An interesting tidbit to an otherwise long dead relationship

this seems to happen a lot: i'm cleaning my apartment and i find another long lost relic from a past lover. sometimes it's a hair tie, sometimes it's a blouse, sometimes it's prescription medicine.

this time it's a list.

i dated this gal for a little over a year. it's been some years ago. i'm convinced she was --  at the very least -- a raging narcissist. she had (has?) all the symptoms. the world revolved around her and no one could tell her otherwise. for the first month or so i knew her she was using a fake name. during the time we were together, she asked me to call her several different names and i had a hard time introducing her to people because i didn't know who she was (or wanted to be) at any given time. i basically stuck around 'cuz i was lonely, somewhat desperate for intimacy... and the sex was fucking awesome.

*note to self: even great sex isn't worth putting up with constant lies and deception.

anyway, at one point when i'd had enough, i finally broke it off with her. when she asked why, i told her and then i came home one day to find a list of things she was going to do to make sure our relationship stayed intact. here is that list (click to enlarge):
sounds good. sure.

fucking laughable now.

last i heard she was duping a whole new world of woebegones.

love? ha.

love can fucking bite me.


Even more proof we think with our dicks

as soon as i snapped this pic from the menu, my buddy who was with me says, "jesus fucking christ, what are you, 13 years old?"

i just stared at him.

for an awkwardly long time.

until he said...

"shit, usually costs me at least dinner and drinks!"

To my kinfolk who continue to harass me about my non-belief

(click on this gif)

sit on it and spin.

(i would be nicer about it, but i've lost my patience with you loony bin delusionoids)


My affair with siddhartha

i read herman hesse's siddhartha the summer after 8th grade... right after discovering that reading could actually be an enjoyable experience. i had finished kafka's metamorphosis earlier in the year, and, having loved every second of it (i've probably read that novella over a hundred times now), a teacher mentioned i might like hesse's take on spirituality.

so i gave it a read.

and i loved it.

there are many reasons why, but first and foremost, it was different. it promoted oneness with the universe -- this big, giant, intangibly tangible thing that i couldn't even begin to wrap my thoughts around -- and it taught the virtues of simplicity, of being "good". being alive.

those are virtues that i hold onto today. i've mentioned it several times, but there is no need for an invisible sky daddy (no matter what name one might assign him, or her, or them) to embody this philosophy.

all one needs to do is be aware. be aware of his surroundings. listen. follow the golden rule.

it really is that simple. no need for blowing people up 'cuz they don't agree with you. no need in forcing one's highfalutin beliefs on others by sanctions or force.

no need to stick one's nose into my business.

i treat others the way i want to be treated. is it really too much to ask others to do the same?

(image via skull swap)


Grandma thinks i'm gay

i'm 32 years old and single. very, very, very fucking single.

i have no plans to settle down and have a family.

i haven't dated anyone seriously for more than a few months in over a decade (well, there was that year long stint with bag-o-crazy, but i checked out early and just stayed on board for the incredible sex) and the way things are going now (or, rather, NOT going), i highly doubt there's gonna be anything to give my elders hope for a future where i pass down the family name.

it doesn't really bother me so much, but it sure bothers my grandma, who thinks i'm gay, because i don't have a girlfriend.

of course, she also thinks that running is going to make me die young, that a sandwich cannot be eaten without mayonnaise and that nothing has been good on television since hee-haw was canceled.


'Sgetti tacos

don't laugh. growin' up i ate plenty of potato chip sandwiches... with ketchup. and my dad's specialty outside of frozen pizzas and mac-n-cheese happened to be fried bologna sandwiches.

yes. they were disgusting. but i ate them anyway, 'cuz i didn't wanna hurt my dad's feelings.

at least he tried, and there are plenty of people out there who would probably love to have a father who tried.

thanks, dad! next time you visit i'll make some 'sgetti tacos for ya!

(image via ihmp)

But i don't have any more clean towels!!!

(via hcibs)


I'll take the sock, please!

(via smbc)

I forgot about these

so i'm playin' cards with my grandma and two of my 80-something great aunts and one of 'em doesn't like that i won a big hand so she calls me an "ornery varmint", which cracked me up. then, just like a kid who likes attention in the form of laughter, she continued to call me a varmint for the rest of the session, knowing it would draw cackles galore and she was right, 'cuz every time laughter ensued.

finally, i ask: "what exactly is a varmint?"

"it's a rat!"

"no, it's a rodent"

"i think it means troublemaker"

and then, my grandma leaves the room, comes back in a hurry, and in her hands is something i haven't seen in years:

a fucking dictionary.

and there, together, we all skimmed the dictionary looking for the answer.

an irritating or obnoxious person or animal

sounds about right.


