To die for

We have all contemplated suicide at some point of our lives. You have all have had wild fantasies about topping yourself. You might have even gotten very close to doing it. At the age of puberty suicide is the second most popular pass time after popping pimples.

I know you have wondered about taking pills or jumping of from your window and I also know you didn’t do it because you saw hope. You figured there is still hope.

Fear and hope are the same thing.

I of course was determined to finish off with my life. My reasons for killing my self might not be the most reasonable. But talk to the hand cause the body is dead. I wasn’t killing my self because I had reasons for doing so, I was killing myself because I had no reason to live. That has to count for something right?

I mean you hear it all the time, on TV and stuff- the guy goes I cant live without you. That’s a pile off bullshit. The truth is the exact opposite. You can live without them, what you cant do is die without them. No one wants to die alone and unloved.

So I guess what I am saying is- people should say- Don’t leave me I cant die without you. Then they should top themselves off Make it easier for everybody- you know, that way everyone’s happy and the person can leave without a guilty conscience.

I made a list ways to kill my self, you know what I am talking about. I am sure you have all made mental lists that look similar, well if you could look at mental lists that is. Mental lists cant be seen, that’s kinda the point of it being mental. Things would be easier if we could get mental printouts. Maybe if I ont kill myself I can invent one of those.

Naaa- no hope for me

Anyway- here is a copy of my mental list.

1- Take pills/ NO (To many chances of surviving)

2- cut wrists/ NO (will probably hurt too much)

3- Hang self/ NO (too clichéd)

4- Shoot self/ NO (too expensive)

5- Stick head in oven/NO (too emo)

6- Jump from a tall building/ NO (afraid of heights)

I guess I wouldn’t mind sticking my head in an oven- it’s the easiest of the lot but I don’t think I am allowed. You have to be a particular kind of depressed to do that. The kind of depressed that only artist can be. You have to be creative like a writer or a singer or a painter or a mime. Well maybe not a mime- but I am all for mimes sticking their heads in ovens. Not a big fan of mimes.

Maybe I should just take pills- that’s a death worthy of me. It’s the kindof death that pretty much summarizes my life. Its nothing fancy really, like hanging yourself. Its very simple and you know unlike the other things there are no scars and things- I don’t want to die looking bad, No scars and stuff, Internal death for my internal pain. That would be quite a metaphorical death. But I doubt people will think about the metaphor of my death.

They will probably think I am a wuss for doing myself in like that- Don’t want that, people have been thinking I am a bit of a wuss all my life. With death I want an image make-over. Kinda like the other extreme of extreme make over.

I want to go out with a bang- so I am just going to face my fears and jump of a building- it can’t be that bad can it

To Fly before I die.

Cops and rubbers

People keeping telling me to live in the moment-

Fuck the moment- its tyrant landlord and it will have you evicted.

You will have a huge mortgage to pay

The biggest problem with living in the moment is, moments don’t last for long so you have to constantly move.

Motion sickness

I hold nothing against prostitutes, literally and figuratively

But Shihara had lost most of her charm along with her virginity.

If God was in the details then she was an atheist. She believed bigger and brighter is better. She look like a rainbow on marijuana.

On one particular night, as Shihara waited for her “consumers”, a police car stopped at her street. The law knew about Shihara, as a matter of fact the law knew Shihara rather well. On this particular night the law wanted to get to know Shihara better.

That is how Shihara got served without protection.

That is the reason Shihara had an abortion at age 18

That is the reason Shihara turned to religion.

Religion is how I met Shihara again.

Highschool sweet TART

The world was Shihara’s oyster, she slept with every guy in high school. One night stands and then she dumped them saying there were other fish in the sea. Shihara fucked every fish in ocean, she liked sea food and she ate like a pregnant pig.

For her I was canned tuna.

I can still remember the first time I kissed her. Unfortunately she doesn’t because she was desperately wasted.

