Ramblings From an Apathetic Adult Baby

From Justin Gawel: Eccentric Dirtbag

Monthly Archives: February 2012

So I Created a Match.com Profile [1/2]

7 Comments Posted by on February 24, 2012

Like many Americans, I am resorting to going to Match.com to meet people.  However, unlike most Americans, I am going to be as honest as possible in the profile so that it accurately reflects me.  This way when Ms. Right sees my bio she’ll know exactly what kind of man candy she’s dipping her sticky fingers into.  This way I’ll never again have to hear the phrase, “That’s it, I can’t do this anymore.  Do you ever do anything besides get drunk, watch Maury, and make videos of your friends skateboarding?” because Ms. Right will already know that that’s basically all I do.

 

This first section of the profile is about appearances and I look disheveled and homely on a daily basis.  I see no reason to stray from the truth here.  As far as stats are concerned, I’m six feet tall, my hair is brown and dandruff infested, and I have ocean blue eyes (that you might just drown in, by the way).  For body type Match.com has several options to choose from, however none of the options listed include ‘apathetically broken’, so I leave this one blank.

 

The second piece of this depressingly truthful puzzle is the Lifestyle section.  Do I smoke cigars or cigarettes?  No, of course not, cigarettes and cigars are too expensive. Although, after a long day, I do like to wind down with a nice bowl of “kitty litter” (that’s heroin that has been cut with catnip for those unfamiliar out there).  That option isn’t listed, so I guess this will just have to be a fun little surprise down the road for Ms. Right!  Alcohol use?  If I had to guesstimate I’d say I use alcohol every night until I fall asleep. This is stupid, that answer isn’t listed either.  I’ll put self-employed since most of my income comes from online poker, so my income fluctuates.  Do I have kids?  How is this just a yes or no question?  If you asked me now I’d say it’s being disputed.  Do I want kids?  Well, that’s just less money to play online poker with, so you tell me, do you think I want less poker money?

 

Let’s keep this crazy train a rolling with the Background/Values portion of this profile.  I believe I filed for moral bankruptcy years ago at the funemployment office, so no; I do not subscribe to any values or religion.  My ethnicity is white, except when I was applying to college and I claimed I was a Native American.  Under the Education part I listed that I hold a Doctorate degree, since I do hold one from a now-defunct online church-scheme-university.   It isn’t deceit if it is technically true, right?  Now it’s asking me what language I speak.  Well, I’ve been filing out this profile thing in English so far, so you tell me what language I speak, Match.com.

 

Ugh, finally, the rigid, bland, and unanswerable part of this inquisition is over.  For now it just wants me to pick out from a list of what I’m interested in.  Lets see, I’d check video games and wine tasting, since I’m sure they meant to write “wine chugging”.  Also I check “hunting”, as in “hunting for pussy”.   I’m totally not into the kind of hunting where you sit out in the woods with a bunch of dudes.  That seems sorta too manly, like two guys masturbating in front of each other to prove how masculine they each are.  Moving on to the section asking me what sports I like and I’m not seeing any fantasy sports, so I just won’t check any in that. Match.com also refuses to recognize fantasy teams as pets.  I would consider my teams my pets, as I treat them better than most pets.  They also don’t have the political party “Free Tacos” that I always write in on every absentee ballot I steal from the mail, so it looks like I’m skipping the Political Views section as well as the Sports section.

 

Oh yes, I know this isn’t the end of the profile wizard, but I’m far too strung out on kitty-litter to continue this profile right.  Set your DV-R’s or tune in next Friday for the thrilling conclusion to my profile that is sure to lead vomiting from several members of the Match.com community!

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The Virginity Chronicles

6 Comments Posted by on February 17, 2012

I set up a site for people to anonymously post stories about how they lost their virginity.  Here are the winners, or losers, it depends on how you look at it.

 

 

Name: Kerri D.

