Experiment

Everybody who follows me, do me this favor: sent a pornographic image to my email address.  It must be of something that genuinely turns you on, so no joke images.  Be honest.  Nobody will ever know but you and me what you send, and I think you can all trust me not to blab your dirty secrets.

After all, it’s much more fun for me to talk about my own stuff: I like shemales and urine, remember?

The address is kneelsonofjorel.  The domain is gmail.

Happy choosing and sending!

I’ll be eagerly waiting.

(No, I don’t know why I called this an “experiment”, since it’s really just me being a pervert, but go with it.)

Bachelor Living Like a Boss

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Last night, barring some sort of crazy series of events, was the last time that Jill and I will ever sleep under the same roof.  She packed up her bed today, and she and her kid went to stay at her parents’ house for the next month or so.  In keeping with tradition, the first thing I did was order a whole mess of pizza.  The next thing I do will probably be an epic session of masturbation.  I’d watch some action movies or Westerns or something to complete the hat trick of bachelorhood, but I don’t feel like bothering with hooking up the tv.

Soon I’ll be moving in with another woman (worry not, my friends…there is no relationship or sexual tension with this woman, although she does have an amazing ass), but for the rest of this week, it’s all porn, pizza, and sporadic showering.

Mmm, these breadsticks are so bad for me!

A Great Deluge

I have peed so many times today.  Apparently, my body thinks I drank a kegload of beer last night, but I didn’t even pop the cap on a single bottle.  What is it, body?  What are you trying to tell me?  Is there an emergency?  Is Timmy trapped in the old mine?

Pee count:

  • Once in the toilet (epic)
  • A second time in the toilet (also epic)
  • Once in the shower (not so epic, but fun)

And I’ve only been up for about three and a half hours!  How much more peeing does the day have in store for me?  I can hardly wait to find out!

(Also, I pooped once, but that’s totally in keeping with my usual routine, so it will not be counted in this waste-voiding saga in the making.  If I shit four more times today, we’ll talk.)

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This post brought to you by TUMBLR: THE FUTURE! (TM)

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Never one to shy away from “raping and exploiting” his own story and the stories of those who knew him, for art or profit, Pierrecourt published a short essay relating his first encounter with Maddy Naif, the self-described “heroin pixie” who provided him with a much-needed muse following his late-60s “fallow period”.  The years from this first meeting until her tragic overdose in 1982 are generally considered his most vital and prolific.  The story from which this quote is excised, entitled, “How I Met That Bitch,” was printed in red ink over a variety of Hustler centerfolds and stapled to telephone poles near significant locales from their tempestuous relationship all over New York in the summer of 1984.