Impossible, Yet Sexy, Party Tricks

Among a mature crowd, attention is gained through party tricks that incite the rampant imaginations of peers. (Keep in mind, this is a mature crowd, but by no means a classy selection of people.)

A trick we are all familiar with is when one takes a cherry from their midori sour and ties the stem in a knot using only their tongue and teeth. This trick inspires the party to imagine that the performer is a very bored person with ample amounts of time to learn mundane tricks, and will likely be grateful for any company.

A party I attended had the appropriate ingredients for party tricks to break out at any moment: men with beer and women in want of beer.

The scene featured my friend, Cameron, sitting beside me with a bottle of beer tucked between his thighs. His girlfriend appeared to him, drawn forth by the call of weak alcohol. An idea was all at once conceived between expressions of the eye, and she knelt on the floor with the intention of drinking the beer from the lewd location in which it was placed.

Tipping the bottle for a drink would require adjusting the bottle into a flaccid, and thus less alluring, position. A moment's hesitation revealed that there was some confusion as to how to do this in a sexy manner. With entirely diplomatic and helpful motives (do not question me) I suggested, "You should put your lips over the mouth of the bottle and suck hard enough to lift the liquid."

No sooner suggested than it was done. The dame placed her mouth over the bottle, and her cheeks hollowed. The party stilled and everyone watched in intrigue at her earnest attempts.

Unsurprisingly, the suction of her mouth was unable to conquer Earth's gravitational pull on the beer and she was unable to imbibe the beverage.

Cameron admitted that had she been able to, it may have been more of a terrifying display than an alluring performance. He hypothesized that had her suction pressure been so immense, felatio could very well be an excruciating act administered by the most terrible vacuum/plunger to exist. His semen might have been extracted immediately with one soul crushing suck.

Of course there are multiple horrifying alternatives to imagine. Currently the internet provides few helpful sources for what will happen to a delicate appendage such as a penis in a vacuum chamber.

With my current knowledge I could predict a reasonable amount of expansion and my influence from low budget action movies lead me to imagine the penis promptly expanding and exploding. Of course it is important to remember that the boiling point of liquids lowers in tandem with pressure so that in this vacuum the blood that once filled this unfortunate appendage will immediately be converted into a red steamy mist most suitable for this level of carnage.

The best case scenario is played out in this video featuring a man formed from marshmallows, expanding rapidly within a vacuum. He reaches his maximum girth at which point he pops and deflates. Do not let the content smile drawn on his face deceive you, no person would be smiling in the event of a sexual favor becoming a sadistic act of science.

As you have no doubt realized, this entry is not a sexual examination of party tricks. (I may venture to say it is a scientific analysis of a failed innuendo.) On the offhand chance that this is an extremely titillating party fetish of yours, I leave you with the knowledge that there are many videos of marshmallows in vacuum chambers, and I ask that you use this knowledge for good.

What to Expect When Buying a House

As you enter the market as a first time home buyer, you are likely to face trials and hardships unlike those faced previously in your life. These challenges will be greater, larger, as large as a house in fact. The challenge is the house.

An accurate representation of discovering the house of your dreams. Upon closer inspection you notice the other interested buyers checking the hearth and you resentfully turn your back and leave, muttering under your breath that this house is nothing but a harlot (or perhaps bordello would be more suitable for such metaphor?).



First you will shop for a house and you will find it easier than shopping for a date. You are allowed to be shallow and disregard a house for her manicured lawn, shaggy carpets, outdated piping. You also don't need to wait for a house to be 18 to make a move, which makes the entire process easier as well.

After a long day of searching, you will inevitably discover her, the house of your dreams. She is wide in all the right places and when you roll into the garage it is a perfect fit. Whoever she was with previously had horrible tastes and has adorned the walls with terrible colors, her carpet does not match her drapes.

However, you are certain she'll change for you, you know that you can make this work. You keep a casual air about you, not wanting to seem desperate, but you listen keenly to the details of the house's history.

You leave at a respectable hour and you play hard-to-get for a few days. When the desire is too great, you pounce with the vigor of a wild animal upon your realtor. You passionately declare that you must have her (the house of your dreams) at all costs! Except in truth, you admit, not at ALL costs. You are reasonable, after-all, and you are pretty sure you can ask for a lower price considering the neglected lawn and some general maintenance required.

You sign a disheartening amount of papers that remind you that this isn't all passion and youth, this is a legally binding commitment. With one more gaze upon your house, you know she is worth it and you drive forward, signing your name everywhere and leaving no line unmarked! Then you sign the papers again as the realtor explains you only sign on the lines labeled "buyer".

Suddenly, you have become the hopeless romantic gazing at the house's listing on the internet, waiting for that call. Fear not, the call will come, and you will be informed that you did not get the house. You do not feel the impact of this news right away, until you realize there is no consolation prize, such as the house's less attractive but really sturdy best friend house.

