If Love is Aces Give me the Jack

Testing, Testing

2011-04-26T23:14:00.000+10:00

I this thing on?

Amen

2009-12-19T15:20:00.001+11:00

The society of women should be cherished and revered by man

But man must abstain from this behavior whenever possible

Its all the norm

2009-12-19T12:35:00.002+11:00

Some people live their whole lives without going crazy

Such a vapid existence they must have lead.

Are there any real women left?

2009-12-18T20:05:00.002+11:00

The girls don’t smell like women anymore

they smell of candy

lollipops

fruit-tingles

things so sweet your teeth rot just from the sniff

it ain't right

What happened to the smell of a lady

a classy lady

a simple floral base of lily

sandalwood

and musk.

A smell that defines you as a person

puts you ahead of the class

The girls these days smell like they have been unwrapped

straight out of the box and placed on the streets

perfect hair, straight down

usually blond

makeup smeared over their sprayed on tans

designer dresses bought from factory outlets

sunglasses too big for their face

smelling of candy

fake

I want to smell a real woman

Bring me one real woman...

Fill Her Up Thanks

2009-12-02T21:48:00.002+11:00

It’s been a long time people. Life has been a little hectic so I might just ease back into this blogging caper. I will be stopping by to check on you all and to say hi. Till then fuck off.

I ride with the souls of the dead

to work

to the track

to weekends away,

but mainly to work

You lose most of your soul on your way to work you know.

Fills up a bit on the way home, but not enough.

Not enough to cope,

cope with the woman

the kid

the reality TV and it’s reality people

the neighbors

and the price of water.

If you’re not careful you will run empty.

I’ve seen men run empty for days,

weeks,

years

but it soon catches up.

You can tell a man who run’s empty. Spot em a mile off

They look just like you and I, but they are beaten.

They wear ties, drive cars, drink coffee, play sport, read the paper, comb their hair, listen to music, eat food, watch movies, read books and

Fuck.

They do all this and more, but none of these will fill the soul, only one thing can fill a man’s soul.

and that's to dream

No one dreams anymore, they are all beaten

beaten down by the machine, the woman, the job and

life

A city of dead souls going to work, turning around and going home again

day in

day out

Not dreaming

living life

Dead.

I met a bum in the street, I gave him some coin.

He said

“Hey mister, last night, I had one hell of a dream”...........

Memories are made of this

2008-11-26T13:44:00.002+11:00

“Can you take me away from here?”

“I can take you 150 kilometres north”

“That’s far enough”

We sat in the car not saying a word to each other

The silence was loud and unbearable

I could here her thoughts and mine mixing together over the sound of the tyres on the road

It was raining and the wipers were on full, it was really coming down

“Do you want to stop and get a coffee?”

“I have no money”

“I have money”

“Can I have something to eat?”

“You can have something to eat”

We pull into a roadside café and I park next to a big semi with writing on the side;

‘You holler we haul it’

Inside the café Johnny Cash is playing on the stereo, something from one of his last albums, you can tell because he sings with purpose like he does not want to die mid song.

The lady behind the counter is fat and round and stinks of cigarettes and mothballs, black veins run the length of her legs and her name tag says ‘Glenda’

I order two coffees

Black

And a breakfast omelette for my traveller

We sit in a booth with one of them mini jukeboxes on the end of the table, surrounded by crusty condiments

“Can I play a song?”

“Sure”

I give her a dollar and within a minute Roberta Flak’s ‘Tonight I celebrate my love for you’ silks out of the speakers.

Glenda brings us our coffee and breakfast omelette and as she walks away her ass wiggles from side to side and the black veins strain against her skin and verge on popping out her legs; squirting black blood behind her ass has she wiggles away.

“Do you think Glenda has someone to celebrate her love with?” asks my traveller

“I dunno, probably, she has that ass, a man could get lost in that ass for months”

“Do you think that’s all love is, is fucking?”

“Glenda doesn’t look the talking type; she looks like she’s lived a life of actions not words. But no, there’s more to love than fucking”.

“Like what?”

“Like time”

“Like time?”

“Yeah like time, you gotta spend allot of time on this planet and if you wanna spend the most of that time with the one person you gotta like em, don’t you think”

“Like em or love em”

“Whatever”

“Do you have someone to celebrate your love with?”

“Just eat your damn omelette”

“I’m not hungry”

“Then why’d you order it?”

“You were paying”

“Fuck”

“So then traveller does you have someone to celebrate your love with?”

“I did but not now”

“What happened?”

“He would come home at nights drunk and rape and beat me and call me names like ‘filthy cunt’ and ‘worthless whore’ and poor beer on me as he fucked and beat me”.

“Fuck”

“Yep and then I would take a shower and clean the sheets of blood and beer and he would be snoring loud on the couch and then I would put a blanket over him and go to bed.”

“Is that what you’re running away from? Him”

“No not anymore”

“Divorced?”

“I killed him”

“Fuck”

“So mister you wanna eat my breakfast omelette?’

“Sure”

We sat there in silence as I ate the breakfast omelette and Roberta Flak faded away to join in on the silence.

I could feel her staring at me

“I gotta go the toilet”

“Sure”

“Can you come with me? I’m afraid of public toilets”

“Sure”

I put the fork down and followed my traveller into the toilet

She undid her belt and pulled down her panties and squatted an inch from the seat

Her legs were thin and bruised and sexy, her cunt full grown and bushy

Silence was broken by her stream of piss hitting the toilet

She looked up at me watching her piss

And smiled

And Johnny Cash started singing with a purpose……………….

Monday’s Movie Night; A real tear jerker

2008-11-11T09:41:00.000+11:00

“Can you play an instrument?”

“I can play you”

“I’m not an instrument”

“Yes you are, you’re the most easily played instrument around”

“I have no strings”

“You have strings of the heart”

“They are unplayable”

“I play them well”

“You play them well?”

“I play them well”

“Can you teach me?”

“You can learn”

“How?”

“From your mistakes”

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes”

“Then you will learn fast”

“Teach me”

“In time”

“I have time”

“Time for me?”

“Time for you”

“You’re learning fast”

“Wanna fuck?”

“See, you know a string”

“A string of your heart?”

“The strings of you”

“So you wanna fuck”

“Of course I do”

She’s sitting on the couch, naked in a white robe

She lifts her leg and farts

And takes me in her mouth

The music plays

And my heart skips a string...............

The Machine

2008-11-05T13:35:00.002+11:00

A man walked up to me in the street and said

“Hey mister, nice to meet you”

I looked at him

“Is it?”

“Why yes is it, it’s a beautiful day and the sun is out, you are walking and I am walking and I don’t have to work another day in my life”

“Well the sun is a cunt and I’m walking cause my car broke down and I’m lookin down the barrel at another 20 years of 9 to 5”

“You’re leaning too hard on the machine man; you gotta not lean so hard on the machine”

“Too late I’m in the machine, programmed, hardwired;

Wake up

Shower

Masturbate

Eat toast

Drink coffee

Drink water

Pull out the drive

Turn left

Turn right

Stop

Go

Morning

Log on

Hello

Espresso no sugar, strong

You will have that by 3pm

Eat

Shit

Log off

Turn right

Turn left

Bins out

Dinner

Whisky

TV

Fuck

Sleep

“See you’re leaning too hard man, you lean too hard and the machine takes your soul and all you’re left with is a bag a bones and no soul”

“What the hell have you got”

“I’ve got a soul man, I don’t have no car, I don’t have no house, no wife, no kids, no job, no boss, no friends, no food and no cares”

“You’ve got it all man”

“Yep I sure do man, I got it all man, all I need, right here” tapping his chest

“Good for you, you got it all, all you need, good for you, I’ll see ya around, good for you”

“I got it all man”

“Good for you”

“Hey mister”

“Yeah”

“Spare some change?”

A Commissioned Spring

2008-10-20T14:27:00.003+11:00

“Bo I want to go out”

“I’m writing”

“But you’re always writing, I want to go out, it’s nice outside”

“It’s nice inside too, we have music and drink and air-conditioning and what more could you want”

“I want more Bo”

“I can’t give you more”

“Bo what will I do when you die?”

“You will eat, sleep, drink, fuck, dress yourself, walk around and bitch”

“But I need security”

“Then get a dog”

“NO not that kind of security, emotional and financial security”

“OK you win let’s go out”

“But what about security”

“One thing at a time”

“Now you want to go out or what, grab your coat”

Penny always brings a topic round to emotions or financial security but the trick is to put her off the scent by introducing a new topic, a new conversation for the reason that no matter what the topic might be she will always have an opinion and will just be happy to talk, talk and talk.

Women are wonderful at this; they can play for hours and if they start to slow down just start another topic and you can daydream for another hour or so.

“Where are we going Bo?”

“To see Marcel”

“But why Marcel”

“Because you wanted to go out”

Marcel lives on the 18th floor in a commission housing project and is the most remarkable painter I have ever seen.

Out the front of his building Penny and I pass a group of kids hanging around and one of them whistles at Penny and yells “show us your cunt ay”, “yeah show us ya hairy cunt”

“Here we go” I think to myself

And with that Penny is off, running and screaming after the boy

“Come here you little son of a bitch, I’ll kill you, you know, just you wait”

I sit down on the bench and light a cigarette and watch Penny run after the boy

The sun is out and it shines bright down on Penny as she runs, she’s wearing her favorite summer dress but in spring and the flowers are out and it all looks so nice and I take another drag on my cigarette and watch as she catches the boy and sits atop him and starts punching and clawing at his face and the sun is shining and the flowers are out and it’s a lovely spring day.

As I finish my cigarette Penny walks towards me with a big smile on her face and brushes the dirt and grass off her knees and her favorite summer dress in spring.

“See what I did Bo? I got the little prick”

“Yes I did dear and how lovely you looked”

“I got the little prick good didn’t I Bo?”

“You sure did dear”

We get into the lift and I press floor 18

I knock on Marcel’s door

The door pops open and there is Marcel

”Peek-a-boo…… oh it’s you… sorry come in”

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” I said

“I thought it was Lisa” he said

“You play peek-a-boo with Lisa?”

“Just come in and sit down will ya”

The apartment is covered in paintings and empty beer cans and brushes and pizza boxes and mouse traps in all the corners and empty tubes of paint and dead mice

“This place is disgusting” says Penny “when was the last time you cleaned?”

“Cleaned?” said Marcel with a puzzled look on his face

“Come here I want to show you something”

We follow Marcel into his bathroom where he sits on the toilet and perched in front of him is a canvas on an easel and next to that a tray with different colored paints on it and brushes

“See I can paint while I shit, I can sit here all day and paint and shit and Lisa brings me drinks and food and I don’t have to go anywhere, I can just eat, drink, shit and paint, it’s marvellous”

“It’s genius” I say

“It’s disgusting and gross and unhygienic and the most disturbing thing I have ever seen” says Penny, “what does Lisa think of it?”

“She loves it, she gets the house to herself and when she wants to go to the toilet I just stand to the side”

“I’m getting out of here” yells Penny

We all go out into the lounge room and the front door opens and in walks Lisa

“Lisa Oh it’s so awful how do you put up with it? Bringing drinks and food to him in the toilet” says Penny

“Some of his best paintings have been done on the toilet”

“Oh Lisa it’s so awful”

Marcel throws his hands in the air as he walks across to Penny and yells

“We all shit, we are born and then we shit, we shit till we die and then when we die they suck the last bit of shit you have right out of you.”

“I paint to fill in time between shits”

“So that’s what you want to be known for? Painting and shitting” barks Penny

“Precisely, In fact you can do my eulogy, you will read”

Here lies Marcel Zimmerman, he was not a great man but a man non the least, a man who wanted nothing more than to paint and shit and eat and fuck, He was not a great man but a man non the least.

I laughed so hard I tripped on a beer can and landed on my ass, laughing among all the dead mice and the empty pizza boxes.

“What’s so funny you asshole?” yells Penny, “your not going to be remembered for much more, what do you suppose I will say at your funeral?”

Here lies Bo Bo, I wanted more, he could not give me more…………………..

The weather outside is frightful

2008-10-17T13:35:00.000+11:00

Three months ago my wife said to me

“Its ok Bo you don’t need to wear a raincoat, the time has come”

“Ok, if the time has come” I said

Fast forward three months to today

You see that?

On the screen

That’s its leg

That’s it head

And that there

That’s its beating heart

Tonight I will smoke cigars and drink whisky

And be thankful

Thankful that I will get to be a Dad...........

The saddest smile I ever saw

2008-10-13T09:48:00.001+11:00

We would drive down to the ocean as a family each year come May

And we would sit on the pier and drink sarsaparilla and fish off the pier.

Dad would sit in the car and listen to the radio

And we would catch fish and drink sarsaparilla

Mum would bait the hooks and smile and pour the drinks

And we would fish and drink

Dad in the car

Mum on the hooks, smiling

Dad would stick his head out the car window and yell; “Get me a fucking drink woman”

And mum would smile and dad would get his drink

And we would fish and drink sarsaparilla

And mum would smile and bait the hooks

And it was the saddest smile I ever saw....................

Been off sick for a while, so I will get around to you all and see what you have been up to.

Special #13

2008-09-26T13:17:00.004+10:00

At 11:10pm AEST China launched the Shenzhou VII spacecraft from Jiuquan Satellite Launch Centre in northwest China. This mission is supposably all about China completing a 30 minute space walk and testing out a new ‘Made in China’ spacesuit.

Oh and building a Lab…..

A lab

What kind of fucking lab?

You can’t start off talking all about a 30 min space walk and testing out a fucking spacesuit then say as if an after thought… Oh and building a Lab.

What kind of fucking lab you cheeky cunts.

In a national televised event, China’s president Hu Jintao was there along with other senior leaders, one in which was foreign minister spokesman Liu Jianchao.

Now I’m all for space missions and research into future possibilities for humankind but why is it I’m a little nervous about China kicking it with ET.

In an article I read, a few things stood out as being a tad alarming to my ever critical self.

One of the Astronauts Zhai told president Hu “The motherland and the people can rest at ease”

The motherland?

What the fuck, why can they rest at ease?

I want to rest at eases but I can’t with these fuckers flying overhead in their Fudi Auto spaceships, kitted out with Hello Kitty accessories.

They then go on to say that getting comfortable with the art of spacewalking is a crucial step in China’s most immediate extraterrestrial ambition: to build a permanent space lab.

There’s that Lab again

A lab for what?

Answer me you planet polluting mother fuckers

It then goes on again with the space walks

The astronauts have trained together for more than a decade, but the mission is not without its risks, notably the space walk. The process of space walks cannot be simulated completely on the ground.

Oh but building an outer space death lab can?

You’re telling me that these two chopsticks have trained for 10 years and the main thing they’re worried about is a fucking spacewalk.

