The Probe

This is a true story. A group of brave scientists risked their lives to anally probe me. A spacecraft and crew were miniaturized to "fit". Upon impact, the tip of the spacecraft opened and crew members were fired deep down my chute.

The mission: to find out what makes me tick.

Dr. Susan Pratt was the first to stumble upon the Chamber of Secrets. She peered through thousands of files on individuals. "He obviously places a high value on masculinity and athletic ability. Look here. This file is on "John W." His athletic ability is rated as marginally average and his file is stamped 'NELLIE'". She sighed.

Next to the Chamber of Secrets was the War Room. Dr. Pratt was in awe at all the electronic monitors. "He actively records all of his WINS and his rival's losses! OMG. His main focus and concentration seems to center on competition with others."

Before she could investigate any further, Dr. Pratt hears... "Come quickly. I've located the prefrontal cortex!" She raced to meet her fellow scientist.

Dr. Strout was found peering at a handheld instrument. "Hmm... if these readings are correct, Brett does not get into the Christmas spirit, cry at funerals, or celibrate "Suck a Hot Cock Day". He's an outlier in almost every statistical category!"

"We must send shockwaves through his prefrontal cortex. Otherwise, he will remain a dickhead", concluded Dr. Strout.

Dr. Pratt tearily gave a nod -- "It's the only way."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Join the Fight Against Foursquare!

There are manly men, then there is the typical Foursquare user. If you read this blog, then you are cool and probably have no idea what Foursquare is.

Bascially, Foursquare is an ap for losers. Typically, Foursquare users are squishy do nothings who lack anything to be proud of. They spend their wretched brainless lives trying to be a fictional mayor of some establishment (or loser corner).

I would like to thank Jimbo for bringing this issue to light. I actually wanted to rail against Foursquare users ten days ago, but my bitchiness-in-every-post was starting to scare me. Jimbo gave me the courage I needed: IT'S OKAY TO BE BITCHY. LOL.

Mean Angry Torso

Just yesterday, a tennis friend (who I soundly beat) let me know that he and his partner have been talking about me. They were concerned about my mental health. They both thought it would do me some good to get out of the house.

I growled, "like where? a bar?". I used to frequent bars, but lately I am turned off by them AND their patrons. I see squishy people everywhere who don't have physical fitness as their priority. Does your ass make tsunami waves when poked? When squeezed, are your arms squishy like a woman? Eww. Yes, I'm a prick.

When sexting, I see all sorts of torsos. Rather than judge the torso on merits of exercise and diet, I do something strange. I imagine nips as eyes and belly buttons as mouths. I look at the "face" so I can peer into one's true self... their soul. (try it!)

When I look at my torso, I always see mean and angry. It makes me shiver. Is my inner soul mean and angry? Also, why do I always project my values onto others? What makes my values superior to yours? Hmm... something to ponder.

STFU

A Day Without BC

Let's face it... I'm a douche. Any opinions I have is not shared by ANYONE. Apparently, I cannot go one single day without pissing off a soul. I should just shut up and jiggy dance. So, today... I am choosing NOT to express an opinion. I'll be back. With vengeance.

Tim vs. the World

I am back from planet Hoth (Wisconsin). It was my very first trip to Wisconsin. My only reference is Jimbo. Surprisingly, Wisconsin is not overrun by Gingers. I found the people pleasant and not bitchy at all. By the way, I love Jimbo dearly... in strict ten minute increments. ;)

What was I doing in Wisconsin? Tim. Yep, it was our fourth meeting. If anyone would like to dissect what kind of man is right for me, it's Tim. He's everything I like in a man. He's manly, shovels snow, drives three hours to fetch me from the airport, and feeds me jalapeno poppers while I lay on the couch.

Like me, Tim didn't cut and run to a gay ghetto. Rather than cowardly hide from heterosexuals and be insulated, Tim bravely bought a bar and grill in a small hilly town in western Wisconsin. I especially love the fact that Tim lives near his family and sees them regularly.

I enjoyed spending a typical weekend in Tim's life. Driving through snow covered small towns away from the hustle and bustle was very romantic. It was nice seeing vast amounts of farm land, silos, and barns away from the sickness that is urban sprawl.

The funny part was hearing the Wisconsin accent. Tim hides it well, but you'll sometimes hear a true version of it when he talks to other Wisconsiners. Every time someone sounded straight out of the movie Fargo, I couldn't stop myself from giggling.

I really adore Tim. He's an important person in my life and I am glad to have him. :)

Playing in Wisconsin Snow

I am in rural Wisconsin enjoying playing in the snow with my buddy Tim. We have been exploring snow covered small towns in Wisconsin and across the border in Iowa. It is very charming!

Rebel Fleet Crushed

The rebels sent me their WOOFIEST player tonight, but I crushed him 6-0,6-2. The best part was hearing that other Flex players have spoken quite highly of me. Translation: I'm the league's BADASS. :) I rule the Flex League galaxy.

This marks the second straight season I have gone undefeated in league play. Of course, come playoff time, I have yet to win the Championship. Last season, a punk-ass 26 year old beat me in the Finals. Grrr.... it pisses me off I am the Susan Lucci of the goddamn tennis world.

You can be sure my laser cannon will be fully operational in time for the playoffs. I am playing well nowadays, so foes had best be ready!