You are left with nothing and you have the unique sensation of knowing how it feels to be rejected by a house. Or perhaps your offer has been rejected by the bank that owns the house, which metaphorically speaking, functions as the house's conservative parents who don't think you are good enough for their little investment.

Both rejections are insulting in different ways. You try to find ways to distract yourself, but you are pestered by reminders from your apartment's leasing office to renew your lease, forcing you to prolong a failing relationship another month while you look for "the one".

My final word on the matter is that there are no sad love songs about houses to console you. Not even in the country genre.

A Small Friend for a Small Man

As a previous entry illustrated, my rabbit developed adult needs and interests. Considering that my rabbit is more of a hermit than I am and never goes anyplace to meet people, it was up to me to find some outlet for my small friend's sexual frustrations.

A friend of my own accompanied me to a retail outlet where we could observe various options for my animal.

"Invest in a penguin" suggested one friend. "There aren't arms and knobs and tails to get in the way, they like that." There was apparently more of a science to this than I anticipated.

I found a penguin chick that was small and fluffy and a very good size for the rabbit. But it was in that young "just hatched" phase and I wasn't sure if my rabbit liked them so young. I like to believe he prefers his toy factory partners to have a little more maturity.

There was an emperor penguin which was a bit larger and had some nice curves, but I doubted my rabbit would be inclined towards the sexual dimorphism patterns of humans. In fact, I liked to believe my rabbit was not a fan of inter-species copulation at all.

The decision was made to find the best stuffed rabbit available. Many options were brought forward. The first stuffed rabbit we came across was a shy looking thing with a modest mousy color. I quickly spotted dust bunnies clinging to the fur that told of a much harder life than the innocent tale her face implied.

Friends brought before me additional options. The next rabbit to face my judgement was a soft creature suitable for nuzzling a small child's cheek, though her position implied she was into more adult activities. She certainly looked like she was in need of a home and some stability, and perhaps my rabbit and her would have gotten along fine. Yet, she seemed like the type to want to whisper sweet nothings and look tenderly into the eyes of one another, with her legs spread eagle. I distinctly recall my rabbit preferred to not make eye contact during the second and a half that he is sexually engaged. He is the "hit it and quit it" type, and it would certainly break this gentle stuffed animal's heart to subject her to such usage.

The last two to be presented to me were a close tie. One was of a similar breed to my rabbit, modestly bowed like a round little pod of rabbit fluff. But ultimately... I made the call where it needed to be made. I decided on the rabbit with the preferable rear. If my rabbit's tastes are anything like mine then he would appreciate the curves of this rabbit, no matter the fact that the stuffed animal is at least twice as large as he. "More to love" lets say.

The prize was thus delivered to my rabbit and my comrades and I retreated to allow him to get to know her in privacy. I couldn't be certain how long it would take for  this rabbit and his new mate to reach that level of the relationship. After all, I have had my rabbit for upwards of two years before he made such inclinations towards my arm.

Some hours later my comrade crossed paths with the little rabbits in courtship and discovered my pet mounting his fuzzy partner in the most vigorous and eager manner. We all came to watch and see for ourselves as well as to cheer him on- he did not stop, possessing no sense of decency or privacy when in such a state.

By now we have long since lost track of how many times the two have sealed their union with fornication, but I have have been concerned from time to time that the rabbit may be so interested in his companion he could forget to eat. If that be the case I should congratulate myself for being such an excellent match-maker.

Legalized/Mandatory Gay Marriage

The marriage of homosexuals has recently become legal in four additional states of America. Washington, Main, Maryland and Minnesota have all passed the bill and though I’m sure there was much support, the ones responding the loudest were the hundreds of citizens labeled ‘homophobes’ on twitter.

Here are the prime examples of the digital generation expressing distaste:

Sir "Stress and Rage" is a modern man of morals and values disheartened by his brother's disgraces.


Mister Omar knows what it is like to be an unappreciated minority. He is a middle-easterner and a straight man in a country where only gay whites are valued.

Poor Shelby found sanctuary in a state that would allow her to marry her first cousin. She is not about to let that be tarnished by homosexuals being wed.

I am concerned now that the public has become misinformed. Due to the sheer volume of resistance and resentment in these messages one can only theorize that this stems from confusion. I worry that these 'defenders of integrity' have fallen under the false impression that homosexual marriage has become mandatory.

The people may have come to understand that in Maine, Maryland, Minnesota and Washington it is not mandatory to be homosexual and to be married to a person of the same sex. I admit, if such a bill had been passed that ordered everyone to pair up with their unfavored gender and express common stereotypes, perhaps I too would be concerned and cautious.

"They might not seem like much one at a time, but in a group, all riled up and hungry? Man you watch your ass."
-Morgan, The Walking Dead, Regarding Gays
(or zombies?)

