My corona

So I got this: Right before all this shit started, I got canned. First time since 1996. I am cognizant of my responsibility in it, and still feel it should’ve been handled differently. I have been job hunting since. A couple of interviews, a couple of head hunter calls, and some friends hooking me up. So far they have not panned out. I had a promising lead, went through a screening, an hour long phone interview, and a 4 hour in person interview. I thought it went well, but.. I dropped an f-bomb somewhere in the in person, and it was enough to knock me out of the running.

I have a couple of days of work lined up over the holiday weekend, which is good. I mean, it kills the weekend, but I/we need the cash.

I am honestly beginning to lose my mind. Between being out of work, out of money, and away from people, this extrovert is going to explode. I am spending way to much time in my own head, and it is making me hate myself. Some of this will pass, I’m sure. I am also sure that all will be well in the long run.

There are only so many projects I can do, so many loads of laundry and dinners I can cook.

Only so many conversations I can have with myself, so many times I can tell myself it’s just the weasels speaking. Yeah, I’m in therapy. Still, it’s a struggle.

Cathouse, craziness, and commentary.

Y’all should check this out. It’s a nice snap shot of the world then – the dichotomy of sex drugs and Rock & Roll, the growing AIDS epidemic, the rampant sexism, sexual freedom, alcoholism, and sheer escapism that came from the death throes of the bright future that never would be.


Kicking the tires on auto post.┬áSome girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they’re alone, but I can’t get off without having an egg timer in my ground zero grotto and a number of chillies up my shit winker. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his giggle stick rammed deeper into my soft tight anus. With his mutton dagger raiding deep into my front bum, the sensation of his all-beef thermometer smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and Da Vinci load in my black hole created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The plowing of my tradesman’s entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his disco stick deep in my cocoa channel.

The thrusting makes me splurge my spaff all over his wrist-thick wand. I awoke the next morning with my frilling pink golf bag still dripping. I thought it was over but his washington monument had other ideas. When he removed his jebend from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn’t wait to chow down on the stink pickle off his blind butler. The mixture of stink pickle and love piss in my ring piece created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Now, I’ve had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his cunt plunger made my shrimp sap leach like a hungry pig at a trough.

A journey through the mind Of a Tattooed Dad.

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