Today I Learned That Paris Hilton Had A Sex Tape

With John Henry here 12 years older than me, there's surely some things he knows in which I've never been brought to the light on. I would have never imagined a famous sex tape was one of them, thank you for my nightly plans the education. Grateful. 

I'm not quite sure why I thought she was famous, it would appear it never crossed my conscience to ponder such a thought-- obscure white women are consistently becoming famous for reasons unbeknownst to me, or others as a matter of fact. She has a wildly rich father and perhaps he had just manufactured her stardom, then, once people saw what a character she was, it all just took off. No, no, not at all, she's Kim Kardashian but far worse at marketing and capitalizing. 

Is everyone gone? Hopefully, because I have something to admit that will truly make me appear as though I am the largest moron alive-- I thought Paris Hilton became famous because of 'The Suite Life Of Zack and Cody'. I wish, with every cell in my gaunt, angular body, that I was joking and could of just manufactured that lie. I believed that the "Tipton Hotel" was a play on the "Hilton Hotels", and as the show revolved around the airhead heiress "London Tipton", it grew the popularity of Paris Hilton. But no, Disney Channel just created a spoof show after the life of a pornstar? I mean, talk about problematic, and even more importantly, talk about ruining my childhood-- jesus christ. That show was my favorite, how will I rewatch now, knowing that they're making light of sexual abuse? Maybe a little bit more aroused, but no differently if we're in the trust tree. 

Her PR team has done a hell of a job keeping this shit quiet, I'm a 20 year old male who didn't know about a celebrity porno...do you know how fucking covert you've gotta be for that to be a thing? I mean give those people a damn raise, there's never been anyone more dedicated or more prolific at their jobs. Those are the Michael Jordan and Tom Brady of public relations, Barry Bonds with his .600 on base percentage couldn't even match their level of dominance. 

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Now for research purposes, I needed to confirm that there was a real sex tape-- I am an aspiring big J after all. Confirmed, there is, in fact, a sex tape. I'll spare you the details, because I can't think of a more wince inducing task than reading a description of porn. However, the most shocking thing, was how far technology has come-- oh come on, grow up. Were people really forced to spank their hog to this 240p Alexander Graham Bell ass erotica? We sure do take for granted the 4K VR BDSM we're granted the privilege to nowadays. 

They really made an adolescent Brenda Song play a pornstar on television....society has come so far in the last 15 years, but not really if we're being honest...in fact Netflix may be trending in the opposite direction, but that's a whole nother story, talk about YIKES.

Dating Is Going Great

Having written about my ever lasting desire of convincing others of my masculinity, I felt it appropriate to write about the beginning stages of the dating process. Now is this a humble brag, that some poor soul found themselves in a dejected enough place, to submit themselves to a smut blogger, of all people? If I had any self-confidence whatsoever, and didn't believe myself to inevitably run off any member of the opposite sex, I'd say yes-- alas though. For multiple days now, some poor soul, we'll call her, Taylor, has stayed in constant communication with I. 

I've been able to hide my faulty brain from her, rather well so far, although there's been brief moments in which she's seemed to question my sanity. Taylor's a good lass, someone far too innocent for myself, someone who deserves an hombre with an actual job. When I've mentioned my burgeoning blogging career, she's acted interested, while all the time I know she's simply patronizing me while furiously swiping on Tinder. Every blue moon, I make a joke in which lands in a similar fashion to Malaysia Flight 370, poorly to say the least. Does she simply ghost me and leave me in a heap of tears? Does she report me to proper authorities? Is my number perhaps blocked within a matter of nanoseconds? None of the above, and that's her biggest red flag thus far-- a lack of self-worth.

A straight forward, cut to the chase inquiry-- am I a murderous wackjob? Despite popular belief, and likely contrary to Taylor's beliefs, I'm far too pussy to ever take a life. It's why I exclusively listen to murder music, to quell my thirst for blood through the form of art via Kentrell Gaulden. What I replied to this legitimate probing journalism, is lost upon me, something undoubtedly reassuring and self deprecating. Is there a chance I replied in O.J Simpson fashion, detailing how I would kill her, IF I was to be a homicidal maniac? That stays between me, and the one girl insane enough to hold a conversation with me.

If you've read any amount of my prior blogs, you know without a shadow of a doubt, that this wasn't where her search ended. If anyone's to ever take the chance of encountering me in a public setting, they assuredly need to dig further. 

Yes, that's really how I look. Manic enough to dye my hair platinum blonde, but vain enough to take shirtless pictures before getting in the shower. I worry those of the matronly position, for good reason, who wants to spend their lives with someone, who's life goals are to work in New York making 50k a year? 

Now unfortunately the poor lass fell sick as our first date was but hours away, instead of doubting the legitimacy of her illness, I chose to believe in the pure attentions of others and cracked a sidesplitting quip. Of course, I chose not to show her response, because I'm a real gentleman who respects the privacy of others-- and not because she found it wince inducing, furthering her migraine. Humor is my self-deflection tactic, even if others rarely find it actually funny, it's for me, not them. 