She was beautiful but she never believed it. There was always worried she wasn’t beautiful enough of her figure wasn’t perfect. So to take the weight of her shoulders she put some weight onto her breasts.

She implanted the kind of breasts colonel Sanders would be proud of.

Barbies breasts had less plastic in them

And I began to loose interest with her, I mean people play hard to get- but for 16 years- that’s playing too hard.

In simple terms- Shihara was sLut with a capital L

Eventually after high school Shihara and I went our separate ways. I went into university- I preferred using creativity, working with my mind. She was a practical person, got a job where she could use her hands.

Pimps and parents have the same responsibilities.

Nut this isn’t a story about prostitution- this is the story of what happens when a sLut meets a bi-sexual.

Twinkle twinkle little scar

Shihara was my first love, she is my first love

Shihara and I met in kindergarten where I promptly fell in love with her.

As we were learning our A,B,C’s I was trying to learn her number. I learned the alphabets so I could spell her name and I studied nursery rhymes to recite them to her.

Twinkle twinkle little star

She is the reason I am who I am today- she helped me become a self-made man.

I know what you are thinking- this guy is in Kindergarten- he can’t be in love-

But it is entirely possible- as a matter of fact it happened. We learn about love as a kid and we deal with it in the same way we do as a kid throughout our lives.

If a girl breaks your heart, the child cries and an adult gives you candy to cheer you up. It works the same way for adults, a girl breaks a guy’s heart- he cries and then goes to the strip club to meet candy so he can get cheered up.

Love never really matures-

She never noticed me in kindergarten- I was always just a floating fringe hidden behind a Lego castle.

And then came school, we were in the same school and she made me curious aout where do babies come from. It didn’t have anything to do with me having sudden sexual urges or me thinking of her sexually-

I wanted to know where babies come from so that I could find out where Shihara came from and how I could make more of her.

She wasn’t the most popular girl in school- she wasn’t a cheer-leader or a pompous bitch, she was your average girl next door- then came high school and she changed from girl next door to whore next door.

chapter 12- smokers anonymous

Its rather hard to remain soft.

A wise man once said- "DIE HARD"

Let me rewind a little, explain myself some more...

Last you heard of me I was planning remaining chaste.

"women are over-rated" said the undersexed man

We all tell ourselves we can do it, if we want to- Like that smoker, who always says- I just like to smoke I can quit anytime I want to, if I want.

I CAN QUIT

Women are like that- an addiction,

A slow poison

No matter what you tell yourself, no matter how sure you that can quit- you always keep going back for that last puff.

And then she blows circles around you.

So I tried to quit, i did- I swear I tried. I swear on my life

Swearing on my life probably doesnt count for much- considering my life int going to remain for too long.

You know what hey say-
women, cant live with them- cant live without them.

whats left to do but die----
That was kinda the point of writing this entire turn of events- so you guys know why I killed myself.

but lets rewind a little more-

I still havent told you about Shihara

Chapter 11- mine, yours and ourgasm

The story so far is quite simple, maybe even clichéd

BOY MEETS GIRL

BOY FALLS FOR GIRL

GIRL IS Bi-SEXUAL

GIRL CALLS BOY A PERVERT

BOY’S SHIRT IS COMPLIMENTED UPON BY SOME GUY USING THE URINAL NAMED BOBBY BROWN EVEN THOUGH THAT IS NOT HIS NAME.

MOOSEMAN SITS ON BOY

The classic love story

And every classic love Story has a hero an in this case that hero would be SAM- MY HERO.

But alas Love is fickle, all she did was point and laugh.

Called her friends, threw stuff at me and took video of me on getting beaten up by Moose.

As I was being kicked in the balls by Moose I realized how much Love hurts.

Be it period pains or getting kicked in the balls the parts that give you the most pleasure are the parts that hurt the most. Our reproductive Organs are a metaphor from God, a metaphor for love, it is for this reason we use these organs to make love.

Love gives us most pleasure, gives us most Pain

Your boyfriend is your orgasm, your boyfriend is your period pain.

