Um, I'd Like this PLEASE.

Holy fucking shit I don't know how to spell or pronounce Michelle Trachtenbrurgersonalski's name but anyone out there looks even remotely like her I'd like to pay you for sex. Is that solicitation? I don't think it is, because that would be illegal, and I don't do illegal things. So again, send all fo your, "I sort of look like Michelle Trachtenburgessmerideth" photos to toast@youmustchoose.com and you could earn some money towards college tuition or your coke addiction or whatever (again, so NOT solictitation, I'm just a jokester [seriously though, send the pics]).

If anyone would like some I just produced like a quart of it.

So I was a good Samaritan yesterday. I love it when I get portray a role popularized in the bible, I think it really suits me.

I watched the car in the lane next to me try and speed through a red light (that I stopped at) and subsequently hit a car who was attempting to turn left directly in front of us.

The red light runner hit the passenger side rear bumper of the other car which was in good enough condition to continue on with her left turn and pull over to the side of the road and park.

Normally I wouldn't have stopped and helped, but the car that ran the red light paused for a moment, THEN LEFT. So I, being a fucking genius, followed it, long enough to get the make, model and plate number, and then drove back to the scene of the accident and pulled up behind the car that had been hit.

The driver, who was a 28 year old blonde woman, who unfortunately weighed about 220 lbs, was thrilled I stopped to help, and kept on calling me her guardian angel. That coupled with her crucifix around her neck, her fish logo on her car and her license plate holder that read, "Jesus is Lord" really made me feel good about myself and my decision to stop. She continually expressed how lucky she was to have me there, who was "so positive and upbeat" because otherwise she would be falling apart right now. I told her I got the make of the car and the plate, and that yes, I would wait for the police to arrive. It took about a half an hour before the cop car showed up.

After I gave the cop my info I went to leave the woman leaned over and hugged me and said one more time, "thank god you were here, you're my guardian angel", and I looked her in the eyes and said, "I"m not your guardian angel, I'm just a normal everyday atheist, any other atheist would have done the same thing for you", and walked to my car and left. I felt a lot better after getting that off of my chest. Hail satan.

Well, aside from my daughter turning 10 on Saturday, nothing much happened over the weekend.
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I could go over the highlights of my normal life, but they're disjointed and although meaningful to me, not so impressive in "story" form.
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I reconnected with another friend I haven't seen or heard from since high school, off of MySpace.com of course. All I use that for is finding old friends from high school, and its good that way.
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What I've noticed is that out of the dozen or so fiends I've "found"on myspace, none of them are crazy, evangelical Christians, but ALL of my current, suburban friends ARE that kind of crazy. I wonder if the people I grew up with are just smarter, more confident people. or if its a regionally influenced phenomenon .
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It always comes back to religion with me, I don't know why. Hail satan.

Steve left the party with Dennis around 1:30 AM to go get more beer before the stores all closed. Dennis was 21, Steve (and the rest of us) weren't. On an abandoned stretch of road in Rouge Park, the car he was riding in flipped over, ejected him through the front windshield and then landed on him. The driver left the scene of the accident, walked home and went to bed, unharmed, without calling anyone. Steve's mom called all of our houses the next morning asking if anyone had seen him. Left lying under the car all night, Steve had slowly bled to death. They found him the next morning.
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Jim's car died half way up the freeway exit ramp in the dead of the night. Derek and Jim got out of the car and decided they should move it off of the ramp,. since it was pitch black outside and someone could try and exit the freeway, come up the ramp and get into a horrible accident with the stalled out car just sitting there. Derek pushed from the driver's side and steered the vehicle while Jim pushed from the back. A car did come and exit the freeway. It crushed Jim between the two cars doing 75 miles an hour and never hit the breaks. Jim died from his injuries. Derek survived, but he's never been the same since.
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Joe was shot in the stomach by someone settling a debt.
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John was killed with a claw hammer to the back of the head, and then robbed.
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Scotty rented out a room in his house to someone through an ad in the paper. He came home from work one day to find this room mate's friend's partying in his living room without the room mate even being home. When Scott asked them to leave, one of the partiers stabbed him 27-times with one of his own kitchen knifes. It was a closed casket funeral.
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Kevin committed suicide by shotgun.
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Denise hung herself.
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Mark was found by his little boy at home, with the TV on but the lights off, he had overdosed on booze and pills.
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Chrissy dated my buddy who lived across the street from me all during high school. After graduation they broke up and she ended up marrying some guy 10 years older then her that none of us knew. They recently had some money problems. They both lost their jobs. They were evicted from their house. The solution was apparently obvious only to her husband. He drove them to Hines Park, parked the car, shot her in the head and then shot himself...a murder suicide.
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I just found out about Chrissy today. All of the others have happened over the years. These were all my friends. Good friends. All from my old neighborhood.
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Yesterday I thought I saw Chrissy on the freeway in the car next to me. I hadn't seen her in a while and I tried to get her attention, but couldn't, and thought I'd just email her when I got home and ask if it was her. Apparently It wasn't.

