy wants to hear about who you used to fuck.

6. Do not text: If something that much better is going on, don't waste his time.

7. Do not correct your date: Fight the urge if you think you might like him. No one wants to be challenged or corrected all evening. No one likes a know it all!

8. Stay away from sports talk: Some men may find this to be a turn on, but the majority do not. This can be dangerous territory. If men wanted to talk about sports they would go out with their guy friends.

9. Do not tell him how great you are. If you were so great you wouldn't be single!

10. Do not sleep with him: If you fuck a guy on the first date he is not going to call you again. Why should he work for it if you are going to give it to him anyway? If you sleep with him, he will assume you sleep with every guy you go out with. There's no challenge in that and suddenly you don't seem like such a prize.

Men's list coming soon.....

The Five Step Process

My first year in college my wise disturbing friend explained to me how to get laid every night. A rule I do not follow, but one with such impressive efficiency that I cannot deny the truth of its power.

The lesson goes: when attending a party, attack the absolutely least attractive dragon in sight and slay her. The revolting female at the party does not always have the opportunity to get laid or slayed. When an opportunity arises she will almost ALWAYS take advantage of her rare and fortunate situation. This method may lead (depending on your level of sobriety) to going to bed with beautiful twins, but waking up mistakenly with Shrek.

While on a cruise a few years ago with my friend Leppy (short for Leprechaun), we went to the bar to prowl on women. My relentless Leppy approached every female on the boat, although he was shamelessly denied by every girl earlier in the week. This impressively did not effect his resilience. Leppy continued onward with reckless abandon, until eventually succeeding the final night. This leprachaun fucker gave in to the rule of how to get laid on any given night; she dropped her standards fast!

The next day Leppy woke up and looked at his trophy. He lingered and gloated at the thrill of his awkward victory. Being a gentlemen, he waited until his lady awoke before he would leave. She rolled over, looked at him and said, "OH NO!"

Leppy in truly uncomfortable fashion said, "one for the road?" She was running late to brunch and rushed him out immediately, already regretting her evening. The truth is she will most likely never count him in her list of men she has slept with or mythological creatures she has ever encountered.

Everybody has woken up with a dragon and thought, why did this happen to me? Because of course it's not their fault they slept with the nastiest person alive. Here you will discover the five step, textbook way to accepting the consequences of bellying up with the beast; which by coincidence is the same as the "Five Steps to Accepting Death."

STEP ONE, DENIAL:

Denial is "when a person is faced with a fact that is too uncomfortable to accept and rejects it instead, insisting that it is not true despite what may be overwhelming evidence" (Freud). So although you might like to believe it did not happen, it definitely did. Look for evidence. Check for a condom wrapper, take a leak and see what direction you shoot, or if there is itching in your genital regions. If any of the above pertain to you, it happened and you have come to terms with it.

Step Two, Anger:

Oh yes! When you look at the beast by your side you will be raging with smoke from your ears. You want to kill the beast, but you don't hit women. However you are not even sure if this is a woman! Could you hit it and get away with it, maybe? No! It's wrong to kill just because it is a demonic creature.

So don't chop of your penis or zip up your snatch! It is not your penis or vagina's fault that you are an idiot. Booze's fault it may be, but regardless, these things happen. Sometimes we are the slayers of the dragon and sometimes we are the slayed. Recognize what you did and embrace it, because it most definitely happened and cannot be taken back.

Step Three, Bargaining:

If you are still in bed with the person and think if you close your eyes and pretend they won't be there when you open them, you are sadly mistaken. You don't kinda get pregnant, you don't kinda shit your pants. If you think you pulled out, you probably didn't. If you think this number doesn't count because the sex wasn't good, because he came too fast, or because he wasn't up to your standards, then you are also mistaken. This person very much counts. It doesn't have to be a bad thing, it's ok to admit if you had a little fun. I'm sure at some point during the evening you did.

Step Four, Depression:

During the fourth stage, the person begins to understand the certainty of the tragic event that took place. Because of this, the individual may become silent, refuse visitors and spend much of the time crying and grieving. This process allows the dying person to disconnect themself from things of love and affection. It is not recommended to attempt to cheer an individual up that is in this stage. It is an important time for grieving that must be processed.

The person may say, "I'm so sad, why bother living?" or "I'm going to die," or most commonly, "why me?"

Realize you have done a mitzvah (good deed) and no good deed goes unpunished. Don't resort to pills or swear off drinking. Acknowledge the facts and pass step 4!

Step Five, Acceptance:

This is the toughest stage of them all, but shit happens! Once you realize you can go through the stages, go to the bathroom, turn on the lights, look at yourself in the mirror, stare and repeat, "I fucked a fat chick and I'm probably going to do it again!"

Thank you devoted fans!

As many of you may have noticed I have one extremely dedicated reader. The person comments on how I’m a gimp, disgusting, vile, and that no one would ever want to marry me. This anonymous person poetically writes through eloquent verbalization, calling me a “balding moron” in several posts.

What we do know is this mystery woman is a coward. She writes anonymously and resorts to childish name calling. We also know she is madly in love with me. She is obsessed with my blog and is constantly writing comments! I appreciate her obsessive devotion. I would like to thank you! You have raised my appeal and fan base. If no one else reads my blog, it has been an honor to write to my audience of one! Thank you for your support!

It is also clear you may have weight issues. To this I apologize if I have offended you, but if my blog has upset you to this great degree, maybe you have some misplaced esteem issues and should seek counseling.

