Pardon me while I hump your leg

Today I feel like bitching a little you pathetic pork sandwiches because I'm not getting laid and it's all your fault you stupid fucking assholes. The Mongol I've been doing on the side (he repairs electric motors in Keokuk after training with Janda Electric - "Make no mistake. This is a big one.") hasn't been coming around lately after I told him to fuck off. Like, duh. He pisses me off when he takes that kind of shit seriously and the restraining order was obviously a joke. Man, am I being blown off? Again? Kinda pisses me off. Why is it that most of the guys I date have an IQ of 145?

Well, enough of my (Olympic) sex life. Let's discuss sex with raccoons. First, you need really strong leather gloves. Full body armor, the kind they train police dogs with is also a good ideal. And a beekeeper's hood can't hurt either. Either that or have them declawed/de-teethed and then remove their dentures. That and a jar of Bacos. Methinks their little masked visage is just so...sexy!

I'm a secretary. My world is somewhat limited. But today, well... it's all about me.

My cha-cha needs attention! My poodle just can't fit the bill no matter what Spackle says, and he knows his way around a hound.

If they ever make a movie of that asshole Jeff's life may Keanu Reeves play him.