From: Mt. Clemens, MI

Virginity lost at: 16

I lost my virginity, just recently, to my boyfriend Kevin.  More specifically we lost our virginities to each other.  I had read up on it for the last few months in Glamour and was quite eager to try it for myself.  Unfortunately, Glamour had set me up to expect more than just two minutes of sex (almost the entire commercial break, LOL) that felt more like little jabs into my vagina than the passion ecstasy that Glamour and Cosmo had described.   Afterwards, I had to reassure Kevin several times that it was good and then left it at that.  I didn’t want him to cry in front of me for the third time this week!

 

 

Name: Kevin S.

From: Mt. Clemens, MI

Virginity Lost At: 17

Although I had told my friends and teammates I had been with girls before, I actually just recently lost my virginity to my girlfriend Kerri. But oh, I entered the sexual world with a bang. I pleasured her like crazy.  I don’t know for sure, but she probably had like five or six orgasms!  She probably doesn’t even know for sure, she probably lost count of all of them! Like, I’m an athlete; of course I’m going tear it up in the bedroom. I mean, I lasted like a whole ten minutes!  Afterwards she was just lovin’ on me, saying how I had changed her world and that life would never be the same after that.  Kudos to me, Kevin.

 

 

Name Derek M.

From: Colorado Springs, CO

Virginity Lost At: 11

As a kid, my Uncle Marty always took and interest in me.  He didn’t have any kids of his own and had always told me that I was his favorite.  He was always making me laugh by playing tickle monster and when I stayed at his house he would give me all the lollipops I wanted, just as long as I ate them as slow as possible in front of him.  Around my eleventh birthday I stayed over with him when my parents were out of town.  I brought my favorite movies and was ready for an awesome weekend.  Dinner Friday night was great, he ordered pizza, and sodas, and even let a few beers of his.  He was the coolest!   After we watched one of my movies he said he had a surprise for me downstairs.  I walked down and he started giving me a massage.  I was uncomfortable, but I loved my uncle, so I went along with it.  After that I remember feeling sleepy and then not much else.  I woke up on the couch the next day and was embarrassingly sore, so I didn’t tell anyone.  It wasn’t until I was older that I was able to figure out what happened.  I hate you, Uncle Marty.

 

 

Meredith T.

From: Richmond, VA

Virginity Lost At: 45

Well, I was a late bloomer.  In high school or even college I didn’t have any interest in boys, girls, or even learning about sex for that matter.  The friends I did have were constantly going on and on about their sex lives and I just didn’t see the appeal.  After all, I don’t want a guy peeing in me!

Through my twenties and thirties I remained uncomfortable, rarely wearing anything revealing or even speaking to most men.  My friends pressured me into a few dates, but all the guys just seemed like they were obsessed with sex and nothing else!  It wasn’t until around my forty-fifth birthday that I decided I should try it, just once, and see what it was like.  It must be something if everyone is talking about it, right?

There was this single guy that lived in my building at the time.  He seemed about my age, nice-ish, and sorta attractive, I guess.  One day in passing I explained my situation to him and we set a date for the next night.  .  He showed up at my door at seven wearing nothing but a cape and Batman mask.  I was a bit stunned at this, but he claimed it was totally normal.  Everyone wears capes and Batman masks during sex he assured me.  I wonder why my friends had always left out this detail? We start at it and it isn’t so bad.  I’m starting to enjoy myself actually!  He finished and I feel as if I’ve conquered something.  A real coming of age moment (tee hee!).  After looking at me for a second he says to me in the Batman voice, “Gotham is safe for another night.”  Then he twirls around in his cape and retreats back to his apartment at the end of the hall.

Sounds like a normal virginity story, right, guys, right?

 

 

Name: Ethan R.

From: New Boston, IL

Virginity Lost At: 15 (allegedly)

So yeah, I’m at the homecoming dance.  It’s fucking stupid, but the girls like that shit, so whatever.  I’m drunk.  Yeah, fuck it; I’m the drunk sophomore at the high school dance.  I don’t give a fuck.  That’s just how I roll, bitch midgies.

