ADAM OR ANNA
I find myself in a unique position. I'm the only person in the world that has had sex with both Adam and Anna. I know this might come as a shock to some people, although certainly not either one of them. Adam and I have been having sex since the middle of our freshman year. He took my anal man flower for Christ sake. And Anna...well...
I'm sure you all remember that "pitchfest" that I went to earlier this year. Yeah, I didn't go to any pitchfest. As a matter of fact, there's no such thing as a pitchfest. I made it up, cause that's what I do. Make shit up. So, with all my Columbia friends under the impression that I was off to California, I snuck off to Ames, Iowa and had a 48 hour fuckfest with my roommate's girlfriend. Do I feel bad? A little. But then I think about how good the sex was and any guilt that I had is long gone.
Anna is amazing. Not to mention a freak. And when I say "freak" I don't mean that she likes to be spanked every now and again. I mean FREAK. We used handcuffs, leather, and lace. To say nothing of the role-playing that we did. Over the course of the weekend, I played a lost boyscout looking for the "Vaginal Caves", a cowboy searching for an Indian woman to "conquer", and I even got to dress up as Snarf from Thundercats.
And Anna played her fair share of roles too. She was a naughty librarian, a take-charge policewoman, and even a mermaid. We didn't have a mermaid costume or anything so we tied her legs together and she thrashed around in the tub for a while, but damned if it wasn't hot. It was the best weekend of my life.
Now, being the only person who is in a position to judge this I feel it is my duty to determine who is better at the fine art of love making: Adam or Anna.
Adam is very sweet and gentle in the sack. Even as he was taking my man-flower, causing me excrutiating anal pain, he was comforting and he talked me through it. We always cuddle after we make love, and he has a number of different pet names for me. My personal favorite is Snuggle Bunny.
Anna on the other hand is ferocious, and knows all the right buttons to push. Not to mention that she gives the fastest handjobs ever. I know that speed isn't really a factor in the quality of a handjob, but hey...it doesn't hurt. Also she's just plain fun. Sometimes she dominates. Sometimes she's submissive. Sometimes she brings animals to bed with her. Anything goes.
It's a difficult decision to say the least. Do I go with gentle and loveable. Or fun and exotic. I suppose this is a question that every man is faced with at some point in his life. And as hard as it is for me to admit that one of my lovers is superior to the other...I have to say that the gold medal goes to...Anna.
Adam, your my boy. But Anna, God damn. I'd never seen anyone do that with two carrots, a live chicken, and a roll of duct tape. Never...
THERE AREN'T ANY MORE. THAT'S THE WHOLE BARREL
I had a hockey game last night. Well, some might call it a hockey game. Others might call it a slaughtering. We all had skates on, and we were all on ice to be sure. But it was pretty sad. Okay, really fucking sad. Why was it so bad you ask...because we only had six players.
Six fucking players. The other team had, oh I don't know, like twenty. They went through about six or seven line changes for every one of ours.
Not for nothing, but we hung with them for a while. The score at the end of the first period was 5-2. Not bad considering they stopped keeping score at the end of the second when it got to 13-3. But on the bright side, I got a goal.
So...that's something.
I SAW IT, BUT I DIDN'T BELIEVE IT. I DIDN'T BELIEVE IT WHAT I SAW
Fucked up. Those were the only two words that came to mind when I discovered what I'm about to clue all of you in on. Fucked up. Those are really the only two words to describe it. Short of inventing a whole new word, which I'm in no way above doing, I can't think of a better way to describe it. Totally fucked up.
I was watching television the other night, and there was this thing that went down at Coney Island, I believe. Some kind of eating competition. It was a hot dog eating competition to be exact. And that's fine. I don't care. A bunch of people want to get together and figure out who can eat the most hotdogs in twelve minutes. Fine with me. Sounds like something a bunch a frat guys would do, but whatever. Takes different strokes to move the world. I don't even really care that this eating competition was being broadcast on ESPN, carrying with it the connotation that eating is a sport. That doesn't even bother me. But while we're on the subject, if eating is a sport, then the Honleys should be in the eating olympics or something cause my family can fucking eat.
Anyway, throughout the course of this competition, and I use that word loosely, I found out many things.
1) The eating world has superstars. The announcers were comparing said superstars to many famous athletes from other sports. Comparisons were made to Barry Bonds, Babe Ruth, Lou Gherig, Mickey Mantle, Roger Marris, Joe Montana, Wayne Gretzky, and NASCAR champion Jeff Gordon amongst others.
2) Hotdogs aren't the only things these people eat. They have eating competitions for everything. And I mean everything. One guy was the oyster eating champion.
3) It is physically possible to eat 54 hotdogs in twelve minutes. That's dog and bun.
Until the other day, I had no fucking clue that there was this whole sad eating competition subculture out there. I was blissfully ignorant, and this is definately one of those things that once you learn, you can't unlearn. Sorta like finding out that in order for you to exist your parents had to have sex.
I do, however, take comfort in the fact that no matter how shitty my life gets. That no matter what happens to me. I could get every STD known to mankind, and then those STDs could join and morph and make brand new STDs the likes of which modern science has never even seen. Even then, my life still won't be as bad as those pathetic fuckers who refer to themselves as "competitive eaters."
A 72 HOUR SMILE
My girlfriend is coming tomorrow. She'll be here until Saturday. I'm happy. I'm excited. I'm...you get the idea. I don't know what we're gonna do. I don't know where we're gonna go, or what we're gonna see. I don't even know what we're gonna talk about.
I really miss her though. And three days just isn't long enough. That's something I know for sure.
