Ponderings

Recently, I've been told that my entries are too vulger and sexual. My first response was the classic John Newman 'Go Fuck yourself', but it made me think. Let the record show that this thinking has led me to writing instead of my usualy 1130pm masterbation ritual. 'Bation aside, I have made the decision from here out to write on a more political and socially conscious mindset, that being said, lets begin.

This entry is short, like most things Avallon. Yet, it is also important. This evening, at a small gather, hosted by close friends, I began speaking with a young vixen who seemed vulnerable and over-served. Upon approaching said target, I soon found that she towered over me. Towered may be an over-statement, as she simply was at eye level. But seeing as I have poor posture and even worse lumbard spine strength, as the conversation grew on and as the drinks flowed, I couldnt tell if she grew or I continued to hunch. Nonetheless, this has nothing to do with my point. The more we conversed, the more apparent it was that she over acted each syllabul she spoke (also let the record show that I have never spelled syllabul correctly). It seemed as if her lips were reaching to the furthest contours of each sound, of each hard consinent, and of each kicker 'e' as she worked to announciate. Now by no means was there a speach impediment here, but simply aggressive lip motion; it was as if Steven Tyler and Angelina Jolie had adopted an African baby that had similar lip structure and a serious cocaine addiction. Though this metaphore may be a stretch, bear with me. Tyler is reknowned for having floppy lips, Jolie for vulutuous ones, and the last qualifiers was purely to remark on each celebs human rights efforts. So she had big active lips is what I was saying. I've been drinking. Regardless, the thing that stuck out to me, was the fact that this girl seemed high. This made my vision take a bee-line to her nostrils, looking to confirm my thoughts with some sort of white residue or blue powder, instead I found myself eye-to-nostril with the smallest nose holes I've ever seen. Our conversation continued near a half hour and all I could think about was the erotically small air holes coming out of this chicks face. I honestly don't think it would be physically possible for her to pick her nose without requiring the jaws of life, not that nose picking ranks high on my cocktail party concerns...I guess instead of an entry or a moral on my part, is more a question, how does one bring up the issue of small nostrils in public? I know its socially acceptable to comment on a girls smile, bone structure, or beauty marks, but nostril size? Help me. And thricely, let the record show I got her number.

Gotty

Who would have thought?

Despite the facade of being a sex god that I have put forth through my blog, its time to be honest--Zues is struggling in the lightning department. Just because I'm performing worse than Will Mo Pena at slow pitch softball, doesnt mean I'm still not 'King of the Court' [see entry from Winter of 06], it's simply my inability to maintain an erection during vaginal intercourse. Now, don't start jumping to conclusions, I get boners, frequently, its just that I cannot maintain the blood flow for longer than 45 seconds to a minute. I tried to ignore the problem by faking orgasms using the Mr. Vice President's patented method, but was quickly outed. After visiting the GFs gyno (VinnyTs doesnt offer health insurance coverage...) I realized that I was destined to a sexless marriage.

The lack of sex completely altered my sleep patterns. Instead of being able to roll off and fall asleep in a quagmire of bodily fluids, I instead would lie awake flacid and sleepless. It was during one of these insomniatic transes that I began thinking about Michael (yeah, things got bad). Having my black belt in Hiaku, I began writing syllabic poetry on the bedside wall, when I had an epiphany: Michael makes me hard!

Now don't start thinking I'm some sort of sodimite homo fag or anything (not that I'm judging; check my iPod, I celebrate both Queen and the Village People on most of my playlists), but it was his constant pressance in the bedroom that got me going. That sense of fear, the thrill of being caught, the knowing of being watched, FUCK IM HARD JUST WRITING THIS!

Long of the short of it, I went down to Kinkos and had a lifesized picture of my Michael made. I'll end this post with one of my asian poems:

Fuzzy little beard,

Watch me penetrate you do,

Michael I miss you.

~Gotty

Just imagine that staring at you all night!

MySpace isn't American.

Preface: Don't tell Rochelle.

Preface II: Don't tell Michelle (the barista at DD who I'm banging--unless you speak Spanish fluently, ie not Adam, this shouldnt be an issue)

Preface III: I'm looking to maintain this erection throughout this entire entry, I expect the same courtesy as you read.

First off, I'm retarded. Not like physically, nor mentally, but in my relationship status foresight that I demonstrated during my final year of college (again, we're still pretending I graduated). One vagina the entire year, real smart. Not that I'm complaining, but c'mon, who doesnt get the urge to spread their wild oats (I mean spread on someone, not someones possessions--sorry Michael).

What I'm getting at is that I had an urge to get my Gotty on! [If you steal this catch phrase, I'll slit your throat and play in your blood--I know that's stolen too, but I feel it gets across the severity of my empty threat] eHarmony was sallow field that I was going to tend to. By creating a profile with a variety of false information that I was capable of faking, I could in essense, create the perfect counterpart that I was hoping to obtain. However, eHarmony questioned my morals in the preliminary screeening, I overreacted and got the boot. Don't worry, I wrote a letter expressing my contempt. Craigslist's erotic services helped to ebb the humiliation of eJection (electronic reJection), but my bank account suffered worse than a mute with an ear infection stuck in an elevator with Speed enroute to private showing of the prequil of The Departed.

Facebook exhausted, MySpace became the answer. Taking a temporary leave of absense from VTs, I was able to create the most nonthreatening and irresistable page. Without getting into the ins and outs, flaws, and oversights on my part, I was reported 4 times by three young women with the collective age less than 60, I was permanitly revoked from the server. My lawyers told me that none of my text should be reproduced, but heres my picture--how can you stay mad at this face?

Getting my Gotty on,

Gotty