To be fair, it is difficult to appreciate any sexuality's public displays of affection when social ignorance has lead to a life of celibacy.

 Regardless of the twitter-opinions of these obviously very (un)informed individuals, gay marriage is legal in four additional states this year and there is no sign of a reprieve. As the acceptance of homosexuality continues to gain a foothold in America, these people have limited choices.

They can learn to be tolerant and only hate (be annoyed by) homosexuals that are out of the closet.

Only holding bias against homosexuals that he can identify as homosexuals must have sounded like a far more generous compromise in his mind.

Alternatively, they can fight back by investigating the source of homosexuality that scientists have been seeking for years. The question as to whether it is in our genes or in our upbringing remained a mystery until the young up and coming Sir DrugLane discovered the source of homosexuality.

Whether you identified as homosexual or not your familure to "re-tweet" this post has made you susceptible to homosexuality, inform your partners and have them tested immediately.

With the source of homosexuality discovered, they can now seek the cure. Miss Haley (a.k.a. hugs and kisses²) suggests to cure men from literally "loving your fellow man" by means of excessive violence.

Homophobics of America cut spending in the "logic" department and hoped unemployed mothers would figure out a cure.

These people will likely forget their cause soon and go back to their lives with little more resistance than a sulky countenance. However, with 20% of the "United" States supporting homosexual marriage and 80% of the states yet to be claimed by the gay agenda, there will undoubtedly be many more of these short lived and sour uprisings of the uninformed.

To those concerned about how to these rights may affect your life and marriage simply remember, gay marriage is now legal, not mandatory.

Tolerating the Vegetarian

I have decided to teach my people  to grant more tolerance towards vegetarians. With the New Year around the corner I use this time of the year to gather up spare particles of patience and tolerance that I have not yet bestowed on unfavorable people and I decide which group to give it to.

Last year, I taught my people to be tolerant of girl scouts. This year, I learn to be tolerant of vegetarians.

In the past, vegetarians have been seen as incompetent hunters, poor cooks, unskilled butchers and generally unfortunate people that burden those around them.

It is important to consider, however, similar behaviors in other situations. When a person declines to take part in the consumption of alcohol and donated their share to the participants around them, they are regarded as the party martyr who stands alone in his quest for sobriety so his friends may savor the liquor of Dionysus.

Equally, when one is indulging in pleasures of the flesh, the friend that does not participate and instead gives wide birth for more assertive comrades to flaunt and attract mates, this friend is heralded as a grand ‘wing man’ that generously grants others the spoils of youth and attraction.

Finally, the vegetarian should be regarded in this way. As noble as the sober chauffer and as valiant as the sexless wingman, the vegetarian sacrifices his own enjoyment of life to let you enjoy all of the steaks roasted at your seasonal barbeque festivities.

Admittedly, the vegetarian is still the party pooper that his social relatives are. Just as the sober chauffer chides you for relieving yourself in an intersection from the window of his vehicle, and just as the sexless wingman complains belatedly about his role as the celibate comrade, the vegetarian too will drag on your festivities.

The vegetarian is likely to try to make his role in life look enjoyable and encourage you to convert under the knowledge that misery loves company. He may express this encouragement by bringing salad to your barbeque. Luckily the vegetarian is also weak and can be safely stored in a pantry until the party is ready for his antics again.

You have come to understand by now, that is will be difficult to enjoy the company of the vegetarian, but such affection is unnecessary anyhow. The fact that the vegetarian will not finish off your steak while you are savoring its succulent flavors is reason enough to tolerate the vegetarian.

And now, if I have had any success at all, I have taught my people how to be tolerant of the vegetarian.

Knight Rights

I have been encouraged to read the debates on the civil rights of homosexuals while replacing the word "gays" with my own name. This is to remind that gays are people and the arguments are made on how these people live their lives.

This challenge was meant to be moving and emotional. But as I read the list I could only consider it incredibly fitting and humorous at best.

"Knight should not be allowed to marry."
In the adult world of exclusive clubs that only allow two members (possibly 5 if you are Mormon), Knight is not allowed to participate. I can only visualize wedding limousines driving away with streamers and cans on string, with a sign in the back window that says "No Knights Allowed".

"Knight would not be a good parent."
If you wish to disagree with this, review my journals once more and consider these adventures with a young child clutching my hand. I have no doubt the child I raise would be happy, it is in fact society that would suffer if I spawned and raised a member of the next generation to follow in my footsteps.

"Knight can only raise more Knights."
Procreation is easily confused with spawning and direct cloning, from the government's perspective.

"Knight does not love, it is only lust."
How mysterious and brooding does this make me sound? And I appreciate that the debate made sure to mention that I still have sexual needs, my lack of love does not mean I am off the market, only that I am hard to get. Ladies.

"If Knight can marry, we should just let people marry animals."
I am almost completely certain this debate implies I am a tiger. Watch out, Ladies.

