Monthly Archives: April 2009

This Little Piggy…

I recently received yet another special offer to join one of the thousands of dating/personals websites (Match, Yahoo! Personals, OK Cupid, etc). Considering that my Stud Level is maxed out (insert laughter), I wouldn’t pay to join or use one of these sites…again. They can rake in enough advertising dollars to cover the cost of me posting a photo of my rock hard abs, can’t they? Besides, I am the Master of My Domain. OK, well, over the next few days I gave the use of these sites a lot of thought.

Some background: About nine or ten years ago I set up an account for shits and giggles, only to fall into the trap of constantly checking for messages, continuously polishing my profile, and refreshing my preferences before I left for work, at lunch (if I took one) and before I left work. It got sorta crazy for a while.

Anywho,  I thought about my two actual dating experiences (originating from the singles sites) and how much they really sucked (one woman’s first question was “So, what type of car do you drive” and the other woman was Goth Girl meets Jane Hathaway). So, presently, I’m not looking for a relationship. If there was anything I want out of this, it would be a piece of ass. But, that’s always led to problems for me and nowadays I tend to mind my own fucking (no pun intended) business. But the thrill of the chase was tempting the other day. However, I needed it to be something special. Well, not special as in hooking up with two chicks at once, or a pyromaniac, manic-depressive dwarf, or playing russian roulette with a Haitian nanny.

No, I have too much to lose right now by being associated with this shit, but at the same time the little devil on my shoulder kept telling me that he’s bored shitless.  What could I do? How could I keep my name and photo out of this? Hmmmmmmmm. I thought about  setting up a fake account of a regular guy and just fishing around. But then I might as well set up a real account. Then I entertained the idea of an account of a super-model type dude and fixing up fake dates with hot, stuck-up Trixies. No, too boring. Hmmm, maybe set one up as a lesbian… No, there’s no way I could pull that off. One horny message exchange and I’d end up telling her about wanting to stick my… well, you know what I mean.

I got it. I’d set up an account as a hot redheaded bi-sexual chick looking for a good time. So that’s what I did (on a free site). I found a photo of a very hot redhead posing in a sheer pick tank top. I mean this carrot top was hotter than a two dollar pistol. I created a bio of a 28 yr old professional living on the far north side, no pets, etc. The icing on the cake was that she hadn’t had sex for about nine months and was very eager to get some from either sex.

I must have had 50 responses within four hours (of course, 90% were from men). By the end of the second day I had about 120-130 responses.

What surprised me the most was the content of the messages. Every single guy, every one of them, had zilch to say except for “Hi”, “Hey”, “Sup”, “Hope your day is going well” etc.

I was embarrassed for my kind. “Sup?” That’s all you got? Here’s a hot redhead wearing a see-through shirt, with great tits, looking to get laid right now and all you got is “Sup?” We’re men. We’re supposed to yearn redheads! “Sup?” Fucking idiot. Get off line. Get off line and go spank your monkey.

Most (80-90%) of the women, with about ten of them with profiles showing they were straight, came out of the gates with from-the-hip statements and very specific questions or requests. “I love your nipples”, “How about a threesome”, “Wanna meet up right now”, “I could lick you all day and night”.

I responded to each person (M/F) in a non-sexual manner “Hi, I’m sort of new to this” “I’ve never done this before”, and again, was surprised by their responses. The men continued to be like dorky little high school guys talking to a hot college chick. The women acted like what society has men pegged as… pigs. Dude, these women made me blush, and if you’ve read my blog, you should know I don’t do that very often. They were constantly pushing me to meet them within a couple of hours. Their place, my place, hotels, motels, in cars. All of these women had photos on their profiles and *only one of them looked like she’d be this way. The others had photos with daddy, with an ex-boyfriend at Navy Pier, or as a teenager sitting next to the Christmas tree, etc.

Sooooooooooooo, you can go Stealth on this site and not allow others to know you’re online. I did this and cruised around checking out the women when I got the idea of directly approaching straight women. Guess what, out of thirteen straight women I approached, four either flirted back (repeatedly over four-five emails or IM sessions) or wanted to hook up. Do the math.

So I came to the conclusion that a lot of women are at least no more trustworthy than what society has made men out to be.

*by this I don’t mean they she looked like a lesbian, I mean that she looked like the type of person who could be sitting at the kitchen table on their day off work, fishing around the net for someone/anyone to fuck, anywhere. This is the same woman who wanted to drive over and pick up “Diane” and go fuck in the car at the lake front.