If that wasn’t enough to get me nervous, then the next two comments from foreign ministry spokesman Liu Jianchao certainly did.

Sly fucker Liu said the mission was part of China’s effort to “explore and make peaceful use of outer space.”

And

“We believe this will further promote our space flight technology and make a contribution to the peaceful use of outer space for all human beings.

Peaceful use

Human beings

The Motherland

A lab

What are you little fuckers up to?

It better not be like the Japanese and their Whale research boats

Or

Project MKULTRA

Whatever these bastards are up too I want to know

I don’t trust them

What do you think?

Oh and have a good weekend all

GO Storm

New Sheets

2008-09-16T11:29:00.001+10:00

Don’t undress my love
you might find a mannequin;
don’t undress the mannequin
you might find
my love.

She walked across the room towards me
Her left breast bigger than the right

I like the right

Her hair long down her back,
black and long down her back

Her cunt smooth and hairless

Another brunette, another bed, another house, new sheets

I lay naked stretched out, hands behind my head as requested

She walks with style, naked, hair long, cunt smooth and with style

Her right breast

With style

I feel vulnerable with this one

Has she found my weakness?

Does she know who I am?

She stops at the end of the bed and looks into my eyes

She looks deep

I feel vulnerable with this one

I can hear my heart, its beating fast

She knows my weakness

She looks deep and smirks, one side of her thin red lips curls up as she looks deep and smirks, hands behind my head

I hear my heart; it’s all I can hear

The room is small

I need to get away

I need to get out

My breath quickens

She knows too much already

We only just met

“You like classical music don’t you Bo”? She whispers

My hair stands to attention and my body stiffens

“Why do you think that”? I stammer

My heart is thumping and I start to sweat

“I know all about you Bo”? She whispers

As she places one knee on the bed

My hands frozen behind my head

Her other knee follows

I can’t move

I can’t think

I feel vulnerable with this one

The beating of my heart is interrupted as Mozart starts playing on her stereo

“You’re favorite” She whispers

I lay there stiff, frozen, hands behind my head, naked

New sheets

She straddles me

Her hair long and black

My hands behind my head

Her face inches away from mine

She whispers

“I know you”

I feel vulnerable with this one....................

Have you seen it? It’s around here somewhere…………

2008-08-21T16:41:00.001+10:00

It’s been about three months solid off the grog and the smokes and the substances I like to throw down and what have I got to show for it?

What?

Healthy liver

Healthy lungs

Healthy bank balance

Healthy promotion

A happy wife and a healthy marriage

But all this at what cost I ask?

I’M FUCKING BORED SHITLESS FOR FUCK SAKE

The bills are being paid on time, the gas bills, the electricity bills, the telephone bills.

I’m a fucking valued customer now. Six months ago I was utility enemy number one.

I now go for nightly walks with the wife and the dog around the neighbourhood streets and smile and make small talk to other dog owners we meet on the way

“Oh what a cute dog” they say

“What’s his name” they say

“Our dog is five” they say

“And his name is George” they say

(FUCK UP AND DIE YOU CUNTING WANKERS)

I smile through gritted teeth trying not to vomit into my mouth and look to my wife to do the talking.

Last weekend I actually spent a whole day looking at linen.

FUCKING LINEN

I know the fucking cotton thread count of every fucking major brand on the fucking market

And that’s not all

I’m using words at work I have never used before like

“In moving forward”

And

“But is it sustainable”

I even used the word synergy in a sentence

It’s got to fucking stop.

I’m loosing my soul

I went to the doctor’s to talk, in talk I mean give me drugs, lots of drugs, drugs to make sure that when in moving forward it’s sustainable and can be achieved in synergy

“Doc I’m going mad” I tell him

“Why is that Bo?”

“I’m writing shopping lists and drinking organic rice milk” I tell him

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I fucking hate rice milk that’s what’s wrong, stay with me Doc”

“Ok and what else”

“I’m not drinking, I’m not smoking and the only woman I’m fucking is my wife”

“That’s a good thing Bo” he says

“Don’t patronise me Doc”

“Ok then why is this not a good thing Bo?”

“I’m a womanising drunk with the sex drive of a rabbit and the now highlight of my week is watching ‘That’s Gold’ on the NRL Footy show and seeing QBE get up $1.40 on the stock market”

“So is this change in lifestyle affecting you” he says

“I wouldn’t be sitting here banging my head against a brick wall with you if it wasn’t now would I Doc”

“So how can I help you Bo?”

“I was hoping you could tell me, seeing how much you’re charging me for this consultation”

“Ok Bo I’m going to prescribe you a course of Valium. Take one in the morning and one at night, this will help you with you’re anxiety”

“First smart thing you’ve said in 20 minutes Doc”

I left that doctors surgery and went next door to the chemist to get my prescription filled

Once I got my prescription filled I went to the next, next door and got six longneck Carlton Draughts from the bottle shop

Whoever put these three businesses next to each other didn’t have the goodness of humankind in mind.

Or they are pure fucking geniuses

I jumped in the car, cracked a longneck and popped three Valium and steered the car to the nearest brothel

I have a soul to get back.

So as you can see fuckers I have been very busy pretending to be someone I’m not and paying the ultimate price of loosing ones soul.

I have not been writing at all and not spending anytime on the internet apart from checking in on my favourite porn sites for some well needed masturbation.

I will be around to all of you soon and spending some time reading and catching up on what you have all been up to. I still need to find out what happened to Fingers and the Brain, two geniuses at work.

I have probably been voted out by the blogging tribal counsel cause of my absence as I know how fucking fragile some of you cunts can be.

Will be around soon

Till then

FUCK OFF

Uno and Ouzo

2008-07-09T13:58:00.002+10:00

I was working in a dirty shit-hole kitchen in St Kilda as an apprentice

A marvellous introduction into the world of commercial cooking

It was a real dump, there was food stains on the roof, green rotten bacon in the drop fridges, mouldy soups that would be mixed together and put up on the specials board

The head chef was a big Greek man who would walk in and say “Who we gonna kill today ah you motherfuckers”?

He always played 80’s music during service and sang at the top of his voice

I was in charge of the cold larder section, cockroach salads and mice terrine

The job was shit and so was the pay

But the wait staff were top notch.

They were all uni students studying art or some subject that would eventually help them get into a leading call centre one day

There was this one girl Josephine who was a ballerina in training and she had the most tremendous posture I had ever seen.

She would glide across the kitchen: back straight, head perfectly angled and an ass like an eleven year old boy and she couldn’t put a move wrong.

Not in my book

I cut my finger nail clean off twice just from looking at that ass glide on by

She was crazy too, she’d sneak up on me from behind and slap me across the back of my head real hard and when I turned around she would grab my ears with both hands and pull me too her and plant a big kiss smack on my lips and say “It’s cold and rainy outside with a slight south westerly” and she would turn on her toes and glide off.

She only worked Friday & Saturday nights and on those nights after work she would come over to my apartment, sit at my kitchen table and play Uno and drink Ouzo.

I’d drink whisky straight up and smoke cheap cigars and let the ash fall on the table

She would shoot her Ouzo down, each time, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and say “That’ll put hair on ya chest, too right it will”

We never had a straight conversation, it was always in statements or riddles or looks or physical

If I said something she didn’t like she would slap me across the face

If I said something that she liked she would grab my balls and wink

It could be something as little as “Would you like a cup of tea”?

SLAP

“How about Ouzo”?

BALLS, WINK

I never offered much tea

She would craft little faces or figures out of my cigar ash on the table using a toothpick, give them names like Frank or Gretel and baptise them with Ouzo washing them away

“Why you gotta do that on my table”? I’d say

“Fuck you they have as much right to go to heaven as you do” she’d say

“Why use the Ouzo? It gets on the floor and I stick to it all week, use the water”

“You’re not gunna get into heaven with that attitude Mr” she’d say and toss a shot of Ouzo at me and then she would deal another hand

She always won at Uno; I was never much a fan I just played it to keep her there. I liked having her around; she wasn’t dull like most other girls

Also, we never once had sex

She said she was saving herself for Mr Right

“I’m saving myself for Mr Right” she’d say

I was not him

Instead we would sit at the kitchen table where we drank and played and smoked and baptised and we would take our pants off and masturbate together too miss matched celebrities

She would rub her clitorises and say “Julia Roberts and Humphrey Bogart” and she would close her eyes and moan

I would work my cock and say “Marilyn Monroe and Jack Nicholson” and she would close her eyes and moan

Sometimes I would say the wrong name and she would open her eyes and slap me

When we came we would yell “UNO” and she would come over to me and lick the cum off my hand and leg and take a shot of Ouzo and say “That’ll put hair on ya chest, too right it will”

I still see her sometimes when I go to the Ballet

Watching her glide across the stage like she did in the kitchen

She did find Mr Right, a local minister out in the suburbs

I hope he likes Uno

PS. Sorry fuckers for not being around too much lately, the fuckers I work for gave me a promotion and now I have to pretend I know what I’m doing at a whole new pay level. Will be around soon
Till then

FUCK OFF

Beef Casserole at a 100 paces

2008-06-23T10:43:00.001+10:00

Another house, another bed, another woman, another bathroom, another way home

I get up and go to the bathroom for a shit; her cooking is taking its revenge

I use her toothbrush and throw up in the toilet, sweat beading on my forehead, I wipe the sweat with my singlet top and it leaves a dirty mark where I wiped

Crazy bitch tried to kill me

I sit on the toilet and the shit streams out like the vomit did, thin and powerful.

I wash my face and hands, brush my teeth and I vomit again

I find the kitchen downstairs and drink from a container of juice and look at her family pictures stuck on the fridge with magnets collected on family trips around Australia

There’s a big pineapple, a big banana, a big lobster, a big worm and a big guitar

There’s a picture of her and her husband and her two kids sitting on a bluestone wall with the ocean behind them, they are all smiling and looking happy and relaxed.

I vomit into the sink

I look for something to wipe my mouth

I look in the cupboards, the draws and the pantry, nothing

I grab one of the finger paintings off the fridge and wipe the vomit from my mouth and put it back with the big pineapple

I take another drink of juice and stare at the finger painting

I have improved it

I go back upstairs and look at her sleeping, her legs are showing out from under the sheets, she has wonderful legs, long and thin and smooth and strong.

They are not legs exclusively for me, I must share them with her husband and with other lovers. I want her legs just for me, around me, smooth and strong and long and thin.

I trace my index finger the length of her leg and she stirs and so does my stomach

I run to the bathroom and vomit

She comes in behind me

“What’s the matter?”

“You tried to kill me you crazy bitch”

“What are you talking about?”

“The food, you poisoned it you crazy bitch, I’m going to die, I can feel death”

“No I didn’t you bastard; you just have a weak stomach”

“Hand me your toothbrush, I’m going to stick it down my throat and get all your poison out”

“What? No way man you have vomit in your mouth, use your fingers”

“I already used it twice already, hand me the damn thing, I gotta get this Death outta me you crazy bitch”

She hands me her toothbrush and I stick it as far down my throat as I can and more of her poison comes out.

I jab it in further and more of her death comes out.

“Crazy bitch I’m dieing, you killed me”

As I kneel down like a dog at the toilet and jam her toothbrush down a third time and really try to force out the death, I loose my bowels and spray shit across the bathroom.

She screams

“Ahhh it’s on my leg, you son-of-a-bitch you shit on my leg, Ahhh”

“Screw your leg I’m dieing, I’m dieing and I shit myself, I can see the headlines now”

WOMANISING BLOGGER FOUND DEAD
IN LEGGY LOVERS BATHROOM
COVERED IN SHIT AND VOMIT,
MURDERED BY BEEF CASSEROLE

“You shit on my mat and my leg and look at the tiles, ahhhh, you son-of-a-bitch, who’s gunna clean this up?”

“Quick get me some finger paintings”

“What?”

“Finger paintings woman, on the fridge, with the big fruit, get em”

She leaves the room

I crawl in the shower, turn on the water and watch the shit and vomit disappear down the drain and wait for death.

I’m still waiting…………

Bad boys get more sex: study

2008-06-18T16:07:00.002+10:00

This is an actual article on the Nine MSN website today.

Bad boys really do get the girls, according to new research.

This week's New Scientist says two studies in the US have found that men with antisocial personality traits are more likely to have a prolific sex life.

The so-called `dark triad' traits include impulsiveness, narcissism, thrill-seeking and deceitfulness, it said.

One of the studies, a survey of 35,000 people in 57 countries, found a clear link between dark triad traits and the reproductive success of males.

"It is universal across cultures for high dark triad scorers to be more active in short-term mating," David Schmitt, of Bradley University in the United States, told the New Scientist.

"They are more likely to try and poach other people's partners for a brief affair."
Another study found that males who scored higher in the dark triad personality traits had a greater number of partners and a desire for short relationships.

No fucking shit you stupid twat. While you’re conducting studies I’m fucking the life out of your wives and girlfriends, fucking their boring day to day life with you right out of them.

I can hear it in their screams, feel it their trembling bodies

NEW RESEACH

You dumb fucks actually went to university and you put you’re higher learning skills to use in a study like this.

What’s next?

New research shows that the longer you live the older you get.

Stupid dumb fucks

In fact I’m going to conduct my own study

New research shows that wives of dumb fuck scientists, whose cunts were fucked so thoroughly and viciously by Bad boy Bo Bo, were unable to go back to their stupid-ass-licking-white-coat-wearing-pen-protector-wankers-of-dumb-fuck-scientist-husbands.

Leaving the dumb fuck scientists to go through the rest of their lives conducting pointless and obvious studies while all around them fucked their brains out

Submitted

Published

A+

Fuck Off

Sex and Whisky

2008-06-16T14:15:00.001+10:00

“You wanna go shoot some hoops”?

“Listen kid I’m twice you’re age and my backs not too good and you’re a nice girl and nice girls shouldn’t be shooting hoops”

“But I wanna shoot some hoops”

“How about you get me a glass of water from the kitchen and jump back in bed here with me”

“You never want to do anything fun old man”

“I’m 28 and you had me up most of the night with the sex and the games and I just don’t wanna shoot hoops right now, its 6am and my backs not to good and will ya just go get me glass a water would ya”

“Ok but will you read to me when I get back”

“Sure no problem I can do that”

You sure do notice a difference with the eleven year age gap

Sure the skin is tight and the ass and the thighs and the cunt but it’s the talking the constant talking that drills into you’re head

It’s not just sex and whisky with these ones

It’s the games and the talking and the texting and the emails and the little presents with the little bows and the tartan pencil case with you’re name written in the heart and it’s the shooting of the hoops

Give me a married woman with three kids and a travelling husband and an ass that forgot to get old

That’s what I want

Sex and whisky

“Here’s your glass of water, will you read to me’?

