Welcome Back, and P90X Day 3

My entire 2009 belongs on the front page of failblog.org so far.  Saying nothing about the fact that there's probably already an rss feed of the past 24 years of my life streaming somewhere onto the site.  

I tried making a tech joke but it might not even be accurate.  I never really understood how rss feeds work.  God damn it EVERYTHING FAILS. 

My first dream that I remember having in 2009 was possibly the most disturbing of my life -- I went up to the North Pole and brutally raped and murdered Mrs. Claus.  Seriously graphic shit, even for me.  I vividly remember fisting (I actually just typed "visiting" -- well, that too, I guess) her really violently and then slicing off her nipples and biting all her skin off while wildly beating her, and then fucking her to death.  I very distinctly remember the exact feeling of doing all of this and I still cringe when I think about it.  What the fuck, dude.. I LOVE Mrs. Claus -- I always thought she was a fucking dirty ass crazy fuck and did some amazing vag-strengthening exercise shit.  I didn't necessarily think she fucked all the elves but I'm sure she did SOMETHING to keep them in line, not to mention having glacier-shattering sex with pepaw husband and keeping him relatively jolly.  Not to mention being the star of one of the greatest movies of all time -- 

Uh... what was I talking about?   Oh, right.  The dream.  It sucked. 

That was on January 2, and things haven't really improved much since then.   It's been a long, hard (throbbing) winter, and I've been a fucking wreck throughout most of it.  I never really got over the sickness crap I posted about back in November and all that strep throat shit (pretty much everyone in my life unanimously agreed that I need to stop rimming so much).  I've been sick on and off for four months now and it's frustrating as a motherfucker -- before this year I was never sick unless I WANTED to be.  I generally had a couple of days of incapacitating allergies in the spring and fall and that was it.  

I know it's mostly related to stress and taking really bad care of myself.  My relationship pretty much fell apart, as did several friendships, and as usual I'm not getting enough sleep or washing my hands after using the bathroom and spending too much time on the subway and eating crappy pasta from work every single day instead of something more nutritious.  Point noted, I'm taking care of it.  I started taking stupid lame ass vitamins even though I still don't think they do anything except make my nasty asparagus-scented pee even nastier.  We'll see. 

I'm characteristically downplaying a really big change I'm attempting to initiate right now.  I'm on day three of the p90x program right now and I'm fucking sore all over but I love it and think I'm gonna stick with it.  I'm gonna try to blog about it fairly consistently (keyword being "try") to try to chart my progress with it because it's something I feel really strongly about right now.    

There are so many things in my life that I desperately need to fix that are probably more important than body-stuff, but this is the one that I feel like I can exert the most immediate degree of control and influence over.  And it's something I whine about a lot.  I feel like if I can actually follow through with this commitment for 90 days and change this part of myself and get stronger/better it'll help carry that momentum into other areas of my life.  I'm gonna chart my progress with pictures every 30-ish days I guess and see if I can objectively notice any difference instead of just whining about nothing happening. 

All the workouts are crazy hard but the second day, plyometrics, was the only one I couldn't actually finish.  I'm still sore from doing chest and back three days ago, and I'm sure I'll be feeling it in my arms and shoulders tomorrow after this morning's workout, but strength training has always been easier for me than long cardio/jumping sessions. Because I don't really sweat I tend to get overheated and dizzy and wobbly and pathetic.  As with all activities I do (....), I can go really hard and intense for brief spurts but never really have the stamina to keep up that pace for prolonged periods of time.  Relative to the first two, arms and shoulders this morning was kind of easy -- as soon as I can afford it I think I need to move up to 20lb weights.  

Here are my before pictures -- and yes, they're right, these DO work as an excellent motivational tool.  Ughghghghh... 

I know it could be a lot worse, but... it can also be a lot better. 

So anyway, that's what I'll be doing for the next three months.  I'm trying not to expect a miracle because I ALSO have to change my eating habits which is.. hard.  But the way I see it, I probably won't get any WORSE.  And I HAVE to get at at least a little better. 

It's quiet outside right now.  There was a cat that must've been in heat or something just fucking SCREAMING for almost two weeks.  She stopped briefly during the snowstorm (by the way, fucking weathermen measure snowfall the same way that guys measure their penises -- I don't know where they get all that extra measurement from but six inches is never anywhere NEAR nine inches.  I swear to god that most people use centimeters.  anyway --) but then started up again right after.  Either she died of horniness or just got fucked really good and stopped complaining.   Either way, I completely relate. 