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Exit Stage Left: Interview Strategies, Tactics and/or Lessons Learned

A guy I know, George Hofmann, who favors going into an interview with a resume and story-line full of skills and accomplishments that are, let’s say, more than your garden variety “enhancements”. I’ll use George’s real name here because he’s after the same opportunities as I am and he needs to go down.

I know times are hard and a lot of people are looking for a job, along with other people staring a layoff in the face, so most people will fudge things up a bit. That’s only natural unless you have a PhD from Harvard, you swallow or you’re a rock star like George. So far, I’m 0 for 3.

Yeah, sure, I might state that I know “Widget” software when I really don’t. But I make it a point to learn it before I step into someone’s office. Plus, I’m not going to check off “expert level”. George would. Then he would somehow wiggle his way out of testing out on it. If you ask George, he’d tell you he helped end hunger in Ethiopia and co-wrote Stairway to Heaven.

Categories: Career Enhancement | Leave a comment

Jung Turks

I came across these guys while browsing Irish artists and their music blew me away. Unfortunately, they don’t have much out there. Maybe they got pinched by some customs officials, I dunno. Check out On the Brink.

Back in ‘94 I was on a sabbatical of sorts and found myself suddenly regaining consciousness on a foggy beach in Kenosha, and I swear this is just like the music that was floating around in my head, but I wasn’t listening to any music. Come on, you’ve been there. Yes, I was and always have been drug free.

Please let me know if you have any information on them.

 

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Facebook Follies

I’m up to 268 “friends” on my Facebook page. Some are people I’ve worked with, others went to my high school or college, some are old neighbors or dart throwers, etc. Most people definitely look older, fatter, balder, some uglier, or more stressed, etc. than the last time I saw them.  And a few still look like the asshole I knew them as, while others seem to have jumped on a wagon of sorts and cleaned themselves up.

The curse of Facebook is that in order to play the game, you have to add almost everyone who Friendicates you. I said almost everyone. I have maybe thirty people who I will not add, ever. Some of them look like they might hit me up for $300 right before Christmas. Others look as though they about to jump bail and show up my job.

One of my “friends”, Tyler, has five more kids than when I saw him the summer after we graduated from high school and he has that fake “I’m so happy with these brats and stupid bitch in this photo” look I’ve seen a million (ok, only 27) times.  Of course, I’ve never understood why people post fifty pictures of their kids, when nobody is going to get past the first page of them unless they’re a stalker or something.

Me? I have two pictures on my profile. Me and John Bon Jovi taken outside SmithWollensky and me having coffee with a friend at Standee’s.  I once had one of me leaning against my car, but I took it down because I don’t want Chrissie from Lombard recognizing it (and me) when I’m driving pulling into White Castle.

And that brings me to my biggest concern…. Actually having to see half of these people in person. Having one of them show up on my doorstep would cause the evacuation of my bowels. Now don’t get me wrong, I am one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet. I’m funny and can hold a conversation with the best of them. Kids even like me. But, I live in the city for the anonymity. I want to see them before they see me.  Call it anti-social, but as soon as some people learn that I’m single with no kids, they think I’m always available to help them move, babysit, check on their house, fix up with their cousin Sally or whatever.

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That’s a wrap

I met up with Morry down at the Cubby for a couple of beers last night and leave it to him to provide the drama. I thought we might sit back,have a few, and watch the game. But, no, he’s wrapped up in a sex scandal of sorts with his own girlfriend.

After a long night of drinking and whatever those two freaks do, they went home and apparently had sex (the mere thought of those two doing it makes half of my brain go into convulsions and the other half shut down). He goes on to tell me that she secretly recorded everything, and evidently, they did some pretty weird stuff, even by their standards.

He woke up in a haze, took a shower, and then noticed that she kept giggling at whatever she was watching on her laptop. He didn’t give it much thought until she sent him a link at his job. Yeah, she sent him a link to their posted (non-public page on her website) sexcapade at his job. Me? I don’t care if I have a threesome with Miss America and Miss Universe. If either of them sent me that kind of link to my job, I would make things right real quick.

Unfortunately, for Morry, he left his balls in her purse about five months ago. Now he’s got no idea what to do and he won’t listen to any of my suggestions. Two of which are felonies.

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