I'll keep you updated for when she irrefutably breaks my heart, and I end up doing Fentanyl in the parking lot of a Dairy Queen. Until then, let's hope I can trick her into another few weeks of figuring out what the fuck's wrong with me.

Fuck, Marry, Kill-- Spongebob, Patrick, Plankton

Back on the bullshit, yesterday, we stuck to actual humans. Today however, we boink with some more animated characters. Last time it was Winnie, Blue, and Bob The Builder, that was far too innocent though, those characters are all from cartoons in which are meant for the 0-8 range. Today, we take a step up on the ladder into the 9-15 genre, instead of clapping some Sandy Cheeks though, we're gonna stick to the non-binary folks, as to protect my masculinity. We all know my masculinity is the most important factor in my life, no beta male is talking about fornicating with Pumpkins. Spongebob could be a woman, hell have you heard his voice? I've heard females with lower voices than he, and that leads me to believe he could be anything. Patrick certainly would lead you to believe he's a male, but, but, but, he's pink-- everyone knows only women wear pink. Plankton is too tiny to have genitalia, it's simple math, look at the square footage of his body and imagine what kind of chungus or downstairs slit he'd harbor? Just not possible.

Without further rambling, because every time I write about seducing a fictional animated creation, I get nervous the SWAT may beat down my door any second, let's hop into some FMK. 

Fuck- Plankton

So over here, on this side, we fuck Chicken Nuggets and are proud to shout it to the world-- it's a spot of pride for us. Plankton looks roughly the size of a crispy, tender within nugget and so why not go for that experience. My jimmy is likely around the length of his entire body, which is what leads me to nominate him with the "fuck" variation. If i'm to demolish his innards and eradicate the little green fella, I don't have to worry about the heartbreak I'd experience should I have married him. How good of head do we think Plankton gives, because I could imagine he has that sloppy toppy, big time. It's just something you'll never get the opportunity again, and so if you kill Plankton, you're punting on an occurrence that will never again present itself.

I want to hear him moaning belligerently about the Krabby Patty Secret Formula, while I nail his brains out. I want to see Mr. Krabs the next day and dap him up, letting him in on the secret, that I just slaughtered his arch nemesis and put my Satan seed all over his piss yellow pupil. Perhaps he'd then let me shove my johnson up Peach's canyon wide, gaping nostrils. 

Marry- Spongebob

Bubba...I'd never get tired of shagging those angst creating craters, which lie upon squarepants. Yeah, his voice is annoying, and could create the desire for you to whack yourself within the first month-- that's what ball gags are for. There are no ground rules here, I create the rules-- "the only sensible way to live in this world is without rules" as best said by Bruce Wayne's master. Now, after fucking the world out of every visible opening upon Bob's body, the best part is-- I can carve out my own holes, of any size or shape. Sponges are reproductive and don't feel pain, it's the best combination imaginable. 

Never will Spongebob complain that "you're not doing something right", like these pesky damsels consistently do, without error. His giddy, always positive energy, will keep you positive towards life, and give you all the passion and motivations you'll ever need. And don't even get me started on the free meals I'd receive from the Krusty Krab-- who's dream as a school boy wasn't to try a Krabby Patty? Yeah, box boy can get this golf tee dick. 

Kill- Patrick

Who likes fat chicks? She's borderline obese and if a physician was to take stock of her BMI, there'd be diet pills and cauliflower thrown at her by the dozens. It's assuredly not a BENEFIT that she's annoying as hell, and plays dumb at every turn. I'm already infuriating enough and don't need some leggy dame attempting to better me at every turn. Her home is full of sand and shagging in that environment is a harbinger for STD's, can't be pulling out the knob in that environment. Also, tell the tramp to maybe put on a shirt every once in a while, I've never seen a more flat chested fatty. Kill the corpulent cunt and make sure she never comes in contact with me, or my ramrod. 

I'm in a downwards spiral, but I don't think there's any end in site. I'll never betray my FMK roots of animated carnal reproduction, it's my mud and I'm most comfortable in the mud. If spending 10 hours a day, 5 days a week, blogging about both sports and the worst smut you could imagine, doesn't end up with me in a high paying job one day? I have no clue what would. 

A 5'8 265 Pound MLB Catcher Is The Role Model America's Been Yearning For

So...we're all fucked, no matter your political affiliation or where you stand on certain issues, you have to resign to the fact that there's nothing to look forward to or hold in reverence. Is this new, or perhaps is this something that's always been the case, and with increased media exposure we're finally seeing just how awful America actually is. Before you call me a "treacherous rebel" because you've been brainwashed to think democracy is good, just remember, I don't care. The thing is, you can't just live your life in misery, you have to find some type of entertainment or individual, to find solace in and enjoy. For most, they take this solace in religion, personally I think those people are fucking idiots, but no judgement here. 