You mentioned that I am not the type of person someone looks to marry. I am 24, why would I want to get married?

I noticed that you write at 8:50 am on weekend mornings. Now you may think, where is Benjamin going with this. Well you foolish, uneducated infant. The readers I have are mostly people I know. They read it and enjoy my stories and my humor and they are also out drinking frequently, especially on the weekends! They are not awake at 8:50 AM on a Sunday to tell me, (wait now I don’t want to quote you incorrectly), I'm a “balding moron.”

So thank you for flattering me. More people have been tuning in every day to see what my heavy set, disgusted, unhappy, and lonely comment leaver has to say about my joyful life experiences. You even stooped low enough to ridicule my disability; I'm disgusting? I would say you only have half a brain, but I cannot compliment you by acknowledging you have one at all.

You are only as good as those you surround yourself with. May that be a lesson to all of you and especially to you anonymous fearful commenter. I hope you are one day comfortable enough in your own skin that you do not have to hide in the shadows afraid to be seen. Instead of falling in contempt to my brilliance, maybe you can learn to do something you enjoy, rather than being morbid, bitter, and obsessing over others such as myself. It is possible to find happiness through all ventures of life without being jealous of others. I wish you all the best and look forward to hearing more from you!

- The Balding Moron

Don't Trust Women!

I absolutely do not trust women. After being re-released into the wild last year I needed to remember how to get back in the game. I decided it was simple. Go to a bar, have a few drinks, meet a woman, lie to her, have plenty of emotionless sex and go home the following morning. While this seems like a suitable temporary replacement for the need to get your rocks off, it tends to not be that easy, which results in my distaste and unfortunate dislike of the female sex.

One of the beauties of being a man, is we know we have many years left of being appealing to women. After a certain age women will begin to plummet, while our stock will continue to rise. Women call men disgusting for sleeping with much younger females rather than woman around our own age. This is because no younger men want to sleep with older aging women who are living on borrowed time!

Last year I met a very sexy 29 year old (this one was ACTUALLY 29) at an upper scale bar in Philadelphia. She took me back to her place where things escalated quickly, when she asked me, "do you have a condom?" No, I most certainly did not! Earlier in the evening I learned she was an attorney, and after seeing her place I was quite impressed. She definitely seemed like the type of girl who would go pick up her morning after pill or get an abortion. So did I really need to be bothered with her question?

She told me to go into her drawer where there was an unopened box. Simple enough; until I opened the box and read MAGNUM! "What the fuck do you expect me to do with this?!" I laughed. She said, "those were my ex-boyfriends. Just use them, hurry up!" Well, here goes nothing and she was right. We went alll night as I proved to her I had much to offer her.

Aside from stamina, I offered her a feeling of worth. A feeling that maybe she still had a few good years left and she can still hold onto her youth a tad longer and oh right of course, multiple orgasms ( I joke!)? Aside from that I was another name, another number. And to me she was another name, another number, and another story.

7:30 AM the clock read and the sun was piercing through the window of her bedroom. I was officially awake and there was only one thing to do. Get out of bed, get dressed fast and make as little noise as possible. Caught in the act! She woke up, walked me out, and we kissed goodbye and not another word was spoken. Not a see you soon, no exchange of information.

By 7:40 AM I was outside on the streets of Philadelphia. During that early morning I took a proud stroll to 8th and Market. I smelled the cool morning air, took my black pin-stripped blazer and tossed it over my shoulder, walked down the stairs of the Gallery to catch the R5 to Manyunk. I stopped by a trashcan on the corner before entering the Gallery; I stuck my fingers in my throat and projectile vomited to rid myself of the poison I consumed only a few hours earlier. As I have experienced many times before, it is far better to do this in a trashcan, than on a train or in a cab on the way home. I walked up to a guard in the Gallery and asked him, “Sir, when is the next train leaving for Manyunk?”
“Not until 9:45 AM,” he told me.

What the fuck am I going to do sitting hung-over, hating life, in a train station for the next two hours? It was a simple decision. I walked back up the stairs dragging one foot after the other. If I had been at home my head would be inside a toilet. I jumped in the first taxi to drive by and he drove $45 to my car. Last night had now cost me $40 for drinks, $45 for parking, and who knows what in hospital bills when I get tested the following day. What will it cost her? Who knows, probably an abortion.

This had me thinking, what kind of woman goes to a bar on a Saturday night and has wildly promiscuous, unprotected (at times) sex with a complete stranger. How many women do this? Are all women whores and this only calls into question the most debated issue of our time. Why is there a double-standard? Why can I have this wild sex and be praised and a woman does it and I think ill of her? I think of her as absolutely vile and this is exactly why I will never be able to fall in love or trust a woman again!

How do I know my future wife was not once a woman like this? And if she were how I could ever look past it as if it did not matter to me what she did before we met.
I know I am supposed to love a woman for who she is and how she makes me feel, but in realty, I will look at her and think of everything I did to women and resent her. I will think of every time I treated a woman like a “whore” and I know that one day, last nights girl will be someone’s wife, but last night, she was my whore! Please never let me have a daughter! (I will definitely have 3)

There are only three solutions I can think of to fix this problem and cure myself of my hatred of women.

1: Date a virgin. A virgin has never been anyone’s whore, but there is one major flaw with dating a virgin. She has NO previous experience. Sure you can teach her and she will one day be everything you ever wanted, but in the end what if she gets that curious itch to see what sleeping with another fellow is like? This brings me back to why I cannot trust women and therefore nixes solution one.