“Sure no problem I can do that”

Once upon a time there lived this cougar…………………

Organ Donor

2008-06-13T12:28:00.000+10:00

I haven’t had a drink in four weeks

I have whisky nightmares and Vodka dreams

My hands have stopped shaking and my liver is angry

I will put a hinged door for nightly access to my liver

And at night I will put my liver in a glass of whisky on the nightstand

It’s a grand plan

And in years to come my nightstand will have various glasses

My Liver in a glass of whisky

My Teeth in a glass of candy

My intestines in a glass of urine

My tongue in a glass of shit

And my heart in a glass of hate

And we will all be happy

And I will have to oil the hinges to the doors

Two blocks

2008-06-10T15:47:00.000+10:00

I ended a loveless affair with Sandra the barista and have to buy my coffee two blocks further down each morning

We started the loveless affair in the summer and it is now winter

And now I have to buy my coffee two blocks further down

I should have started our loveless affair in winter and then it would be summer and I wouldn’t mind walking two blocks further down to get my coffee each morning

I could look at all the shop windows and all the young girls in summer dresses as I walked the two blocks further down

But its winter and the shop windows are dull and the young girls are dull in their long coats and woollen beanies and red noses

And I have to walk two blocks further down

And it’s all dull

And the coffee is dull

And the shop windows are dull

And the young girls are dull

And I have to walk two blocks further down

My new barista is named Kylie

And it is now winter

And the next coffee shop is a further two blocks down

Next summer I will have to walk four blocks further down each morning to get my coffee

But then I will have the windows and the summer dresses

Confession

2008-05-16T10:27:00.001+10:00

Bless me bloggers for I have sinned, it’s been 15 days since my last post.

What are your sins my son?

Well for the past month I have been on what we call a Bender father blogger. I have been consuming alcohol at an alarming rate and destroying all in my path.

What has happened during this bender my son?

Well father blogger it all started when I went into a bottle shop near close half drunk, chatted up the Asian lady behind the counter, fucked her in the beer fridge next to the Carlton Draught and nearly vomited when I got a whiff of her cunt that smelled like hay.

I called mates and left abusive and incoherent messages on their mobile phones

Not turning up for work

Maxed out a credit card purely on booze

Drunk; smashed a bottle of Vodka in the food court of a shopping centre when I was told there would be a five minute wait on my quarter pounder, then went back to the bottle shop where I bought it from and demanded a replacement. When the attended refused I grabbed him by his collar and threatened to arrange his face in an unpleasant manner.

I walked out with two bottles of Vodka.

Had security grab me at said shopping centre where I smashed another bottle of Vodka over said security guard and legged it out of there before I was left with no bottles of Vodka.

Was an absolute cunt of a person to my wife and nearly ended our marriage. No really I was the FULL CUNT. There are too many stories to tell you father blogger on how I was the full cunt to my wife. So we will leave it at that.

I do this every few years or so

It’s my blow off valve

I’m off the booze for a while now

Wife and I have started marriage counselling and I have started drug & alcohol counselling.

My drug & alcohol counsellor Monique is a foxy little vixen who I intend to fuck.

I’m taking my wife over to New York for a well deserved holiday so I won’t be around blogland for a few weeks

See you all in a few fuckers

Oh and thanks to all whom sent me concerning emails, it’s nice to have people like you around.

And Fingers you old cunt put you’re pants back on, I’m not gay.

Describe your life at the moment in 50 words or less.........

2008-05-01T13:46:00.001+10:00

FUCKED

Frederic Chopin knew how to write spreadsheets

2008-04-24T21:28:00.002+10:00

I worked the whole week

This week

The whole week with the cunts

Tough haul, a long haul

The light at the end of the tunnel had a name

Pinot Noir

What a beautiful name

So elegant, so graceful

So misleading with its end result

I sit here in my office, Frederic Chopin playing his Concerto No.2 through my computer and drinking my eighth glass of Pinot.

My star employee Klara left forty five minutes ago after a fabulous snog and a monotonous hand job

She’s more of a rising star, one to look out for in the next draft pick

My boss called me at 4:30pm today to say she had a deal for me, a deal I couldn’t refuse

I refused

But after a very short conversation detailing reasons why I can’t refuse

I accepted

This brings me to why I’m sitting in my office writing you

I have to come up with spreadsheets that read the data of the data that head office require

Normally head office can suck my finely manicured balls, but seeing as it’s for Captain-I-have-allot-of-information-on-you-that-could-ruin-your-career

I graciously accepted.

So I will sip another sip of my Pinot and type another =sum (A2:Z60) and that will please my powers that be

Why do I do this?

Because I know I will access the internet at work and masturbate to naked women while I am getting paid to write spreadsheets

Question

How the fuck do you write spreadsheets?

I’ll have another drink please!!!!!

Professionalism is a dirty word

2008-04-17T16:49:00.000+10:00

Below is an email sent by this cunt faced nobody to her manager. Her manager happens to be a mate of mine and has forwarded it onto me for a laugh.

Hi Paul,

Please find below details of encounters that I have had with the Manager from our Blah Blah Office:

He is extremely unprofessional, often looking slovenly without his corporate tie.

He is always unshaven, reeks of cheap cologne, smokes excessively, including in the company vehicle.

Eats very greasy stinky food and leaves said wrappers in the car.

He is a terrible driver and has very bad taste in music

He is quite lecherous and makes inappropriate comments in regards to women

He seems to be constantly hungover but in a weird kind of way, but he can be quite amusing.

Kerryn Blah Blah
Business Development Officer
Marketing and Communication
Blah Blah

“I was highly offended at this email sent, I do not wear cheap cologne”.

Cheap Wine and a Four Day Growth

2008-04-16T16:43:00.000+10:00

No show at work for two days

Can’t be fucked, the cunts are giving me the shits to no end

Too much whinging, whining, complaining and bitching

I can only take so much of that environment before I throw my hands in the air at the disgust

Two days off

Four day weekend

Four day growth

Needed

Overdue

CUNTS

All of em

I’m sitting in my swanky apartment on my designer couch typing away at my laptop, Mozart Symphonie No.35 playing at full volume on my stereo, Angel Dark is on my TV getting her ass fucked in What gets you off 2 and I’m about to finish my second bottle of Shiraz

Life is good

No Whinging, whining, complaining and bitching cunts

No shits too no end

Just Mozart and Angle Dark ass fucking with my Shiraz

Life is good

The End

The Night Shift Nurse and The Dead Man’s Cock

2008-04-11T13:23:00.002+10:00

One of my jobs as an apprentice chef was working as a prep chef in a Melbourne hospital

A shit job but the nurses were tremendous fucks

I have never had a terrible fuck off a nurse yet

I was eighteen

Within this hospital was a morgue and one of the night shift nurses I was screwing at the time liked to be fucked from behind while she fondled and stroked a dead mans cock

Some of the dead men were old men, died of natural causes

Some of the dead were young men who had died in car crashes, motorbike crashes, drug overdoses and so forth

Some of the dead men were middle aged, heart attacks and wot not

I just fucked away at her ass while she stroked the dead mans cock

I was usually half drunk on cooking wine and working late shift when she would come into the kitchen and stand in front of me at my work bench

She would pull out one of her tits and show me her little appetiser and wink

“Here’s you’re appetiser chef boy, you hungry”?

I would look over at my head chef who would be in his office watching her serve up her tit appetiser to me with a grin

I’d knowingly raise my eyebrows to my head chef

He would nod his head to the door and mouth the words “get out of here”

I’d grab a bottle of cooking wine on my way out

The hospital halls would be silent and dimly lit

Night shift

We would take the emergency stairway down six flights to the basement to where the morgue was with the dead mans cocks

She would unlock the door with a key she had stolen that afternoon form the main key cabinet upstairs

The smell would hit you like a wall the wall was cold and stale; the wall was cold and sterile

The wall was cold and dead

I’d drink my cooking wine and she’d take me by the hand to the dead mans cock she wished to fondle

She would open the fridge door and slide out her fetish for the night

I would sit on a chair and drink my cooking wine and keep my eyes on her ass while she started fondling the dead mans cock

She’d let me know she was ready with a little moan and hitching up her nurse uniform exposing that ass

I’d drink more cooking wine and make her wait

I liked looking at that ass

It was a fine ass

I’d drink my cooking wine and look at that fine ass and say

“You’ve got issues woman, you need help, how can ya get your juices from stroking a dead mans cock?”

“Just come over here” she’d say

“I need to drink this bottle and look at that ass a little more, you got issues woman”

“Just get over here” she’d say

“Issues I tell ya”

I’d finish my cooking wine and take off my pants, keeping my eyes on that fine ass

As I fucked that fine ass she’d moan and fondle, moan and stroke

Moan and fondle

Moan and stroke

The dead mans cock

I’d cum in that ass and she’d squeeze hell out of the dead mans cock

“Lucky he’s dead” I’d say, “That’d kill a man”

I’d put my pants back on

“You’ve got issues woman, issues I tell ya, but fuck what a fine ass”

I’d leave her there with the dead mans cock

Back up the six flights of stairs and through the silent dimly lit hospital halls

Back up to my kitchen, my workbench and my grinning head chef

Back to chopping vegies

Back to drinking cooking wine

I loved night shift

You could say

To death

The Sunday Roast

2008-04-09T12:53:00.003+10:00

Every Sunday we would go to my grandparent’s house for a roast lunch

The Sunday Roast

Nan & Pop had a big backyard with a hills hoist smack dab in the middle

An Aussie backyard

They had two German Shepard’s Bonnie & Clyde

They had a big silver shed in the back corner of the yard which sat up on a slightly raised part of the block.

I use to sit up on the roof of that silver shed with my slingshot and survey the yard, my land, my Kingdom, my country

Bonnie and Clyde patrolling the perimeter for insurgents

From the castles watch tower I could see all around, 360 degrees.

To the left Mr & Mrs Karrapanos with their nuclear olive trees and mortar tomatoes

To the rear Mr Jackson with his armoured blue ‘wife beater’ singlet and his VB can grenades

To the right were Mr & Mrs Mills and their daughter, my arch enemy, Lisa.

On Sundays Mrs Mills would bake cookies, Anzac cookies, Choc chip cookies and scotch fingers.

The smell infiltrating the air like anthrax

Lisa would be in her yard skipping, skipping her rope of death.

She always wore the same dress on Sundays, her Sunday dress. It was white with little red cherries dotted all over and red ribbon lining around the base, the short sleeves and the little collar. She always had her hair back in a little ponytail and held in place by a little cherry hair tie.

She was the enemy

I would lie on my stomach and shoot nuclear olives at her which I had collected on an earlier mission in Karrapanos country

Lisa would run in crying, crying to her mum who would then be at our front door knocking, knocking for an apology.

My other enemy, my parents would bring Lisa through the house and out the back and into my kingdom, my country.

Bonnie & Clyde rendered helpless against their parent powers

I would be forced to allow her to become apart of the coalition

Her job

Medic

She never wanted to play war; she always wanted to play Doctors and Nurses

Doctors and nurses was for pussies, I was a soldier, a tough man soldier a warrior.

One fateful Sunday afternoon Lisa and I headed out on a mission.

Our mission

To infiltrate Mr Jackson country; wife beater country

We would find a stronghold behind the rusted Datsun 200B and fire our nuclear olives at Mr Jackson while he drove his Victor mower armour plated tank.

Our mission was going to plan with wife beater being hit a number of times to the head, chest and legs

All of a sudden we were spotted, spotted by Jackson wife beater, VB can grenades coming in thick and fast, landing inches away, exploding in spray, covering us.

“Retreat, retreat, enemy upon us”

We retreat over the great wall fence and land safely back in our own country

As I’m standing there checking myself for any injuries, war wounds, a stray VB can grenade comes flying over the great wall fence and I’m hit

HIT

Right in the nuts

I go down

“Man down, man down”

“Medic, I need a Medic”

We take cover in the silver castle and Medic Lisa assesses the damage

Reluctantly on Medic Lisa's orders I remove my shorts

Medic Lisa holds my injured cock and nuts in her tiny hands and tells me this will make it better

As my injured soldier cock got hard Medic Lisa’s eye’s got wide and mouth dropped open. She withdrew her hands in shock and started apologising.

“It’s ok it doesn’t hurt it just does that sometimes” I said

“I haven’t seen my daddy’s do that” She said

“What does yours do” I say

She lifted her cherry dotted dress and pulled down her undies and right there in front of me for the first time I saw it

My first CUNT

It was amazing; I knew right then and there I would be searching this great big world of ours for the rest of my life in search of

The CUNT

From that fateful mission, that fateful wife beater mission, I would stumble upon my life’s mission

My mission for CUNT

Every Sunday we would go to my grandparent’s house for a roast lunch

The Sunday Roast

Nan & Pop had a big backyard with a hills hoist smack dab in the middle

They had a big silver shed in the back corner of the yard which sat up on a slightly raised part of the block.

My new best friend Lisa and I use to play in that big silver Hospital for hours

Doctors and Nurses

Hours

Exploring

Playing War

It’s for PUSSIES

All in a Days Work

2008-04-07T13:27:00.002+10:00

I have been in bed sick all week, not much of a post there.
So I will tell you a little story from the past.

“How much have you got on you man?”

“About a grand man, you?”

“Same man”

“What do you wanna get first man, pussy or drugs?”

“Drugs man, we’ll get our moneys worth with the hooker”

“Good thinking man”

Leigh and I take off in our white Van, an empty speaker van that was full at the start of the day with high end shitty speakers.

We had sold them all that day along, in and around the streets and suburbs of Melbourne

We would pull up to cars at traffic lights, people walking their dogs, mothers putting their groceries, their weekly rations, their 2.3 children into the back of their all the same station wagons.

Our spiel that would slide out our mouths a hundred times a day is we are on our way to deliver the speakers to a club, hotel or restaurant, we have just realised the warehouse has given us an extra set of high end quality speakers and we want to sell them for a bit of party cash on the side before we return to the warehouse that afternoon.

This was our job

This was our lucrative job dealing only in cash

Dealing with dog walkers, dealing with drivers at traffic lights, dealing with all the same station wagon mothers, dealing with all the same station wagon mothers husbands, dealing with Asians, Greeks, Italians, Serbians, Australians, Blacks, Whites, fucking society itself

But with that came

Dealing with the cops, dealing with the people who later realised they’d been had, dealing with the car chases, dealing with the arguments, the fights and on a couple of occasions dealing with the barrel of a gun pointing at you.

The money was good

The feeling was not

I would only last 6 months

“How much have you got on you man?”

“About a grand man, you?”

“Same man”

“What do you wanna get first man, pussy or drugs?”

“Drugs man, we’ll get our moneys worth with the hooker”

“Good thinking man”

Our destination

St Kilda

Pussy and Drugs

St Kilda

We pull up out front of a once beautiful art deco apartment block that is now overflowing with homeless drunks and face scratching drug addicts.