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I still know the girl who I lost my virginity to, and no, its not my wife. I met my cherry taker in kindergarten, and she was the first girl I kissed way back when I was 5-years old.
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We went on through grade school together and in 7th grade, we finally became official boyfriend and girlfriend. Her family was as different as could be from mine. Not only were her parents still together, her dad was a cop. Regardless of the fact that he was an asshole, both of her parents liked me, and treated me well. She was a nerd and as conservative as could be. I was a unkempt trouble maker, and the bad-boy that she shouldn't be dating.
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Her and I broker up sometime in junior high, but remained friends. Awhile after I was transferred out of the high school we both attended, we ran into each other, and soon afterwards began dating again. It felt right, comfortable. I felt like I had regained my spot in their family, and I liked that. I didn't have much of a family or a home life, so their acceptance meant a lot to me.
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After high school, she went on to MSU and I got kicked out of my house and went to a local community college, we continued dating. I made the drive up to East Lansing from Detroit as much as I could, at least twice a week, and the following year, I moved up to State also.
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Our relationship was rocky at times, we broke up and got back together a lot. We both fooled around on each other throughout the years, but we always worked it out. We dated all through college. Our senior year I bough her a ring and she said yes.
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After graduation, she took a job for Kimberly Clark in New Milford Connecticut, I took a job back in Detroit. We said it wouldn't change anything between us. We were being stupid.
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When she called me to tell me she had found someone new, and was sending me my ring back, I was crushed beyond words. She had been my one steady thing throughout growing up, and in the fucked up crazy world of my home life, she was the constant, and now she was leaving for good.
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It took months for it to really sink in. I was a wreck. I didn't function very well for a while afterwards. Depression hit me hard and things were falling apart. Eventually, about 9 months later, I began to date again, but no one seemed to work for me, I wanted someone who was just like my ex, and I wasn't finding that.
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Eventually I met the girl who would become my wife. I fell in love with her quickly and after about a month, she was pretty much living with me. Two month's into our romance, I got a call from my ex.
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She was wrong. She realized that she had made a terrible mistake, and she should be with me, we were meant to be together. She was leaving her man, quitting her job, and moving back to Detroit from Connecticut (with no job prospects or place to live) and was going to win me back. I said no. I told her don't. She came anyway.
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The next few months were spent dealing with a stalker. She would sit in her car in front of my house. She would call and hang up when my girlfriend would answer. She had become unhinged.
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Eventually she got a new job, and the stalking slowed down. I got married and she disappeared.
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Years later I would run into her somewhere, and we became friends again. She had found a man and married him. She had two children, she was ok.
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Over the years we have kept in touch, mainly by email, at least once every few months. Her life has been a strained one. She had had affairs and dabbled in having a steady girlfriend on the side. She had always been a very conservative person, straight A's, no messing around, very serious. I was her bad boy, I was her outlet. She had married an accountant, someone who was by every outward appearance, her perfect match, but she needed something different. She has experimented with drugs, with bisexuality and younger men, she still does today all without her husband knowing. She emails me to talk about these things, because no one else would understand, I am still perceived to be associated with her dark side.
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We've never fooled around or anything while I've been married, in fact its never came up. She just vents to me about all of the horrible things she does now in her unsatisfying existence. I feel bad for her. I am writing this because I haven't spoken to her in a while, and I had a feeling today that something bad has happened to her, which may be true; also, I needed a serious blog entry, so why not this.
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In honor of the fact that today a judge approved a $660 million settlement between the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Los Angeles and more than 500 alleged victims of clergy abuse thereby creating the largest payout yet in a nationwide sex abuse scandal I am going to provide you with what could be the most anti-catholic / anti-christian video I have seen so far this year. I think its fucking hilarious, as it is intended to be, but those of you who may still be considering the final resting place of your mortal souls may not want to click play...hail satan.
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I graduated high school 18 years ago. Who gives a fuck? Not very many people apparently, especially not anyone from my “graduating class”. Just to bring everyone up to date very quickly, even though I have explained it before in my old blog, I went to grade school, junior high school and MOST of high school with the same group of people but over Christmas break in 11^th grade I was transferred to a new school in a new city in order to avoid prosecution (I shit you not). What this means is that I graduated with a bunch of people from the suburbs that I didn’t know, and do not attend their high school reunions or associate myself with that school. Whenever my original high school has a reunion though, I apparently attend it, but that opportunity doesn’t present itself that often.

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Take for instance, this year. As I stated, I graduated 18-years ago, which normally wouldn’t be a reunion type of year, but we didn’t have a 15-year reunion, and apparently the prospects of a 20-year reunion didn’t look too hot either so an alternative event has been planned; A “group” reunion. This class reunion will be for anyone who graduated from said school in the 1980’s. Apparently there was so little interested in having ANY reunion from any graduating class from this high school, the safest best was to cast a VERY wide net and see who they could snag.

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The only reason I attend any of these events is because my close friend Bob, who I have been friends with since we were 12, loves these events, and I go with him. I don’t ever actually get invited, since I am not technically a graduate. I admit it’s interesting to see how everyone turned out, but the novelty wears out quickly. In a lot of instances it’s a time to either show off or reignite old grudges; always very classy.

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So this September, Bob is coming in from Los Angeles and we will be attending our 1980’s Class reunion. I will have pictures I’m sure. Maybe I’ll try and get some naked white trash, 36-year old women shots with my camera phone for you guys. I know, H O T.

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I hope everyone is having a good weekend.

I just decided right now that I am going to try and begin a suite of paintings depicting our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ doing normal, everyday things so as to better illustrate that he was not just the omnipotent alpha and omega that sits at the right fucking hand of god in judgement of all of humanity, but that he was also just an ordinary, dirty, stinky fucking man, just you like you stinky fuckers. I think this shows his humilty as well as mine.

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Jesus said, "Whoever finds the world and becomes rich, let him renounce the world".

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I have no fucking clue what thats means, but I'm sure he's indirectly referring to QVC, that's why this first sketch (which will ultimately be turned into a painting, so hold your horses) is entitled, "Jesus Uses the Remote Control in the Kitchen to Change the Channel From The Home Shopping Network to QVC" PLease bear in mind that I just drew this with a golf pencil I found in the junk drawer in the kitchen in under 5 minutes. Call it a revelation. Think of how great it willl look in full oil painted fucking color. Hail satan.

Its Friday the 13th. This probably isn't the best day to be talking about something that, if it was read by the wrong person, would lead to a fight with my wife. Fuck it, hail Satan.

Let me talk about something very intimate. My sex life.

I don't have one right now. I haven't had one THIS YEAR.

I could really, really use a nice vagina to lick for an hour or so. A blowjob would rock also.

At this point whoever else is involved with these two action items happening (aside from myself) is completely up in the air. I know the other person won't be the woman I am married to, she just isn't interested in sex right now, and wasn't while she was pregnant either.

Don't get me wrong, I love jerking off to homemade internet porn, I mean it really is great, but I am a man with a huge oral fetish and I simply cannot lick the pussy on the computer screen with satisfactory results.

Ok, time for a lunch break.
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Sorry it took so long for the words portion of my post. It has been so long that I thought it required an entirely new post instead of inserting new words into a 4 day old post.
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Well, we were "up-north" for a week, and it was fine. My wife and children had a blast and I was ok with the whole thing. I don't normally like the woods, or the out of doors, but I was really happy to see my kids laughing and having fun and I got to hang out with my best pal Eggs everyday (he lives in northern Michigan in the woods), so that was nice.
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We rented a cabin on a lake in northern Michigan and my wife's best friend and her family rented the cabin next to us. They have 2 kids relatively the same age as 2 of our kids, so that worked out great for all the kids.
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Aside from randomly running into my wife's best friend at my house sometimes when I come home for lunch, I really only see these people once a month when 4 couples get together for a monthly dinner party (all the wives know each other and are friends). So once a month, for about 6 hours, we hang out, and its always a decent time...but spending an entire week with them in relatively close quarters (their cabin was about 15 feet from ours) was a completely different story.
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First off, this couple is British. This has no bearing on me, but it does on this little story. The husband is a traveling salesman of sorts for an automotive supplier, and the couple has moved all over the world and lived in Mexico for years before coming to the USA and both of their children were born in Mexico (which technically makes them Mexicans, right?). The wife is a stay at home mom / runway model...I shit you not. She is 6' tall, about 110 lbs and admittedly very attractive. Both have heavy British accents and this week showed off just how British they truly are.
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That thing that brought out the snobby, better then you because you're an ugly American attitude was the 4th of July holiday. Apparently this is a sore spot for the Brits. The husband asked me to explain what exactly the Declaration of Independence was, and when I did, he explained that it was an illegal document that no other nation should have recognized, was treasonous and that all that signed it would have been hanged if the USA would have lost the revolutionary war, which by the way, we only won because the French helped us in an effort to further hurt the British empire. WOW. Um...ok. I couldn't really argue with most of what he said, but so fucking what? This couple with his apparent disdain for our American attempts at creating "quaint villages in order to mimic the towns of Europe" (he stated on more than one occasion how horribly we've failed at this) and the temper tantrums unleashed on unsuspecting shop owners in northern Michigan when they didn't understand such common "English" words as, "iced-lolly" (Popsicles) and "serviette" (napkins) suddenly turned from friendly to unbearable. At one point an angry lecture to a 58 year old female 7-11 cashier included such fun questions as, "I feel like I'm in a third world country where no one speaks English...aren't Americans SUPPOSED to speak English? Do you speak Spanish possibly?" (she didn't).
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This was all too bad, because this woman IS my wife's best friend, and even my wife felt like she had spent WAY TOO MUCH TIME with her, and it had possibly damaged their (up until now) good relationship. In the British lady's defense, she seems to become more snootily"British" when her husband is around and she is pregnant, so her hormones are all whacky. There is no excuse for the husband, turns out he's just a pompous dickweed; who knew?
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Regardless of how much fun we did have up there, we were glad to leave the Brits and the fold out beds behind and travel back to the urban jungle...well...the suburbs.
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Pictures Now...Words Later