Hey-o. Mindbling here. We at Bitchburgh are aware that there is a whole lotta vagina going on up in here. Granted, the blog is called “Bitchburgh”, so you should expect some estrogen-centric ramblings, but, we know we have a fair amount of male readers. We also know some of our female readers may benefit from a glimpse into the inner workings of the male brain (hint: sexsexfoodpoopbeersex). So, we would like to give a hearty Bitchburgh welcome to guest blogger, Malkin and Malkin. This sports loving-single father-civil servant would like to share some of his life observations with you. You would be wise to listen. Happy reading! And Viva La Vagina!
OK people. Here’s the deal. I’m old. And occasionally angry. And have been through some stuff. Most people my age have been through stuff. So I’m not much different than the average Joe, or Lou or Honus. Well maybe Honus, because I have only ever heard of one and for some reason, people haven’t honored him by naming their kids after the Pittsburgh legend. Cowards.
But that has nothing to do with this shit. What this is about has to do with life. And what is real, what isn’t, and what should be. So let’s get into it. If you are out there, looking for the American dream-type situation, which would consist of the ridiculous scenario where the dad comes down the stairs to the breakfast table where his 2.5 kids are eating cereal and somehow not spilling half the shit on themselves and the floor, and his hot MILF wife with respectable cans hands him a cup of coffee, and the prick smells it and calls his son champ, and you want to rip the handle off of the fridge and drive it through his chest….wait…..I’m getting too real already. Anyway, if that’s the life you are looking for, then stop. Because I’m here to tell you. That is T.V. bullshit.
We see too much of this shit, and we start to believe it. And it’s just not going to happen to most people, brothers and sisters. Because the odds are…we’re going to F it up. Let’s take the show King of Queens, for example. Fat sports-loving dude with a hot, pissed off wife. OK. “Good for him,” you might say. But the shit just isn’t real. It just gives some Fred Flintstone-looking jack off false hope that he can find a hot wife and find her bitch qualities endearing. NO.
Ok, look. Let’s say the fat dude, who will also be bald by age 37, gets that chick. He locks her down with his quick wit, and it’s on. He’s living with a hot chick, going to work, and watching sports, occasionally with his friends. What eventually happens in the real world is, even though he is not a Clooney looking mfer, he gets complacent, the angry hot chick keeps jabbing him, and things get ugly. He gets drunk on Flag Day and decides to tell her to go F herself. She bloodies his nose, he punches the wall, the next thing you know, he is looking to pay some drug addicted ho in Lawrenceville to hit her with a bat, and the wife is banging the dude with abs that works at COGO’s.
She is willing to give it all up for a stud cashier, and he is contracting crack heads. I doubt that shit would last 9 seasons on CBS. Two seasons on HBO, tops. As long as there was plenty of nudity and a graphic scene where the crack head beats the scientology out of Leah Remini with an Easton Black Magic ( the finest bat ever made)..
What else? Lost? That show is nuts. Kind of cool. But when it started, and we thought it might be something that could happen, it pissed me off when the fat dude asked out the hot chick at the music exchange, BEFORE she knew he hit the lottery for $114 million, and she said yes. Hurley on top of her? That chick would have experienced more damage than anything that happened to the Oceanic 6. OK, Enough with the fat dude/hot chick topic. I root strongly for all nontraditionally good looking people to reach out of their league and connect with the hot people. I wish me, and those of you in this category, much luck. And for those of you that are hot, do your thing. The truth is, someone got sick of banging Megan Fox and moved on. Weird.
I have spoken briefly about what is real and what isn’t real. Now here is what should be real. It is my contention that the older I get, the less I want to get into the whole ‘finding a companion’ thing. Sure. It is nice to have someone of the opposite sex to…well…have sex with. But…at a mature age……do we really need to be doing many other things with that person? For instance….watching sports. Or eating. I mean hey. If you have found the ultimate transformer then that’s awesome. I salute you from my forehead to my crank. But for most of us, it’s highly unlikely.
Now it is true that most of my kind think about sex several times a day. So I guess having the interlocking body part available at halftime of the game is a good thing. But most of us don’t. Most of us have to seek out a person we are attracted to, invite them somewhere, ask about them, figure out if the person likes us enough to bang, and then try to complete the interaction. But what usually happens at this stage of my life, is that the person reveals during the initial meeting, that she has something protruding from her lower body that resembles a..kind of..a. penis because doctors think she may have inadvertently eaten her twin brother while in the womb.
TV shows us what COULD be real, then pulls it out from under us. To me anyway. And all those jack offs that created bullshit shows like the Jetson’s and thought we would have some crazy futuristic shit by now can F off because I still have a piece of shit car that runs on fucking gasoline, and I can’t find a place to park it in my neighborhood, where it seems a lot more like 1971, what with the discarded heroin bags on the sidewalk and what not, than 20freaking10 (under my breath) assholes….. Giveth and taketh away.
For the average gentleman that seeks two kinds of satisfaction with out the exhaustive mental aspect of word articulation. I give you the ULTIMATE transformer. The mute prostitute…..ok…stay with me………that morphs into food upon completion of sex act. Ya bang, ya eat, ya sleep. Awesome. That’s all I have to say people. Take care. And have a nice whatever..