Without Love without sex there would be no Orgasm and nor would be there Period pain.

Let me tell you how horrible it felt to watching her mock me in my pain. Some would call it throwing salt on my wounds but let me give you a more appropriate example, keeping in mind the whole Knight in Shining armour imagery.

It was like the prince coming to save the Rupunzal and pulling out her hair or worse yet waxing it.

It was like Cinderella getting athlete foot

Sleeping beauty getting date raped

And as I watched her video tape me with my soon to be black eyes- I relasied how futile this existence is-

How Futile Life and love is-

Moose was my messiah

This worldly life wasn’t my cup of tea, I don’t even drink tea- Think of me as Lactose and caffeine intolerant.

There was no spiritual growth in life, this Mobile camera she was using was a way of taking us away from what’s truly important- technology was futile, it stoped me from growing (unless those emails have any truth in them)

This was it- this was a sign- A from God in the form of moose-

NO MORE WOMEN FOR ME

I WILL NOW REMAIN CHASTE-

CHapter 10- Love's workout lost

Let me tell you a little bit about this guy- I am not good with names, Be it Bobby Brown or Michael Jackson and I don’t know this guys name but from the looks of his face he looked like someone who would be called Moose or Buzz, so I am going to stick with the name Moose for convience’s sake.

Moose was strong, Moose had muscle. Moose had so much muscle he had abs on his face.

He looked like the kind of guy who would eat shawazzenger for breakfast and not care to burp; the kind of guy who would floss with Samson’s hair. Simply put he was the kind of guy who would kick my fine ass in a fight. But I doubt you could use the word fight for what happened in the same way I doubt you would use fine to describe my ass.

I am not the strongest guy in the world, even if it’s a small world after all. If my nails grew a little longer I wouldn’t be able to raise a finger- that’s how weak I am. While I might not have had strength I had speed- so I decided to use that to my advantage.

Whoever said the bigger they are the harder they fall was cock-sucking liar. In all reality, the bigger they are the harder they hit.

I was done faster than a teenager on Viagra, down and out even before I made a move.

Everything went silent; I tried to open my eyes- I could see nothing but the entire Student centre could. I was on the floor with moose sitting on my head.

I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breath- not that I wanted to breath I had moose ass on my face.

Quite literal moose in my hair.

Then she came to my rescue, my bisexual knightess in shining armour with matching shoes, earings and purse.

To save me- the dumbass in distress.

Chapter 9- Shirts, strenght, similies and syllables

THANK YOU EVA FOR THE AWSUM ILLUSTRATION/ Cover page

I love the lips

Back to story
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Complimenting clothing is an act that has gone on for centuries. I am pretty sure the first child was conceived after Adam complimented Eve’s leaf. But I do want you to remember that while both me and Bobby Brown had our zippers down we were not going to go the Adam and Eve way.

So here I am- you know I hyped up the whole shirt thing so much and now next chapter I am talking about something else- that pretty lame, so lets just get back to that portion of the story. I will make this brief and to the point.

Descriptively speaking it was a pretty normal shirt. I am not much of a describer anyway, which reminds me- I have never decribed to you what Sam, my angel looks like. Sam is beautiful like a… I cant really think of a simile here, umm--- she was beautiful like a rose with breasts— You know who the hell cares what other thing looks like her- I mean—really its rather stupid…

Its like that guy who told me he felt like a thousand bucks- I don’t get that- Why cant he just say he felt happy, I would definitely understand that better- cause I know what it feels like to be happy but I have no idea what a thousand bucks feels like and I really think it depends on the thousands bucks- espiecielly with the inflation and exchange rate and what not who knows what kind of mood it is in.

So I am just going to say she was beautiful like a beautiful woman.

Back to my shirt- It was red and black and red and black- If I was to use a simile here I would say it was like that skunk that tried to cross the road, even had the smell. (No animals were hurt during the writing of this story).