2: I have considered a scenario when I reach my mid to upper 20’s where I will date a few women. Nothing too serious and they can NEVER refer to themselves as my girlfriend. Titles are trouble. This way I can sleep with as many women as I want and when the time comes that I could get the unlikely itch to get married, I won’t have to worry if they had been cheating because they were never my girlfriends. This will allow me to skip to the wife stage and everyone knows that you cannot trust a girlfriend, but a wife on the other hand I think I could trust.

3: DON’T EVER GET MARRIED! WOMEN CANNOT BE TRUSTED!

The Reason the Titanic Sunk: A MUST READ STORY!

This story is rather long. I wrote it two years ago and have been waiting for a chance like this to share it. It is DEFINITELY worth the read!

The worst part about high school is the bathroom facilities. I hate them and because I live only five minutes from school, I usually decide to hold it in, but this day was different. Lunch passed and my stomach knew it needed a bathroom. I decided to hold it in and wait for school to end at 2:20, but the pain was intense, so I continued throughout the day letting a few farts slide out. As I’m sitting in Mrs. Hammer’s English class, I knew that if my next fart was not an S.B.D. (silent but deadly) I could always blame it on Brian McFarty. Brian was the kid who sat in front of me and sweated profusely because he just came from phys. ed.. Brian apparently thought he could win a gold medal if he played hard enough in gym. Unfortunately for me that meant I had to smell his awful body odor twice a week. I also figured if I couldn’t blame my farts on him because they were too loud, I could always go with the squeak of the desk by moving it a little bit.

The day progressed, my farts rolled along and finally the 2:20 bell rang. I ran home from school, the longest mile I had ever taken part in. I was squeezing my ass cheeks together doing the penguin walk, as I ran like a constipated cripple thinking his time had come to release. This was going to be a close call.

I arrived at home and struggled with the garage code, as my stomach somehow knew my ass was closer to a bathroom, even though I tried to confuse it by thinking I had more time than I actually did. Finally it opens. I burst through the garage door, barely make it up the winding staircase in my foyer, my pants are at my ankles by the time I get to the toilet and “wahhhhhhboooooooom!” This is the only word that can come to mind as my eyes tear with pain and joy. I have given birth to a brown baby boy, but this is no boy. This is a full fledged grown man. I look down in between my legs and realize this beast is not even half out. As it continues to rip through my ass I want it to stop. I do not want this monster to continue its forward progress. The pain is too great, but as I look down I realize this is now or never.

I finish doing the absolute nastiest thing I have ever taken part of in my life, as my ass is in pain like I have never felt before. I don’t even want to begin the wiping process. With little choice however, I begin. I look at the paper horrified and see it is soaked in blood.
“Dad?” with a painful and odd squeak in my voice.
“Yes, Benjamin. How was your day?” he asked me as usual. “Let me guess. You are calling from the shitter again? I swear, if cell phones were never invented you would be extremely bored on the toilet.”

“Well, you see I just finished rocking this monster deuce, anddd I went to wipe my ass and I’m bleeding. Do you think I have cancer? Am I going to need a colonoscopy?” I asked him.

“No you don’t have cancer you bonehead. It is probably hemorrhoids. Do you even know how a colonoscopy works? The doctors will take a tube and put it inside of you and look around. I’ll talk to you when I get home. Must you call me every time you take your afternooner?” He finishes.

“Dad have you ever had this done?” I asked him.

“Of course. Men are supposed to by a certain age.” He told me.

“Well then, how do you know they don’t stick anything else in there when you are sleeping?” That was my last comment until he hung up. Being only 16 I did not know what a colonoscopy was, but I knew this procedure would not be necessary.

The next day I ran home from school again and this time I was more shocked than ever. There is no way this ice berg was going to flush. As a child my brother and I gave names to the different variety of deuces, as we liked to call them, we have rocked. An ice-berg was known as a turd that points out of the water with the vast majority remaining under. This ice-berg once again led to my bleeding asshole, but this time I knew something had to be done. I ran downstairs and placed each piece of bloody toilet paper on the kitchen counter for my parents to see when they arrived home from work. I was upstairs doing homework in my room when my father screamed down, “Jonathan, get down hereeeee now!” I ran down and said, “Dad, can you believe my ass was bleeding that much?” His simple response was, “PROCTOLOGIST!”

Now, I did not know much about proctologists, but I knew this was not going to be fun. Tuesday came and my mother picked me up from school and to my surprise took me home. The pain had stopped in my stomach and my stools were no longer as large, and I believed I was cured of my self diagnosed illness. Confused why I was home, I asked my mother and she told me I needed to take an enema. This word was foreign to me, but I knew I did not like the sound of it. She explained to me I would have to take what looked like a squeezable ketchup bottle with a pointed tip. I had to fill the enema with water, get on my knees and elbows and push the water into my ass. NO WAY was I going through with this. I told my parents I was fine and that I was not sticking anything in my ass, to which my mother far too eagerly offered to give me the enema. I can only imagine this was my mother’s way of repaying me for all the pain and hard times children cause their parents.

