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zooalx
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Name: Alex
Birthday: 6/9/1989
Gender: Male
Interests: I like women, games, monkeys, anime, and photography. My dream is to one day take a picture of a woman wearing a monkey suit and drawing anime.
Expertise: animals, food, writing shit no one cares to read about... and accidentaly making my computer scream uncontrollably with the push of a button...
Occupation: Student
Message: message me
AIM:  blazer01262
Member Since:
4/22/2004
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| I'm starting to understand why people don't talk about the evil's of private school in um... public. I've been here for four weeks now and so far been offered more weed than the country of Columbia puts out in a year. Not saying it's a bad thing, just saying I wish I had known earlier. Also, found out that you can achieve orgasm with the right frame of mind while touching anything on your body... bitches... you all think you're so damn hardcore but you don't fucking qualify unless you can get off while rubbing the inside of your ear. That takes fucking talent son. >< Not sure why I'm going public with this stuff. I guess I just want the feeling of recognition that comes from strangers typing "LOL FAG!!!11!" to my posts. That's some love right there. Like Uncle Lester used to dish out. If only violence offered on the computer could really hurt the readers. We could see how many people are really pussies and how many were really the jock's with broken legs sitting(laying) in front of the computer. Don't get me started on the fucking jocks... I could go on for days. The world could be pretty funny then. Of course, if word's could really affect the world in a physical way, then nerds would have taken over the world the thousands of times I've seen the words I PWN JOO (joo aparently meaning the world for the sake of this paragraph) without leaving the house. YAY for the fatties! Don't try to stand up and protest me. Your bodies can't take the sudden shift in mass(blatent theft of that sentence. what of it?!?). As I said, I'm writing this for the feeling of being somewhat popular on the internet. A feeling that combines both: A. Everyone knows who I am! and the realization that B. 'Everyone' on the internet amounts to about 3/4s of a person in real life... Goodie for me. Almost got my first friend. Hope you guys arent' like my former friends. Stupid jerks. Had to go and be flamable like that. | | |
| Dont you love it when Summer comes and all you really want to do is sit and medicate? I mean, there's always the going out to buy the medication where the evil and so damn bright sun likes to sit... and that's where you get all your "healthy" vitamins for the day. But really, who in their right mind actually wants to go outside? The computer is all you need. You can talk with peolple (yay!) and you can leave places like the DMV empty for me. Actually what we need is a way to give everyone more spending money. I want more of you at the mall. Whenever I go into stores the people always watch what I do and make it really difficult for me to steal from them. I need more of you bothering the salesmen (see that? salesmen! take that PC!) with questions like, and this was a serious question mind, "How much does this Cost?". That may not seem like a stupid question but we were in the door called Dollar General. That was actually my first time in the Dollar General and even I knew that the product was a dollar. I was tipped off by the four stickers on the front of the package. Some of you may not know what a Dollar General is. Understandable. I only found out last week that there was a store underneath the crappy broken burned out letters. It's actually more of a ghetto Wal-mart... with a scary horse that likes to sit outfront and make scary noises when you put a quarter inside of it. I actually jumped when it started moving. Like hearing a car sideswipe a building the size of a superdome. And made out of styrofoam.
I also started to get into this SCUBA thing. It's fun but it's too expensive for even my taste. I'm up to selling my neighbor's second kidney for dive trips. You can live without kidneys right? I thought so. The only really sad thing about diving is that fat people think that it's a good way to lose weight. I really think that they're deluding themselves into thinking that if they go deep enough their fat witll compress and they'll be able to come up a few hundred pounds lighter. Of course that never works so coming back up behind them is like watching someone blow up a baloon... literally. It's quite disgusting and makes me wish I could just shoot straight to the surface to avoid what I have termed "land-bound blue whale syndrome". It also makes me wish that the people around me would not try to stop me every time I pointed my speargun at the bloated anomalys.
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| As sad as cybering may seem or how much it doesn't make sense, people
definitely take their cybering seriously. A little too seriously
actually. To most of them it is as serious as real sex. Which is pretty
scary because all they are doing is typing random erotic messages back
and forth to each other with names like "tenderloingroin" and the ever
popular "sweettittygirl" Now to me that doesn't exactly sound like a
hot romantic sexual experience. Maybe if you replace the computer with
an actual girl, copious amounts of alcohol, and a few porn movies then
we could talk. But as it stands, actually telling someone online that I
am inserting my penis into them is fucking disturbing. What the hell
would your girlfriend think if you said that during actual sex?
Girlfriend: Come on baby give it to me.