We walk down a dimly lit corridor, lit only by the green exit signs at each end

The wallpaper peeling off and lined with graffiti

‘Muzza waz hear 98’

“I wonder if Muzza is still with us in 04”

The smell of urine fills our nostrils and the sight of a rat scurrying up ahead over piled rubbish fills my mouth with vomit

We come to a door with the number 14 sitting above the peephole; the number 4 is on an angle, held only by one screw

I knock the pre arranged knock

Knock

Knock, Knock

Knock, knock, knock, knock

Knock, Knock

The door is opened as far as the chain will let it

We are greeted by a moving mouth of yellow decaying teeth and the breath of a decomposing corps

We place our orders

Back in the van we cut some fat lines on the dashboard and J Edgar Hoover them up our once urine filled nose’s

Life speeds up

We drive around the streets looking for our pussy, music blearing and smiling in anticipation of our satisfaction, our fulfilment our pleasure to come.

We pull up near a park; she’s standing there in her filthy hooker outfit

She’ll do

“How much sweetheart?”

“For a hundred each you can throw me in the back of that van and do what you like to me”

“You’ll do”

We drive in the opposite direction of where she told us

Paranoia will do that

We park the van in a quiet dead end street

Throw her in the back

She’s medium in height, druggy skinny, small flat tits and sick pale skin

She’ll do

She slides the latex on our cocks with her mouth while cupping our balls and tickling our assholes

Professional

While she is sucking our latex cocks she tells us to slap her, slap her hooker face, slap her hooker ass and slap her small flat hooker tits

Professional

While I’m fucking her hooker cunt and she’s sucking Leigh’s latex cock, she tells me to stick the vans clublock in her hooker ass

Professional

While I’m doing a line of coke off the vans clublock sticking out of her hooker ass and she’s sucking Leigh’s latex cock, she stops to tell us that for a line she will drink our cum

Professional

An hour and a half later she is drinking our cum out of a short black takeaway coffee cup with a hooker smile

Cum shots

Takeaway cum shots

Takeaway cum shots with a hooker smile

Professional

We drop her back at the park, her hooker office, her hooker place of employment with no hooker holiday pay, no hooker sick leave, no hooker stationary cabinet and no hooker superannuation.

What’s her retirement plan?

We are satisfied

Content

Happy

With our sacks emptied and our heads full of coke we head off to a bar

After all

Hooker fucking

Its thirsty work

“Whisky?”

“Make it a double”

Sunday Drive

2008-03-28T14:59:00.003+11:00

The shy is blue, still blue

A lonely cloud in the sky, alone in the still blue

Tall luscious green trees all around reaching for the still blue

Long snaking miles of smooth tarmac lay ahead, cutting through the mountainous terrain, cutting through nature’s derrière, nature’s lady lumps.

The snaking tarmac is mans cock.

Man’s man made cock penetrating mother nature herself

I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of a convertible

Man’s man made extension of my cock

An innocent raven haired woman in a yellow flowing dress riding shotgun, the dress rising just enough to reveal her long flowing legs resting softly against my hand atop the stick shift

My hair and scarf blowing in the broken still blue, the still blue broken by my man made cock extension.

The innocent raven woman laughs at all my jokes, plays with her flowing hair, rubs her flowing legs and clutches her flowing yellow dress

She is a nice woman

When I talk she stares at my driving profile

When I return her stare she shyly and submissively looks down touches her lower lip and then looks up ahead at the snaking tarmac, the snaking tarmac raping mother nature

We stop in a little village for a baguette and a glass of wine

She laughs at my jokes and stares at my profile

The profile of the man she wishes for, the profile of the man she dreams of, the profile of the man she has saved herself for, the profile of the man she loves

She is a nice woman

Leaving the village we are miles along the raping snake travelling at speed, cutting through the still blue my hand now on her flowing leg, her head tilted back, raven hair flowing, laughing at my jokes and smiling at her new found confidence.

Up ahead there will be a short blond girl standing on the side of the raping snake

Waiting

She will be wearing short blue denim shorts, a tight red singlet top showing her tight tanned stomach and bare feet.

She will be holding a camera in her left hand

She will be chewing gum, blowing bubbles, loud snapping bubbles

She will have her head tilted to the right, blowing snapping bubbles

Her name will be Cindy; she will not know how to spell her own name

She will have worked as a stripper from the age of consent

We will have a flat tyre twenty metres from where she is standing snapping bubbles

Raven hair will be changing the tyre in her flowing yellow dress, kneeling down with her flowing legs and stealing now insecure glances at her wishing lover’s profile

I will be leaning against a tall luscious green reaching tree, smoking a pipe, my scarf hanging against my chest and I will be smiling down at Cindy’s camera lens

We are miles along the raping snake travelling at speed, cutting through the still blue, my hand on the back of Cindy’s head as it moves the length of my cock

The cars suspension and Cindy’s neck are working as one, absorbing what the raping snake can throw at them

In the rear vision mirror the raven haired yellow dress is now still

Still among the still blue and the luscious green

Still on the side of the raping snake

The lonely cloud in company

She was a nice woman

Centrelinks Poster Child

2008-03-27T12:33:00.001+11:00

She’s been on call for years, a phone call away

Cunt on call

My phone often rings

Cock on call

We have grown up together, neighbours, family friends since we were children

Birthday parties, engagements, weddings, funerals the works

All done over the years

Together

She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek at my engagement party then hugged and kissed my fiancé.

A warm greeting between friends

An hour latter we are fucking between the wheelie bins in the back lane.

She hugged me, kissed me and congratulated me on my wedding day, hugged wife, kissed wife and congratulated wife on her wedding day.

Three hours later we were fucking between the vines

I had to explain the grass stains.

It’s a terrifically turbulent companionship with more dips, spins and barrel rolls than a Queensland rollercoaster.

When we are together for more than five minutes we fight, fight brutally and fiercely

But that brutality turns into fierce passion when we fuck

My wife was working late shift all Easter, so I seised the opportunity for a weekend away.

“I’m going to Geelong with Rob & Bob for a couple of days”

When I arrived at Emily’s house she was standing on the porch next to a beer in grey tracksuit pants and a matching Bonds hoodie, smoking a cigarette and rocking a pram back and forth

“Fuck woman I should turn around right now, would you fucking look at yourself”

“Fuck off what’s wrong with how I look?”

“You’re the fucking poster child for Centrelink and the fucking Family Assistance Office, What did you do with the baby bonus? Buy a crate of Winnie Blues?”

“Shut up and come here”

We put the baby to bed, cracked a few beers and caught up on time past

Within half an hour we were fighting

Within half an hour and five minutes we were fucking, fucking with anger and passion, trying to hurt each other with the pain of pleasure

The forty seven hours that followed could have been logged as follows;

Drink beer

Feed baby

Fight like hell

Fuck

Fight

Drink

Baby

Fight

(I will interrupt it about here. If any of you have been reading some of the comments between anonymous and I, you would have read that over Easter we were to have a shot of Absolute Vodka around 9pm and think of each other when we fucked whoever it is we were fucking.

Kind of hard I know when you haven’t met each other, but it’s the thought that counts.

At 9pm on the Friday I just happened to be in between baby feeding, beer, and fights and was fucking Emily in her ass with her legs over my shoulders on her kitchen bench

I reached over grabbed the bottle of Vodka, keeping the rhythm of my cock in her ass, took a swig holding it in my mouth while I fucked her ass

Swallowed the Vodka

Fucked her ass harder and faster

Emily verging on screaming

Fucking her ass harder, faster, harder, faster and faster

Took another swig

Held it in my mouth and just as I shot my load in her ass, I shot the vodka out my mouth over Emily’s face and yelled ANONYMOUS to the kitchen ceiling.

Emily’s verging on screaming became a reality as she kicked me away with her legs and leapt at me with her vodka face and cum filled ass.

Anonymous you better have had that Vodka shot)

Now where were we?

Fuck

Drink

Baby

Sleep

Drink

Baby

Fight

Fuck

And so on till the fighting was more than the fucking and we couldn’t stand the look of each other.

I left Centrelinks poster child the same way I found her

On the porch

Only a little more ragged and a hell of a lot more angry

“Honey I’m home”

“How was Geelong?”

“Oh OK, we had a few fucking fights but when all was said and done we came together and had a few Vodkas”

Questions Answered

2008-03-20T10:38:00.002+11:00

Ok cunts after yesterday’s post I received some emails asking;

Why?

What happened?

How could you do that?

And

You’re full of shit!

First of all I will answer the latter.

You two cunts who sent you’re emails proclaiming me to be full of shit and that it never happened, I want you to come out from behind your anonymity, meet me and Craig’s parents for a drink, tell them their also full of shit and that their son is still alive and then I will break you’re fucking nose, both you’re arms and impregnate you’re fucking mother’s.

COME ON CUNTS I’M FUCKING WAITING

Now as for all the others

Craig and I met at trade school when we first started in the industry. From then on in every restaurant or hotel we worked in we worked in together. Craig suffered terrible mental illness and was on allot of medication but hated taking them. He would often stop taking them thinking he was better and could cope.

Sometimes he lasted a long time before it would get the better of him and sometime not long at all. It was not the first time he went crazy on me. But it was the first time he went crazy on me with a knife.

Previous times I have had to restrain him and even knock him out just to stop him. He even put his own mum in hospital after one episode.
It didn’t happen all the time but when it did it was bad, and each episode got worse and worse.

On that night we had, had an argument and at the time I didn’t realise he had stopped his meds. We were flat out with a full restaurant and orders coming in thick and fast. We were arguing about unimportant trivial shit, well to me it wasn't important but obviously to Craig it was.

Next thing I know he was freaking out and talking gibberish, screaming. He had the look in his eyes that I had seen during previous episodes, only this time he was coming at me with a knife. I also had my knife in my hand as I was in the middle of cutting shit up.

During the commotion and the struggle to which I sustained cuts to my hands, arm and chest which you can expect during a fucking knife fight. I stabbed him. It was meant to be a back-the fuck-off-air stab but as I stabbed out at him, Craig came forward and the knife went into his stomach.

Yesterdays post came to me in the shower and I thought it was a beautiful and truthful piece that I know Craig would have liked. I didn’t write it to receive sympathy or write it to receive hate mail (I’m waiting cunts) I wrote it for me.

I’m not a fucking psycho as one person stated; I didn’t mean for that outcome, it was self defence.

End of story

Now enough of this fucking melodramatic shit. It’s the Easter long weekend and I have got allot of eating, drinking and fucking ahead of me.

And I hope you do to.

Happy Easter

CUNTS

On This Day

2008-03-19T09:11:00.002+11:00

We danced in the heat and in the fire, the heat and the fire all around us as we danced.

Long days and hard nights

Enduring

Knowing each others moves like an elderly couple once did until they were dried up and fucked out of life.

Each move a performance, a fluid motion as one, coming together as one, working as one

We took orders and delivered but never compromised and never obeyed, but always complying with their wishes.

No words were needed just looks and gestures, slight movements of the head, the hands the body.

We could do no wrong

We were the best

Top of our game

But you had to fuck it up

Your medication

You need your medication

You couldn’t let things be without your medication

You had to push, approach, and push, advance, intimidate, pushing, screaming and slashing the air between us till I stabbed you

Till I had to stab you

Till I had no choice

You left me no choice

All stopped

The waiters, the bar, the restaurant, the dishwasher the cute French girl we had fucked the night before, the kitchen

Stopped

We tried to stop the blood; you know we tried to stop the blood

There was too much blood

We rode in the ambulance

I talked in the ambulance

I held you in the ambulance

I cried in the ambulance

You died in the ambulance

Your funeral was a celebration of the life you lived

You lived a full life

You lived a short life

The court hearing was your life, full and short

Your mum and dad stood by me

My family stood by me

The system stood by me

Fairness stood by me

I still see you’re mother & father on that day each year

That day each year we remember

We remember and never forget

Today is that day

We will never forget

I will never forget

Order up Chef

Times are Tough

2008-03-17T16:40:00.002+11:00

The 2008 Melbourne Formula 1 Grand Prix was the weekend that was.

The weekend

Friday

Three good mates
40 beers
A wife sitting at home waiting for her husband to walk in the door so they can start celebrating their 11 year anniversary.

Saturday

3:00am husband walks in the door
10:30 am husband is told of their 11 year anniversary
10:31am husband is told to get fucked
10:40am husband gets fucked and goes to the Formula 1

Sunday

2:00am husband walks in the door
8:00am husband wakes to alarm clock
8:01am husband is told to get fucked
8:02am husband gets fucked and has a shower
9:00am get fucked husband and wife go to the butcher to buy sausages and steak for the BBQ
10:30am get fucked husband and wife arrive at the BBQ area and reserve a BBQ
10:32 get fucked husband asks wife a question
10:32.30sec get fucked husband is told to get fucked

This brings me to the part I wish to share with you.

At precisely 11:15am Simon and Karen arrive at the designated BBQ cooking, eating and drinking area.

Simon is an extremely well off and well known Melbourne business man and Karen is Simon’s extremely fucking HOT wife.

Simon is an ugly cunt

Karen is fucking HOT

Get the picture

Good

Another couple Phil & Suzie arrive and the drinks start pouring and the dead animals start cooking.

The men are in their natural habitat, surrounding the BBQ, tongs in hand while the women are in their natural habitat; talking AT each other around the Tzatziki dip, celery sticks in hand.

The women break from their tzatziki watering hole and make for the BBQ men, hummus dip, Turkish bread and beer in their hands.

“Here boys we thought you would like some dip and beer” Karen says and radiates

“When we are in the presence of the BBQ and of the Beer you will not refer to us as boys, we are MEN and you will refer to us only in such way” I holler.

“GET FUCKED” said wife

“OK” I say

I have a swig of beer and tear a piece of Turkish bread away from its home and as I reach for the Hummus dip a gust of wind swirls around us, enveloping us all and lifts Karen’s skirt above her head displaying in all it’s glory her baby smooth, tanned, firm perfect fucking ass.

The church bells rang and the heavens opened with the sound of angles singing, flowers bloomed, water flowed, rainbows shone and my cock sprang skyward towards the singing angles.

Without skipping a beat I slowly dipped my Turkish bread into the waiting hummus and joined in on the present conversation.

A quick look around and it was confirmed that the only witnesses were I and Phil who had a grin from ear to ear and who too was pointing towards the angles.

I have a new dream girl who I hold locked away in a special place in my mind & heart where I go to in tough times.

It was a tough time last night

Tough time this morning

Tough around lunch time

In fact it’s getting a bit tough right now.

I Had A Dream Girl............

2008-03-14T15:41:00.006+11:00

I had a dream girl

I held her locked away in a special place in my mind & heart where I would go to in tough times and in times I jacked off.

