» Crappy relationships

13 years we had been married
this past September.

For our wedding anniversary she gave me a bar. It was a bar that looked like a very nice cupboard, that sat in the corner nondescript, classy but not over stated but, when you opened the doors, it had 10 places to store bottles of hard booze, a 24 bottle wine rack, draws, glasses storage a few shelves and a top the folded out to make a wide serving area. To the untrained eye, you can't tell what it is (so I don't look like I have a pub in my lounge room).

For fathers day, she let the kids buy me booze (well she paid for it, directed them to the top shelf stuff and wrapped it up but, they handed it over).

She still enjoys and wants regular quality sex, she takes care of herself, she looks great, she is nice to my friends, doesn't have horrid skanks as mates. She has her own career, her own life. She supports me in more ways than one (and I hope she feels that I do the same for her).

She gives me a hard time when I am a slacker, she won't let me turn into a slob, she tells me when I am wrong and she helps me to see balance when I am on a rant.

13 years married, 2 years before dating etc, 2 kids, 3 countries, doesn't get too fired up that I think her sister is an out and out fuckwit and puts up with my cockfuck of a brother.

I am pleased to say, the magic is still well and truly strong and nowhere near gone.

So, amongst the nut cases, psychopaths, violent assholes and sad cases this week, don't give up, there are some sensational partnerships out there, and I am pleased beyond stoked that I have one. Don't settle for shit and don't give up.

A little upbeat for this weeks not so upbeat tales.

Sorry about the lack of funnies.
(Sun 24th Oct 2010, 14:51, More)

» Helicopter Parents

Gummy Mummy
Remember that time when you could have sex with school girls and not be thought a pedo, you know, before you crossed the line from teen to twenties, mmmmmmmmmmmmmm……………….

Sorry,

Anyway, back at that time when I had a delightful, soft skinned, perky breasted year 12 student, and being the mighty stud I was with over 15000 fucks to my name, and 3 of them weren’t even in the solo class, I found that her ability for knob gobbling was just not up to that standard I had come imagine. Being the sensitive 19 year old male, drunk on his own testosterone, I fucking told her so, and left her in no doubt that she either shape up or it was out on your arse. Of course not really knowing what I was talking about I couldn’t provide any instruction on what I liked or give her tips on what needed to improve (in fact despite endless informal research of blow jobs via porn films in the proceeding years, I hadn’t even figured that the girls spit on the love wand as more moisture the better, but, my naivety is story for another day).

A few days later we met up for a night of sophisticated activity (she came to my place to watch telly and drink cheap wine) which culminated in heading to the bed room for a bit horizontal folk dancing, started with the most mind bending session of dirtying her knees. Of course I wanted to know how in the space of 3 days she had developed such skills that would get a golf ball through 9 yards of hosepipe, and she told me she had asked someone who pointed her in the right direction. I was too pleased with the process to ask more questions.

The following night we had dinner her at her place. Her Dad was working but, her old girl was home. I didn’t quite know how to respond when her mum asked me directly if I had any further issue with her daughter’s “dick sucking methods”.

As soon as I had my girl her on her own, I asked what the fuck she had said to her mum.

Apparently after my ultimatum she had a sit down with her mum and dad.
She had asked if they knew about sucking cocks, which apparently they did.


She had asked “what Dad liked” ,


and her mum had showed her.


With a carrot.

If the old girl hadn’t been a 120kg, ugly as fuck, Scottish harpy I might have had a crack at the master considering the action of the student.

Still explains why her old man smiled vacantly a lot.

Length, 8 inch girth and 13 inches long, fucking huge carrot.
(Sun 13th Sep 2009, 15:22, More)

» Professions I Hate

Sports Stars
Professional sports people are the ones I find get right on my wick. These types, usually of the little to no intelligence and of no real life ability other than being able to kick or hit a ball get paid millions and squillions of Dollars, Pounds, Euros for PLAYING GAMES.

I have heard it being justified, “Oh they have to train very hard and make a lot of sacrifices”, THEY PLAY FUCKING GAMES. A woman living in war torn Africa getting raped by marauding soldiers and taking it so they don’t find her children hidden under the floor boards is making a lot of sacrifices, these cunts hang out with their mates, PLAYING FUCKING GAMES and don’t eat KFC, that isn’t a sacrifice that is a lifestyle choice.

Yet for some reason we hold these cunts up as role models and examples of all that is good in our society. Give them father of the year awards on Tuesday and Wednesday they are out with their over paid, under brained team mates hovering up great piles of cocaine, forcing them selves on women (although some don’t really seem to mind being forced on) usually in a group, cheating on their wives, abandoning their children and generally doing all the worst things you can do for society.

They don’t actually contribute anything to society other than PLAYING FUCKING GAMES for the entertainment of the masses. Doctors save lives, doctors make people lives better, sure they get paid reasonably well for what they do but, bloody hell, they do make a huge difference to people lives yet their salary is a 100th of blokes like Noberta Sola.

