ODE TO ORE-

crinkle fries, i thought i had lost you.
The Store stopped carrying you that long year ago.
i fretted on the inside that i would never taste that distinctive ridge
and have to settle for those boring straight smooth poles.

then, lo, what sound should i hear
but the tap-tap-tap of a worker bee stocking.
crinkle fries had returned! they had fucking returned!
the smallest of victories keeps my heart ticking.

nothing better, save sex, than biting down on that first hot mound,
letting the roof of your mouth burn with passion,
potato newly-microwaved and Ramsay disapproval
livens up the buds more than any chili sauce's slather.

while eating, my brain kicks in from the brain food,
bread is the staff of life after all.
these days, research amounts to youtubing
and i CLICK HERE LEARN OF THE GLORIOUS HISTORY OF IT ALL.

back in the days when everything was covered up,
and you fucking cooked fries in the stove,
all-righta honest pickers, fieldworkers, and peelers
will rightly feed humanity's move.

how does one begin to describe a love so great?
surely a keyboard and blank screen don't suffice,
when i am alone, always alone,
crinkle fries allow me to continue the fight.

one day i shall marry a famous authoress,
the fact that she's famous will make the sex extra cummy.
until then, i bide my time, hiding the chair,
and know i can rely on the salty, starchy yummy.

when roommates are impossibly disagreeable about a cat,
when my world keeps fading down bit by bit,
when i realize that all hope is lost,
i try to get things back greeable,
and fail as i've always done.
dreaming of an authoress hug in the future
doesn't erase the bright pain of now,
now there is loneliness and the dream of a hug,
now there are empty spaces inbetween my head,
now there aren't enough words to type:
now is when i have lunch
walls have been punched
life has me crunched
sucking and such is such
time for microwave lunch.





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SSS: KITTY KRONICKLES KLOSE

my first-ever drawn-by-me fronty pic, my personal three scales, balancing the cat's needs with the phoenix's lack of sleep

the end of the series, of my cat chronicles, my scratched hand, a promise kept?, when are they really?, and my signature Perez Hilton white lettering

he: knocked over the fish bowl, lucky that the fish is black and was easly spotted, not hidden in a filthy clothes pile in the room, was able to scoop the fish up, replace those millions of tiny rocks and the fake plastic tree (Radiohead), green, used as a sticking pole in the middle of the bowl, filled it up again with fresh spring glacier bottled water, and the fish seems to be okay, swimming around. any longer, though, and it would have been a different story. moved the bowl to a warm place, couldn't be the cold garage though the cat has no access there, deadbolt, had to be a warm place (Nine Inch Nails), so i cleverly hid the bowl inbetween boxes of Costco-size bran and a bushel of Cuties oranges in a weave basket. it's there, but it looks like it's not there, E.T. in a wig, don't think the cat will notice it, though he is surprisingly smart for his unripe age.

me: still arguing over the best place for all involved to sleep, if i don't get more sleep soon, i'll go crazy...too late, that ship passed around the time of my second year in college. even when i sleep i need more sleep, is this the final funeral pyre for the late phoenix? after all, the late in my name is more prominent than the phoenix, even the legendary bird of mythos has but nine lives until he really bites it, his feathers molt and are sold to the hope-peddlers and death merchants for profit.

alternating between depression and rage, the The Store babe is smiling at him? HIM? HIM????!!!! THAT DUDE, i can't stand that dude's smirk. man, it's true, huh?, you babes always go for the bad boys, the dangerous ones, the jerks, but i can't make myself out to be a jerk, not in my DNA, i'm brooding, alone, dark, too exhausted to be a jerk to anyone, spent my entire life being a jerk to myself, nice guys finish last, a prerequisite for this universe to function.

do you see me?

does anyone?

do you?

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK, FOR SOOTHING SOUNDS.

CLICK HERE FOR THE RULES. IF YOU WANT TO PLAY, PLEASE ADD YOUR ENTRY TO THE LINKY TOOL BELOW. HUH? NOBODY WANTS TO PLAY? *RESIGNED FACE*:

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TMIT: FILL IN THE BLANK HOLES

1. i'm the type of person that likes to be______ in bed: UNDERNEATH, as in under the bed, i was always enamored of the monsters under my bed, they tried to scare me with those horror bedtime stories, but i eventually fucked the monsters and made them my brides.

2. if the sexiest person i know propositioned me for sex, i would________: FIRST OF ALL, the sexiest person i have ever known is dead. *wet blanket*

3. the worst part about________when i'm naked is_________: the worst part about me when i'm naked is the fact that i'm naked.