Blond, tall, pale, legs never-ending, small perky tits and an ass like a plum

Her smile would light up my heart and pants.

A dream girl who carried herself like no other

I had a dream girl.

A dream girl named Stephanie (no, not you much a do)

We worked together in a call centre job where I would only last a few days.

We never spoke

But I remembered.

Last night I went out to the Order of Melbourne.

A nice little bar on Swanson Street for a mates going away drinks.

James who is on his way to Dacca, Bangladesh to hand out rice and pamphlets

They can live off the rice and wipe their ass with the pamphlets

He’s doing his bit for humanity

Me

I fuck dole snorting mothers of three

I do my bit.

We were sitting there drinking, laughing, some sulking and all of a sudden my heart skipped a beat and blood rushed to my cock.

Could it be?

Yes it could

I had a dream girl

She’s coming over here

Does she remember me?

Did our few passing eye contacts make as much an impact on her heart & pants as they did mine?

She walked straight passed me with that smile, that light up smile and happily embraced James.

CUNT

James introduced us all and when he got to me I said:

“No need, we have already met”

(What the fuck did you say that for? no you haven’t, you haven’t even talked to her. Just cause in you’re jack off fantasy daydreams you’ve fucked her in the ass up against the bookshelf doesn’t mean you have met her)

“No we haven’t” she spat

“Well I’m Bo anyway”

With a look of ‘what a dick’ on her face she turned to James and spat

“I need a drink, get me one”

CUNT

I spent the next hour in loathing and slight arousal at how she spat her talk to all around her, her face grew darker and darker as the minutes passed and the drinks were drunk.

The pole up her ass went in deeper and deeper as the minutes passed and the drinks were drunk

She was much more beautiful when she hadn’t spoken and when under fluorescent lighting.

My jaw was on the ground, my cock was hard and my heart was broken.

I had a dream girl was a CUNT

I said my goodbyes to all and left James and I had a dream girl for good.

When I got home I closed my eyes to I had a dream girl

She was the centre of attention with all around her, her spitting her words at all around her, her feeding off the attention of all around her

She saw me

She stopped spitting her talk to all around her as I approached her, throwing her to the ground in font of all around her.

She tried to spit her words at all around her but couldn’t because I was all around her

She was helpless in front of all around her

They all cheered all around her

While I fucked her spitting words out of her, in front of all around her

I cum all over her with all around her

I left her there with all around her

From now on she will be nice to all around her

I open my eyes and flush the cum soaked tissue down the toilet

I had a dream girl

She is a CUNT

And I’m left with a broken fantasy

Antipasto for One

2008-03-11T10:17:00.006+11:00

Saturday

I had my night set

Wife working 9pm till 5am

A bottle of whisky, a bottle of dry, a tall glass and plenty of ice.

Antipasto for one nestled comfortably atop the coffee table, between a box of Sorbent ‘Thick & Large’ and a 50g tube a KY.

A fresh collection of XXX porn spanning such titles as ‘2 young to fall in love’, ‘Ass wide open’, ‘Weapons of Asstruction’ and The Babysitter 21’.

Grabbing a slice of prosciutto and a Kalamata olive I decided on The Babysitter 21. Figuring the last 20 must have been such a success that it warranted a 21st.

First chick was a fast-forward.

Second chick, BINGO, KENO FUCKING JACKPOT.

She had it all, well most of all.

Fine ass; Check √

Small tits; Check √

Body; Bangan, check √

Head; dimples, nice mouth, check √

Slice of ham off the bone, caviar and Danish fetta as I get settled in to fuck the babysitter.

As I get into the groovy baby yeah, I realise she has no idea how to give head.

“How did she pass audition?”

Well must push on, can’t let a little thing like that spoil all the fun.

As they move to the stairway and as I apply a liberal coating of KY and move into the next faze of self pleasure, the phone rings.

The fucking phone

Of course, what else

Leave it

It’s probably mum?

Ahhhhhhhh FUCK now you’ve gone and done it

Instant collapse

I answer the fucking phone and instead of hearing my mothers voice I here the voice of my regional manager. (The Christmas party one)

“What do you want?”

“Is it ok to talk?”

“Well wife is at work if that’s what you mean, but I’m in the middle of fucking the babysitter”

“You said you didn’t have any kids”

“What? What the fuck do you want?”

“Sorry”

“Sorry? I was seconds away from lift off, satisfaction, artichokes and a basil & pine nut dip”.

“It’s my husband he’s been cheating on me”

“And I’ve been munching you’re snatch business hours. Point”

“Can I come over?”

“No you can not come over, are you fucking mental?”

“I need to talk”

“Oh no you don’t, I already got one woman who can say that I don’t need another”

“Can we meet?”

“Ok”

We meet in a city bar, a shitty bar.

I walk in and she’s propped up looking like a racoon.

Stupid bitch wears make up in this state.

“You’re late”

“What?”

“Want a drink?”

“Scotch”

“He’s been cheating on me with one of my friends”

“Standard, How long?”

“I don’t know, he wont say, says I’m over reacting”

“Standard”

“What do I do?”

“I don’t know, you’re MY mentor, guru, Boss”

“You’re my intimate”

“I’m you’re fucking work fuck buddy who’s kept up his end of the bargain and is currently on double time and a half here”

“You’re sarcasm is not supportive”

“Supportive? Listen boss you called me in a state and now I’m sitting here in a shitty bar talking to a racoon, missing out on ham, caviar, a babysitter, artichokes and a basil and pine nut dip”

“Sorry”

“Stop saying sorry, what do you want?”

“I want to talk”

“Stop saying that, you’re not qualified”

“You’re an asshole”

“And I’ve never promoted anything else”

“I’m going to make sure you’re out of a job!”

Well people as you might well know I’m not someone who gets intimidated by anyone other than his wife (that’s why I married her). It would be an understatement to say I went off my Coles trolley.

I don’t’ take too kindly to threats against my livelihood/career and especially my marriage.

I left cunt face racoon sipping on her conscience and Mai Thai and retired back to my babysitter and pine nut dip.

I received a call the next day apologising for her actions and telling me her and her husband had, had a big talk where she told him about our little lunch breaks and that they are staying together and making a proper go of it and that from now on all our future interactions are to be purely professional.

All this while my wife was sitting in the fucking passenger seat right fucking next to me.

“Maybe we should bring this up in our teleconference on Tuesday?”

“What? I don’t want everyone knowing our business”

“My point exactly”

“What are you talking about? Is it not a good time to talk? Is you’re wife with you?”

“Yes it is a lovely Sunday afternoon and I’m just taking my wife for a late lunch in St Kilda, so maybe we could run over this proposal on Tuesday? Would that be alright with you (YOU-DUMB-FUCKING-CUNT-FACED-CUNT-IDIOT-FUCKING-TART-OF-A-CUNT-FUCK-FUCK-FUCKING-STUPID CUNT)”

“Oh OK yes that would be fine”

“Thank you ______, you have a lovely weekend and talk to you Tuesday”

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

2008-03-07T16:35:00.002+11:00

The first Wednesday and Thursday of each month at Melbourne’s own 3D jigsaw puzzle, Federation square, holds wine tasting. Each month they focus on a region where you saunter on up, pay you’re $13 plus $2 deposit for a glass and head off into the sea of Melburnians getting tasted.

I pay my $13 and I pay my $2 deposit knowing all too well that I will never see that $2 again.

I was in a mood and needed a drink.

I head off into the sea of tasted Melburnians to sample what the Sunbury region & Macedon Ranges has to offer this lonely wino.

The tramps at the $13 and $2 deposit counter had also given me a sheet of paper with all the wineries on show listed. I look around and see people writing on their pieces of paper.

I side step up to a well dressed business man surrounded by what looked like an assortment of receptionists. I assessed this lad straight away as an ass, and asked him for a pen.

“Sure buddy you can borrow mine, but it’s a boomerang remember”

“Sure Champ, be back in a jiffy” (click, click with my shooter fingers and a wink and I was off)

Fucking retard, I could hear him as I walked away. “Why yes the aroma of this Merlot by no means measures up to its pallet”.

Cock

I head over to the first winery stick out my glass.

“Which one would like to try first sir”

“The one in you’re hand will do”

“Well sir this is a ………..

“Yeah, yeah I can read, just pour the fucking glass”

It was Viognier, and a fine example of why this variety should only be produced in the Rhone valley, France where it belongs.

That vinegar put me off the whites so I started on the Red’s.

As I walked the line dodging ‘well dressed business man’ and writing on my piece of paper which so far only had the words crap, crapper and not as crap as the rest, I bumped into an old (girl) friend who I had lost contact with when she went overseas in search of love and hope, too which I told her she could find standing next to Santa & Jesus.

Lucy and I use to haunt the streets of Melbourne for years when we worked together and for some time after. It was a grand partnership as our focus for each night was drink and pussy.

Most nights ended in her getting the pussy and me getting the drink.

Give a girl a choice of cock or cunt and they go cunt 80% of the time.

Well fuck did that light a fire cracker of joy right up my ass.

Lucy distracted the attendant while I borrowed a couple bottles of red from a ‘not as crappy as the rest’ winery.

I marked that down on my tramp paper as my ‘red of choice’ and handed it to a tramp.

We walked down to Fitzroy Gardens, cracked open a bottle, fed some ducks and talked till 3am this morning.

I walked in the front door and hopped into bed to which I was promptly told to “Get the fuck out of”

I woke on the couch 1 hour after I was meant to leave for work.

I missed my morning meeting

My computer froze and I had to wait for a Super IT Wizard to come and turn the cunt on and off.

Forgot my 2pm meeting

And had one of my staff tell me she’s bleeding heavily from her cunt and that there is blood on her seat to which as soon as I looked at, was joined by my vomit.

That better be Santa and Jesus over there, because I need some fucking love and hope.

Thank fuck it’s a long weekend

Enjoy Fuckers.

Midnight Fuck Symphony

2008-03-04T11:23:00.002+11:00

She would come and sit next to me on the quiet nights. The other nights she would be working the bar. It’s not that she was ugly, she wasn’t I just didn’t want to pay her to fuck me. Call me old fashioned but if you want a mechanic you go to a mechanics, if you want a whore you go to a whorehouse. I go to a bar to drink and if I find myself fucking a broad at the beginning, middle or end of the night then it’s a bonus.

The locals knew her as ‘Manic Mandy’.

Everyone else knew her as a good fuck.

Some nights she would come back to my house and drink wine and talk shit about all the supposed famous people she knew.

“I once fucked Garry Sweet you know”

“Yeah I know”

“I use to get drunk with Mick Molloy you know”

“Yeah I know”

“I use to…….”

“Listen Mandy if you’re going to sit there and talk shit all night I’m going to ask you to leave”

“I’m just making conversation”

“Yeah I know”

Manic Mandy had this ass, this big fucking ass which tipped the average punter over the edge when she would turn her back on them and walk away” She called this the ‘walk away’ and it worked every time. She would hit them up for a fuck and if they said no she would say “What a shame, you could have ALL this you know” and she would walk away wiggling that fat ass. It drove the punters wild.

Mandy was also as mad as a cut snake.

You could be having a conversation with her one minute and trying to stop her slitting your throat the next. You never fell asleep on her, always with one eye open and especially when she had been drinking.

Mandy had bought with her a friend this night, Stacy, Stacy the dole collecting mother of three, who had taken it upon her to invite herself. I didn’t argue, what’s the fucking point.

Stacy was this little fat thing that straight away reminded me of a little pig, a snorting, snuffling, wiggling little pig. She had the small pushed up noes of a pig, and when she laughed she would end it with a snort.

She repulsed me.

But she was a tremendous laugh. Everything that came out her mouth was hilarious.
“Ahh this is how she got fucked I thought” she would laugh you into bed.

The three of us sat there in my room drinking wine and laughing at Stacy the dole snorting pig.

After numerous bottles of wine and trips to the toilet I was left sitting in my chair alone drinking wine, watching Mandy’s tit’s go up and down as she slept and breathed and in perfect time with Stacy’s snoring who was passed out on the sofa in the hallway between my room and the toilet . I found myself in a trance watching Mandy’s tits go up and down to the beat of Stacy the snoring, snorting dole collecting mother of three.

I don’t know how long I was trapped in this seemingly endless cycle of breathing, snoring, tit rising, tit falling deep sleep, wine dinking performance, but when I snapped too I had an almighty urge to fuck.

I went over and jumped in next to Mandy who was asleep on my bed. I grabbed one of those snoring tits in my mouth and gave it a little nip with my teeth to wake her.

“Huh what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“Where’s Stacy?”

“Fuck Stacy”

I ripped Mandy’s panties off and threw them to the gods, spread her ‘walk away’ ass cheeks apart with both hands and entered her cunt for hire. It was a slow drawn out fuck with each stroke Mandy moaned, and every second stroke backed by Stacy’s snoring.

It was a midnight fuck symphony.

When I came her cunt gripped my cock and sucked every last bit of cum out of me, a lifetime never ending torrent of cum, my whole body trembled and collapsed in fulfilment.

I got up wiped myself off with her god panties and retreated back to my chair for more wine and the amazing snoring, pig tit extravaganza.

I don’t know how long I had been asleep for but when I woke Mandy and Stacy were still in sync. I got up to go for a piss and passed Stacy in the hallway snoring. I stopped and looked at her, looked at her face. She actually took on a softness when she slept, her harshness was taken away. Her snoring became cute; I was looking at her in a different way.

I shook my head “Get a grip man”.

I went for my piss and as I was pissing my cock got hard.

Flow cut off.

I went and stood in front of Stacy with my hard cock thinking “What kind of wine would do this to a man I must call the distributor, first thing”

I lent down and kissed those obscene sexy ugly lips, gee she was a fat little thing. She didn’t protest at all, she opened her legs and I entered. She was a little female pig, farting and grunting, sniffling and wiggling. When I came it wasn’t like with Mandy- long and trembling- it was just splot splot and then over. I got off and before I could get back to my chair I could here her snoring again.

Amazing- she fucked like she breathed- nothing to it.

I sat there in my chair and thought; Man must have been doing this for century’s. Why? Because each woman fucks just that little bit differently, and that’s what keeps a man going, that’s what keeps a man trapped.

I woke in the chair, the morning sun on my face and Beethoven’s Symphony No.9 playing on the radio.

The girls were gone.

A mix of hangover and memories of the midnight fuck symphony now playing in my head with Beethoven,

God’s panties on the floor

I must call that distributor.

The Greatest Parking Attendant This World Has Ever Seen

2008-02-27T15:41:00.005+11:00

One night after work I was sitting in the loading bay of the hotel I was working at, drinking whisky and eating my dinner. A bum walked past and spotted my whisky and my dinner.

He walked over and sat next to me. He smelled of 1000 shitty asses and 1000 half smoked cigarettes.