And finally, what about teachers? The people we trust our children’s minds to, the people who outside the family have the most amount of influence (and in many cases more influence). If we paid teachers a million pounds/dollars/euros a year, it would probably attract the best and brightest people to become teachers, rather than merchant bankers or lawyers and ensure the long term betterment of our society rather than the large number of no hopers* who can’t make it in the real world and choose to impart their mediocrity on to our kids.

It’s just fucking wrong getting paid huge money to PLAY FUCKING GAMES. Give them 20 quid a week and a free meal after the match. That is fair remuneration for what they do. Maybe then the cunts would have to get a real job Monday to Friday and the time they have for taking advantage of society would be greatly reduced.

*no offence to all of the good teachers out there.
(Wed 2nd Jun 2010, 3:47, More)

» Real-life slapstick

Slapstick with Honda Accords
Several years ago I took a few days break to visit Byron Bay on the North Coast of New South Wales. As the sun was setting I was sitting down near the beach when some young, what would described in Britain as Chavs but what we would refer to in Oz as scum bags where playing a game of car jumping in the beach front car park.

For the uninformed this involves someone driving the car at a reasonable pace, around 20 or 30 km/h, in a straight line while someone runs at the car head on, jumps on to the bonnet, then the roof, then the boot and off the back.

I will admit that some of these guys weren't too bad at the pointless game.

There was one young bloke, the loudest, wankiest, pants around his knees, wearing jeans on a 35 degree day, pathetic haircut, young fuck knuckle of the group and he was up for his turn.

Although I can't actually remember it lets say for the sake of the story it was a poo brown Honda Accord, and quite possibly driven by Mr. T and as had happened a dozen or so times before, the aforementioned greatest disappointment possible from an orgasm, started his run towards the car, and as he took his first leap on to the bonnet got tangled in his own pants causing him to stuff up the take off and have his legs swept from under him and subsequently upended by the Honda, bounced off the roof head first and landed in a crumpled heap behind the car.

A complete totach!

Oh, how I laughed. As I trotted over to take a closer look at the fallen dick head, who was bleeding from his face, but, not in the copious amounts one would expect, that I saw his leg. Most legs run up and down from the hip to foot but, this leg now had a 90 degree bend at the knee, sideways. I almost wet my pants from laughter.

I think one of his vacant compatriots summed the situation up best when he said as his mate lay there possibly about to die,

"fuck man, I wish I had videoed that"

edit: updated to include modern B3TA lingo
(Fri 22nd Jan 2010, 9:21, More)

» Letters they'll never read

Thank You!
Dear Brother Luke,

I write to you today to thank you! It has taken me a long time to understand why you did the things you did but, after today’s events I understand you where really thinking of my best interests. A good friend of mine told me recently that things happen for a reason and now I know it is true.

I couldn’t understand why you kicked me out of the basket ball team when I asked if I could leave early from training for a few weeks. I thought that any reasonable person would have understood that as I lived further away from the courts, it took me longer to get home than the others and as my Dad was away on business and my mother had to take care of my younger siblings, no one could collect me in the car. I thought that when my mum rang and explained I, a 12 year old boy, would have to catch 2 trains and walk 2 miles in the dark through deserted streets and lanes it would convinced you to reverse your hasty and publicly humiliating dismissal from the playing roster (we all know mums can be a bit over protective at times). I had expected that being one of your better players, who never missed a game and always gave 100% you, would have made an allowance.

I thought it was a type of papal sponsored religious bigotry that you gave some of the other boys who lived much closer to the training courts a ride home in your car after training. I honestly believed you did that at the time because they where Catholic like you and I was C of E. I did wonder about your vows to care for others and the way you executed your observance of you vows but, now I understand.

Despite my newly found understanding of why you acted like you did, I am still not sorry that I joined one of the opposition teams and played a key part to defeating your best side in the under 14 grand final. That victory still gives me a warm feeling of pride when I think back on the day.

As you begin the new journey in your life I hope that you will receive the rewards you so justly deserve as a resident of Long Bay Gaol. I have it on good assurance from some less than savoury characters of whom I am acquainted and who know your new cell mates that they will take special care of you. I have been told they have a special welcoming ceremony for men like you, where you will get to experience what you did to others over many years all on your first night in general population and on many more occasions over the next five and a half years.

Thank you for not offering to give me a lift so I could remain in the team, thank you for not using your position of trust against me to get me to provide you with oral pleasure and thank you for not stuffing you wizened cock into my rear end as you did to those favourite boys you drove home (at least 11 if we go by those who testified against you). Thank you for exclusively enjoying the pleasure of the flesh from young boys only of your faith and not all of those who you could so easily taken advantage of.

Thank you, for in your own way protecting me from the depraved sexual satisfaction you desired and sought out in others.

Kind regards

bad advice
(Fri 5th Mar 2010, 2:49, More)