Well I am glad that I am not as crazy as some of the women out in the world today. Saturday night was spent peeling off this aged cougar, with fake tits and lips. The guy beside her wouldn’t tell her his name. She started screaming into my face about “…well if he wont tell me his fucking name than he might as well kill himself!!!” With that she produced two real razor blades from around her neck. And I thought I had problems. Later I checked the bathroom for a mutilated overstuffed feline. No luck.

The state that I have found myself in has relentlessly attracted the weirdos. It is like the unwanted of the world are aware you are single and vulnerable. Ready for the reaping. For the record and since the notorious break up, I have ended up cornered by two bald men(not balding, there is a difference), over 38, fucked a prepubescent man with a gherkin sized penis, got the snub from a guy that left with Ms.Caker-and-I-love-being-white. Had two terrible dates, one had breathe that could stun a raging bull and the other wore 15 sweaters. Am I completely hapless?

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