Easter schmeaster

whenever i get depressed about a bunch of crazy folks celebrating the alleged back-from-the-dead resurrection of jeebus, i just think about this picture.

for most logical people with any semblance of reason and/or intelligence, jeebus, sky daddy, allah or whatevs is only as real as the easter bunny and, more importantly, it is essential that we point out the positives where we can.

(image via ihmp)


Baby jeebus

(Click to enlarge)

i think mine would read:

get some!

(via smbc)


Long way home

the weather is turning (for good, i hope), which means it's time to start taking more scenic routes... to enjoy the mobility i have with my own two feet. whether that's running an extra couple miles or simply skipping the bus for an extra saunter through chinatown, i'll be taking more long ways home.

and that reminds me of this kickass outfield gem...



(special thanks to A for the pic; next time i hope you can deliver with the real deal)


Runner watchin'

lately i noticed that whenever i see someone running -- whether a kid chasing a ball, a woman out for an early jog, the mailman to get away from a dog or some chick i'm tryin' to holla at -- whenever i see someone running, period, i stop and watch him. i watch her form. i pay close attention to pronation, hip placement, leg turnover.

it's fascinating to me. people can look beautiful running, or people can look really bad.

but no matter what, i find the act itself to be very, very interesting.

i bet someone feels as passionate about the way people sneeze.

which would prove that i'm not a weirdo.

i think.


Can't teach an old dog new weltanschauungs

i spent a weekend with my elderly grandmother recently. she may be set in her ways and cranky but she always means well and she is a really kind person. that being said, it can't be ignored that she's racist and has no tolerance for anything "new". her circle of friends is similar. small town country folk for life, their worldviews are just a bit skewed against what is typically considered normal (or at least politically correct) these days.

she and i joined four other old ladies for an afternoon of coffee and puzzling (those fucking things are hard to put together by the way) and one of her friends started yapping about that little girl who was molested by a TSA screener. instead of talking about the issue, this old lady said: "i can't believe a good american would do something like that. i could believe it if a muslim arab did that, but not an american."

um... lady, what the fuck?!?!? americans do awful shit every day. rape, murder, molest. what the fuck? since when does nationality make any difference in a person's propensity to do bad shit?

the really scary thing is that everyone else at the table agreed with her and then they talked shit about brown people for a good hour.

THAT, my friends, is pretty much the intelligence level we're working with here in this country. scary shit.

PS, the lady also mentioned that i should look up a christian author she likes who writes christian romance novels. yeah, thanks. i'll make sure i do that after i pull my testicles up and out through my shaft.


A bit of advice

before making what could end up being a very stupid decision... like, flying across the country just to get some easy action with a blast from the past... i would advise one to first, imagine the scenario, second, masturbate to it, then, reevaluate the situation.

if the feeling had after climax is "oh shit, good thing i didn't spend $500 on a plane ticket" then you will thank me.

trust me.

The only fucking easter message you need to read this year...

...by funnyman and logic savant, ricky gervais. read the wsj article here.

thank me later.



Naughty sluts getting busted

while hang my kittyhole and race night both got my attention, at the end of the day there's really nothing quite like naughty sluts getting busted.

bust on, my friends.

bust on.

Stop staring, bitch

was walkin' through logan square the other day and came upon this storefront.

almost hollered at the gal... til i realized she was a mannequin.

still, if i were drunk enough... girl's got a nice figure.


"God" had nothing to do with it

something that really gets my jockstrap tangled around my man-chain is when people do extraordinary things and then give all the fucking credit to the easter bunny santa claus god.

i've spent the last week laid up from running, recovering from the grueling 26.2 miles i covered earlier this month. and let me assure you... i did that 100% shit on my own.

no help from jeebus.

no help from invisible sky daddies.

no help -- other than encouragement from friends/family and fluids from race volunteers -- from any fuckingbody.

the message here?

take pride in your work.

if ya wanna give credit to sky daddy, consider proving that he exists first.

otherwise ya just sound.... er... stupid.


I'll take "awkward things i could see while fucking a chick for $200, alex"


hmm.... to bang or not to bang... that is the --

nah. never turn down an opportunity to get laid, even if it requires a temporary trip onboard the crazytrain.


Now THAT'S some soup i can wrap my taste buds around!

(image via skull swap)

Six of one, half dozen...

1. an object regarded with awe as being the embodiment or habitation of a potent spirit or as having magical potency.

2. any object, idea, etc., eliciting unquestioning reverence, respect, or devotion: to make a fetish of high grades.

3. psychology. any object or nongenital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation.