I so-called “manned up,” went into the bathroom and tried to shit everything out instead of placing this dreadful object into my asshole. The enema itself was no larger than my hand, but its presence drew the power of a fully loaded gun in a single man game of Russian roulette. I weighed myself and the scale read 150 LBS. I then placed a towel on the cold tile floor, took my clothing off and put my knees down first, then my left elbow and positioned the enema into my outhole, as I called it. I squeezed the bottle and once again, wahbooooooom! I ran to the toilet and my ass was pissing shit like the Super Soaker 5,000. Pouring out of me, I felt violated and after a few minutes I weighed myself again to see that I had now proudly lost five pounds. What a diet I thought! I showered because of the grotesque feeling which encompassed me and my mother and I then drove to the doctor’s office.

Sitting in a proctologist office is an awkward feeling because everyone there knows that something is wrong with your asshole and that the same doctor’s hand will go from asshole to asshole, so to speak. This nerve wrecking feeling consumed my body as I waited patiently for the receptionist to finally call Benjamin Wolf to the dreadful examination room. I walked in and the beautiful nurse asked me to undress. Why does she have to be beautiful? As if going to the doctors for a bleeding asshole is not already bad enough. I tell her no! She cares little and said to me, “do you think you are the first person to tell me this? Take off your clothes or there is no point of you coming in the first place.” Her rationality strikes me and so I agree to get down to my underwear and then take it off once under the bed sheet on the examination bed. As I sit and wait for the doctor to walk in I cannot take my mind off the gorgeous brunette with the incredibly curvy body and busty chest. UH OH! It’s getting bigger. Oh shit, I sit and panic and think what is this doctor going to think? I am sitting with a full fledged hard on and I am here to have my ass examined. This must happen all the time I hope, but I know it doesn’t. As luck would have it, the doctor walks in and tells me he knows my Uncle Arnold and my recently deceased grandfather. He asks me how I am and makes small talk, as I sit and pray this day will end. I have now gone from fantasies about the gorgeous nurse to thoughts of the doctor telling my Uncle Arnold about my bleeding ass and erect man piece. Once again I think, as if this day was not already embarrassing enough.

All of a sudden out of nowhere my mom here’s a scream in the waiting room. She knows it is me. Her embarrassing, over-exaggerating son, with any chance to take as much attention as he can get when the opportunity arises. This was different, however. When I least expected it, the proctologist in the midst of conversation asked if I had taken my enema. He explained if I hadn’t that my bowels would push out as he entered. This scream was due to his “entering.” He had lubed up I suppose when I wasn’t paying attention, and slid his arm right in. Not just a finger or two, but his arm! He began to squeeze and push things inside that I did not even know the proper name for. He clearly enjoyed his work far too much because he did not want to just feel around, but he wanted a fist full of asshole. All I knew was that were two glands and I did not want either to be touched. The prostate which would turn me on and the other which would make me feel like I had to diarrhea right then and there. He explained if I had not taken my enema I would have shat on him as he pushed down on that “other” gland.

The proctologist left the room and returned shortly after, as I once again felt more violated as each event took place that sad, sad day. He explained to me what had happened. I must admit his results had never left me feeling more proud of myself in my life than I had that day. He told me that after school that glorious and painful day, I had taken such a larger bowel movement that my asshole could not fit it out and it was forced to expand resulting in me tearing my O-ring. This caused my asshole to increase and for the largest bowel in the world to come out, which resulted in my bleeding. I was also informed that as long as I drank plenty of liquids my bowels would release much easier and I should not have pain or bleeding anymore.

I left his office that day feeling desecrated and proud. The beauty of having a brother is that however gross he is, you always have the chance to match his grossness. To this day any deuce he rocks will never be comparable to the beast which I refer to as the reason the Titanic sunk. For this iceberg had caused more pain to me than I had known to be humanly possible.

When does a predator become a cougar?

I am an EXCELLENT liar and can read other liars with ease. I have no soul and lie because it is my talent and my craft. If you want the truth you will get the brutal truth, but don't you DARE play me for a fool. I live on a rule that if you lie, you better be smart because you WILL get caught. You must be smart, because you must remember all of the lies you tell! REMEMBER THAT!

A few months back my friend Laura set me up with a co-worker of hers. Laura knows my taste very well and that I date a specific type of girl, so I agreed.

I met Co-worker for drinks and we hit it off immediately. She was stunning with incredibly sexy curves, succulent breasts and enough ass to make any man's mouth water. She had a long dirty blonde mane, soft hands with a french-manicure and showed enough cleavage to to get a rise out of every man at the bar without screaming desperation. Co-Worker was from Prague and told me she was 31, but looked every bit of 25 (a minor fact Laura chose to omit). At the end of our evening, I walked Co-Worker home and took her to paradise with my lips. I had hoped she would invite me in, but it was out first date and realistically I would never have called her back if she had.

The 31 year old co-Worker and I met up a few more times and I began to wonder if she were old enough to be a classified cougar. I concluded she was too young and dawned her "The Predator".

We continued to see each other and one night The Predator called to meet her at the Ritz Carlton for drinks. She had previously mentioned she had some "deep shit" to talk to me about, but never wanted to ruin the mood of the evening. Tonight was the night and I feared it was because she believed we were getting serious. The Predator revealed she was once married at 22 and divorced at 29; and had now been single for the past 2 years. Well that wasn't all that bad. I was definitely expecting worse.

We talked for hours, endless conversation, but I noticed far too often she was checking her phone and texting. She did not appear to be bored, but something seemed off. I didn't exactly know what to expect, but my brain was working over-time. We walked home and continued to talk when she mentioned her office had become obsessed with facebook. A comment I learned she would later regret.

