I just finished eating a whole half-gallon of marble fudge ice cream. That will be the extent of my weekend celebration as I will be here at the Roach Motel all day tomorrow. Everyone else has somewhere to go and something to do, that is, everyone except the 30-Year-old ***. Some of the guys at the pizza parlor were making fun of the 30-year-old ***. I guess they do not realize the plight of such a stigma. The ***, my manager, was making significant headway with his new babe, as can be expected. Babes love guys like The ***. He's got it goin' on! Babes want fun, e***ment, and everything else. They have no time for losers. That is why I will be logged on tonight and most of the day tomorrow. I could not even imagine a day when I do not have my beloved AOL or MSN account. What would I do then? I guess that is why I must accept my lot in life and become a monk. Yet, I still feel those pangs of desire and temptation. What a fool I am! Every time I see those gorgeous b
abes, the very ones who fight over The ***, I wonder to myself what it would be like to have a babe. It is the biology that is within all humans that tugs at my psyche and my sanity. It is unfair that true losers like the ol' *** are given that biology, only to suffer in torment of unfulfillment. The biology is the hardest to fight. It becomes an issue of mind over matter. But, realistically, what are the alternatives? There are none except to go out and make a true idiot of oneself. Can you imagine what a babe would be thinking when approached by a loser? Can you fathom the repulsion that babe will be experiencing? Good Lord, it is so much easier to accept one's lot in life. Windows Solitaire is not all that bad, come to think of it. Maybe I should just forget about being a monk and collect hurdy-gurdies. Then, I can watch them, fantasize about those babes and pull the pud. Yeah! Pull the pud! That is as close as I'll ever get to doing the wild thing. Maybe in a few ye
ars virtual reality will make it all even more realistic. There is hope after all!