Oregon COASTING Through The Weekend

I am spending the weekend at the Oregon Coast with my friend, C. C and I used to date and were in love... he broke my heart out of stupidity and I learned to value myself enough to not expect anything from him, so now we get along great... I haven't met anybody else, so we are doing mushrooms at the coast. I am not on mushrooms, but he is playing Mario Bros on Nintendo... what else are you going to do when it's gorgeous outside and there is beer in the fridge at three in the afternoon. He just grabbed a drink, the beer is peeking over my computer, in between C and I- as usual!

Last night we walked into "town" just to laugh at a town smaller than the expansive presence that we are. We were the ones driving an hour and a half to get here. Who spends that much effort to enjoy and simultaneously break something down? Parents, the Government and Us, I guess.

I wrote an earlier blog talking about how I made love to potatoes... then I cut it, thinking I would write something more relevant to the times, but... I am only writing right now as an exercise, not because I'm inspired. It's the same reason I have sex, really.

Not really. The reason I actually have sex is to fake some sense of authenticity between myself and whoever I'm seeing at the time. Pumping and grinding to feel something in this void, this sea of potatoes; fingerling potatoes.

I love potatoes, but our relationship makes me fat. Potatoes don't break my heart, which is a nice respite from fellows I have dated in the past- the drinkers. The only difference is that potatoes can't drive- at least that's what the officer said that one time I got pulled over for driving under the influence and insisted my "friend" would take it from here. He let me know the towns' traffic laws about legumes and such and I let him know that the 50's were so last year- I could love whomever I choose and he should drive because I'm a *hiccup* lady.

There it is, much needed potato commentary.

Bobby Brown Bear Catches Another Tuna

Bobby Brown is getting remarried.

Bobby Brown is getting married and I have gotten 65 accumulative views on my Youtube channel. Bobby Brown has publicly depicted himself as himself and I am afraid people will find my on-line blog.

Bobby Brown should be married... if one person should be married, it should be him. It shouldn't be me, though... I am working too hard on my own thing and marriage, well it would just Bobby Brown everything up. I am going to start referring to all of my exes as "Bobby Brown", because that's my prerogative ... the irony is that they were all white, most of them poor and there was a very constant pussy lineage between them. Apparently my balls are so big there is only room for one pair. If I were to date the actual Bobby Brown, I bet we would just laugh a lot and pick bar fights with young, white women.

ME: Hey Bobby! Look at this bitch, thinking she's all skinny and shit...

BOBBY: She's skinny, like a boy- boys in dresses make me want to slap a bitch.

ME: No, Bobby! One more strike on your record... I'll slap her!

BOBBY: Let's fuck in the bathroom before the cops get here.

ME: Give me a piggy back ride!

END SCENE

So, I am almost positive the next sentence will be relative. I don't like the way that waif-ish girl is lingering at the counter where my coffee boy crush is working. A really hairy man just walked in... I hope he mistakes her for a Koho Salmon and starts attacking her squirmy body. I love my gender-sisters, except when they encroach on my territory... then I get all Bobby Brown on a bitch. Bobby Brown is getting married and I am barely producing a blog. To my defense, I have been creating in a different medium... on my Youtube channel (http://www.youtube.com/user/abbeyjordancomedy). You can get a sneak peak here. I should warm you that I have a lot of imagined repartee and often times people are subjected to my fantasies, unbeknown to them. I don't want to seem all Bobby Brown or anything.

Bobby Brown, getting remarried. Good for them.

Marriage Balls Be Ringing

I see a lot of signs in San Francisco. "Free Wi-Fi" "Cash Only" and a bunch of variegated marriage propaganda.

Come on people, if God wanted a man to marry a man, why would HE make wedding dresses be so pretty?! Further more, if a man were allowed to marry a man- what's to say he won't want to marry a refrigerator or a down comforter?! I mean even I, a straight as starch gal, have found myself questioning my sexuality around a down comforter.
Just the other night, I was all bound and gagged getting stuffed from behind by a man (like God intended) and just as I was about to cum all over his fist and forearm, I looked at the comforter. There was definitely a moment there where I could see us walking down the isle. I shook it off of course, because the thing's all white and no blanket is going to upstage me on MY big day!

I knew this one guy, in grammar school and he was always sucking on penises because his parents said it was okay. When he turned 18 he left his boyfriend of 7 months to elope with a tire iron. No one knows where he even met a tire iron! He had always been drawn to guys who were a bit dangerous, so a tire iron probably felt like the next step. Was he born hard for tools? or was it brought on by the media? He probably ate some bad shellfish and became this evil-faggy-tool-shed-closet-hound. The point is: it's not nice to point or be gay just because you FEEL like it.

My friends are all pretty liberal and I hate that! Do I hate them or their beliefs? I don't know either, but I do know that I hate almost all of their status updates, mostly because they don't "like" mine enough. Also, when we're having conversations they want to talk too, about themselves- how selfish! Even if I'm doing most of the talking, it's about other people so they should just get over it and comment on my status more.

To bring the point home, I don't see what the big deal around marriage is anyway- who cares?! I mean, especially if all you have are tuxedos?! I want to get married, but that's just because I like dressing up, gifts and owning people.