The following day I friended her on stalker central. After she accepted I had the privilege of viewing her pictures. I noticed a young girl appeared repeatedly. Probably somewhere between 5-7 years old, when the light bulb finally went off! Predator had a daughter with her ex-husband! That's who she was texting!

I found myself in unfamiliar territory. I was dating a divorcee with a daughter! I called Laura and said, "I think Predator has a daughter! What do you know!" Laura said she was not aware and that it never came up in conversation before.

I considered my options. I can tell The Predator I know she has a daughter or I can wait and let her eventually tell me? I didn't want her to think I was scared away, because I was not. I knew we weren't actually dating. It was a fun fling, so the news wasn't a deal breaker, but I was not prepared for what came next.

I tried to play it cool and I sent The Predator a text message, "What are you up to this wknd? We should grab drinks." Just enough to get her attention, but nothing out of the ordinary.

And within no time The Predator realized what had happened. I had discovered the pictures! However, her response was not exactly what I was expecting. Her reply taken exactly word for word from my cell phone:

"Spending the weekend with my bro, his wife and my daughter in Vermont : -) yes I said my daughter...she's 7, lives with her dad this year in Australia (real location omitted). Her dad is a doc and was diagnosed with cancer...this is the "freak the shit out" stuff I mentioned to u awhile back. Heavy shit we haven't had a chance to talk about."

HOLY MARY AND JOSEPH!! How does one even respond to that? I mean sure I knew divorced, had a hunch there was a kid, but now the dad has cancer too? I thought we covered the freak me out shit! I didn't know what to do. I responded, "I saw pics of u and ur daughter on fb. She is adorable. Have a gr8 time and let me know when ur back!"

What else could I do? It wasn't time to run and hide......yet. And dealing with the situation maturely had to be better if I wanted to continue shafting the divorced predator. I had a few questions. Such as: why does your daughter not live with you? Are you an unfit parent? Now that I know you had one child, should I be worried the clock is ticking and you want another? And is your vagina deformed from birth? Had I not noticed?

A few weeks had passed and we talked casually. We couldn't get together for whatever reasons, when one day I received a text saying "come out tonight! It's my 30th birthday!" Wait 30th?! When we met she told me she was 31? Now she has a daughter, isn't 31 and is divorced!

I was unable to attend her birthday celebration and we eventually met up a few days later for what she did not know would be our last engagement. During our conversation she told me after her divorce there was a man she saw for a few years and another guy for two years as well and that neither worked out. Now this is where the first paragraph returns!

Follow along and let us do some math.

The Predator was 22 when she had child.
The Predator tells me child is 7.
The Predator is now 29!
The Predator was single for 2 years after the divorce.
The Predator is now 31!
BUT The Predator dated someone for a few years after divorce.
The Predator is now 34!
The Predator dated another guy for a two years.
The Predator is now at least 36 or older!!!

Do your math and don't get caught because it doesn't add up! Like I said, if you lie, BE SMART! This is how a 31 year old Predator becomes a cougar!

What not to do in law school

For the past few months there has been a female in my class that I do not see eye to eye with. Cut-Throat Bitch, as I call her, may not know of my displeasure with her, but regardless of the fact I proclaim that I reserve the right to be mad at CTB for her uncouth behavior.

Every day class begins precisely at 9:30 AM. I have two class rules:

Rule 1: If you are late you walk around the classroom so you do not disturb everyone else.

Rule 2: I don't believe anyone needs to use the bathroom when class is only an hour and 15 minutes. If they can't hold it, it's pretty pathetic unless you either have to vomit or have diarrhea.

Far too often Cut-Throat Bitch walks in class late, directly in front of the professor's podium as he is lecturing. CTB has her coffee and a breakfast treat in hand and there is only one word to categorize behavior like this: inconsiderate.

It illustrates that a student cannot make it on time to class, BUT they had plenty of time to stop for coffee and a donut.

Then once arriving in class, CTB has to settle in her seat, take out her laptop, and open her book. All of which are distractions. Sure I might look at porn in class, but I'm there on time, and no one has to look at my screen if they don't want as I go from 6 to midnight.

One day between two of our classes I ran across the street to Dunkin Donuts. Before leaving I asked if anyone would like anything and received no reply. Upon returning with food, CTB told me I should have asked her if she wanted anything and how it was rude of me to leave without doing so. Finally, an opportunity to open my mouth!

I paused knowing I was about to regret my next few comments, but continued on anyway. "I did ask if you wanted anything, but you were too busy talking on your phone, IN CLASS when I asked. I apologize though. Sometimes I forget to listen when women speak because I'm not used to them having voice in this country." Ugh-oh that's where a filter between my brain and my mouth would be useful!

As you might imagine she looked at me stunned. It was as if I just broke the news to her that people get AIDS from banging apes. She didn't think I was too funny poking at her gender and I suppose in a law school environment I should be more prudent. Being the man I am, it only made sense that I would continue you on with the sexist slurs after she called me a rude pig, among other words.

I said to Cut Throat Bitch, "I'm sorry. I bet next thing you are going to do is tell me women can vote? Or better yet that they can drive? Anyway, I'm sorry, next time I will get you a donut even if you don't want one." CTB sarcastically responded, "thank you, I appreciate it. I really like the ones with the cream filling."