His name was Doug.

Doug: “Can I have a sip of your whisky”

Bo: “Sure Doug”

Doug: “Can I have a mouthful of your dinner”

Bo: “Sure Doug”

Doug: “Do you work here?”

Bo: “I sure do Doug”

Doug: “Any chance of some more whisky”

Bo: “Sure is Doug”

I went and got Doug some more whiskey and some more food.

Doug and I sat in the loading bay and talked and drank whisky.

Doug was a parking attendant for 30 years and was made redundant by a ticket machine, 30 years experience, replaced by a machine.

Interview after interview, rejection after rejection, Doug’s spirit was soon sucked out of his balls. No one wanted a 50 year old man with no qualifications and no experience other than parking attending.

His wife soon left, followed by his daughter.

Bo: “When was the last time you had a shower Doug”

Doug: “Don’t know Bo”

Bo: “I think you need a shower Doug”

Doug: “Ok Bo”

I took Doug to my suite where he showered for 2 hours.

I took his clothes down to laundry to have them cleaned

We watched TV and drank whisky and waited for his clothes to come back from the laundry.

He told me of the time Kerry Packer tipped him $1000 for watching his car.
He had sat in that car with the air conditioner on smoking cigarettes for most of the day.
And spent the $1000 on booze that week.

“That should have been the sign right there Bo” he said. “I should have realised I was destined to be a bum right then and there”, “That tip ended my life”

Bo: “When was the last time you went out Doug? Out on the town?”

Doug: “I’m always out on the town Bo. I’m a Bum”

Bo: “Ok, when was the last time you tasted cunt”

Doug: “A long time Bo, I’m a bum”

Bo: “Ok then that settles it, get dressed we're going out”

Doug put on one of my suits, which was a little long in the arms but a shit load better than his rags.

First we went and bought cigars.

Then we went and drank more whisky.

Doug had only seen his daughter once since her and his ex-cunt-wife walked out on him two years earlier. She was out the font of Flinders St Train Station with a few of her friends, giggling and offering sideway glances at the boys that walked past.

Doug was on the other side of the road out the front of Young & Jackson’s begging for food and money, begging to stay alive, begging for his life.

He didn’t approach her.

We finished our whisky and went onto Bennett’s Lane to catch a jazz band.

On the walk Doug pointed out his bed.

An alcove between a sandwich shop and a boot maker’s.

We listened to the band, drank whisky and smoked our cigars in silence.

Once the bar closed we headed down to a local whorehouse.

Doug chose the first girl that came out.

Bo: “Don’t you want to see who else comes out?”

Doug: “You must be fucking crazy man”

Bo: “I must”

After an hour Doug emerged from a random room with a look on his face that I would describe as ‘innocent delight’

The whores face; business as usual.

Out the front of the whorehouse we said our goodbyes.

Doug: “What a night”

Bo: “What a night”

Doug: “Thanks Bo”

Bo: “Don’t mention it Doug”

Doug: “What about your suit?”

Bo: “keep it Doug”

Bo: “What about your rags?”

Doug: “Keep em Bo”

I never saw Doug again

But I’m told he was the greatest parking attendant this world has ever seen.

Sinatra Night

2008-02-26T11:40:00.003+11:00

We use to play poker and sing old Sinatra songs in the dining room after service on Tuesdays, bottles of whisky on the table, speed and adrenalin still pumping through our bodies while we all sang;

“Are the stars out tonight?
I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright
Cause I only have eyes for you”

No limit Texas hold’ em, but we didn’t play for money.
We played to keep our chosen waitress’s clothes on.

I always had Gina she was my favourite.

But I like to beat Chef Bernard, cause Kelly had beautiful tits.

On the last hand, the girls would be naked and we would be drunk

We would sing;

“The moon may be high
but I can’t see a thing in the sky
cause I only have eyes for you”

We would fuck

We would swap

We would fuck

We would sing;

“I don’t know if we’re in a garden
or on a crowded avenue
you are here, so am I
maybe millions of people go by
but they all disappear from view”

We would go home

“And I only have eyes for you”

I met a genius.

2008-02-25T12:16:00.001+11:00

I met a genius on the weekend, he was 6 years old. I was sitting on a
park bench drinking beer, watching owners play with their dogs, kids
playing on the swings and mothers talking to other mothers about the
cost of a block of Cadbury today compared to last year.

He sat on the bench next to me and said

"It's not pretty"

Nick Caves Cunt

2008-02-22T13:00:00.000+11:00

I lived on the 2nd floor in Abinger Street,

We use to get drunk on wine and listen to the radio.

She would smoke cigarettes on my bed in an old Nick Cave T-shirt of mine with no pants on, I could see her cunt from the window sill where I would sit and listen to the radio and watch her smoke cigarettes on my bed in my T-shirt.

She would stare at me through her hair and smoke and drink wine and listen to the radio. When I got drunk I would throw the radio through the window, breaking the glass and the radio would lay there on the roof still playing and I would say “Ahh, what a marvellous radio”.

In the morning I would take the window to get fixed and she would sit on my bed with her cunt and my T-shirt, smoking cigarettes and drinking wine and listening to the radio and I would come home and sit on the sill and watch her staring at me through her hair, smoking cigarettes and drinking wine.

When the news came on we would fuck. We would fuck to gangland murders, we would fuck to interest rate rises, we would fuck to police corruption, we would fuck to American celebrities getting arrested and we would fuck to the weather.

Then we would drink wine and listen to the radio and stare and fuck to the news.

In the morning I would take the window to get fixed.

I don’t remember what happened to her, but I still have that radio.

What a marvellous radio.

A little bit about me........

2008-02-20T14:35:00.002+11:00

A few years back I had a career change. For many years I was a chef, working in many of Australia’s and world’s top restaurants and 5 star hotels. I loved cooking; it was and sometimes still is a passion of mine. I was old school chef, I worked hard, partied hard and fucked hard; it was a rock n role lifestyle that was nearly the end of me.

There were a number of reasons why I left, high stress, long ass fucking hours, heat that would make or break a person and never seeing my now wife to name a few. But a major part of leaving was it was turning me into a monster. You think I’m a cunt now? I’m fucking Mother Teresa giving the Pope a blow job while giving birth to Jesus Christ these days.

Speed and coke were a daily occurrence to pump like a mad man during service and get you though the long days. And drinking was a nightly occurrence to knock me out at the end of the night to get a few hours sleep so I could get back up for my next 16 hour shift. It was a vicious cycle. Sure there were jobs out there that were easier with shorter hours but they just bored the fuck out of me and I never lasted long.

I spoke to everyone including the ones I loved as if they were nothing but a dead bug on my windshield of life. Waitresses were at my disposal, I would treat them like shit, talk at them like they were some cheap rooming house hooker, but for some reason they kept coming back for more, more abuse, more fucking and more shit.

Restaurant and hotel owners meant nothing to me. Sure they were the people who put the money in my bank account to fuel my life, but I treated them like they were dog shit on my shoe. Fuck I even told Barron Hilton to get the fuck out of his own kitchen in his own hotel where I was Executive chef.

I fucking punched Ian ______ on his show ‘____ Cooking Adventures’ where I was a guest chef (that shit didn’t make it to air) but I sure gave him a little adventure.**

If you have read the book Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain, multiply that by ten and you will have a small indication as to the life I was leading.

I was living life fast and furious and having a fucking ball while doing it.

However driving home in the early hours of the morning after working an 18 hour day with an alarming mix of drugs and alcohol swirling through my system, I passed out going fucking fast on the South Eastern freeway. Astonishingly I walked away with only a broken wrist and a few cuts and bruises.

This was the wake up I needed. I quite cooking the next day and got my shit together so I could start living a normal life.

The transition from being a mad man chef to your average everyday paper shuffler has been interesting. I have had some diverse jobs from, directional drilling, motivational speaking, advertising & marketing, telemarketing and even selling speakers out the back of a van (Which mind you took me around Australia and overseas with some fucking hilarious and sometimes unbelievable stories which I will tell you about over time).

So there, this might give you a little bit of an idea of which angle I come from in life.

I will start posting some stories from the past that I think will start painting you a picture of who I am as a person and where I am coming from and by the time we’re finished it will be the masterpiece that is ME.

HAHA.

That’s if you want to hear them?

** This part has been altered due to a paranoid lawyer who is too fucking scared to do what the fuck I pay him to do and that is to cover my fucking ass.

Colonel Mustard in the bedroom with the panties!

2008-02-18T12:46:00.003+11:00

So fuckers, how was you’re weekend?

Mine?

Glad you asked.

Well after sitting in my office Friday evening all melancholy with a bottle of red trying to figure out who’s fucking panties they could possibly be and what possible excuse I have for them being there in the first place, while also reading the lovely supportive comments received by ya’ll. To quote “I’d have my baseball bat at the ready and a big bullseye to put on your nutsack” end quote. To quote “Looks like someone needs to go back to man school” end quote.

I thought; yeah fuck it, their right. I’m a man, a cunt of a man who needs to face the consequences of his actions. I’m going to walk in that door and take whatever comes at me.

One thing was still bothering me though. Who’s fucking panties are they. I have strict rules that I have always followed. I put the Freemasons and Stone Cutters to shame with my secret society lifestyle and rules.

Rule number one is; Never bring a chick back to you’re house and never, never fuck them in the marital bed. (Ok so I have broken this rule a few times, but two of them were over 2 to 3 years ago and the third was her sister about a year ago)

Now since the first two I knew I’d performed clean outs of my wardrobe and draws so it couldn’t be from one of them and as for that fateful night with her sister I clearly remember her not having any panties on, cause that it was lead to the whole shebang in the first place.

So I was at wits end trying to figure it out.

Well fuck it, it doesn’t matter anyway. I fucked up at that is that.

When I walked in the door the first thing to hit me was the delectable aroma of a roast Lamb cooking away in the oven. The second thing to hit me was my wife..............with a big kiss and a hug (bet that’s not what you were fucking thinking). Followed by an apology.

As it turns out the blue panties in question were in fact given to my wife on her hen’s night 15 months ago. This fact had only hit her that day and had consumed her beating heart with such sorrow for accusing her loving husband of adultery that she had to do something to quench that grief she held onto so strongly, and what better way to say sorry to her poor husband who should never have to put up with being accused of cheating than with a delicious roast lamb & gravy, a 6 pack of Carlton Cold and a knee quivering blow job.

Now I know what you are thinking “YOU FUCKING CUNT BO”. And you would be right in thinking that. I do feel guilty and I know I’m a massive cunt but what can I do? I’m only one man.

I intend to make it up to her this weekend by buying her the house she wants and I have also made a piss weak oath with myself to not cheat on her again. (Husband of the fucking year right here)

Now boys and girls if there is one lesson to learn from all of this it’s;

Always remember to make sure you’re wife knows what beer you drink. Cause Carlton Cold suck massive cock.

Home is where the heart is

2008-02-15T18:47:00.001+11:00

She’s at home
waiting.
Waiting for me to
walk in.
Waiting for me to
say hi.
Waiting for me to
cook dinner.
Waiting for me to
say I’m sorry.

I’m not walking in.

I Made A Mistake

2008-02-15T10:47:00.002+11:00

I reached up into the top of the closet
and took out a pair of blue panties
and showed them to her and
asked “are these yours?”

8 Count

2008-02-14T16:23:00.005+11:00

From my desk I watch 3 birds on a telephone wire.

One flies off.

Then another.

One is left, then it too is gone.

My computer is tombstome still.

And I am reduced to bird watching.

Just thought I'd let you know

fucker.

Open For Inspection .........

2008-02-11T13:07:00.000+11:00

I fucking hate Mondays! Feels like it was just Friday, I went to bed Friday night and woke up Monday. And do you know why it feels like that? Because I married the most organised woman in the fucking world and if she isn’t the most organised woman in the world I sure as hell don’t want to meet the fucker that is.

Queen-to-do-list had me running around all Saturday grocery shopping, picking up shit and looking at houses. I like looking at house’s, just not 15 in one fucking day. It got to the point where I was on first name bases and saying “see you in 20min” to the estate agents. I was having to make it to two different houses showing at the same time. Lucky all were in the Richmond and Abbotsford area.

Now anyone who knows me knows I have a short attention span. I get real bored real quick. I have to do shit to keep myself occupied (you never want to go shopping with me). So because I was on my own and let loose in other peoples houses I just couldn’t help myself. This is a list of some of the shit I got up to:

Set alarm clocks for 2am
Put porn magazines in the bathrooms. (I had this idea after the first two houses and nicked home to get the supplies)
Put little packets of lube (you know the ones you get in packets of condoms) in the top draws of peoples bedside tables.
Left torn out brothel and transsexual escort adds from the local paper next to the phones (I even circled the number and wrote a date and time next to it).
Left a note on a fridge saying thanks for lunch. PS, you’re out of mayo.
Left notes under peoples pillows and in their bathroom medicine cabinets saying “I can now watch you all the time”

By the fifteenth house I was in a rather good mood.

I picked the Queen up from work at 5pm and had to drive to fucking Seaford for a house warming. The dude bought a house in Seaford and works in Tullamarine. Crazy fucker.
Left the party at 11pm to drive back to a bar in Richmond for a friend’s 30th. Had two drinks and started falling asleep in one of the seats till I was interrupted by a chick I use to bang a few years back.

I don’t know about you but it’s fucking awkward introducing you’re wife to a fuck buddy. Way too close to home if you ask me. Once the introductions were done I sent my wife to the bar for a drink and reminded the loopy ex-fuck of the rules and told her to fuck off and never even look at me when I’m in the company of my fucking wife. FUCKING HELL.

On Sunday I donned on the gear, jumped on my mountain bike and went for a 45km ride with a mate along some awesome single tracks by the Yarra and up in around Heidelberg. The bloke I was with is an experienced MTB rider and I have a feeling he had set out at the start of the day to absolutely punish the fucking shit out of me (cunt).

He took me on some great single tracks that I had not discovered yet and ones that had some fucking crazy drop offs. I came off twice over the day (Having my feet clicked into the cunting peddles doesn’t fucking help) and did some minor damage to my arm and leg.

I got home after three hours of punishing but awesome MTB riding only to find my fucking wife standing there with a whole new fucking-to-do-list. It took all my strength not to punch her in the nose (this is tong in cheek, I don’t hit women, I only spank them).
I’m not going to go into what I had to fucking do but lets just say I went to bed around 11pm and woke up this morning thinking what the fuck happened to my weekend.

I don’t like Mondays.

Cover me in Ink and call me your's

2008-02-07T14:47:00.000+11:00

I’m in unattainable love people. I’ve been hooked on this show LA Ink for some time now, mainly cause I love all forms of art and tattooing is like the punk rock of art, but also for the fact that I want to fuck the absolute shit out of Kat Von D (pictured above). I myself can’t believe this fact. I’ve never found full body inked chicks that hot but for some reason Kat Von D drives me fucking crazy. It might be her rockstar attitude, her banging body or her long dark hair but I can’t get enough of this tattooed rebel.

