Explaination

I feel a little bad. Most of my posts this last year have come from my cell phone. Short posts, kind of like the Twitter of blogging. Twitter, I still don't know what that's all about.

I've fired up my laptop about six times in the last six months. So posting from my phone, full keyboard and all, the posts have been short, to the point.

Life on my end over here is ok. I've been doing nothing much, and much of nothing. More or less trying to keep friends that I have, certainly not making new friends. I mean, it's me, for God's sake. Unless there are willing and able/flexible ladies out there...

It's coming to that time to send the FA $5,000 for the Roth-I-can't-touch-till-I'm-old-IRA. But the thing is, I don't know if I'll get old. I turn 35 this year. I'd like to think, conservatively thinking, that this is the halfway point. Why sock away that much cash that you may or may not even use, or get to use without tax penalties, in the future? Not like I'd just blow $5,000, but to have it locked in for 25 years? 25 years. Wow. I've done it every other year in the past, but now I think I'm, I don't know, more conservative, or more drunk, one or the other, to put money away like that that I can't touch. More than likely more drunk, if that's even possible.

I think the Renter raped me today. Here's how it started...

A friend plowed out my driveway today. I felt obligated to have some beers, at his request, for plowing the snow. What started as a 10:00 outing lasted most of the afternoon. And multiple bars. And multiple beers.  The first bar wasn't open yet so we hit another.  Once 11:00 passed we went to the bar with the nice bathroom, good shitters and all.  After drinking there for free (we offered our other friend's snow shovelling services), we went to yet another bar, and another.  To top it off we went to the Mexican restaurant that the old corner bar manager recently opened.   I drunkenly said "Hi" to her kid, her hubby, ordered the steak tacos and made my way out.  I know them too well, too well to be that tipsy in their establishment.  I think their son looks up to me to a point, I don't know why, well, being sexy and well liked by everyone, but that's not the point.  Sexy, yes, but...

I got home.  The Renter was in the shower.  I went to go lay down in my bed, drunk, tired.  The Renter, she, she, took my pants off and straddled me.  She fondled my nether regions till it grew to it's full eleven inches.  I felt like I was back in sixth grade when Mr., I mean Mrs. Shroeder kept me after class, extra credit and all..  He, I mean she, said I was his, er her, best student.  Extra credit was good, back in the days.  Extra.  Credit.

But today, the Renter, the raper.  Looking back on it now, wasn't that bad.   A little too much work on my part, though.  I admit it, I was on top for a bit, but only by force. Somehow she forced me to put my eleven inch appendage in her multiple, multiple times, but Barney Stinsen like, she left afterwards, left better friends, better conversations (certainly not better sex, I mean rapeage).  I don't blame her.  Good for her.  The raper.  Unfortunately I didn't orgasm, no physical evidence. 

Scene of the crime.  A great 80's "Who Done It."

So this is what happens when i actually pull out the laptop and spend some time on this website.

And it's only ten, I lied.