I find myself in a unique position. I'm the only person in the world that has had sex with both Adam and Anna. I know this might come as a shock to some people, although certainly not either one of them. Adam and I have been having sex since the middle of our freshman year. He took my anal man flower for Christ sake. And Anna...well...
I'm sure you all remember that "pitchfest" that I went to earlier this year. Yeah, I didn't go to any pitchfest. As a matter of fact, there's no such thing as a pitchfest. I made it up, cause that's what I do. Make shit up. So, with all my Columbia friends under the impression that I was off to California, I snuck off to Ames, Iowa and had a 48 hour fuckfest with my roommate's girlfriend. Do I feel bad? A little. But then I think about how good the sex was and any guilt that I had is long gone.
Anna is amazing. Not to mention a freak. And when I say "freak" I don't mean that she likes to be spanked every now and again. I mean FREAK. We used handcuffs, leather, and lace. To say nothing of the role-playing that we did. Over the course of the weekend, I played a lost boyscout looking for the "Vaginal Caves", a cowboy searching for an Indian woman to "conquer", and I even got to dress up as Snarf from Thundercats.
And Anna played her fair share of roles too. She was a naughty librarian, a take-charge policewoman, and even a mermaid. We didn't have a mermaid costume or anything so we tied her legs together and she thrashed around in the tub for a while, but damned if it wasn't hot. It was the best weekend of my life.
Now, being the only person who is in a position to judge this I feel it is my duty to determine who is better at the fine art of love making: Adam or Anna.
Adam is very sweet and gentle in the sack. Even as he was taking my man-flower, causing me excrutiating anal pain, he was comforting and he talked me through it. We always cuddle after we make love, and he has a number of different pet names for me. My personal favorite is Snuggle Bunny.
Anna on the other hand is ferocious, and knows all the right buttons to push. Not to mention that she gives the fastest handjobs ever. I know that speed isn't really a factor in the quality of a handjob, but hey...it doesn't hurt. Also she's just plain fun. Sometimes she dominates. Sometimes she's submissive. Sometimes she brings animals to bed with her. Anything goes.
It's a difficult decision to say the least. Do I go with gentle and loveable. Or fun and exotic. I suppose this is a question that every man is faced with at some point in his life. And as hard as it is for me to admit that one of my lovers is superior to the other...I have to say that the gold medal goes to...Anna.
Adam, your my boy. But Anna, God damn. I'd never seen anyone do that with two carrots, a live chicken, and a roll of duct tape. Never...
THERE AREN'T ANY MORE. THAT'S THE WHOLE BARREL
I had a hockey game last night. Well, some might call it a hockey game. Others might call it a slaughtering. We all had skates on, and we were all on ice to be sure. But it was pretty sad. Okay, really fucking sad. Why was it so bad you ask...because we only had six players.
Six fucking players. The other team had, oh I don't know, like twenty. They went through about six or seven line changes for every one of ours.
Not for nothing, but we hung with them for a while. The score at the end of the first period was 5-2. Not bad considering they stopped keeping score at the end of the second when it got to 13-3. But on the bright side, I got a goal.
So...that's something.
I SAW IT, BUT I DIDN'T BELIEVE IT. I DIDN'T BELIEVE IT WHAT I SAW
Fucked up. Those were the only two words that came to mind when I discovered what I'm about to clue all of you in on. Fucked up. Those are really the only two words to describe it. Short of inventing a whole new word, which I'm in no way above doing, I can't think of a better way to describe it. Totally fucked up.
I was watching television the other night, and there was this thing that went down at Coney Island, I believe. Some kind of eating competition. It was a hot dog eating competition to be exact. And that's fine. I don't care. A bunch of people want to get together and figure out who can eat the most hotdogs in twelve minutes. Fine with me. Sounds like something a bunch a frat guys would do, but whatever. Takes different strokes to move the world. I don't even really care that this eating competition was being broadcast on ESPN, carrying with it the connotation that eating is a sport. That doesn't even bother me. But while we're on the subject, if eating is a sport, then the Honleys should be in the eating olympics or something cause my family can fucking eat.
Anyway, throughout the course of this competition, and I use that word loosely, I found out many things.
1) The eating world has superstars. The announcers were comparing said superstars to many famous athletes from other sports. Comparisons were made to Barry Bonds, Babe Ruth, Lou Gherig, Mickey Mantle, Roger Marris, Joe Montana, Wayne Gretzky, and NASCAR champion Jeff Gordon amongst others.
2) Hotdogs aren't the only things these people eat. They have eating competitions for everything. And I mean everything. One guy was the oyster eating champion.
3) It is physically possible to eat 54 hotdogs in twelve minutes. That's dog and bun.
Until the other day, I had no fucking clue that there was this whole sad eating competition subculture out there. I was blissfully ignorant, and this is definately one of those things that once you learn, you can't unlearn. Sorta like finding out that in order for you to exist your parents had to have sex.
I do, however, take comfort in the fact that no matter how shitty my life gets. That no matter what happens to me. I could get every STD known to mankind, and then those STDs could join and morph and make brand new STDs the likes of which modern science has never even seen. Even then, my life still won't be as bad as those pathetic fuckers who refer to themselves as "competitive eaters."
A 72 HOUR SMILE
My girlfriend is coming tomorrow. She'll be here until Saturday. I'm happy. I'm excited. I'm...you get the idea. I don't know what we're gonna do. I don't know where we're gonna go, or what we're gonna see. I don't even know what we're gonna talk about.
I really miss her though. And three days just isn't long enough. That's something I know for sure.