MY God, however is a man named Alejandro Kirk, a rotund, thick king. A man who's been able to traverse through years of the minor leagues, without being forced to lose a single pound. A man who has never allowed a ball to pass his sex symbol physique, behind the dish. A man who, despite having a BMI residing in the morbidly obese range, is an MLB player. And not only is he just an MLB player, he made his debut at 21 years old-- meaning he's insanely talented and has a future in the league. Now THAT'S the best news of the year, the fact that we'll get 15 years of a compacted Bartolo Colon sliding back and forth behind the dish. Are you kidding me? Baseball IS the sport of the future, I'll agree with that lunacy now.

America's always trying to normalize a wide variety of unhealthy habits, including rampant obesity. No longer, can you point out someone being 5'1 255 pounds, and waddling like a penguin. It's now "fat shaming" and being "fat phobic". So, if you want a role model for these individuals outraged over all of Twitter? I've got the pudgy prince for you, let Alejandro be himself and rule over all of you slobs. 

Sure, he's only played one game and Toronto seems to have a catcher rotation they're comfortable in, with Jansen and McGuire. But if we've come to learn anything from the Jays front office, it's that they love a man with a tonka truck. Vladdy Jr. has stayed corpulent and they have no qualms, give Kirk his shot and let your 1st baseman and catcher look like baseball Costanza and Rosie O'Donnell-- for us? For the morale of all 200 million of us? Give us some good news before we're devastated in November, I know you're from Canada and all, but you could throw us a little bone. Cats can have a little salami, you know? 

 

Small sample size but does that matter? Aly Baby Thickums, has an on base percentage of .500 and an OPS+ of 135, is that good? For a catcher? I'd say so. He has no strikeouts and has worked a walk already, not to get dramatic, but if they sent him back down to the alternative site, I'll literally injure Josh Allen. Your move Buffalo. 

Fellas,,,Is It Emasculating To Say "Yay"?

It's with great sorrow I must announce to the good people reading this here blog, I've become downright obsessed with my masculinity. From shaving my noggin' down to a buzzcut, all the way to my new found fixation with overalls and work boots. I must find a way to acquire the pussy women so gallantly decide to conceal from me, despite popular belief and my libido bordering upon that of an asexual cartoon character, I would enjoy someone desiring a good crayon sized punishment, via my penis every once in a while. It's been a long journey however, telling everyone you're gay as a 13 year old, for a smidge of attention-- well, it has a way of sticking with you despite claiming you were "joking". 

My claim to homosexuality as an early teen started as a deflection technique with my father, knowing that he, as an extremely straight man, would be flummoxed and begin questioning his own parenting. You see, I called my step-sister a slut, was I wrong? Well, no, but apparently "that's not how you talk to family", how was I supposed to know that? But, in the midst of getting belligerently screamed at, my standard weeping tactic wasn't working-- I needed something stronger. Now could I have chosen my deflection method with more acute thinking? Absolutely, but I was corpuscular off Prozac and couldn't for one second longer be chastised by this man, a man who quite frankly I still don't believe is my actual father. 

That chump is 5'8, 310 pounds where as I'm 5'11, 135 pounds-- someone explain to me how that works? It doesn't is the answer. Anyhow, after telling him this it quickly spread throughout the household, only then to quickly spread throughout my school, thanks to that vapid slut who begun this all. I let it breathe for many of years, as I was 4'11 and girls weren't exactly chasing after the white Gary Coleman, at that time. As I hit puberty, at 16, late in my junior year of high school however, the hair upon my cock began to crave womanly contact-- thus began the quest to convince others I was as straight as a #2 pencil. 

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It's been a long journey, full of a lot of stew, wrangler jeans and degrading of a variety of minorities. My latest dilemma however is, when texting with women, does saying "yay" take away from your upper-hand in the relationship? Everyone knows that men must be the dominating force in any type of romantic entrapment, so obviously you can tell, I'm in quite the dilemma. I can't have her thinking I'm a pussy, or that I won't abuse her shall she cross me whilst I'm boozing with my bros-- so what do I do? How do I express excitement? "That's awesome" makes me sound like a mundane 12 year old on Omegle, but "holy shit, that's sick" makes me sound like a beta boy, uninterested in her sexually. 

It's so hard to be a man, we have all of these societal constructs on how to behave ourselves during conversation with a woman-- and all of the sudden they want us to respect these people too? Am I a superhero? I'm so lost and out of control, nothing makes sense anymore-- we can't hang plainly racist flags any more and suddenly we have to eat Kale. I miss the days when men couldn't listen to anything but Keith Urban and drink Budweiser, while eating a bleu rare steak.  

For now, I'll just tell the lassies, "yay, but no homo" as to protect my superiority, and appear stronger than my spindly frame would lead you to believe.