Is it just me who thinks she is fuck-me-technicoloured hot?

Well?

Tell me is there someone you think is fucking hot, that you would never have thought would be you’re fuckable type?

Well?

*were those paragraphs good for you Kitty as they were for me*

We All Be Cunts

2008-02-05T16:12:00.000+11:00

Now people I have just finished reading a blog where the author has spilled their guts out in a public forum, not hiding behind an alias (unlike myself) letting us in on what would have to be one of the most vulnerable, gut wrenching, emotionally fucked up time of their or anyone else’s lives.

This takes a big, strong fucking person to do this my friends. When I read it I was filled with a barrage of emotions such as anger, sorrow, pity, anger, sadness, anger, distress, anger, did I mention I was fucking angery. The honesty and strength this person has shown by telling us this personal and intimate moment of their life has inspired me to write this post.

What this person went through should not be experienced by anyone. But it does happen. And why does it keep happening? Cause the average human is an asshole, yep that’s right, men and women on average are assholes in some shape or form. I’m a self-centred asshole in a number of ways;

I cheat on my wife
I’m ruthless cunt at work
I’m an arrogant prick
I asses most situations to see how it will benefit me
I’m hardest on the people closest to me
I’ve had numerous run-ins with the law

These are just a few things that spring to mind. However that is just a small part of who I am as a person. I’m also a person who;

Is head over heals in love with his wife and does everything he can to provide, protect and spoil the fucking pants off her. (How can you cheat on her then? I told you I’m a cunt! Women are my heroin. But I only LOVE my wife)
Gives 10% of his pay to a different charity each month
Listens
Is emotionally generous
Talks to his mother every day (she fucking rocks)
Is the best fuck you will ever have (Told you I was arrogant)

What I’m getting at is at some time or point in our lives we are all assholes. We may not mean to be and we may not intentionally mean to inflict pain and suffering on another, but we do. It’s who we are. We all do good things and mostly mean to do good by others but at some stage we will fuck up and be a cunt.

What is arrogance to you could just be plain pride to another. What is breaking the Law to you could mean survival to another. Where we fault we make up for in other areas, no-one is perfect and I think no-one should be cause what a fucking boring world we would live in if that was the case. We are all unique and that’s what makes this world so diverse. Emotions whether angry, happy or sad are there to remind us that we are alive, that we are capable of feelings and that my friends is what life is all about.

Now I’m not saying what the asshole did to the above mentioned blogger was the right thing to do. If it happened to my sister I would tear the fuckers heart out and feed it to him on a skewer. But that is the path he chose and that is his past that he will have to live with for the rest of his life. This may not seem fair and just but not everything goes our way, that is why we have a thing called karma, and everyone receives a piece of this at some point in their lives (believe me I’ve had tones, and rightly so).

I would like to say to the above mentioned blogger (that is if you read my fucking blog) That from what I have read of you, you are a strong, intelligent, whity and fucking sexy sonofabitch and no matter how hard you may be knocked down you will get back up again and kick the fucking shit out of whoever put you on you’re ass in the first place. Life’s too short to worry about the past, let karma do that for you. Go out and treat this world like it’s you’re bitch.

Lube, Smut and Two Smokin Hotties

2008-01-31T14:47:00.000+11:00

You all know how I recently went up to Newcastle for a week of sex, drugs and Disney characters, mixing it up with Newcastle’s elite red neck steal workers. Well a bonus bi-product of that trip was that Berno hooked us up with, among other A-grade quality products, some A-grade quality porn. I’m talking hours upon hours of cock sucking, pussy licking, ass chewing, nipple twisting, fluid dripping, hardcore fucking porn.( I love this shit, just as much as I love Christmas parties and BBQ’s).

Now I’m not talking your high quality Private collection porn where the chicks asshole’s been bleached or the blokes cock looks like it’s been given the star treatment at a Toni & Guy salon. I’m talking the home-grown, armature shit where the chicks still haven’t gotten use to a camera invading their innocents and the blokes still haven’t worked out that little things like the correct placement of their feet will a) give the camera a better angle, b) allow for deeper penetration and most importantly c) make that horney ass bitch scream the fucking house down. This is the porn I love and this is the porn I have been whacking jack to in ‘08’, but not always alone Hmmmm.

When I showed my wife what delights I’d bought home from ‘Berno Wonka and the Hardcore Fucking Factory’ after finding the golden ticket, she was happier than Charlie when he found a fucking golden ticket. She insisted that we take the phone off the hook, close the blinds, crack a bottle of bubbly, strip off and play nice for a few hours while watching our hardcore delights.
This my cyber friends was a fucking awesome way to spend a lazy Sunday, or so I thought.

After fondling, sucking and tenderly fucking for a few hours and finishing off two bottles of bubbly, we fell asleep in each others arms (ahhh how fucking sweet, that’s sooo nice. Ahhh get fucked). When I woke my sweet darling wife was already awake and giving Danny Dildo a good going over. “Oi don’t start without me”, “I’m only warming up Bo, but we've run out of bubbly, would you be a darl and nick over the road and grab another couple of bottles”, “Sure dear, no problem”.

I wipe down, get dressed and for some reason find a few bits of glitter on my T-shirt and on my hands. Thinking nothing of it I set off on a bubbly mission as quick as I could, cause there ain’t no way Danny Dildo’s getting all the action.

On my walk to the grog shop which is located in a busy inner suburban shopping centre, I realise people are smiling at me and saying shit like “Hey mate well done”, “good on ya son” and “Ya lucky bastard”. What the fuck are these people on about? I thought. Cocksuckers are in a good mood today, fucking loopy cunts. I really wasn’t thinking too much about it cause I was on a top secret bubbly mission assigned to me by the woman at home currently being loved by an inanimate object and I was missing out.

When I get to the bottle shop, Ben the attendant who works there and the dude who I have known for about 3 years has the biggest fucking grin on his face and says “Been banging the missus mate?”, “ What? How the fuck do you know” “Oh I don’t know mate, maybe cause you’ve got written in black texta and glittered on you’re forehead ‘I FUCKED HIM HARD’. The fucking bitch had done this while I was asleep, her fucking loving husband who had just spent the last three hours making her lose total control of her body. Crazy bitch.

The customers who then walked in the door were greeted by an attendant on the floor behind the counter in fits of laughter and a crazy man franticly rubbing his forehead yelling “We’ll see who’s gunna get fucked hard, just you wait you crazy bitch, you’re gunna get fucked real hard....... real fucking hard”

When I got home that’s exactly what I did (after we both stopped laughing).

Funny bitch, you’re as crazy as I am.

Aussie Aussie Aussie

2008-01-21T11:47:00.000+11:00

I was over at a friend’s house last night enjoying one of Australia’s favourite pastimes, the great Aussie BBQ (I fucking love BBQ’s just as much as I love Christmas parties). With the lead up to Australia day you start seeing adds on TV, promotions on the radio and crap all through the papers. I love this shit! I’m an extremely patriotic Australian who is proud of his country and the people in it. But what upsets me is the lack of patriotism shown by the average Aussie.

A couple of years ago I was over in Perth WA for Australia Day, and fuck me do those bastards know how to celebrate Aus Day. They have fireworks, live entertainment, streets packed full of people with their face painted in the Aussie flag, cars with flags and Aussie memorabilia flying high and proud, chicks with Aussie bikinis (my personal favourite) and drunken dudes singing Advance Australia fair and Khe Sanh.

Yet on Australia Day back here in Melbourne you see the odd BBQ, a few blokes in thongs and chicks who only know it’s Australia Day because they have the day off work. Where is our patriotism people?

A mate last night made a comment that got me thinking. He said that “Aussieism is usually associated with boganism”. This seemed to make everything fall into place for me. The reason why one of my staff members called me a bogan for having an Australian flag up in my office, the reason why I was called a bogan for brining a pavlova to a BBQ and the reason why my wife called me a bogan for buying an Australian flag stubby holder.

Why is it that as soon as I show my love for this great big land of ours I get called a bogan? I have a respectable job, live in a respectable inner-city suburb and drive a respectable fucking car, for fuck sake I only have one fucking AC/DC cd, not one flannelet shirt, I don’t smoke Winnie blues and I don’t have a blue healer called ‘Bluey’, but because I advertise the fact that I’m a proud Aussie I get labelled a fucking bogan.

Well if being a proud Aussie makes me a bogan, then I’m the biggest fucking bogan out there. All you people who think you have escaped you’re bogan roots by modelling you’re life on you’re favourite American sitcom, listening to the latest Justin Timberlake & Fergie cd, wearing you’re fake Gucci sunglasses & rip off Prada handbag, smoking fucking menthol's and patting you’re designer Chihuahua named ‘Paris’. YOU HAVE’NT. You’re still a fucking bogan, just like me.

So for fuck sake, just for one day drop that façade, call you’re mates around, put on that Cold Chisel Cd, whip up a pav, slip on some thongs, bang some dead animals on the Barbie and celebrate this fucking awesome country of ours come Australia Day.

“Australians all let us rejoice cause I left my heart to the sappers round Khe Sanh”

Sorry Dear..............

2008-01-16T16:27:00.000+11:00

Wuzz up mo fo’s. Well I’m back at work after a two week break. ‘DAY FUCKING ONE’ and it’s killing me. Oh to be back at home with a tube a KY, box a Kleenex and my trusty quick draw hand, scrounging through the endless delights of YouPorn.com (I fucking love that shit). Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t spend all my two weeks banging my cock to a funky beat here in Melbourne, I went up to Newcastle for a week where I banged my cock to a funky beat.

Re…Re…REWIND

Let me fill you in on the Melbourne sector of my holidays. To me the word ‘HOLIDAY’ means home, relaxation, beer, porn, TV, farting, eating and FUCKING. To my wife the word ‘HOLIDAY’ means fill Bo’s day’s up with as much FUCKING SHIT as possible. The bitch had the whole week planed.

And it goes a little something like this.

Wife- Ok Bo today I’m working from 7am till 3pm and in that time I want you to clean the Kitchen, call the bank, walk the dog, sort through the crap under the bed, clean out you’re desk, pay the Electricity & Gas bills, call you’re mum and organise a lunch for this week and book in a hair cut for Wednesday. And tomorrow…..

BoBo- Hold you’re horses sweetheart, one day at a time.

3:15pm wife walks in the door.

Wife- Hi honey

BoBo- Hi dear

Wife- Did you get the list done?

BoBo- No dear

Wife- WHAT? why not?.

BoBo- Been busy dear

Wife- BUSY DOING WHAT ?

BoBo- Just stuff dear

Wife- STUFF? WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE ALL DAY?

BoBo- Booked a flight to Newcastle, I’m on holidays woman and I’m not going to have you fuck it up for me. Now you’ve got me for 4 days. What’s first?

Needless to say she worked my ass for those 4 days but by the time I was up in the air and on my way to Newcastle with a beer in my hand served to me buy Adriana the giggling flight attendant, I’d forgotten all about the 4 days working on the chain.

Newcastle, what a fucking whole of a place that is. But I didn’t go up there for what the tourist information board had to offer. I went up there to see my good mate Berno. Now people the last time I was in Newcastle I ended up being arrested for impersonating a Police officer in a Bunny suite. So I knew it was going to be a good time.

Day one (Thursday) was spent driving around to different houses collecting the various substances that were going to fuel us on this week of mayhem. Day two (Friday) we started drinking around fuck knows what time, I don’t wear a watch when on holidays. At Berno’s house for the morning then moved onto various shitty local pubs till we finally ended up at this shmiko place called the Junction Hotel. The chicks there were unbelievable, I can tell why the unemployment level is so high, all these chick must do is lay on the beach tanning their stunning bodies. And thank fuck for that. I thought I was a man on a mission when I boarded the plane but that was fucking nothing compared to this, now I was a rabid dog just looking for a leg or two or 10 to gnaw on.

I was all over the place throwing money left, right and centre talking to anything that moved (might be due to the fact I was coked up to the eyeballs) when I found myself in the back of a Maxi Taxi getting blown by two 40 year old mums. The drive took about 45min which was just enough time for me to blow my load into the mum with the short hair and let them out at one of their houses and told the taxi driver to take me back to where he had picked me up from.

Day three (Saturday) no sleep what so ever, still buzzing and smoking a few J’s to wind down a bit. At some stage through the day though it was thought a stroke of genius that we should replicate my last trip to Newcastle but instead of just me going out in a bunny suite, we ALL should go out in bunny suites. So we set off in search of 15 bunny suites. After searching for most of the day all we could come up with were 6 bunny suites, 2 Donald Duck costumes, a horse costume for two, 2 Mickey Mouse get up’s and 3 Cinderella outfits. (tonight was going to be FUCKING awesome)

In the first pub we were nearly lynched by a group of red neck steal workers who don’t take to kindly to blokes dressed as Cinderella in their fine establishment. Luckily the horses head knew one of them and it was all sorted out without us having to go fairytale on their asses.

This kind of shit went on for most of the night but in-between hostile red necks and the occasional bloke kicking the horse up it’s ass to which they were bum rushed by half of Disney World, the chicks absolutely LOVED it.

I lost count of how many girls just came up and wanted a pash with the Easter bunny or how many times I walked into the blokes toilets to see Cinderella getting a blow job, Mickey mouse banging a leggy blond or Donald Duck doing lines on the cistern. It was one of the best nights of my life, I have never laughed so hard, fucked so hard and partied so hard in god knows how long, this night was going down in the history books…

The rest of the week was spent pretty much the same way drinking, snorting and fucking my way through Newcastle. What a holiday.

Wife- Hi honey how was your holiday?

Bo- Great honey

Wife- What did you get up to?

Bo- You know dressed up as the Easter Bunny, snorted lines of coke, fucked chicks and got into fights with Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Cinderella and a horse.

Wife- You can never give me a straight answer, you’re always joking around.

Bo- Sorry Dear.

Between The Bars

2007-12-28T14:20:00.000+11:00

Drink up baby, stay up all night, things you could do, you won’t but you might, the potential you’ll be, you’ll never see, promises you’ll lonely make.

Drink up with me now and forget all about, pressure of days do what I say, and I’ll make you ok, drive them away, images stuck in you’re head.

People you’ve been before that you don’t want around anymore, they push, shove wont bend to you’re will, I’ll keep them still.

Drink up baby look at the stars and I’ll kiss you again between the bars, where I’m seeing you there, hands in the air, waiting to finally be caught.

Drink up one more time and I’ll make you mine and keep you apart deep in my heart, separate from the rest, where I like you the best, keep the things you forgot.