With how upset and shitty I've been lately it's been a shame that I haven't really been able to get lost in a story/book the way I usually do as a coping mechanism, but I've been stuck on War and Peace for a while now and I'm making very, very, very slow progress through it.  I don't... I mean... It's not a bad book, obviously, but I'm 400 pages in and I still don't care about any of the characters or what's going on.  Someone -- I used to think it was Virginia Woolf but I think it was Isaac Babel -- said that if the world could write by itself, it would write like Tolstoy.  I kind of agree.  But the problem is that I HATE the world, and all the people in it.  So... 

I love Anna Karenina.  I don't know why I can't get myself into this right now.   

By contrast, I started reading the Lucifer graphic novel series and I'm completely hooked on THAT.   It's probably not fair to War and Peace to have it be competing with a comic for my attention span, though. 

Alright, ugh, I should get dressed and head out.  Hopefully I'll be writing more regularly. 

Peace and Fece(s) 

Rob

Whatever, Martha!

This holiday season, I would like to express my gratitude and appreciation for all the wonderful things in my life.

Specifically, I'm thankful for these two sexy bitches:



Alexis Stewart and Jennifer Koppelman Hutt. I was sick as a motherfucker this past week and one day, after being sent home from work for dripping mucous all over the restaurant, I was stuck on the couch, sunk balls deep into my assgroove, and my mother introduced me to these two fine ladies (on the Fine Living Network, no less!)



Alexis is tall and pretty and dresses well and looks more frigid than Nicole Kidman's arctic igloo fortress (vag) and I want her to stick one of her heels up my ass. Jennifer looks like she has a really overactive cock-greedy cunt that will explode all over my face if I just look at it. I love them both.

Has anyone else seen this show? It combines two of my favorite things -- reverent awe for Martha Stewart with loving relentless mocking of Martha Stewart and I'm tempted to stay home from work tomorrow just to watch it. Because, officially, when guys ask me and I'm trying to impress them I still say "I DON'T WATCH TV" so I would never let my mother get Tivo or anything.

I probably shouldn't stay home from work ever again, though, after all the money I missed out on by staying home this past week. God, it fucking sucked -- I felt like I had been giving head to a cactus all week and the fucker kept ramming the back of my throat even though I kept begging him to ease up. And I was coughing up blood for the last two days. When people at work/elsewhere asked me what was wrong I just kept telling them I had consumption, and then got pissed off when only a few of them knew what I meant.

Thanksgiving was nice though. I made Barefoot Contessa style rice pudding (oh Ina... please adopt me and let your old rich Hamptons fags pay for me to go back to school) and had a bunch of people over and a small group of us went through six bottles of wine... early on I felt like I was trying too hard to have contrived-holiday fun but by the third glass of wine I was fine.

We got a really brother-sister duo picture out of it:



several failed attempts at a nice couple-shot



and one sort-of awkward successful one



I'm a little annoyed at how preppy and clean cut I look -- if I'm going to look like I go to fucking Harvard I want to actually BE at fucking Harvard. And not delaying school a whole extra year because I can't afford fucking Bronx Community College.

Anyway, the usual Sunday night agony about waking up early for work is happening, so I should try to get my ass into bed. I'm playing Dragon Quest IV on the DS right now and it's better than anyone reading this is.

(Oh, and besides Jennifer and Martha & Alexis Stewart, I'm thankful for family/friends/books/videogames/my cock)

Happy Thanksgiving. If anyone wants to bake me a pie please do it. Chris brought over two and I ate both of them (not by myself, though).

Suze Orman For President!

Obama has the right idea so far -- putting Hillary up there as Secretary of State is a good way of placating rageful feminazis like me who were still bitter from the primary shit. Okay, good job, thank you. I know you did it just for me.

But so far he's already made one very big mistake, and it's a troubling one. Timothy Geithner as Secretary of Treasury? Who? You're putting together this superstar team of people and you appoint some random dude for what may be the most important position in the country over the next four years? I don't care if Wikipedia says he was the president of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York.