"Knight is what is wrong with this country."
We took a sharp turn from describing Knight as a brooding and mysterious sex tiger to declaring me as the singular flaw that makes this country wrong. Perhaps the compliment is hidden in the fact Knight is apparently very influential to have such impact.

"Knight is what is destroying the Western World."

I'm concerned that Congress is merely attempting to seduce me with such compliments overestimating my power and strength. Congress is writing a check that I cannot cash. How can one read "Knight, Destroyer of Worlds" and picture me bringing a country to its knees when I can barely do the same for my crush? This debate is certainly expecting more than what I can live up to.

"Knight is what destroyed the Roman Empire."
I would at this point declare that the debate has greatly overestimated the limitations of my power, but this could be based loosely on a fact. I am fairly certain I reduced a  Roman city's thriving population to 3 prostitutes and 4 donkeys while editing an article on Wikipedia one evening.

"Being Knight is a choice."
Indubitably the best choice I have ever made.


This is the most fun I have had with politics in a long time. It is wondrous that Mad Lib politics has not yet been created. So I shall consider it my duty to bring you additional articles of interest, with words replaced with more interesting words. However, firstly, I have a Ming Dynasty to destroy in the name of Knight.

Try to understand. It is a lifestyle.

Spontaneous Exercise

As a word of caution, impromptu workouts can happen at any time. This is the excuse I manifested when I found myself in a surprise session of exercise.

I was strolling through a pleasant and attractive museum with vaulted ceilings reminiscent of Villa Dei Papiri of Herculaneum (Italy) when the most attractive of sculptures caught my eye. My jaw hung slacked and I rushed forward to absorb the vision but in my hasty steps I failed to notice the rise of the threshold.

My foot caught the threshold and the foot following caught my heel and I fell in a long swoop towards the floor. I landed with a loud enough smack to gain the attention of those already admiring the statue that had beckoned me forth, worse yet, my companion had noticed my folly.

I did the very first thing I could think of and placed my hands beneath my chest and began to push myself up, then lower myself again, and repeat this in rapid succession.

My comrade cries in shock, "Are you alright?"

I answer as if the voice of alarm was entirely unnecessary, "I'm quite well, thank you."

"What are you doing?" I was demanded.

I reply just as casually the second time, "Push ups" "Why!?" I am interrupted before i can say anything more.

There has to be a reasonable cause for impromptu work-outs? I state, "Why... I saw the stunning vision of this statue and realized that I must begin to tone my body immediately if I wish to resemble such form of a marble deity!"

My comrade helped me to my feet and I cleverly followed up, "Alright, that is enough push ups for now, but I will require a recess later to complete my routine with squats." Obviously my clever ruse could not have raised any distrust in my word. My folly could be seen as nothing other than sincere enthusiasm for exercise.


In fact, on some level it pains me to retell this event to the reader as otherwise there would have likely been no assumption that I was anything less than entirely honest when I excused my misstep.

The Airport Security

My confident gait carried me through an empty air port and down long empty aisles. Aside from security, the only people at the air port were couples that clung to one another tightly in their final farewells before crossing the gates.

I stared at the affectionate couples and felt as though they magnified the loneliness of my own solitary travel. A security agent summoned me forth to move me through security and I motioned to the coupled locked in a tight embrace.

"I see your terminal provides complementary good bye hugs. Where can I receive mine?" I ask. The agent regards me with surprise and I query, "Here? With you?"

She quickly answers, "No." and she moves me along.

The agent beside the security check points declares as though accepting a challenge, "I will hug you." I look upon this agent with surprise. He states, "You weren't expecting someone to call your bluff, were you?"

I promptly dropped my luggage on the belt and spread my arms to accept his hug. Without a moment's hesitation he turned and walked away...

Though I was mildly insulted to be rejected by a security agent, I try not to take it too personally. It is possible that he was aware of my adventure with air port security and a penis in a jar. He could have known his best option was to turn and leave.

I never did receive my goodbye hug, but another security agents awarded me with a hand five when I passed through without setting off a single alarm (a considerable achievement, considering myself).

You Should Know Mister Stalker

There was a woman I once had a fondness for. To express my appreciation I dedicated myself to learning every detail it was possible to learn about her.  Our courting held more likeness to an interview than to a date.

I asked, innocently enough, "What is your favorite song?"

She answered, "You should know Mister Stalker."

I'd never heard of this song but it sounded interesting. It sounded like an ominous warning depending on the inflection and tone. "You Should Know Mister Stalker". I anticipated what the song could be about.

My imagination lead me to believe the song was informing the listener of a fellow known as Mister Stalker. It seemed they advised you should be familiar with his tricks and his intentions. Obviously, Mister Stalker was a very interesting person... but someone to be cautious of.

I searched for the song but there was no word of it existing in English or any other language we conversed in. Finally I returned to this woman and in exasperation I admitted "I never found the song."

She questioned "Which song?"

