Since the sun is peaking out of the sky and meandering through the trees that surround this house, I figure you're due a legimate adventure. The only question that will remain when I'm done is whether or not I want to make some bacon and eggs. Unfortunately, that's a subject best left to my own determination and not yours.
LA Raven Hotstuff found me online a couple hours ago. She's new to you but that's okay. See, she's been around for a long, long time. One of the first people that this contraption ever helped me meet.
Way back up in tha day, yo.
I was a mild-mannered AOL junkie going by Arrrggh at the time. She was a self-professed huge fan of Jason Schwartzman because the Rushmore Mojo had her hypnotized. Well, being a moderately appreciative fan of JSchwartz led me to her little website or, hell maybe she found me. Point is, she was a Vanderbilt student at a time when I lived in Nashville and was stirring things up with a Vanderbilt student.
Oh cruel fate. That was 1997, I think. Despite her gorgeousness, wit, charm and adoration for me, I stuck with the pursuit I'd begun earlier. And kept that up for nearly five years.
Though we hung out while I lived up in Nashville, nothing serious happened between us until I was done with Girl Kris. Sadly, for all her years of waiting and my secret anticipation, the only reward was one of my worst sexual performances. Worse than that, it was followed by yet another wham, bam.
Irregardless -- as I'm apt to say -- she still likes the sight of me, claiming even that my newest picture is hot.
But times have changed so while I twiddle my thumbs in Macon, she's out pursuing a law degree in L.A. Settled in with a boyfriend who holds to odd internet activity and a cat who poops in the kitchen, Ms. Raven Hotstuff is living a relatively happy life.
She says somethings missing and though she confesses to constantly missing me -- this more on the friend tip than the prior brief history confers -- missing me isn't what's missing. However, she's offered to fly me out to the City of Angels.
Already, my plan has been to somehow miraculously make like $50,000 so I could take a month or so off to travel the country visiting my old friends who've scattered like the wind. The trip would necessarily require a visit to Denton, TX where one Steve Burns is playing at the tail end of his tour. For those who don't know this genius, just type the name in your search engine and learn. Remember, you only reap what you sow.
Long story short, I might get to disappear for a week because of someone else's benevolance and that'd rock. But only if she's capable of it.
What I find mystifying is this notion that I'm 'hot'. It is time for a timely discussion on this matter.
For starters, I have been told this before and in no uncertain terms. By a handful of women. The thing I find mystifying, in particular, is that I'm either highly touted or completely untouted. No mention of my appearance is made. And I believe that's the heart of my confusion. For anyone out there holding any opinion whatsoever, feel free to let me know because I'd like to gauge the feelings of the people.
I recognize that beauty is in the eye of the beholder but outside of myself and my grandmother, the beholder hasn't been too vocal. And I know that to know me is to love me, so I'll consider the fact that personality plays a part.
Another reason I wonder, I ponder is because recently Metalcore Drum God said that I remind him of himself when he was in high school -- in that the ladies he believed to only be interested in friendship were later revealed to be ready to jump his bones. The difference here is that he's a slim, physically defined fella with all the modern accessories: tattoos and talent.
And finally, I'm really just trying to weigh my chances as a gigalo. When I began this Schrilla series, I did so with Lover Boy playing on Comedy Central in the background. It reminded me of a fantastic delusion -- that good looking middle aged women would gladly pay for the attention and sexual favors of a skinny pizza delivery boy.
Let's say this. I've delivered pizza and various food stuffs three times in my illustrious career as a man for hire. Not once was I paid for sex, nor was even the opportunity to provide that service for free available to me.
We can't all be Patrick Dempsey though and I believe that is his revenge.
Besides, it really isn't about sex. I shan't lie and say I miss it but the great lengths at which I'd have to go before enjoying it again, probably aren't worth it right now. I'm not a one-night stand dude and I don't want to be unless it's fun in which case, I'll do it repeatedly.
Seriously, this was just a well-crafted and articulate expose on how low my self-esteem can be.
But you love me anyway.
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