"I bet that's not all you like with cream in your mouth," fuck once again a filter would come in handy, but did she have to say "with the cream filling?" "I'm sorry?! I didn't really mean for that one to come out," as I continued with the slaughtering.

"Wow you really can't control how big of an asshole you are, can you? Can you say anything without offending a woman?"

"Of course I can," I told her. "Would you like to hear a nice clean joke?"
CTB, "I'd love to."

"WOMEN'S RIGHTS," as I once again ignored the filter from my brain to my mouth.

"I regret sleeping with you"

A few weeks ago I was having a conversation with a young lady I dated awhile back, when I finally said to her that I felt after we slept together last summer she became distant. We never had a fight or any bad blood that I know of, but I can tend to be rather oblivious to her having feelings or really women having feelings in general. She always seemed uneasy around me. She doesn't say much and does the awkward/uncomfortable smile, so you don't know if she is having a good time or not. It was important to me that I clear the air before this summer began so I can attempt to pick back up where we left off.

Anonymous Call Girl(ACG) would come over to hang out, but I never knew if ACG actually wanted to be there with me, which was fine because I suppose both of our needs were fulfilled. Now that its almost summer our talking has picked up. I didn't see any real reason to talk to her during the school year when I'm not around. After all, it's not like I'm looking to make a best friend.

Finally, after actually taking the time to think about our situation it occurred to me that there could be a few reasons ACG was uneasy around me. And the number one reason is probably that she slept with me one of the first nights we hung out. Granted, I actually don't think she is a slut or easy, I think it was truly one of those situations where a girl says "I never do things like this" and might actually be being honest. Yes of course, this is the most over-used comment in the female language.

During our recent conversation ACG finally voiced her opinion, which is rare for her. She is usually a "hey whats up, how are you" girl and not much conversation after that, when out of nowhere she finally said, "I regret that we had sex last summer." Not exactly staying within the lines of the hey how are you, but I like awkward/uncomfortable situations and its not everyday I get great exciting news like a girl telling me how she regrets that I'm on her list. How do you even respond to that? Thanks, it was great for me too? But, I was impressed she stepped up and said how she felt.

After spilling the beans and feeling foolish and probably uncomfortable (because who would regret sleeping with me?) she said, "well I don't regret that we did it, I just regret how it happened. I don't want you to think I do things like this all of the time," which brings me to the point of the day.

Every single girl tells a guy she doesn't do things like this. Maybe ACG doesn't, but she did on this occasion. How do so many girls lay in bed with a guy and say I never act like that or this is my only one night stand? When a girl says to a guy they don't usually behave that way, does it actually make them actually believe its true?

It beats me. Do they think it makes us feel better to know they haven't done this a lot? Do they think we care? We don't bang out a girl and say ohh I've never done this before. We know what we are getting into and if we wanted to have a conversation about it we would. We juice a girl and ask the only relevant question that matters, "are you on the pill?"

Response to angry reader!

Well I am only 5 posts in and I already have my first angry response under comments in my Fat People post!

Anonymous said...

"you sound angry and seem like you need to take your anger out somewhere, why don't you try and write something positive"

To you Anonymous person, let me say:

I am angry and all of you should be angry too! I'm angry about about the fat person who sits next to me on the train or the plane and takes up half my seat!

I'm angry about the fat person who has diabetes and it causes my health insurance to go up!

I'm angry at the fat people who block the sun when I'm on the beach trying to get a tan!

I'm angry when I'm at a buffet and there is a fat person in front of me and no food left!

I'm angry at the patient who was in my uncle's dentist chair and broke the chair putting him out of business for a week!

I'm angry fat people can't fit in compact cars and have to buy vans and that get worse gas mileage!

I'm angry when health insurance rates go up because they are carrying all that excess weight around and need a knee replacement and then they go on social security disability because of that knee replacement and thus become another burden on the government!

YES I'M ANGRY AND YOU SHOULD BE TOO! Sometimes being fat is a choice in life, you don't have to be fat. You choose to eat, you choose to be a glutton, NOT ME!

Fat People

My blog is new and you probably haven't noticed yet that I have an issue with fat people. Fat generally means lazy, lazy means stupid and I don't like fat, lazy, or stupid people. Yes this is where most of you reading, probably female, are thinking I'm a huge asshole. I will not disagree with you or try to defend myself. Someone can't really write they have an issue with fat, lazy, stupid people and not expect criticism. Yes I know some of you are reading and say well some heavy set people can't help it. Well, frankly my dear, "I don't give a damn."

Smart people are smart because they know not to be fat! How do they expect to get a job? Who wants to hire a fat person? Fat people are usually sloppy. I don't like sloppy, sloppy is unorganized and who hires unorganized people?

I read recently fat is the last remaining prejudice we are allowed to have. We can't make fun of any ethnic groups without being called racist. But anyone can be fat, so I'm pretty sure we can still make fun of them.

This brings me to my new favorite topic, my hatred for WHOLE FOODS!

These slobs go and buy all of this expensive organic food because they think for whatever dumb reason by putting organic food in their body will somehow make them lose weight. Yet they still eat the same amount! They must think if you eat organic you wont get fat?! That's like saying I'm going to buy clothes on sale because then I'm not spending money. Or instead of buying one item that's $200, I will buy 4 items that are $50 that I don't want as much. So fat people, Whole Foods won't make you any thinner, it will just hurt your pocket and continue to make you corpulent, so here is an idea for you.........diet and exercise, I know it is a foreign concept, but you make me sick!

