The end is nigh and The Greatest Depression is closing in with millions of ferocious, unemployed, disillusioned and helplessly starving infected people erratically walking an unforgiving earth for years to come. Truth to be told we´re heading for a financial apocalypse because you, the people, believe in any tall tale The Powers That Be cables out. All we can do now is to wait for the fattest lady in history to sing the highest note ever heard...
Friday, April 29, 2011
Travel masturbation on molestation Saturday
It’s time again. Time for me to move to yet another country and as during previous escapes I will avoid the euro and try to stay away from ugly people.
One thing that’s hard to stay away from however is getting horny during travels. I don’t know if I’m the only one with this problem, but I do curse being a man sometimes travelling while hard and pointy. A woman, if having a similar problem, could always get by if she bought any form of vibrating toy – an electric toothbrush would do. But even if using fingers a feline can easily avoid detection.
Me, in need of bringing that one-eyed snake out in the open, have a slight problem. Especially while doing busses and planes - although I have been known to fornicate in, and on, both. Trains are a tad easier. With a bit of folding of tha clothes or choosing a strategic position a train can be turned into a regular wankfest.
Since I’ll be on the road for about 24hrs and will use almost every transportation known to man, I will have plenty of opportunities to spread my ejaculation juice across the European landscape.
It is possible I’ll use Kate Middleton in at least one fantasy. She’s a hottie, isn’t she? I actually haven’t paid attention at all to the fuss about this British marriage, but last night I did saw the couple in front of one of those child molesters giving them their last rites as un-married. First I noticed Prince William, getting the looks of his father more and more as the years go by, and so a future cause for divorce. Still pretty handsome though, for a Britt anyway.
Kate on the other hand is really stunning. ‘Masturbation-worthy’ was actually (I’m not lying) the first words that came to mind. A real woman I wouldn’t mind dipping my meatstick into.
Anyway, that costly side-show aside, I do have a genuine concern about travelling by bus, train, flight, train again, and then flying some more before taking a tram or a buss where I’ll live for the near future. Hopefully women passing by will be married to their refrigerators and have down-to-tha-knees-breasteses, but with my luck I’ll probably bump into a bikini-team looking for a therapy session.
Throughout the years I’ve heard one or two women complain about how me men always treat them as fuck-toys and that they cannot walk down the street without getting that undressing-I-want-to-get-into-your-pants-look from males. So? Would it be better if you didn’t turn heads? If I were a woman and didn’t get cheers and eyes while walking by a construction site I’ll probably consider suicide. Seriously, no woman is ugly enough so that she cannot get that feedback. If you don’t, please don’t blame anyone but God, your parents DNA or your government. We’ve got too many feminists as it is.
For me, travelling, I see potential ‘wanna-meet-in-the-toilet’-females all around me. Ugly, old, young, it doesn’t really matter. I may even consider one or two males if I’ve been watching Eurovision pre-travel. So if you see me, yes, I will be picturing you naked and I will be doing very nasty things to you in my head - probably involving handcuffs, whips, a dark cellar and me wearing a mask.
Maybe this extra boner-inducing during travelling has something to do with vibrations, or perhaps I am only a dirty man with penetration-angst? Maybe it’s psychological, or perhaps it’s a good way of making the journey more interesting? A train going in and out of tunnels...
In any case moving means that blog-postings will be far apart.
So for a time, probably for a month or two, don’t expect that many insights from here. Besides, I’ve already said most of it. All that is left is to repeat old songs and say “I Told you So” whenever a funny happens.
In the meantime you can picture me in a train franticly trying to masturbate while, at the same time, trying to avoid upsetting bourgeois families and elderly couples.
By for now.
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