I walk out the door quite pleased with my shirt. So pleased in fact, that I am lost in its psychedelic colors, so lost in fact that I don’t see where I am going. So not seeing where I am going in fact that walk straight into a wall.

Don’t you hate it when you are lost in your shirt and you think you have walked into a wall but the wall turns out to be a really built-up uberman?

What I hate even more than that is when the guy says

“ME BEAT YOU UP”

Really, that’s what he said. I think the muscles on his face didn’t allow him to use bigger words.

Strength and syllables can’t co-exist.

Chapter 8

I do not know many bisexuals- maybe its because I haven’t seen the world enough. I should get out more often- that or people should get out of their respective closets more often, either ways- I had no way of knowing if what I had just said was deemed offensive by the sexuals of the bi kind.

I was about to find out

“yea, I am bisexual- you must be a pervert? ”

Sigh… her teeth look so great when she says pervert

I opened my mouth but my bladder spoke

“puuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”

Cat got my tongue and my bladder.

I excused my self and ran off to the urinal

I pissed in the bowl and I flushed it- At a time like this a great writer would use the piss going down the drain as some kind of metaphor that I don’t completely understand. But I am no great writer and nor do I know much about life- so when I say this I want you to know that there is absolutely no deep philosophical metaphor intended-

LIFE IS THE PISS.

So I am done taking a leak and I am washing my hands; when who should walk in but Bobby Brown. Now you are thinking who the hell is Bobby Brown? and the truth is I don’t know either- I just gave him that name right now cause I dont really know his name.

I could of course call him anonymous, which would make him out to be some kind of mysterious dude, which he is not. He is rather ordinary really- you would never really notice him, especially in the washroom, you know- his shit probably doesn’t even stink- that’s how ordinary he is.

So if this guy is SO ordinary, why the hell did I dedicate two paragraphs to him. I did it because Bobby Brown set in motion a chain of events that would change the course of this story, maybe even mankind- well maybe not mankind nless you are into the whole Butterfly effect thing- in which case you could say Bobby Brown is responsible for global warming, but I wouldn’t bet on it- after all, his shit probably doesn’t smell.

Let me try and explain what happened- actually I will just tell you what happened, you explain it yourself to yourself, its pretty complicated.

Everything is complicated, even the simple things, especially the simple things.

So Bobby Brown comes to the urinal next to mine and says to me

“nice shirt”

That’s it- That’s all he did- and yet-

WOW

LIFE IS THE SHIT

Chapter Seven

Before we begin a couple of notes

1- This is very important, too many people are thinking the last few posts are based on reality- IT IS NOT- all events and some characters in the story are fictitious- any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely plagiarism or co-incidental.

2- Due to popular demand I am going to start updating the blog faster. So the system I have decided on is this- If there are four comments on a particular post I will start work on the next one, but keep the comments coming- I love em.

And now to our regular scheduled program

There it was-- my angel was a bisexual ( not that I have anything against homosexuality- You go gayfriend) but in this context I wasn’t too pleased.

Bi-sexuals are the only people in the world who aren’t sexist.

I had a decision to make- and my brain was left helpless and confused- so I did what any sane man in my position would do.

I googled it.

Search – bisexual girl - Images

I ogled google.

And then I knew what to do- my decision was clear- you can call it divine intervention or divine erection- they both pointed to the same thing-

The next morning I gathered all my courage, put on my best shirt, my best pants and my only clean pair of boxers.

I was ready-

With determination in my eyes and perspiration on my forehead I walked towards her-

And I saw her- licking a lollipop- I stood there staring at her tongue wrapped around the lollipop- she looked pretty straight to me- but then I saw a wrapper on the floor-

Cherry flavored lollipop- she was definitely bi-sexual

It was now or never

Go on to her- break the ice-

I spoke to my imaginary friend- My brain

- Say something funny

- Something charming

- Be aloof

- Be suave

- Be smart

- Be interesting

I was prepared

“Hey- I am hysum, you must be Bi-sexual”

Crap- This was not the beginning of a beautiful friendship.