Back with more later.....

Is my dick small?

On May 20th my father took me to the hospital to undergo a procedure where the doctor took cartilage from my knee and put it in my ankle. I cannot put any weight on it for months and at that time I will be able to stand. Not walk, stand. Now for some reason life comes easy to me. I don't sweat the petty things but of course I pet the sweaty things (drum roll please!).

Surgery began at 10:30 AM and I was awake by 12:30 PM. Due to the medication and pain the doctor told me he would prefer me to stay in the hospital overnight to get the drugs flowing through my body and due to my weakness. Later in the day the nurse came in and asked me to urinate. However, her request I could not fulfill. Later in the evening around 7 she asked me to try again, but no matter how hard I pushed I once again could not achieve this simple objective. The nurse recommended that she use a bladder scanner. It seemed simple enough, so I agreed. It is really an ultrasound of your bladder to see how full you are. After applying the jelly to my stomach and rubbing some machine on me the nurse discovered I had about 200 cc's (cc's the unit of measure for urine). I asked if this was a concern and she said it was rather normal and most people can hold 500-600 cc's before they absolutely NEED to go to the bathroom and about the max a bladder can hold.

Again at 9, nothing. My parents left the hospital, I seemed stable and everything seemed fine.

Around 10 the midnighters arrived (the late night doctor and nurses) to take care of me and they asked me to urinate. I did not have to, but they wanted me to keep trying because I had been drinking fluids and had the IV in all day. I pushed and pushed and still no results.

PLEASE STOP READING IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH!

Around 12 I finally told the nurse I wanted to try again. Now the night crew is not the B squad. They go straight to the C- or possibly even failing. It is a wonder to me they are even allowed in a hospital or America for that matter because with their broken English we were not communicating well.

By 12:30 AM I was in such excruciating pain I said to the nurse I needed a catheter. Now to all of you wondering what this is or why I would ask there is a simple explanation. I had reached a point where my bladder was in so much pain that I needed to go. It is as if you spend an entire night drinking and drinking and then get home and then go to sleep and then wake up and never take a leak. However, you want to but when you push NOTHING happens. I know this is confusing to most of you, but I absolutely could not go, no matter how hard I pushed and it has now been 17 hours of desperately trying and failing.

The nurse said we should probably do another bladder scan, but I said why does it matter if I know I have to go and want to. I said just stick the catheter in my dick and make me pee. For those of you who still don't know, a catheter is a tube stuck in the man's penis hole and pushes against the bladder to make him urinate everything that is in him. It is NOT in his control once it is in and it automatically drains him giving him a euphoric feeling of automatic relief.

She said no, and she was getting the bladder scanner. Well the bladder scanner came out and what do you know but it said 200 cc's. I said Ma'am this is absolutely impossible to be drinking all day, have an IV in me and have the same bladder level I had hours ago. I said get another bladder scanner. She agreed, while claiming it wouldn't do anything and what do you know but my level was 950 cc's! Or if it helps about a full pitcher of beer! I was way above the limit a persons bladder can hold and risked rupturing and damaging my bladder.

Now I knew the cath was coming so right before it I pushed as hard as I could. I didn't care if i went all over myself, I just needed to pee. I tried to shit the bed hoping if I could do that then maybe some urine would come out. No success!

The nurse finally went and got the catheter, lubed it up and shoved that fucker right into my dick hole. Now I promise you all, you do NOT ask for a catheter unless you are in excruciating pain! Because you know when your dick hurts and your stomach hurts that much that you don't care about getting a tube shoved in your cock, that you have to take the mother of all leaks.

Well she shoved it in there and played. Pulling it in and out as I clenched my teeth and nothing came out. So what did nurse #1 do, she called non-English speaking nurse #2 who came in, lubed up a different catheter and shoved it right into my dick again. Of course before shoving a tube in my dick nurse #2 wanted to tell me it wouldn't hurt too much and its not a big deal. Yeah well easy for you to say, you don't have a dick and you don't need to take the worst leak of your life! She is a liar and a dirty pirate hooker! It hurts every bit as much as you can imagine.

Well as you might imagine nurse #2 was unsuccessful as well, so what did the two brilliant nurses do, they got nurse #3 to which I said no! I said it hasn't worked yet, its not going to work, I want a doctor. Nurse #3 came in and said she spoke to the doctor and he said to try a different type of catheter. A bigger one of course, not because my penis is large (by any means it is not) but because maybe it wasn't reaching my bladder properly. Well she shoved this in and played in there and i squirmed and made faces and squeezed my hospital bed railing and once again NO RESULT! I said enough, call the doctor now or I will!

Well, I called my father at 1 am after having 3 tubes shoved in my cock hole and a dangerously high cc level. My dad and brother rushed over and once they arrived my Dad said get a doctor up here or I will get my own. The nurse came in and said the Doctor was in the emergency room performing surgery and that he asked her to try it one more time. I said what the fuck makes you think after 3 tries that all of a sudden my penis wants to cooperate for you. Then nurse #1 came in and said, "Ben how are you feeling?"

"Well," my brother was standing in the room when I replied, "how the fuck do you think I am feeling? You shoved 3 tubes in my dick and I need to take a leak that could refill the ocean if it ever went dry! Do your job and either operate on me or get me a fucking doctor!"

