Join the new world

It's funny, my headline probably has nothing to do with this article. But it's catchy and provocative, and it's a pretty kickass headline. Because who doesn't like optical lovemaking? I know I sure do.

But honestly, I have no idea what this article is about. Really I'm just going to wing it and see where it takes me, because at this point I am fresh out of ideas, an expression which means that I am just recently out of ideas, this has not been a tragedy in the making. I did not see it coming, nor could I have predicted it in anyway. It's sort of like global warming, if my rudimentary biweekly skimming of Al Gore's eHarmony profile qualifies me to make such an analogy.

At this point I'm just letting the wind direct me, in whatever way she sees fit. I like to see the wind as a woman, so I can feel the soft disembodied caress of a woman without having to do all the work. It works wonders. I do the same with my car, just so I can say; "Good weekend? Oh, I filled her gas nozzle real good."

My friends, will look on in confusion, as if they've never heard that mystical netherworld of magic we call lady's parts referred to as "gas nozzle". But then they'll assume that I'm running with a different crowd now, that I'm superior to them, that I've found other friends with much cooler lingo, friends with such a lexicon that they use words and phrases that my less sophisticated soon-to-be exfriends have never even heard of.

And they will be jealous. And it'll hide in their hearts until they're forced to stab me in both eyeballs with fireplace pokers at our friend Dale's little wine and cheese soiree, and they'll drag my body through the house, maybe put some glasses on me so that no one gets suspicious. "Oh, don't mind us, we're just some friends, goofing around. You know, doing friend stuff with other friends. Nothing suspicious about it! We're sophisticated!", they'll say. Oh, it's like I can hear it. Of course, they're lying through their teeth. They are actually the body of the friend they just murdered in cold blood, only because he dared to be brave and "run with other circles", only because he dared to be civilized and fresh and new age-y. They just couldn't handle it and they snapped, and now they drag my body to the ocean, where they will try and deposit me. But the guilt will eat at their hearts like some sort of weird heart termites, and it'll all come crumbling down and they'll slowly go insane.

As for me, that'll be it for my raucous iris fornication. But at least I was doing what I loved.

Where was I? Oh, yes, the gas nozzle. It was a tight fit, but I got it. It was expensive too, so I guess you could say I had a really expensive gas-nozzle filling over the weekend. My colleagues will whisper among themselves, "Was it an expensive call-girl?" "I wonder how much she costed, boy, that guy's got money to burn!" they'll say. And I'll encourage it, of course, because I'm fresh out of ideas, and at this point anything will give me satisfaction, even the cheapest of call-girls.

But of course, I'd never settle for their dirty gas nozzles. If you've never had one of those, kiss the ground you walk upon right now, and pray to the Almighty you never have to.

But speaking of cars and call-girls, I did recently get a rimjob. Yeah, I replaced all my rims on my car, and boy is she lookin' good. Makes me want to just...ugh...you know, do normal car stuff to her. Maybe replace her oil...fill 'er tires real good. You know, human-car interaction stuff. Other activities that cars and humans do. Regularly.

I can hear your laughter through the screen. You're judging me, well don't. You have your own skeletons in your closet, which is pretty messed up, considering there are people on this Earth at this very moment that don't have closet space, and you're wasting it all on tibias, fibias, and femurs. You're a selfish, spoiled, bastard. Maybe that's your skeleton. You're selfish and a hoarder. Oh lord, are you a hoarder? I'm so sorry. Hoarding is a disease, believe me I know it. Oh lord I'm sorry if I offended you. Do you like hoarding skeletons? Can you not resist them? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

I have my obsessions, too. Plastic wrap, sheet music, and of course, electrical outlets. I mean, I don't broadcast them to the world, like you seem to do. I keep them secret, except for now. I guess that's good for me, finally getting out there. I guess getting it out there is good for everyone.

Except if your a sex offender, I guess. Then "getting it out there" is probably how you got arrested on that subway. Oh, good times on that subway.

Good times.

With that happy note, I think it's time for me to go. I don't have any ideas yet, but I think they'll come. I mean I hope so. I'm dreaming. Maybe someone will incept me a good idea. Any takers for incepting me? No?

The offer's open indefinitely. Just make it a good one.