Martie: Diary of a crazy person
Emergency, Emergency!
The other night, I found that I was unable to masterbate to crappy resolution free intermanet porn until I cleaned my teeth.
What is with that?
Am I some sort of sick, hygenic freak?
Help me.
***
I was reading my archives from this time last year. I was solidly on the detox path, and still pining for the Ex-Fucker.
I'm not quite detoxing at the moment, but still choosing the healthier eating options. At the moment, I'd have to say my favourite part of my body is my shoulders.
I'm not pining for the Ex-Fucker, but must admit I was EXTREMELY FUCKING DRUNK the other night and actually text him. After all I went through to change my number.
He actually guessed it was me, and I text back telling him I was sorry, it was a drunken mistake, and it wouldn't happen again. Seems like it did the trick.
I'm actually not pining for anyone at the moment. Is this good? Yes, yes I think it is. I'm still having casual sex (albeit with the same person), which has graduated into a 'meal' thing (AS IN EATING A MEAL TOGETHER GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER), but it's not going to go anywhere. Reminds me too much of Jungle Boy.
***
OK, FUCK! It is Jungle Boy. It's a whole sordid story and another post and now I feel embarrassed for admitting it.
Just enjoy your weekend, and join me in congratumalating Desci for the handing of the thesis in today. Hurrah for her. And not about Jungle Boy.
4 comments:
i just stumbled across your site.
i like it.
i like it very much.
continue.
oh snap, you haven't mentioned jungle boy for what seems like ages
mucho looking forward to the post
do hope at least the meal boy is providing good services and perhaps good preparation for a new interest!
ps. word verification was not designed for drunk people
Well, would you 'help you out' if you still had dinner breath?
Thought not.
Martie-man, run away from casual things when they progress to meals. Because then you become friends, and suddenly its too woerd to have sex anymore, and its all ruiend.
Trust me.
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