You: I am inserting my penis into your vagina.
Girlfriend: What the fuck are you talking about?
You: I am moaning intensely.
Girlfriend: Get the hell out of my house.
You: I am sad.
About as erotic as two men with Down syndrome slapping each other covered in mayo...
You
would probably never be able to have sex with another girl again. At
least any girl that is breathing and has a heart rate. Am I being
judgmental? Of course I am. But I'm sure that the majority of people
out there will agree with me when I say that having sex on your comp
simply doesn't compare to the real thing. And I could sit here all day
telling you why that is. But trying to explain cybering like this is a
daunting task so maybe we should look at an actual cybersex chat and
see for ourselves for what passes as sexual intercourse on the
net(Note:this was an actual exchange that took place last night. I
changed our screen names to avoid hatemail):
Wellhung(this is me ^^): Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?
Sweetheart:
I am wearing a red silk blouse and a miniskirt and high heels. My
measurements are 36-24-38. I work out every day. I'm toned and perfect.
What do you look like?
Wellhung: I'm 6'3" and about 250 pounds.
I wear glasses and I have on a pair of blue sweatpants I just bought at
Walmart. I am also wearing a T-shirt with a few spots of barbecue sauce
on it from dinner - it smells a little funny.
Sweetheart: I want you. Would you like to screw me?
(Please note: she did not seem at all put off by my description of me. That is a huge clue that this woman obviously consider's that a turn on or a "hottie" compared to what she can currently get right now. For those of you who can't follow she looks like that person that cleans your toilet... or if you live up north, Canadian)
Wellhung: OK.
Sweetheart:
We're in my bedroom. There's soft music playing on the stereo and
candles on my dresser and night table. I'm looking up into your eyes,
smiling. My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle
your huge, swelling bulge.
Wellhung: I'm gulping. I'm beginning to sweat.
Sweetheart: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.
Wellhung: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse. My hands are trembling.
Sweetheart: I'm moaning softly.
Wellhung: I'm taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.
Sweetheart:
I'm throwing my head back in pleasure. The cool silk slides off my warm
skin. I'm rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.
(As if she's reading directly from a romance novel...)
Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and I accidentally rip a hole in your blouse. I'm sorry.
Sweetheart: That's OK, it wasn't really too expensive.
Wellhung: I'll pay for it.
Sweetheart:
Don't worry about it. I'm wearing a lacy black bra. My soft breasts are
rising and falling, rising and falling, as I breathe harder and harder.
(I was really expecting her to leave by now but she keeps at it. I decide to see how far she'll go)
Wellhung: I'm fumbling with the clasp on your bra. I think it's stuck. Do you have any scissors?
Sweetheart:
I take your hand and kiss it softly. I'm reaching back and undoing the
clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my breasts. My
nipples are erect for you.
Wellhung: How did you do that I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp.
Sweetheart: I'm arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your tongue all over me.
Wellhung: I'm dropping the bra. Now I'm licking your, you know, breasts. They're neat! Woopy doo!
Sweetheart: I'm running my fingers through your hair. Now I'm nibbling your ear.
Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breasts are covered with spit.
Sweetheart: What?Wellhung: I'm so sorry. Really.
Sweetheart: I'm wiping your spit off my breasts with the remains of my blouse.
(I actually paused here for like a minute wondering the deformaties she must be forced to live with and trying to figure out how someone this hideous was able to purchase a computer. I know if I were the salesman I'd just throw it at her. Maybe that's how she got it)
Wellhung: I'm taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a *plop*.
Sweetheart: OK. I'm pulling your sweatpants down and rubbing your hard tool.Wellhung: I'm screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee!
Sweetheart: I'm pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.Wellhung: I'm pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over, in and out, nibbling on your ... umm ... wait a minute.
Sweetheart: What's the matter?
Wellhung: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I'm choking.
Sweetheart: Are you OK?
Wellhung: I'm having a coughing fit. I'm turning all red.
Sweetheart: Can I help?
Wellhung:
I'm running to the kitchen, choking wildly. I'm fumbling through the
cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?
Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.
Wellhung: I'm drinking a cup of water. There, that's better.
Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.Wellhung: I'm washing the cup now.
Sweetheart: I'm on the bed, aching for you.
Wellhung:
I'm drying the cup. Now I'm putting it back in the cabinet. And now I'm
walking back to the bedroom. Wait, it's dark. I'm lost. Where's the
bedroom.
Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.
Wellhung: I found it.
Sweetheart: I'm tugging off your pants. I'm moaning. I want you so badly.
Wellhung: Me too.
Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately - our naked bodies pressing against each other.
Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.
Sweetheart: Why don't you take off you glasses?
Wellhung: OK, but I can't see very well without them. I place the glasses on the night table.
Sweetheart: I'm bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!
Wellhung: I have to pee. I'm fumbling my way blindly across the room and toward the bathroom.
Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.
Wellhung: I find the bathroom. It's dark. I'm feeling around for the toilet. I lift the lid.
Sweetheart: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.
Wellhung: I'm done going. I'm feeling around for the flush handle, but I can't find it. Uh-oh!
Sweetheart: What's the matter now?
Wellhung:
I've realized that I've peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry again. I'm
walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way.
Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on.
(Did anyone else just notice what I said?!?)
Wellhung: OK, now I'm going to put my ... you know ... thing ... in your ... you know ... woman's thing.
Sweetheart: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!
Wellhung: I'm touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your neck. Umm, I'm having a little trouble here.
Sweetheart: I'm moving my ass back and forth, moaning. I can't stand it another second! Slide it in! Screw me now!
Wellhung: I'm flaccid.
Sweetheart: What?Wellhung: I'm limp. I can't sustain an erection.
Sweetheart: I'm standing up and turning around, an incredulous look on my face.
Wellhung: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, my weiner all floppy. I'm going to get my glasses and see what's wrong.
Sweetheart: No, never mind. I'm getting dressed. I'm putting on my underwear. Now I'm putting on my wet, nasty blouse.
Wellhung:
No wait! Now I'm squinting, trying to find the night table. I'm feeling
along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames and
your candles.
Sweetheart: I'm buttoning my blouse. Now I'm putting on my shoes.
Wellhung:
Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo! my glasses. I'm putting them on.
My God! One of your candles fell on the curtain. The curtain is on
fire! I'm pointing at it, a shocked look on my face.
Sweetheart: Go to hell.
*Sweetheart logs off*
Wellhung: I swear that's never happened before...
*Wellhung logs off*
(As my experiment proves, even the terribly ugly have their limits. There might even be a moral in that story but for the life of me I can't find it.) | | |
| Whoop whoop!!! Time for you low lives to do a small poll on how much better I am than you.
How many of you claim that the immigrants are taking American jobs and that that is the only reason that you are sitting on your ass in front of the computer claiming welfare? To prove this farce as what it is, I went undercover as Some Guy Trying to Get a Job Without a High School Diploma. I immediantly went for the jobs that you are most likely to get. Namely: McDs, Publix, Walgreens, and Walmart. I am hired at at least three different locations of each of the aforementiond(did you just see that use of the word of the day calendar?) companies and all I needed was the ride to the place of employment and several gallons of a special mix of sedatives/pig pheramones. And as if no one could stop me or care who the fuck I was, I quite each job. Simultaniously. Yes, I called up each manager, created a party line and before they could figure it out told them all what I thought of their products and where they could find enough space to shove them. Luckily I used information of a child who had recently died at my school. Who says Florida elections are crooked? Look what they taught me to do. And I'm just fine.
I then proceeded to go for the higher up jobs. Try the Walt Disney World Swan And Dolphin for instance. I am now a bus boy(not unlike an alter boy in any catholic church except for the fact that I do not get paid to be sexually abused by my higher ups[although they dont know what gifts I left them and their horribly swollen and now watertight testicles]) at Palios and an ice cream attendant at the Fountain(about the same as the above except I get to eat ice cream after an hour of touching and pictures that I do not get paid for[maybe if I looked like those sex icons on the ice cream box they'd love me instead of tossing me a tissue for my bleeding poop shoot{that sentence is kind of creepy|this is overuse of brackets*damn straight*|}]). At Palios you can make upwards of $90 a night depending on how much of your body you sell to the groping customer over in the corner. The Servers make upwards of $400 a night and that just makes me want to cry myself to sleep. At the fountain... well... let's just say I hope my paycheck looks better than the .13 in tips I made the first night. And, oh yeah, it's been two weeks since I started working at both of them.
To sum it all up:
You losers. Look at me. Look at my picture! Do you think that I'd be hired by anyone for anything other than extra at any job?! But think about this: even with my looks, Im still raking in enough to pay for a car in six months. Can you do that? Can you afford to feed yourself more than the ramen that your body adjusted to in the first two years of college? Huh? How's that two month old kid you had with that bitch who had the nerve to die during child birth? Remember how much fun you had coming home to the message about her geting knocked up on your answering machine? And how about the time you found out she gave you herpes? During the same message? BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Loser. | | |
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