I want to somehow get in there and pull a Monica (except I wouldn't stain my shirt -- I'd swallow every last drop of that shit. Though she had the right idea, I would stash that shit away also. I wouldn't grab my mother's stain removal stick for that, except maybe to shove it up my ass while I take out the soiled shirt from under my bed every night and jerk off while looking at the jizz stain and remembering how for five minutes I was the most powerful person in the world) and after I was done and he told me he was desperately in love with me and would do anything I asked him to, I would tell him... WHY NOT APPOINT SUZE ORMAN AS SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY????

I'm serious! Sure, she might not have any "POLITICAL EXPERIENCE" but what the hell -- she's like EVERYBODY'S consultant and knows EVERYTHING about money and I guarantee she'd do a better job than literally anyone else alive on the planet right now, WITHOUT HYPERBOLE!!!!!! She taught both Oprah AND Anderson Cooper better ways to manage their money (less egotistical vanity projects for the former, 10-inch long 6-inch thick brown dildos for the latter. Okay no she didn't say that, but I could tell she was thinking it. Because she and I are of one mind on most topics and I can't see us randomly diverging wildly on this one)

And, more importantly... KATHY GRIFFIN!

She's tough...



But fair!!



Not only is she incredibly thoughtful...



...but she's also ELEGANT



Look at that. Tell me that woman isn't perfect. As Michael K (who one day will read my blog and decide that he wants me to go spelunking in his chili hole) would say, a sexy GAYELLE. I would fucking grind my fishmound against hers if she gave me even the slightest signal that it would be okay -- just one raised eyebrow would be enough. I want her to spank me with her filthy money-touching hands and maybe imprint me with just a slight aura of success. TELL ME RIGHT NOW that you don't think she would solve every single one of this country's problems? Timothy WHO???



If I saw him wearing either this outfit (think Peg Bundy accepting a job at a consulting firm) or the one above, then maybe I'd consider warming up to him. Maybe.

In other news, all I did today -- my last day off before Thanksgiving, mind you -- was watch TV and eat and jerk off. Oh and I played Mario Kart with my sister. And took kind of a messy shit.

And at no point did I ever wash my hands.

PEOPLE FIRST, THEN MONEY, THEN THINGS

Welcome the Prince of Puke!

I've been (tentatively) wanting to penetrate my way back into the blogging world for a while now. So let me vomit on my cybercock and slide it back in, slowly.

I have a weird relationship with blogging. I've had countless fights and squabbles over it, and I've violently fluctuated between posting every single thought and event that happened to me and thinking the whole thing was disgusting and overly indulgent. I have the chronic problem that most shy people with low self esteem have -- desperate for external acknowledgment, and being unable to either find what we need inside of ourselves or find it through natural human interaction, we're left desperately clawing at the internet ether for some source of validation. Unfortunately, going along with the whole shy/low self-esteem thing is a sometimes neurotic and obsessive need for privacy, which seems very counter productive to keeping a consistent public record of our life and thoughts.

Plus, on a personal level, I'm terrified that the Reptilians are tracking my every move and I should give them as little ammo as possible. But since they've most likely already probed my ass and read my mind (which is pretty much the same as reading 120 Days of Sodom so really I wish they would just leave me alone, although they probably did get a lot of new rectal torture ideas from me) anything I say here probably won't make a difference.

When I start writing in a format and using a platform that encourages every sentence beginning with the letter "I" I have a tendency to become extremely morose and faux-soul-searchingly lugubrious and angsty. And it goes on. And on. And on. So I'm going to try something a little different and keep slightly more structure to this. I'm gonna try to keep it relatively light and humorous, and try to save the more whiny shit for my personal journal. I need to get back in the habit of writing consistently again -- in that sense, my personal journal doesn't count, because I'm so lazy with grammar and structure and content that it doesn't use any of the writing muscles at all. Writing for an audience is a lot different and makes me think a lot harder, and I want to do it as much as possible.

As a secondary function I'd like it to help keep all my friends semi-updated with what's going on in my life, since I'm shitty and lazy and any time I sit at the computer to write an email I usually just end up jerking off and then reloading dlisted.com over and over again and then eat and go to bed.

So, hi -- add me, subscribe, whatever, and I promise to try my hardest to keep you entertained and make you laugh, or at least disgust you slightly. Or, if nothing else, at least leave you feeling good about yourself, in a "god, it could be so much worse, at least I'm not HIM..." kind of way. Maybe I'll even make you orgasm from such a sudden influx of self esteem.

I'm nothing if not altruistic.