I answered, "You Should Know Mister Stalker."

At this point she laughs and clarifies for me that she had not given me the name of a song. She was calling me Mister Stalker, and considering my thoroughness in learning about her, she teased that I should already know what her favorite song was.

I learned a valuable lesson that day.

1. I am Mister Stalker.
2. You should know Mister Stalker.

Grand Apology

I've made no claim that I am a socially graceful or amicable person. My company is an acquired taste that requires a substantial tolerance.




My dearest friends belonged to a larger social circle that was well aware of me and mostly held distaste. On this one occasion my friends decided that they could rebuild all the bridges I had burned by encouraging me to issue an apology to every person I had wronged. By their estimations, I would need to apologize to every person that was currently within the adjoining room for festivities.

With hope and good will, my friends moved me into the main room and provided their silent moral support in the form of nods and smiles.

I step forward to the nearest person, a young woman who annoyed me as much as I annoyed her, "Hello, I'm sorry that you never understand my jokes. I'll try to say them slower for you in the future." Her jaw drops and I turn to her loyal friend, "I'm sorry you fail so often. I will do my best to inform you of your mistakes while they can still be reversed, in the future."

I leave them to find the next group of party participants that shared my mutual friends. I found a ring leader, "Hello, I'm sorry you lack the self confidence to do anything alone, but don't worry, I'm sure your friends haven't noticed yet." To the brown noser, "I'm sorry you are such a suck up, but don't be discouraged, no body does it better than you."

I informed the lonely chauvinist, "I'm sorry you're always alone, you have to admit, you do sort of deserve it."
I told the 'edgy' ones "I'm sorry for your bad taste in music and fashion. Avoid being in pictures and you should be fine."

I managed to give possibly 10 personal apologies that fully applied to each person I addressed. But my apologies were making the crowd hostile and their short tempers were nearing their limit. A friend of mine saw fit to intervene and quickly remove me from the room before the sincerity of the apologies could escalate any further.

Outside of the room I was dismissed of the requirement to apologize to the plethora of people I was originally sent to. I may have even been let off the hook for having to apologize ever, the specifics are unclear. As far as I know, the friends of mine that remained in the party placated the many others and issued the remainder of the apologies on my behalf.

The plan to apologize my way into friendship never did succeed, as far as I'm aware, their extended social circle dislikes me as much as ever. But the good-will aspirations of my friends are so adorable, I'll play along with their next crazy plan just the same. Rascals.

Blasphemy

A story as magical as the creation of man deserves nothing less than an artistic portrayal to express what so many gentiles loyally worship.


The one known as "God" promptly got to work, gathered supplies and started creating. He turned on the lights so that he could see what he was doing and called this day of progress Day 1.

Day 2 became the day of the big drink. When making arts and crafts it is important to remain hydrated. Day 3 he drank most of the Ocean and the Earth rock was poking through again, but he considered this progress and said he created this dry land, good job, God.

By Day 4 he realized no one was keeping track of the amount of time that passed because it took him until now to create the Sun and the Moon and stars. So he quickly assembled those as well and got them spinning then informed everyone he'd certainly been working 4 days now. Who are we to think God wouldn't keep reliable records of his work shift?

Day 5 He created animals and of course on Day 6 He created the humans and Day 7 He refused to cease telling all of the angels how awesome they were.

God elaborated on the superior nature of the creatures, "I created them in my image. They look just like me, don't they?"

The Angels reluctantly nodded, keeping to themselves how much the humans looked like primates with mange or Alopecia Areata.

God ran to the kitchen, declaring, "I shall display my art all across the refrigerator so that everybody can see!"

The Angels averted their gaze and held their tongues, but the most beautiful angel of all, Lucifer, was beginning to be very annoyed.

God then announced, "It has been decided, I shall make 6 Billion of these humans and I shall cover the Earth with them! Are they not simply the most amazing creation ever?"

Lucifer then spoke, "God, you are a giant Twat. These humans are a plague."

With rage and fury God stamped his feet and flung his hands. He cried and insisted that this was a horrible and vile lie meant to hurt him and demanded that Lucifer take it back. God, in his infinite wisdom understood that he had not yet invented constructive criticism and being God, everything he made was absolutely perfect and he could not possibly do wrong, so how dare Lucifer question his creation. He expressed to Lucifer his pained disappointment.

God created the burning depths of hell and hurled Lucifer into it's depths. And because God is most certainly not a spoiled child or opinionated or at all unstable, we can wholly agree that our loving father, God, is grand and merciful and Lucifer is the most horrible evil thing that ever existed (despite also being created by God...)

An Almost Ghost

Understandably there are varying degrees of belief when it comes to the paranormal and supernatural. Some believe that ghosts are here to hurt us, others believe that the ghosts are present because we first hurt them. I personally believe that my injuries acquired in almost interactions with ghosts, are entirely caused by myself.