4. i regret my first_______: BLOG POST, i fell for the trap of computer happiness and have paid the price ever since, now it's an incurable addiction.

5. the last sexual/kinky thing i expected to like was_______: vanilla missionary sex, i always figured it would be cum-in-mouth and anal from now on, or anal and cum-in-mouth on Tuesdays.

6. recently, i___________someone: POKED someone, both meanings.

bonus: you have been kidnapped by lesbians and dragged into a lesbian orgy, what are you going to do? SEE ABOVE PICS, ALL OF THEM. FIRST OF ALL, no need for dragging, i come and cum willingly, just loosen the plastic handcuffs a little bit, my wrists are starting to hurt, also make sure you cut those plastic handcuffs into many little pieces before you toss them in the blue recycling bin, don't want innocent beach seagulls to choke on them. seriously. now, time for my heavenly reward. Mom said i should be a doctor/lawyer, but no, i decided to become whatever it is i have become that one day a harem of hot frisky lesbians would carry me off and punish me for my sins. the Devil is tricky, though, did i land in Lesbian Heaven or Lesbian Hell?...this of course after i died from drowning in clit juice. Heaven and Hell look exactly the same, the same luxurious rugs, the same red-felt couches, the same gaggle of impossibly gorgeous, not-a-speck-of-fat-on-them naked asses and tits and fully-done-up hair tresses. the slight difference? Heaven has grapes, Hell has prunes, Heaven has a real-gold pimp cup, Hell hands out tin, Heaven the girls want more than sex, they want to know about your art and tell you your art is unique and revolutionary, Hell does the same, except in Hell, your art actually sells, you become famous, and you never again know what it is like to be loved for yourself and your inner, needed-to-be-unearthed-by-that-special-girl qualities, you are forever surrounded by yes men, sycophants, relatives who want money, and nondescript whores. that's a lesson for ya: go for the whore with the heart of gold, Julia Roberts.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

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PORN LESSONS: HOW MANY LICKS?...ONE...TWO...CRUNCH

your Valentine's Day didn't go so well? here's some porn:




CLICK HERE. WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NSFW PORN




learned:

* St. Valentine kept a secret stash under his bed...of chocolates.

* what is that cackling? oh, sorry, it was you two hot ladies...well, porn-hot anyway.

* how does it feel to have two babes sucking my cock at the same time? that's either a rhetorical question, or a question of synchronicity.

* after all that sucking and licking, that is the cumshot produced?! that was a drizzle...come on, man! that's almost enough to revoke your man card.

* speaking of synchronicity, it seems the audio and video aren't synced up right. that must have been the cause of the cackling...





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SSS: OUTSIDE THE CIRCLE

*CLICKY CLICKY*

click above on The Outer Limits, probably the most famous episode, attic, for #3 in the series.

so, what's goin' on this week?

let's see, let's see

i need your solutions, my people, it's about my cat, i've tried everything, but i don't know how i'm gonna set up the sleeping arrangements at night, i've tried every combination.

the cat needs to be in my room during the night, at least be able to access my room all throughout the night with a door ajar, because my room is where the litter box, food, and water are, so in case he gets thirsty, hungry, and needs to go during the night, he can all 3. if he gets frisky, well, that's on him. i can't sleep in the same room as the cat during the night because he relentlessly nibbles on my toes, scratches my face, won't let me sleep on my stomach, i have to sleep awkwardly in a very narrow sliver of my already-narrow bed, cupping him from all sides in a right circle of blanket on the right side of my bed or he won't calm down and join me in sleep, he'll just stay awake the entire night like a stoned college kid waiting the last minute to do his 90%-of-his-grade essay due 7AM next morn. the cat will jump on top of things that shouldn't be jumped on, he'll find height wherever it exists, he'll sharpen his teeth on outdated bronze tacks on my crumbling white plaster walls, he'll chew on the ipad mini charging wire, if he continues to do that, i won't have the power to type and blog these little posts i blog for you anymore...