Needing kara goucher

at least once a week i allow myself to be extremely pissed off that i'm not sleeping with olympic marathoner kara goucher.

a superior bundle of absolute CUTENESS, i melt every time i see her vibrant smile. she's on the cover of runner's world this month and she looks sexy as hell. i had to do a double-take, 'cuz damn!, girl just gave birth to her first child back in september.

i am very impressed.

normally, the elite female marathon body doesn't do it for me in the bonerjamz department. don't get me wrong, i'm a huge fan of deena kastor, paula radcliffe, shalane flannigan & co. but i also need some female curves (think: booty) to get groovin' and the above, as badass as they are, just don't have it.

kara does. at least... a little.

AND she's SO damn cute!

so in lieu of my kara-broken heart, here's an ode to my favorite female runner, in pic form, of course:


A good stormtrooper never sleeps

some things in life just can't be taken for granted*, like having peace and quiet while serving as an imperial stormtrooper.

*other things include but are not limited to: new atheism ad campaigns, baseball and fucking apple pie.


More proof we think with our dicks

read *THIS*. you'll thank me.


Pheidippides' bonerjam


wow. so... yeah, the marathon ain't no joke. i know now why pheidippides just fucking died.

at least we both share the common knowledge of victory...

i knew this girl once... she liked to be spanked, slapped... stuff like that. she enjoyed pain. i never really got that.

until i ran that marathon on sunday. i got my ass kicked by the beating 86 degree sun, the unforgiving hills at the most compromising mile markers. i got the shit beat out of me and i loved every last minute of it.

when i crossed that finish line i had absolutely nothing left. i was dead at the halfway point and i STILL managed to fight through that shit like a fucking champ.

in two and a half weeks i'm running the kentucky derby half marathon (with MY BROTHER IN LAW this time) and two weeks after that i'm hiking my ass up to the woods in wisconsin to run a 50 kilometer race (31 miles). not to mention the 50 MILER in july.

i'm so gonna get fucked.



This is what i'm doing right now

from 7 a.m., til i cross that line shortly after 10 a.m. (i hope)

more to come...


I'm all over this thing...

democrat (for the most part), environmentalist, abortionist, fornicator, gambler, pervert (not the bad kind though, just your normal pervert), idolater (i have a thing for putting albert pujols up on a pedestal), liberal, high falutin (he spelled it wrong), sophisticated swine and sports nut.


but, i gotta agree, "emos" and "loud mouth women" are the worst.



Funny ad nauseum

there are some things that will just always be funny. no matter what. they just are.


for my dad, it's farting. that will always make him laugh. ALWAYS. he will be on his death bed, with all of us kids around, and he'll scoot one and laugh himself to death. i just know it.

but for me it's 'that's what she said'. i have been busting myself up with this one since i discovered the easy trick of innuendo from shakespeare in middle school, and when the office's michael scott brought the phrase back to life it sorta ruined my thunder... but i ain't sweatin' it.

'cuz when i bring it hard it brings me so much joy.

(that's what she said!)


This reminds me of...

... that time a christian delusionoid bombarded me with emails, trying to save my soul after reading one or two Sky God! posts.

he would write and write and write and i'd reply reply reply but he simply didn't listen to anything i was actually saying because he was being "driven" by the "voices" of invisible sky daddies (assuming jesus and "god" are separate? but wait, they're not... but they... nevermind). any other time someone does something crazy because "voices" tell him to do so, we -- as a learned society -- are quite quick to dismiss him as DELUSIONAL.

anyway, his main point for christianity being the be-all and end-all was that without it, there would be no moral structure for the universe. apparently he missed the tens of thousands of years that came before a bunch of old dudes found it was easier to control the masses by writing a propagandist book that didn't make much sense, but was fun cuz it had lots of sexy incest scenes???

but i'll never forget how worried he was... that, in a world without christianity... bestiality would run RAMPANT! he kept talking about bestiality... that without the bible as the true word of god, humans would fornicate with bears and dogs and horses!

seriously? this is what we're up against?

it just goes to prove that if you slam any old nonsense down a delusionoid's throat and attach it to "GOD", then dude will gladly (and blindly) accept, even if it's fucking ludicrous.


Going all in

this weekend is gonna be pretty special for me. not only am i takin' a few days off from the daily grind, but i'm also gonna head down to st. louis, spend some quality time with family and then top it all off by running the st. louis marathon on sunday the 10th.

i've spent the last 18 weeks training diligently, through snow, sleet, ice, hail, bitter cold and fatigue. i've endured shin splints, piriformis syndrome and a wickedly unforgiving thunderstorm boasting 35 mph winds during a 20 mile training run that was intent on making me an i-give-up-pussy.

i NEVER gave up. i ALWAYS gave my best. and in doing so, i've gotten exponentially faster. i'm as fit as i've ever been in my entire life and by golly, from all that core work i actually have a six pack now! (just icing on the cake)

but on sunday morning at 7 a.m., all of that preparation will be behind me. it will be stored... locked and loaded, held deep within me, to propel me forward at 7 minutes a mile for 26.2 miles.

i hope.

and even if i don't reach that lofty time goal (st. louis is quite a hilly course), i will still have plenty to be happy about. i mean, my pops will be there and i'll be traipsing through one of my favorite cities on earth.

but there's no negativity in my game right now.

i'm gonna run the shit outta that race.