A recent injury to my body and my pride was the result from speaking of a ghost known for searching for her lost child. This apparition is said to be angry and emotional as well as irrational. She lashes out due to the loss of her child, and she is angered by anyone who she perceives has neglected aiding her search for her kin.

The image of her grey rotting skin, matted hair and blood swollen eyes was a stain on my mind no matter how I told myself "Even in the event of ghosts... logically speaking she has no reason to lash out against me."

 
On a quiet morning, I awoke to leave my dwelling place very early, before the sun had risen. I cautiously opened the front door and stared out past the stairs stretching over my door, at the dark landscape. A single street lamp was the only source of light out doors. It was quiet that morning.

I stepped out and began to lock the door after fumbling with my keys. As the door clicked I heard the unmistakeable tap of feet on the path behind me. Afraid to look over my shoulder, I looked upon the door in front of me.

The street lamp was casting my motionless shadow on the door. The brief attempt at comforting myself vanished as the foot steps grew closer and a shadow raised up behind my own, stretching over the height of the door as though a great beast loomed over me.

I quickly attempted to flee the possible assailant and I threw myself forcefully on the door. The locked door did not give way to my tackle and instead bounced me back without remorse. I briefly scratched and beat at the door as I wailed my would be last words.

"Stop! Stop! No!" the rest of my message trailed off in a pained whine.

I fell to my knees, still pressed firmly to the door, and I finally glanced back at the approaching apparition...

My neighbor stands motionless on the stairs previously mentioned to be placed over my door. The light behind him on the path sends a long dark shadow through the slats in the stairs, cloaking my door in the mass of his shadow.

We stare at each other in a long quiet pause, regarding each other in silent recognition. He finally speaks, "A little jumpy this morning."

I grasp my door handle and lift myself to my feet, "It would seem so..." I respond in a dignified tone.

"Perhaps, less coffee." he offers as a remedy to my panic.

I pull my keys free from the lock and clear my throat, "Hopefully so." I answer. We break our gaze and depart, releasing the other to their agenda.

He resumed his day with the mental image of his easily startled neighbor fleeing from a shadow. And I resumed my own day with the triumphant knowledge that I had survived an almost ghost sighting.

The Elusive Primary Message

Women may like to be called pretty, but if they are simply not pretty, one shouldn't be expected to lie to uphold an unspoken social rule... The Elusive Primary Message

There came a moment when a girl entered my life. This chapter was not particularly long lived, primarily because of the difficulty in communication. Whether you know this or not, there is a delicate art to the first message of the day that one suitor sends another and when the influence does not come naturally the message can be difficult to feign.

I sat idly one such morning after an evening courting this woman. To display appreciation and a polite demeanor it was obligatory to send the primary message of the day. Sadly there was so little to discuss with this evening companion it was difficult to create a message.

A dear friend beside me, swollen with glee at the potential of a blooming romance, suggests, "Girls love to be told that they are pretty! Send a message telling her that she is pretty!"

There was a minor complication with this plan, which I expressed, "But she isn't."

It wasn't that she was particularly foul in appearance, or that I placed much value on these superficial standards. But none of this was explained in the long and pregnant silence that lingered between my friend and I as we exchanged glances.

I break the silence as I return my attention to the nagging blank message, elaborating, "I only feel that I should open up with something more believable." 

Careful consideration was given to potential other messages I could send. However, the various truths I could give her lacked the poetry that my friend recommended. Various failed first messages included, "Greetings, I awoke this day with a distant memory of the evening we shared." 
 "Before sleep found me, last night, I thought ceaselessly of your face, and I can confirm without question, that it is indeed a face." and
"I recall vividly most of the events that transpired on our outing last night, due to the happenings having occurred so recently. Regrettably it was not memorable enough to leave a long lasting impression on my recollections and the remedy would likely be a second, more impressive date."

Luckily she was spared all of my various levels of truth. The elusive primary message was never written and the chasm between our communications was never bridged. But I can say, with the utmost certainty, that she  is out there still, hopefully not waiting for a message from me.

Opposites, Logically Speaking

All of the opposites you think you know are probably not opposites at all. Stop mentioning things that have so much in common and stop labeling them as opposites... Opposites, Logically Speaking. 
 

If I were to provide a short list, here, including these words:

• Cat - Dog
• Yes - No
• Boy - Girl
• Up - Down
• Hot - Cold

You would likely recognize these all as opposites. This is a little strange considering the definition of opposite is "A person or thing that is totally different from someone or something else." In this case, why would cat and dog be opposite when they have far more in common than they are different? The same can be said for anything else on this list.

To truly achieve "opposite" you should expand your mind to grasp something entirely unrelated to the subject. Keep this in mind next time you are being asked to provide opposites.