...update on that particular problem: i put the ipad wire into a drawer and shut the drawer...

i can't charge my blessed ipad mini in the same room when he's sleeping with me in said room, he'll just chew on the wire sneakily after i fall asleep, and i wake up to an unplug and a 40% charged :(

solution: charge it in another room, use another socket

there's still the central problem: i can't sleep in my bedroom when he's in the bedroom, he needs to be in my bedroom 'cause that's where his supplies are, i can sleep in another room with a deadbolt on, problem is he can escape my bedroom very easily because there is no lock on my bedroom door, he can escape into the living room area during the night, i don't want that because a roommate can loudly open the main door in this living room area in the middle of the night, breaking the silence in a startling, key-clanging manner, the cat could get spooked and fly out into the outside night, *sad face*...the living room is where the cat's house structure is, 3 levels of cat paradise on a carpet pole with the fuzz ball on a string, the cat has been known to sleep soundly on the top level of the house, but again, he's exposed in the living area to an unruly drunk roommate coming back the middle of the night.

what is the math answer? how much do bedroom locks cost? how will my poor ipad get charged?

this is more complicated than Schrodinger's cat.

i was so stressed this week, i accidentally put his pee in the tube to get tested instead of what the kindly vet wanted, poo. i was clearing his litterbox, i surrounded the first big clump i saw and instinctively broke it down into two dusty, sand-laden pieces and put them in the tube...only at lunchtime did i realize i put his molded pee into the test tube, not a nice smelly lump of poo...i can't tell the difference anymore between numbers 1 and 2...maybe 'cause i was a test-tube baby myself i got thrown off seeing the tube.

CLICK HERE, I FEEL LIKE AN OUTSIDER WHO CAN'T GRASP THIS WORLD.

CLICK HERE FOR THE RULES. IF YOU WANT TO PLAY, PLEASE ADD YOUR ENTRY TO THE LINKY TOOL BELOW:

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TMIT: BLOWIN' UP ON TWITTER...WHO GIVES A SHIT?!...

1. to spice things up in the bedroom, how adventurous are you willing to be?

a) virgin b) i want to try something scripted, i want to act and ultimately direct c) got my feet wet like my new cat, want more d) dive in head first like a scuba motherfucker

d, anytime you're a scuba motherfucker, you're winning.

2. what scenario piques your interest?

a) sensual b) playful c) kinky and hoarding, i want it all!

when i role-play, my imagination is so deep i literally lose myself in the woods, need a busty woodcarver's daughter to help me out. i'm not a hoarder, that's one good thing happening for me in my solitary room.

3. what's your ideal fantasy setting?

a) brothel b) dungeon c) bedroom d) prison cell

COMBINE LIKE VOLTRON: brothel is the head, dungeon and bedroom are the arms, and the motherfucking silver shining sword is the prison cell. i always wanted to do anal, but not in a dusty cell. then again, i got the brothel as a pre-dinner aperitif, the dungeon to get my nerd on with some D + D, and a nice fluffy blankie on my soft bed to lie on before the prison rape. anyone else humming the Tool song?

4. toys?: a) feather and whipped cream b) handcuffs, panty hose, and necktie c) whips and chains d) ice cubes and a cold beer

whipped cream goes well with my apple pie, no feathers, i had a friend who actually died by being tickled to death, Mexican Necktie?, no thank you, those hurt, whips and chains are so medieval-dungeon ago, Ice Cube, bah, Ice Cube is being sensitive lately in those commercials, he claims no one is Colder than he, but i am, i'm cool.

5. how will you rock your lover's world?: no lover, but okay: a) the Jersey Whore, i pretend i'm Snooki, no wait, you be Snooki, we smush, i go to the gym, and MTV pays for everything. b) kinky cook, i'm the Swedish Chef Muppet, you order a hamburger, i get insulted, and then the angry sex heats up. c) naughty maid, your feather duster will dust off my creaky bones and, no, sorry, that's played-out d) Doctor Love, head-to-toe examination...so, it's the adult version of playing doctor? maybe if it were Dr. Gregory House e) frisky fireman, dude's got a HOSE longer than California, which is needed to put out those California wildfires.

my answer: e, obviously.

bonus: tell us about your wildest or raunchiest role-playing adventure: FINALLY, we get to talk about my RPG video games and LARPing and such, real geek stuff...i remember this one time when i was using my lightning bolt attack on this dude, i was going CRSFHHHHH CRSFFGHH CRRSDDHH on him out there in the woods, in the clearing, we were playing like we were wizards, sworn enemies, tryin' to get back the crown...needed some juice boxes in the middle there but it was still a good battle.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

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HOT PUNS

not much to explain with this one, the doble entendres flow out of it like unboxed sweet wine. pay careful attention to every word uttered, every smile shared, every smirk loosened inside the smile away from public view, and Taylor gallantly getting dat much-earned paycheck for this job which i'm sure no one wanted:

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

now, if you'll excuse me, i have to search for my Big Fatty...also, my cat is mewing...

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SSS: JUDY JUDGES, NOT GOD

*CLICKY CLICKY*

click above on a different side of Judge Judy, Hey Jude, what up, it's ya boy phoenix, hello you sexy cougar, you with your stern exterior and melting interior, what up? *hi* *wink wink* *smooch* for #2 in the series.

for the first time in ages, i really have nothing planned for this one. i usually am quite anal when it comes to preparation for my blog posts, i know two weeks in advance exactly what i'm gonna post and what i'm gonna write, at least the thesis of it, i outline later, but now, not so much. for the first time in my life, i am unprepared, i woke up without a plan or even an idea, i had with me just some Sugar In The Raw packets in my hand and a few scraps of thought gleaned from the countless mommy authors in blogland.

speaking of anal, i enjoy anal.

performing anal

and occasionally...

how is your day going today, dear reader? let's talk about you for a change. have you fallen in love today? if not, your day is an abject waste. unless you fall in love each day, you're not really living, your enzymes dry up, and you have to fill them with ghastly things like Dr. Phil and religion.

are you judgmental generally? STOP IT!!! stop it now! you can't judge, only Judge Judy can judge. God can't judge the same way Santa can't judge...dammit, Santa, if you had only given me that damn Mortal Kombat game that one year i was good, i wouldn't be a fucking blogger now, i'd be out in the world making my fortune and fucking all the babes. Mortal Kombat teaches life lessons, like when to punch or hold the punch, when to negotiate out your problems and when to sweep-kick, when blood is required, whether or not the situation calls for a FATALITY or a BABALITY. i always loved those babalities when the hardened Kombat warriors turn into cute little babies, they are so cute in their diapers, baby cute, *sucking on a pacifier* goo-goo, gaa-gaa and...wait, Nurse, i'm not done yet...

what? oh, it's time for me to go, gotta get another Sugar-In-The-Raw injection, keeps my moods artificially high, my humours, i always lobby to eat the sugar straight from those nifty brown packets, but the nurses insist on the spike in the vein to make sure i'm not fooling them, keeping the sugar packet under my tongue and spitting it out into the trash the moment they leave the room.

CLICK HERE FOR JUDGE JUDY IN ACTION

CLICK HERE FOR THE RULES. IF YOU WANT TO PLAY, PLEASE ADD YOUR ENTRY TO THE LINKY TOOL BELOW:

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TMIT: THE COMMERCIALS SUCKED

that's just the knee-jerk reaction EVERY single blogger in the world types the Monday morning after the Super Bowl. most did, but actually, there were a few my brain smiled upon. well, the prolonged suckling kiss between the hot Bar model and the nerd is of course a favorite of mine, me having some nerd blood in me, at least in the past. and now in the present. that Audi prom one, i'm not sure whether it's celebrating loner independence or showcasing sexual assault, but i'll side with the loner angle. my prom: lonely prom, no date, no last prom dance, last HS memory, no prom in fact, that sort of thing, loners unite!, that's an oxymoron. i know Beyonce for her sex factor, and a little bit of her music, but i have to say, i never really listened to her music before, so that was nice. art is about art, after all, never about sex. boy, but that Beyonce leather dress, it showcased all the right curves. i agree with Carol, the winner of the night is the Paul Harvey farmer spiel: serene, measured, profound, God creating a farmer to till his Creation, i never knew i could mind-orgasm over the simple concept of farming, but i did let loose...maybe the farming life is for me after all, maybe i'll give the monks another shot, another call...and THAT is the rest of the story.

oh yeah, that is some erotic furniture right there, i want that ass table in my ripped-up-by-the-cat living place, i want some more EROTIC FURNITURE, CLICK HERE AT THIS LINK.

1. did you buy your bed in terms of ropes, handcuffs fittings and spaces? i only buy anything that has sex value, otherwise, what's the point?

2. aside from the bed, was sex a consideration when buying pieces of furniture? if it's not shaped like a woman's pert ass, i don't bother.

3. have you ever had someone, like your friend or mom, tell you a piece of furniture of yours was inappropriate? they wouldn't be friends of mine if they did. i mean, who does that? as for my mom, you can't choose family, she constantly berates me about my life decisions, who i'm dating, the perverted chairs i buy, the type of Orange Juice i drink...if it's not Donald Duck, she disowns me.