This senior, Jeanie Watts just gets all over me.   Girl must be craving my dick.  Saying all how she wants to please me.  I’m all like, “Eh, join the club, bitch.  I might hit it one day.”  She won’t stop though.  So, yup, looks like I’ve gotta fuck my way outta this one.  I take her to the bathroom and I’m making out and shit with her.  I go, “Spread those lips.  Yeah, that’s right, baby, those lips.”  I get in and start slamming.  She’s lovin’ it.  Ba-da-ba-ba-ba style.  Day one and I’m a fucking pro at fucking.   She’s screaming out, “Oh my God, Ethan!” I tell her God’s not here, but there’s more dick if she’s calling for that.   When she can’t take it anymore I finish all over her.  Like I’m a Dennis Leary in Rescue Me putting out a five-alarm fire.  Yeah, good thing you took pictures before the dance, because that dress is full of stains, stories, and shame now, Jeanie Watts.

She walks back to the dance, if you can consider hobbling walking.  Since I’m already in the bathroom I take a massively runny dump and take another shot.  I walk back out and see Jeanie arguing with her date.  Hey, homecoming dance, I win.

Complaints, Erotic Fiction, Grotesque, Rave , , , , , , , , ,

Restaurant Idea

5 Comments Posted by on February 3, 2012

Scheme: Become rich by serving people a meal so delicious they can’t stop eating it no matter how many tops it gives their muffin or how Rascal-Scooter-confined they become from their obesity.

It worked for McDonalds.  It worked for Kentucky Fried Chicken. And it will work for my restaurant.  The very first Yolk’s On You eatery will be opening soon and will provide all of your favorite foods infused with something no one can resist: yup, you guessed it, fucking egg yolks.

With an egg, the yolk is the tastiest part.  Animals are the exact opposite of wine; a fine wine gets better with age, where as the younger the animal the more mouth-watering it is to eat.  Veal is tastier than beef, baby-back ribs are better than adult-back or child-back ribs, and even baby carrots are better than regular carrots.  Therefore, in referring to logic, an unborn baby bird is one of the youngest things one could eat and thus; it is one of the most delicious.

Everything on The Yolk’s On You menu would have the option of being served with the addition of yolk or a side of yolk.   Burger with yolk, salad drenched in yolk, waffles with yolk in every square, everything tastes better with an adorable unborn bird on it!  Breakfast orders would come swimming in yolk.  They’d be served in a bowl and resemble egg drop soup with bits of bacon and toast floating within it.  Not only that, but they would contain roughly the entire recommended daily caloric intake for the average American.  After eating one you’ll have freed up the rest of your day from eating and can spend real quality time beating your children!

Naturally, half of the menu would just be traditional egg dishes based on yolks.  You know, scrambled yolks, hard-boiled yolks, yolks Benedict, anything. And if any snooty, Californian, Bono-esque customer should even hint at wanting a whites-only omelet or something, let alone order it, they will be called a racist for wanting something “whites only” and be subjected to heckling and harassment from the rest of the restaurant.   Also, for the rest of their meal I will reassign the token African American waiter to their table and make that waiter refer to them as “Master” and follow up everything they say with “Oh, I didn’ know that, you know I’m just a simple minded negro.”  It would make them uncomfortable, improve the morale of the restaurant, and promote yolks, what’s not to like about that plan?

I’ve done the research, to build this business were going to have to start small and build.  I propose either West Virginia or Mississippi as the first location.  Why?  Because they’re consistently the two fattest and unhealthiest states in the country and would have no qualms about their personal health as they suck down a two thousand calorie meal that they ordered with extra butter and then proceeded to smoke half a pack a cigarettes while they waited to be served.  As a bonus for these states, half of the jobs at each restaurant would not require literacy, since half of the jobs at any location would be separating egg yolks from egg whites.

Yes, I know, it’s a genius idea to take a food people love and incorporate it into everything possible.  After The Yolk’s On You is off the ground I’ll start working on developing a bacon themed restaurant and a mayonnaise themed one.  You know, just in case someone wants to become obese, but doesn’t love egg yolks.

Absurd, Fiscally Savvy , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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