• When you hear Cat, reply with the opposite, "Narcolepsy"
• When you hear Yes, reply with the opposite, "Loquacious"
• When you hear Boy,  reply with the opposite, "Serendipitous"
• When you hear Up, reply with the opposite, "December"
• When you hear Hot, reply with the opposite, "Yesterday"

You will soon realize that by pulling these answers straight from your rear they will have almost nothing in common with one another, making them better examples of "opposites" than the pairs on the first list.


I might be assisting you in aiding the English language to obey it's rules a little more literally... or I might be lying to you. I might just feel the English language isn't yet Chaotic enough and dismantling the soft minds of young people begins with non sequitur style opposites.

I Think You're Lying To Me

You may have intended to be honest... but... I think you're lying to me...

There are many times in my life when there are elaborate debates, compromises or wordy responses that are necessary for the event that has been presented before me. But sometimes, as rare as it may be, I will stare at a situation and the only response I can muster is, "I think you're lying to me."

For example, I was entertaining the company of an obnoxious young woman with poorly treated hair resembling the hair pulled from a shower drain, slicked with grease onto her face. Her looks were unfavorable but her personality was far worse, and she declared "I hate men, they're always hitting on me and trying to get me to marry them." To which I could only respond,

 "I think you're lying to me."

A friend of mine was lamenting that he 'never gets the girl' and when I suggested that he may have better luck if he asked out girls that are available, he responded "Single or available means nothing to me, because girls used to cheat on their boyfriends all the time just to get with me, they wanted me so bad, and I know how to give them what they want." To which I could only respond,

"I think you're lying to me."

A classmate of mine that often battled with her body shape and appearance began excitedly telling me how many pounds she'd lost during that week, "10 pounds on Monday, 5 pounds on Tuesday, 7 pounds on Wednesday, 4 pounds on Thursday, and 5 pounds today. It's really starting to show." To which I could only respond, 

"I think you're lying to me."

It is not always a story that requires context. Sometimes just a simple statement you hear made in your vicinity will garner the same response.

"White makes most people look fat, but I always look good in white."

"I think you're lying to me."

"In this photo, I really look like Beyonce."

"I think you're lying to me."

"Don't worry, you look great in that!"

"I think you're lying to me."

"It's not you, it's me." 

"I think you're lying to me."

"Nah, that's just a cold sore."

"I think you're lying to me."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"I think you're lying to me."

" I'm a professional."

"I think you're lying to me."

"I know you want me."

"I think you're lying to me."

At times the situation doesn't even require a full statement. A simple photograph or image that you come across will do the trick. Observe.

"I think you're lying to me..."

 "..."

 This phrase is so accurately the best response to many situations that might otherwise require you to tenderly remove a glove and strike the being the spawns such annoyances. Prepare yourself to respond to the various questionable statements you'll come across and practice on what is most likely to be the next lie you'll hear...

Air Port Security and A Penis

Air port security is most certainly serious business that should not be questioned, teased, taunted, molested, and certainly not ‘trolled’. Unfortunately by nature I am a creature that ruffles feathers and renders humans around me with a curiosity and confusion that will never be satisfied by the questions I leave behind. 

I pack for destinations abnormally, finding accessories and knick knacks to take president over practical clothing. For a week expedition with my friends, my eclectic collections raised supicion and I my bag was quickly pulled aside for investigation.
 

The candles alarmed the TSA, interestingly enough. The fellow scanning the bag asked me if I had candles and informed me that it triggers an alarm because they can never be certain what the candles are made of. (Note: using explosive material in your candle or otherwise harmful gells could defeat the entire purpose of providing safe fire light in the dark.) The fellow called over an unsuspecting agent to take my bag and carry it away, unaware of what he may learn through his peek into my bag.

“Do you have any sharped or dangerous objects within your bag on which i might hurt myself?” He asks.

“No.” I answer simply. I'm fairly certain I'm only required to warn him of possible physical harm, psychological harm depends on his own frailty of mind.

He opens the bag and carefully folds my clothes to the side, searching for the candles when he came across a glass jar. A glass jar that holds a penis.

There is a silence between us, I’m sure he was expecting me to defensively claim, “It’s not what it looks like!” or immediately explain a perfectly logical explanation for why I had a penis in a jar stowed tenderly in my suit case.

You may wonder as well, you may have a variety of answers that you believe will tell you about who I am.

• Perhaps I am a mourning lover who endured the death of my partner and now carries his preserved penis everywhere I go- or perhaps he is not yet even dead, and this is simply the evidence of a particularly nasty break up. 
• Maybe I am a secret agent, or mafia hitman, or an assassin who is carrying home the trophy of my latest victory to adorn my mantlepiece- or terrify the relatives with. 
• Or possibly I have a dear gay friend who is somewhat of an insatiable gay beast and requires a regular consumption of penises through his anus in order to not unleash his hunger on the public. I alone hold the responsibility of penetrating the beast and sating him.