4. any furniture of yours that is stained with bodily fluids, baby vomit not included? no baby vomit? *sad face* i do, i do, a mirror showered with cum, it's cleaner now, i can see, it's a crisper mirror, shiny, my stuff works better than that toxic blue window-cleaning fluid.

5. anything on your bedside table you wouldn't want Mom and Pops knowing about? Mom and Pops want me to be happy, that's what they tell me over the phone anyway, so i assume my extensive collection of Garbage Pail Kids fits that guideline. RIP Dad, i love you.

6. own any exercise equipment that's useful for sex? i don't exercise and i eat terribly, but i'm still a skinny minnie. take that, jealous girls! i want my favorite blogger (you know who you are) to visit me one day, we can don matching exercise clothes, headbands, leotards, the whole nine, and then we'll slowly take off our clothes piece by piece as we reach each exercise milestone, 1 mile for this, 5 miles until the headband, until all that's left to do is fuck like hamsters on the speeding treadmill...we'll certainly look like hamsters as we fuck on that conveyor belt.

7. aside from the Master Bedroom, where do you fuck most often? garage.

8. do you have any electronics (TV, stereo, etc.) that are on during sex? other than my trusty Nintendo grey box from the '80s, no, i like to have a permanent nostalgia arrow through my heart as i boing-boing up and down, back and forth, sweating, exhaling, moaning and fucking the fuck outta my babe and thinking of Duck Hunt and Luigi.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

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SUPER BOWL 47 GAME, ANYONE CAN PLAY

apologies to my Roman Numeral readers, which numeral (number) exactly V. whether it's the Tower of London ravens, or Edgar Poe's ravens, we sports fans can all come together and agree: ravens are cool. my great-to-the-10th-power grandfather was an original 49er gold miner...now that is a lie...well, it could be true, i'm too lazy to look it up, i'm thinking of doing that Ancestry.com thing to shut up those annoying commercials, but i'm afriad what i'll find, that i am distantly related to Charlie Sheen...wait, no, that would be cool...at least for awhile...until i died.

you all know the deal by now, right? predict the score between the Ravens and 49ers in The Big Game this Sunday. the winner of this blog game is the one who firstly correctly predicts the actual winning team when all is said and done on Sunday night AND AND is closest to the actual final score cum Sunday night. check out my entry in the comments section below, it will serve as your ever-present guide. the outright winner of the blog game is granted 3 comments from yours truly onto the various posts at your blog, three comments sprung from my ever-feverish and gelatinous mind...watch out, they could be scintillating, or they could be out there and yet scintillating.

i've been smiling like the Cheshire Cat ever since we learned of the final two teams. if you've been following me all these years (and if so, god bless), you know i have that soft spot for the Ravens, they always come so close to the Big Game but a strangely missed field goal or a stripped bunny catch in the endzone always seems to derail their dreams and that perfect defensive unit's talents fritter away ringless for one more year. i honestly felt bad for this team, so good and yet never the best, bridesmaid sort of thing, i'm getting soft, i'm actually bringing out my feels for spoiled millionaires. on the other side of the ledger, you have the local team for me, the Cali team, well, the good Cali team, the 49ers. all secrets known (Alice In Chains), full disclosure, for me, this is the wrong Cali team, i'm more Raiders if anything. honestly, though, I'm Just Not Into my local teams, like that dating book, which i followed to the letter and am still single. i'll choose the deranged Raiders Black Hole over the clean-cut Niners any day, but i'm more about spitballing Tim Lincecum's ball (and glove) when it comes to local worship. me being the cool Cali kid that i am, i can make that choice, this is Murica, i am free, you are free, free to choose small, medium, or large, i'm free to spray cough spray into my mouth, maybe cough spray laced with my antidepressants for an extra kick...or maybe something stronger, like deer antler, y'know, whatever. the bottom line is that i enjoy these two teams, i can't choose, it's too hard, it's like the mother favoring one Harbaugh brother over the other, she loves them equally, even though one of them is demonically linked to gobble gobble turkey gobble gobble. good times this Super Bowl around, no Patriots perfect season fretting or anything like that, no Hoodie recriminations and Spygate boring press conference excellence, no the rich getting richer, just two good ol' teams keeping it in the family and snot-bubbling each other for a piece of trophy, and wifey ass later...and secret girlfriend ass...and secret boyfriend ass. isn't life grand? good luck, thanks to everyone who will play this blog game, i'm expecting no one to play actually, we'll see how this develops, and i'll join you again Monday with the results. gobble gobble down those chicken wings before they all run out...

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