Well nurse #3 came back and said the doctor wants us to try a different catheter. Well fine already, I guess, shove another tube in my dick if it makes you happy, but its not going to work! My dick hole is getting about as wide as the worlds biggest whores vagina. Might as well throw a goddamn hot dog down my hole because you can definitely fit 3 pencils and it definitely hurts just as much each time! And guess what catheter number 4 no success.

Welll still no doctor after 2 hours now and finally he shows up. He shoves another catheter in me and I am praying its going to work, but I know if it hasn't worked yet, its not going to work this time and he shoves #5 in my bleeding dick hole. Oh yes its bleeding and STILL NOTHING! "Please operate!" I am begging. Just knock me out on drugs and operate! I am screaming if the nurse used a correct bladder scanner hours ago we wouldn't be having this problem and we could have had the correct doctor in here to fix my dick already!

Well thank god for our family friend and urologist Dr. Andy (real name omitted). My Dad called him at 2 and by 2:15 AM he was at my bedside. The nurses brought out a goddamn toolkit of things to use on my pecker. I mean seriously, I'm at the point I fear he is going to shove his fist down my cock-hole because I don't know whats left to do. However, he runs right up to my brother and he squeezes his belly and said, well it doesn't feel like you are bloated at all. I don't know why they called me in here at this hour. This would have been a hilarious joke at any other time of my life, but not tonight! Get this urine out of me!

Well with one more cath, lucky number 6 and it works. He said within 2 seconds I should feel relief. Well it turns out I had so much urine in me that it wasn't 2 seconds but almost 2 minutes. 1250 cc's poured out of me or if it helps you visualize, a full 2 liter bottle of soda and then some. Within 2 hours of the draining another 1000 cc's came from somewhere else. Must have been hiding from the nurses!

Dr. Andy said I set a hospital record. Crying out of relief I only had one question for Dr. Andy. It wasn't why did this happen, which I later found out was because of the morphine and pain killers caused a temporary blockage on my bladder, but my question was:

"did the 5 other catheters not work because my penis is too small?"

To which Dr. Andy said, your penis is a very normal size, but your bladder was so full no one else was able to get the catheter to hit the part of your bladder it needed to reach to relieve you. Finding out the size of my penis is normal was also pleasant news.

I wore the cath for 36 hours and had a bag attached to my leg that held my urine. I thank my father for emptying the bag for me so I could refill it again. Then the next day when I saw Dr. Andy I thanked him when he took it out. I promise to those who wonder, it does not feel ANYTHING like it does going in and is way less painful coming out. I told Dr. Andy I would rather have his autograph than Michael Jordan's and thanked him for having the hands of an angel. He is the only man I grant permission to touch my precious penis whenever he would like!

Now for those wondering the effects since then. Yes I have never felt a worse burning in my life when I urinate. It lasted a full week and definitely made me dread every time I needed to urinate. I did bleed when I urinated, but there is no pain worse than not being able to pee. Anyone can give you stitches, but not anyone can make urine come out of you.

Moral of the story: Never hold it in, because you never know when one day it will decide it doesn't want to come out.

The entire day I had to wear the cath my brother thought was wonderful. I had a kit that allowed me to go whenever I wanted and wherever I had to. Friday night when my mom called the family in for dinner, my brother said he would eat dinner in the den, but my mother said come eat in the kitchen, to which my brother replied:

"If Ben can piss in the den, then I can certainly eat there!"

FML

I'm getting really annoyed with this FML. Everyone walks around saying it lately. I missed the train FML, It's raining FML, the condom broke FML. Ok maybeee the last one is acceptable. However, I am sitting around for at least 2 months before I can stand and has anyone ever heard me say FML. I had 6 tubes shoved in my dick and did I say FML, hell no!

I'm a positive person. I like to think I'm upbeat and don't let things get to me too much. It's hard to find me without a smile on my face and its difficult not to get me to laugh.

I remember my senior year in college I was dropping a deuce. I never brought my laptop to the bathroom with me, but I knew this one was going to be a fighter so I decided to bring my computer to the Thunder Box (shitter). As I was rocking it out, boom, I dropped my laptop on the floor! It seemed fine and worked well for the week, but then one day it wouldn't turn on and as it turned out I lost everything on my computer. My buddy Gray or you may know him better as Viper, was sitting next to me as the screen went blank and I thought he was ready to cry for me.

Every bit of writing I had ever done was gone in the blink of an eye, It was dunzo, never to be seen again. All the pictures I had with athletes and friends, the Vegas trip, the videos of friends streaking and me going to a gay bar in drag gone! Viper looked at me and said are you going to cry, punch something, show any bit of emotion? I simply looked at him and said no. What's done is done and I can't lose sleep over it. Does it suck? Of course, but what can ya do but keep on trucking along.

A few weeks later Viper's computer crashed. I doubt he broke it taking a dump, that's not his style. I think he probably destroyed his room throwing things and breaking everything in sight. He probably felt great raging like that. However, that's just not me.

To each his own.

Keep your head up BW- fan club. No matter how hard things seem, life could be worse. I have a broken foot and injured dick. I don't have two broken feet, I'm not paralyzed, I don't have cancer and I'm not dying tomorrow. Life could be worse and its still certainly not bad.

Be back soon........

First Blog

I am beginning a blog and I promise it will be as honest and fresh as possible. I want to start out pretty light because hell, we can't start about me juicing a prostitute or going to town on a midget she-male. More to come and will write as often as possible. Feedback is welcomed and if my audience enjoys please send to their friends.