People you’ve been before that you don’t want around anymore, they push, shove wont bend to you’re will, I’ll keep them still.

Drink up baby………

How to piss off and influence people

2007-12-27T18:33:00.000+11:00

Last Friday saw our work Christmas party which was held at a crappy bar in the city of Melbourne. In attendance were staff members from all departments, including my state manager and my regional manager who slowly over the period of say 10 or 20 pints were the recipients of my ridicule and abuse. To quote “Yeww donnt noooo shit ya farken packa cuntz” end quote. To quote ‘ Yeww sit ver in ya farken gwass howzes frowen stonez at awll uz little cuntz………. I needz a pissh, waate ver foor a sekound” end quote.

Funnily enough when I got back from relieving myself they were not where I had left them. I went on to drink, grope, offend and slander pretty much all of the party attendees only to wake up the next morning in the bed of my regional manager. Apparently she was turned on by my utter disregard for my professional career and came back at the end of the night to take me home to her place where I spewed on her wall, pissed on her dog and passed out in her laundry trying to smell her knickers.

I must have had the best fucking time cause all the emails and phone calls I have gotten from the different people in attendance have ranged from Anger, disgust and pure fucken legendism (legendism is my own word so fuck off). I have had the state manager on the phone wanting me to chair a committee on ways we can better communicate on a state level, blokes who I must of met on the night congratulating me, chicks who I must of groped and offended asking to go out for a drink one night and my fucking regional manager giving me the dates of when her fucking husband is away on business.

I FUCKING LOVE WORK CHRISTMAS PARTIES!!!!!!!!

People Are Assholes

2007-12-20T09:11:00.000+11:00

Over a period of say 12 months catching the tram to work, I have had the fortune of getting to know this beautiful albino girl. Now yes of course I have had sexual thoughts about this girl, after all I am a sexual being with sexual desires, fantasies and fetishes. I love chicks with pale skin but I also get turned on by what most people see as flaws in another. This to me is reality; everyone seems to be so focused on perfection and achieving perfection.

What’s to say that this beautiful albino girl isn’t perfection in this world? She has the best smile, the best laugh and a fantastic sense of humour, plus not to mention she is sexy.

Now I know what you’re thinking, and no I have not had my balls cut off. The reason you’re seeing this sensitive side of me is because this morning she broke down in front of me. She just started crying, and I don’t cope too well when chicks just start crying around me for something I didn’t have a direct hand in, and because we haven’t reached the ‘touching’ stage of our tram commuting relationship, I didn’t know whether to hug her, pat her on the back, say something, not say something (fuck why did this chick have to start crying) so I just placed my hand on top of hers and said the generic ‘Aww come on don’t cry’ to which she stopped crying, looked up at me, leaned in and started kissing me (Whoa stop the fucking tram let me off, what the fuck is happening here)

I pulled back and just stared at her not knowing what to say. Then she started crying again………fuck………fuck……….don’t cry….not again, what’s going on? Why did you kiss me? (Mind you everyone on the tram is looking at us, including little old Mrs Mac who knows I’m married and is currently throwing daggers at my fucking head)

She started telling me that while waiting at the tram stop this morning a car load of bitches pulled over and started yelling albino abuse at her and threw a Maccas cup of coke at her (only at this point did I notice that her top was completely soaked) she went on to say that the people at work treat her as if she has a disability and the only people in her life that look at her and treat her like a human being are her parents, her best friend Kate and me, the dude she catches the tram with each morning .

She’s never had a boyfriend, never had sex and only ever kissed one other boy apart from me (hows that for a total head fuck in the morning) She looks forward to our tram ride each morning and still catches the same tram even though her shift at work has changed and now starts 2 hours later than normal.

Why are people so fucking mean, what’s their fucking problem. It’s Christmas time, a time for joy and happiness, why should this beautiful girl have to put up with shit like this, “SHE”S A FUCKING HUMAN BEING PEOPLE”.

She has told me previously that her school years were the worst years of her life, full of torturous abuse and solitude and the only thing that kept her going was knowing that once she left school it would all be different, she would be around grown ups, people who are old enough to know right and wrong and then shit like this happens. It makes me sick.

So what I want is anyone who reads this blog, to go out and do one nice thing for someone. Go on make someone’s day. “AND TREAT EVERYONE WITH EQUALITY AND RESPECT, WE’RE FUCKING HUMAN BEINGS”.

Anthony Fucking Robbins

2007-12-19T07:57:00.000+11:00

Why does it always rain on me? Was it because I lied when I was seventeen? No it’s because your standing out-side in the fucking RAIN you fucking idiot.

I work with a bunch of chicks who read too much into everything and I mean everything. They sit there and read horoscopes, now I’m not saying I don’t read them myself but I don’t base my entire week around them.

“Oh it says I’m going to meet the right man this week.” “Yeah it said that last week, but you ain’t going to meet the right man sitting on your ass eating a tub of choc chip watching Dancing with the Stars.”

“Oh it says I’m going to come into extra money this week, I better buy a lottery ticket”. “No it’s because I’m going to tell you you’re working the Saturday shift.”

“Oh it says I need to take some time out for myself and relax.” “Yeah more Dancing with the Stars and choc chip tubs is exactly what you need to do, plus you wont have time for any of that, you’re working the Saturday shift.”

What I’m trying to say is if these girls spent more time believing in themselves and the things they could accomplish through hard work, dedication and persistence rather than spend their time bitching, moaning and complaining then they would astound themselves.

It frustrates me to see people with so much potential waste it away in self doubt, but not only do they sit there and do nothing about it, they fucking complain about it….all….the fucking….time. I know everyone is different with their own baggage to lug around but come on, recognise the issue and try and move on, if you can’t by yourself then get a professional or someone else to help you, don’t just sit there with this woe is me attitude thinking that the world owes you a life.

Take control and get your own fucking life, it might take some time but every journey starts with a single first step (great now I sound like Anthony fucking Robbins) but it’s true, It’s time to take control.

Now you might be sitting there thinking who the fuck does he think he is sitting there in his class house, what gives him the right. Well mutherfucker I’ve been there and…….. whatever, fuck it, it’s my fucking blog and I can say whatever the fuck I want.

But We Didn't Touch

2007-12-18T10:03:00.000+11:00

Last night having a few drinks with friends and talking absolute shit as always the conversation turned to the question of cheating and what you consider as cheating. Coming home and finding your wife with another mans cock in her mouth, well then yes that would not entirely be monogamy.

But the question came up of “What if they were sitting on separate couches completely naked and masturbating in front of each other and never actually touched?” This started a mix response of “Fucking oath that’s cheating are you fucking crazy”, “Well their not touching each other so technically their not cheating”(at this point my mate who said that looked at his wife and did not add any further comments to the conversation)

But what it did do was divide us into half that did think it was cheating and half that didn’t. Mind you the half that didn’t were the bloke, which says allot about the difference in sexes and their thought processes and from the emails I received from some of the boys this morning it didn’t do to well for their sleeping arrangement either.

So what do you think? Cheating or not?

All Over Red Rover

2007-12-14T09:36:00.000+11:00

Fantasy’s are there to be made. Whether you want to be spanked by a boneless chicken, you’re nuts pummelled by stilettos or just plain taken from behind breasts cupped while you feel the man of you’re choice rimming the edge of you’re vagina driving you closer to the cliff face of madness. (This last reference is for the ladies reading as I know I would have had any of the blokes at boneless chicken spanking)

Whatever it is you have a fantasy that needs to be fulfilled. One of my never-ending fantasy’s is to be standing at Flinders St Station on Oaks Day, casually admiring the number of stunning women who are out and about wearing some expensive boutique Chapel St dress that’s only going to be relocated, stained & torn to the bedroom floor or any other place where she is going to fulfil my fantasy. “What do you intend to do with her in you’re circus tent of sin Bo Bo?” Good question………I don’t know, I always cum before that part…….

This brings me to the topic premature ejaculation. Now I’ve personally experienced this a handful of times (pardon the pun) but I feel theses have been justified. Lets work through them and you can tell me if you think they were justified.

Oops 1. 14 years old at a birthday party standing in the birthday girls (Goddess Zoë, age 15.5) bedroom watching her take off her top and asking me if it was my first time. (What do you fucking reckon, I’m 14 years old, I only just worked out that the awkward, un-timed rhythm of my left hand was as if someone else was jacking me off). “Nah I’ve done it heaps of times”. We are now both standing there naked, her in all her stunning glory (did I mention I had a crush on her since 3rd grade) and me arms to my side with my cock as hard as ……. Well a cock. Zoë moved over to me and kissed me, then placed her hand on my cock and with one slight stroke….BAM…...all over red rover.

Oops 2. 17 years old and yes I had, had sex in the meantime. Georgi, gorgeous Georgi, the blond bombshell with the body that screamed WAY OUT OF YOU’RE LEAGUE SMALLFRY. Well after months of chasing and workplace harassment she finally gave in at the work Christmas party (I fucking love Christmas party’s) her and I alone in the bosses office, just kissing Georgi made me burst at the seams but when I undressed her and saw that naked body, the naked body that had been the focus of so many hand sessions I was about to explode. I picked her up placed her on the desk, slowly entered that perfect, wet shaven cunt and within the stroke of the clock ……..BAM……..all over red rover.

Oops 3. 23 years old, my first threesome, Rebecca & Sophie, long-time girlfriends of mine and long-time girlfriends of each other. Once again many hand sessions were in dedication of these to beautiful girls. At Rebecca’s house one Friday night drinking and flirting our asses off, getting more and more into each other Rebecca & Sophie asked if I wanted to watch them fuck. (Are you fucking kidding me, do I look like I would say no, I’m pitching a fucking 10 man tent over here).

The thing I love about chicks is that they know how to treat each other sexually and show us blokes how it’s done. After 30min of watching them cum and cum I was on another planet of horny (I call it planethorn) When they said would you like to join in now, I broke the land speed record in reaching one couch to the other, it was more like one giant leap and as if my clothes were only attached by Velcro. I was in between them with Rebecca kissing my neck and Sophie kissing my dick, (FUCKING PLANETHORN) as soon as I felt the back of Sophie’s throat…………….BAM……….all over red rover.

So there are my handfuls of premature embarrassments. Tell me are they fucking justified or what?

To The MAX..........3000

2007-12-13T07:51:00.000+11:00

Big boys don’t cry. They do if you kick them in the nuts. That’s what happened to me last night. Well I didn’t cry but I’m sure the lump in my throat was my left testiculi. I couldn’t breath, couldn’t talk, couldn’t reach out and smack the pussy ass cunt who kicked me. Really who kick’s in the nuts these days, especially one bloke kicking another bloke in the fucking NUTS. You just don’t do that, it’s not kosher. Fair enough he was dark at me for screwing his girlfriend on his MAX3000 all purpose work bench he got from Bunnings the week before but hey what’s the point of having an all purpose work bench if you can’t walk in and find your girlfriend getting worked …..to the MAX…..3000

Australian Idol

2007-12-07T09:36:00.000+11:00

Soon I will have everything I want, Sex, Drugs and Gangster Rap. A Dr once said “You can’t make a ho a housewife right”……

Wrong, they make the best housewife, you don’t want some scone baking, cross stitch knitting, Idol watching, give a teacher an apple kind of wife when you walk in the door from a hard day sitting in front of a computer screen shifting papers from one tray to another. You want a dirty, stinking, filthy cum guzzling beast wife to smack you around and show you your nothing but an oversized toy for her to play with.

Tell me what would you prefer? Coming home each night to dinner on the table followed by TV and missionary sex or would you like to walk in the door and be pussy raped repeatedly pushing you to limits you thought were only experienced in the animal kingdom and getting told to make your own god dame dinner.

Well tie me up and cover me in hot wax cause you can give me the animal kingdom anytime I’ll cook my own fucking dinner and be eating it satisfied in knowing that some poor cunt is currently sitting at home with a sac full of cum and arguing with his wife over who really deserves to be this years Australian Idol……..

Gotta Love this City

2007-12-06T11:00:00.000+11:00

Woke up alright, slight chubby, can’t remember the last time I woke without a hard on. No chance of chocking it, gotta get up and have something for this banging beat, this fucking hangover is tha full cunt. Good night, knocked em back no trouble, nice muff out and about, to do with the games being in town, gotta love this city, Melbourne ‘the place to be’ place to be alright got everything a twenty eight year old like myself needs, good pubs, good grub and all the multicultural skirt too quench ya thirst.

Where the fuck does she keep the drugs, got everything but. How much crap does a women need, looked in four different cupboards and there all packed full of shit I didn’t even know existed, what the fuck is lemon lime and bitters exfoliating anti wrinkle facial scrub, long island ice tea mud pack, who the fuck comes up with this shit. Panadol, bingo!, last two, fuck her, I was up first.

Where’s this chicks kitchen, gotta get this taste out of my mouth, like I’ve brushed my teeth with a dunny brush and rinsed it out with fish oil. Nice place she’s got, one of them modern apartments, polished floorboards, decent sized open living area full of all that furniture you can only buy at those trendy posh places, the ones that say “you’re not only buying a couch but a piece of art” what a load of shit, and oh yeah a big fuck off plasma TV, love ta watch porn on that beast.

This chick must do alright for herself. What’s this tart got in her fridge for your’s truly. Yogurt, fruit, vegetables come on where’s the good stuff. I want meat, grease, oil, a fucking sausage dipped in batter cooked in stinking hot lard wrapped in bacon and covered in full fat butter…yeah..fuck yeah.…..Fucking yogurt, where was this shit last night, would have tasted half good smothered all over that cunt of hers.

She was good though, gave it a good going and all that “choke me…choke me when I cum” fuck yeah that shit was awesome, made me squirt half way across the room, a nice wad landed on a picture of her husband, bullseye motherfucker, right between the eyes. Remember to clean that up sweetheart daddy’s not gunna be a happy boy.

Fuck this for a joke I’d rather go hungry than eat any of this crap. Need a shower, get clean but before I do that I’m gunna get some more of that sweet pussy, dirty, nice and dirty then get clean. Man who would let their wife paint their bedroom pink. Fucking pussy, know wonder your wife is gagging for a real man to cut off her oxygen supply……………………

Addicted

2007-12-05T14:17:00.000+11:00

I'm addicted to women..... I'm a happily married man who loves his wife more than life itself but all my thoughts seem to go back to the same topic..women/sex. In the past I have put it down to just being a man, a man with manly urges, but over the years talking to other blokes I get the impression that I think about it way too much. Now I'm not talking every second of the day, more like every two seconds of the day. I can't look at a woman without thinking the nasty thoughts. Women are just stunning, there should be more of them, they should come free with your breakfast cereal.

Hows this for a first post ay, jump straight into the deep end. No 'Oh this is my first time' and all that crap just straight out with my thoughts for the day. I can see this is going to be addictive...... I'm addictied.