Alice and I went to eat at the Dwarf House, which is the original Chick-fil-a.

You yankees and foreigners probably have no idea what Chick-fil-a is, but basically it’s a place to get a chicken sandwich. They aren’t open on Sunday, which is kind of a bitch because I get hungry then too, but I guess god doesn’t like chicken.

Anyway, the first one is called the Dwarf House, and it’s located a few miles from my house. It’s open 24×7, which is good because I sleep all day.

So we were sitting there eating, and she said something I didn’t approve of, so I was forced to punish her by throwing a buscuit at her. She was pretty indignant about the whole thing, really, but she let it go eventually.

So we finished eating and went home, taking a few of the uneaten buscuits with us. We pulled up to the house and got out, and she put the biscuits in the refrigerator inside, where Frog and J-Rock were lounging about the kitchen. I immediately asked her to hand me the biscuits.

She did. I was amazed. Surely she had to know that bread was about to be lobbed at her.

So, as you might expect, I took out a biscuit and threw it at her. Frog got into the act and threw a loaf of bread at her, but that made her mad, and she stomped out of the room, stomped up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door.

Frog and I giggled at one another.

Soon after, Becky appeared in the kitchen.

Frog very shortly said something ugly to her, and she got mad and stomped down the hall and slammed her door.

“Welp,” Frog said, taking the spatula off the wall, “I’d better go check on her.”

And outside the bugs chirped at one another and humid summer air swirled around and people woke up to go jogging because the sun was almost up.

Well, I finished my little short story thing I was writing about the aliens. It ended up a bit over 10,000 words. I went to Kinko’s and printed five copies of them. It’s pretty neat to see your own words all folded up and stapled into a booklet thing like that.

I hope some of you will want to read it. I should be ready in a few days to send them to people after I proofread them a bit in their final form. I was going to only ask for a dollar for them, but they cost two bucks to print and two bucks to ship each, so they’ll end up at $5.

Damn the man!

So, let me know if you want one. It came out well. I think it’s funny.

I’ll have some paypal buttons set up in a day or two to make it easy.

Hope someone will read it!

Ok ladies, I’ve got another observation about our situation for you.

My latest theory about men and women is that there are some good points to the much hated and talked about society pressures regarding promiscuity. If you think about it, it’s kind of good that women are pressured not to have sex.

If women have less sex, they are exposed to less disease, for one thing, but it more importantly provides for the whole sluttiness in the bedroom idea to be somewhat taboo and exciting. Lord knows I like to spank a girl and treat her like a nasty little hobag from time to time. It would be a lot less fun to do if she actually WAS a nasty little hobag, let alone that I’d be much less interest in sleeping with her skank ass at all.

Additionally, free love is a nice idea and all, but if you can really fuck anyone you want any time you want, fucking becomes boring. Have you ever been with someone who was so into you they’d do whatever you wanted whenever you wanted? It’s great, isn’t it?

Shit, I mean it’s bad! Yes, bad!

So, while I agree that there’s a stereotype of women with numerous sexual partners that’s unfair, I don’t know that it’s necessarily all bad. Speaking as a man, I like to feel that a girl I am with will do things sexually with/for me that she wouldn’t do with/for anyone else, for whatever reason. There’s nothing hotter than a sweet girl who is a perfect lady in public and likes nothing better than to be ravaged like a wild slut monkey when you get home (or out to the car).

Basically, what I’m saying is that I love you ladies, and I want to spank your naked butt cheeks.

That sneaky fucker Frog leaped on me Friday night.

I was at the bar, having a drink, and he punched me in the arm. Naturally, I had to punch him back. Then he performed a maneuver generally associated with escalating levels of testosterone hijinks known in these parts as “bowing up”, whereby one puffs out one’s chest.

I saw his bowing up and responded by standing up and bowing up myself. Then, of course, we shoved each other a bit. I was just getting ready for another good shove when the sneaky prick jumped on me and wrapped his arms and legs around me. I went down like a dead tree in a windstorm with Frog clinging to me like a crazed koala, knocking barstools willy-nilly about the place. Luckily, everyone who works there knows us, and I didn’t take him leaping on me personally, so we didn’t get into a full blown fight or anything. No emergency personnel were required. We got up laughing, and a few startled bar patrons picked up the bar stools.

I had to laugh. I’ve been the unfortunate recipient of an ass whipping or two in my day, but rarely do you see a little creativity on the part of an assailant. It’s never fun to be assaulted, but the least someone can do is put a little effort in.

He assured me later that he likes me, and as a result would never kill me in public, so I appreciate that. I told him a few weeks ago he had to do some crazy shit to give me some material, so I guess I got what I asked for. Next time I’ll be more specific about who should be on the receiving end.

I found this message on my monitor this afternoon after I got up:

WooleyDuck (7:44:54 PM): you are an incredible example of immature asshattedness and your dicktitude knows no bounds, you self-centered egotistical twat.

I’d just like to say that I really appreciate it when someone takes the time to carefully craft an insult. A lot of people would just call you an assface or something, but this person put the effort in.

So, mister or miss WooleyDuck, I salute you.