Regardless of your justifications as to why this is packed in my bag, what is most important is why the airport security agent believes i have this packed in my luggage. The curious mans hand moves to the side as his mind seems to register what he sees in front of him. He touches the bottom of the jar cautiously and slowly turns it over. The penis had been laying belly up in the jar and was now adjusted to be on it’s side exposing it’s obvious phallic identity.

We are still locked in silence, but now locked in a motionless state as well as he stares, unable to break his attention from the grand ‘prize’ within my luggage. An additional agent comes up behind him and reminds him of his duty. He hastily lifts out the candles beside the jar and pass them to the agent and they run the suitcase again. He wordlessly processes the bag and repacks the candles into it and I am soon on my way.

I never looked back over my shoulder but i could feel his eyes on me, staring as curiosity consumed him. I wonder for how long he wondered about what he had come across. I can only imagine if he is on duty the next time I go through that security gate, he will likely request for public safety that my luggage will be checked, and he will likely also request that he wont have to be the one to do it.

How to Make People Think You Aren't Shallow

A Shallow Human's Guide To Being Not Shallow At All:
Making people think you aren't shallow.

Generally, people are shallow creatures that are concerned with the immediately visible traits of a potential interest. Humans fantasize about having a beautiful partner on their arm and when they come across an old lover they can say "I didn't see you there, I apologize I was simply so distracted with my new beautiful lover."

However, humans are also concerned with our own appearance socially. "Shallow" has equated to being less intelligent, because you must be stupid to be captivated with the beauty of a goddess. The notion that being shallow is bad is actually a grand scheme devised by ugly women.

Women insist that they are all unique and special snowflakes. The fact is that the majority of women are "average" and another great portion of women are "unnattractive" and only an elite group are truly beautiful. The lesser women have grouped together and created the law that if you are shallow, you are a dirty dirty boy and women will shun you. The women believe that they are all beautiful in their own way and if you are not interested in them you are simply not deep enough to understand their beauty and so you have commited a serious crime of being shallow.

It is important to make people believe you are not shallow at all, while continuing to date the women of your dreams. Luckily, there are deeper attachments to nearly every shallow feature.

Now that we have that down we can move onto how to address shallow issues in a deeper way.

I only date skinny girls. Instead say:  I prefer athletic girls that take care of their bodies, it is a huge turn on for me when a girl eats right and exorcizes appropriately.
I'm sorry, you're too fat for me. Instead say: No, it's not that you're fat. I find your slothful behavior disgusting, your food portions are repugnant and your body is a consistent reminder of how little you care about your health. I cannot bear to watch you do this to yourself a moment longer, I must go.

I only date girls close to my age. Instead say: I like girls that share my love for particular child hood memories of saturday cartoons we grew up with.
I'm sorry, you're too young for me.  Instead say: You aren't old enough to go to any of my favorite clubs, how are we supposed to bond?
I'm sorry, you're too old for me. Instead say: You find all of my new age pop music offensive when I try to serenade you with meaningful lyrics, how are we supposed to express our love?
I only date blonde haired girls. Instead say: I like girls that have a bright look about them, sunny and friendly, something welcoming and conventional.
I'm sorry, your hair is too dark for me. Instead say: I support a mainstream part of society that values Anglo-saxon heritage and features. It is fine if you don't wish to participate in this culture, but it is an important part of my life symbolized by thick and beautiful blonde hair.

I only date girls with nice boobs. Instead say: I appreciate a girl who does what it takes to keep every part of her body youthful and attractive.
I'm sorry, your boobs are far too saggy for me. Instead say: It seems that you don't consider the long term effects of misusing tools. Your consistent lack of bra wearing to the point of your breasts hanging to your waist is a warning to me that you will fail to commit to caring for other things in your possession.

I only date women with a lot of money. Instead say: Women with career and life plans who budget well and know how to handle their assets are exciting and alluring.
I'm sorry, you are too poor for me. Instead say: You spend irresponsibly and you don't work hard enough to increase your value as a working person, this lack of dedication is an incompatible flaw that will divide us.

I only date women that (don't) follow (Religion). Instead say: How a woman defines her moral rock and lives her life is an important aspect of judging our compatibility.
I'm sorry, you are too religious for me. Instead say: I feel that you do not correspond to logic in the same was that I do and I fear that you will judge me harshly when you feel I am wrong and intend to upset me by telling me your imaginary friend also believes I am wrong.

Hopefully these will be enough to start you off on finding the girl you're interested in dating. Remind yourself, most of the time women are just accusing you of being shallow instead of crediting your ability to value her priorities and personality based on her appearance and how she conducts herself.

Unless you really are a shallow person and you'll reject a person because you like slate gray eyes and the person that loves you has pale blue eyes. In that case, just stay single. But if you're that type of shallow that is looking for someone beautiful to make an old lover jealous, then you should probably hire someone beautiful to pretend to love you and your precocious jealous nature.

~Knight