My younger universe

if you insert legendary st. louis cardinal shorstop ozzie smith into the above photo, you would have a clear window into my worldview for the first 6 or so years of my life.

star wars.

sesame street.

st. louis cardinals baseball.

that was it. i believed space ships were real, big yellow birds could talk, and ozzie smith could hear my thoughts.

it was during this time that i was also coerced into believing in talking snakes, that all the animals in the world fit into one fucking boat and that some hippie dude named jesus saved a party by turning water into wine.

it's hard to turn around after being indoctrinated, squashed with fear and told that one's natural thoughts and feelings are bad. and that's a big fucking stain on the shirt of logic.

Finally, a jeebus i find interesting

i wouldn't put it past the church of delusionoids out there to try and spice jeebus up a little bit. i mean, that rob bell fella seems to be doing something similar to that.

problem is, you can't just pick and choose what parts of the bible you wanna follow. i mean, using the christian argument that "the bible is the holy word of god" makes it impossible for you to eschew the parts where daddy rapes his daughters and it's cool and all yet embrace the part where jeebus says "turn the other cheek".

no. it's either all, or nothin'.

and since common sense would lead an educated person to conclude it's NOTHIN', i see no harm in introducing cyborg pirate ninja jeebus to the world.

in fact, it might even be fun.

(image via skull swap)


What happens when you take the red pill?


this happens.

New yorker's top annoyances

i would also add donald trump and the new york mets to this list, but they definitely nailed the hipster part.

(image via skull swap)


Understanding sexy time... when young

i discovered my pops' playboy cache when i was about eight. it was like finding the holy grail.

from my earliest memory, i knew i was into chicks. i had a crush on every babysitter and i'd blush when they touched me... cuz i liked it.

but it wasn't until i found daddy's cache of skin shots that i really knew. it was bonerjam city, and i never looked back.

looking at those naked pictures became a somewhat regular habit of mine, for many years. it wasn't until we moved and i couldn't find his new hiding spot that i went without.

and, contrary to what the conservative right says about the naked body, i never thought it dirty. i never thought looking at those playboys was a bad thing. it was a good thing. it enlightened me, really. it made me bow down to the female form, to respect it for all its lusciousness.

some people call that objectifying... i don't. i call it admiration.

there's no reason to shy away from the truth of sex and there's definitely no reason to shield our youth from the realities of life. i'm not saying teach kids how the "plumbing" works as toddlers, but when kids ask questions about their bodies and about how babies are made, i think it's appropriate for us to tell them the truth and explain these things like we would anything else that is inherent to our being.

(image via ihmp)


Finally took a penny

was at the convenience store and bought a banana. indian dude says, "dat will be one dollar one cent, please."

i have a $20 and a $1. that's it. so i panicked... THEN i saw the penny dish there... ya know, the one you put your unwanted pennies in.

i took one. handed it and the $1 bill to the man and walked out.

and as i walked down the cold, broad street, i realized: that was the first time in my entire fucking life that i've taken a penny out of the dish. first time. ever.

i'd put countless pennies in and never taken one out.

now i'm takin' them motherfuckers out every chance i get.


Happy trails

since i'll be tackling at least two trail ultramarathons this season, i decided i better get my ass out to run some trails sometime soon. so a few days ago i went out to the palos hills forest preserves and ran like a wild man through the forest.

it was fucking unbelievably fantastic. i'm not speaking in hyperbole. i'm for real. it was a fucking blast!

running downhills on rocks and roots and grass and mud, as fast as you can go! the trees, the leaves, the wind in your face... i ran across a coyote den -- a mama and two cubs who ran off after seeing me, only to be waiting on the side of the trail at a safe distance upon my return!!!

it was awesome. definitely doing more of that.


Fight the urge

as someone who has had to battle depression on many levels, at many different times in his life, i can honestly say that staying in bed ain't the fucking answer. it only makes things worse.

believe me, i know the feeling of not wanting to do anything or care about anything or be anything... and it's contagious. allow it to seep into your psyche -- just a little bit -- and before long you're sad drunk listening to philip glass, wondering why you even try.


don't let yourself be sucked in by misery.



enjoy. every. day.