Month: March 2014

Live life more

Just got home from home…where I grew up. Got to see my core group of friends from high school, was weird but fun. It put things into perspective for me. Seeing all the people I went to high school with with their families and full-on adulthood. Made me feel pathetic for being so broke and insecure over a failed relationship.

I need to like myself more. I need to really believe that I deserve good things. That I deserve to be loved by someone. I was so surprised when girls think about me – I should expect that.

I drove around my hometown. Past my old house and neighborhood. Went to the Northern tennis courts where I spent all my summers. I deserve love and happiness. I will have all those things. I deserve someone better. I will succeed. I need to live life more.


My Tattoo

I’ve decided to get Alkaline Trio’s heart tattooed on me. Maybe something else too.

Meaghan e-mailed me back. I told her I was down at SXSW and she called me a “fucker” and asked why I didn’t call her. She said she thought I might have been down there and she was walking around there at the same time. So she hasn’t completely forgotten about me. I can still get some emotion out of her – anger.

Why don’t I have someone special? I don’t even miss Meaghan. I just wanted some acknowledgement from her. I don’t know why. Been beating-off a lot lately. Three times a day sometimes. I wish the really warm weather would hurry up and get here.

And the city is still in a deep mourning from Aristea Brady’s departure. Not since the 35W bridge collapse has this city seen such sadness.


The Saddest Day in Minneapolis Ever

Today is a sad day…a sad, sad day for us all. The Twin Cities just got a little less hotter. A lot less hotter, actually. Today, March 8, 2014, is Aristea Brady’s last day on Minneapolis’ local news. She’s leaving for…ah hell, does it really matter where she’s going? All that matters is no more getting a rod during the local news for me.

I shall now enter the seven stages of grieving. You can check out the Aristea compilation below and then let me know how your grieving is coming along. Fuck, and I gave up alcohol for Lent. How am I supposed to get through this without my trusty booze?

Whore Du Jour

The party before my penance begins on Ash Wednesday. This past Sunday, I got laid twice in one day by two separate girls. First time ever. I had to pay $200.00 for the first one, but whatever.

I called “Bree” off Backpage. An older woman. I was curious. She lived in Northeast in a dumpy apartment. She looked about mid-40’s. Red, unshaved muff. It was kind of gross. We didn’t do it very long. I came, but the orgasm wasn’t that great. She wiped off my cock and poured talcum powder on it.

Later that night, I met this girl, Nicole, at Corner Bar. Tall and young – 24. We were both pretty drunk. Went back to her place in St. Louis Park. I can’t remember much about the sex except that I was drunk and couldn’t cum. At least I stayed hard for a bit. She sucked my cock for a long time. Wish I could’ve cum in her mouth. In the morning, we started making out. I started to finger her. I was curious so I stuck my middle finger up her ass. I’ve never done that before to any girl. I was pretty far up there. Felt kinda cool. It was an o.k. time.

We slept in and went to brunch at Bar Abilene. We exchanged phone numbers. I don’t know if we’ll see each other again, but I would love to fuck her sober. She had pierced nipples. And Bree the escort told me I’m “huge.” Three girls have told me I have a huge cock. I always thought I was just average size.

But the downside to Sunday was being hungover all day yesterday. Didn’t do crap all day but lie on the couch. I should’ve worked out or played guitar or written. But there’s something cool about meeting a girl and then her bouncing up and down on my cock a mere four hours later.


Lent begins this coming Wednesday, and I’m giving up sex and alcohol for 40-days. Yep, no fucking or boozing for 40-days. I thought about giving up masturbating too, but c’mon, who we kidding, right? I’m likely going to toss one off as soon as I finish writing this, courtesy of Aristea Brady. Spank you, Aristea, spank you very much.

Aristea’s reaction to my 40-day sex embargo: