Justice Has Been Served.

Actually, no. No it hasn't.

Rebounds are always fun, especially when you're getting over the love of your life, sent into shock with no clue what exactly went wrong. Instead of letting Bananarama's Cruel Summer become my official theme song, I declared "No, damn it, I'm not going to be brought down by this. I'm young, I've got a long road ahead of me, and there's no reason why I shouldn't get out of the damn car and fix the flat tire myself!"

I got out of the car, and bent over to start repairing the damage done. Within a few blinks of my once tearfilled eyes, I was no longer alone. I had options, because a couple of guys pulled over to lend me a helping hand.

Some people would have called the cops at the sight of a rapevan. Me? Nah, why judge a book by its cover? Chances are it's going to suck anyways. Might as well give it a go! So the guy pulls over, and it was tons of fun, oh trust me. Until one night, as I lay slightly intoxicated, tied to a bed.

"JUSTICE IS SERVED!!!" (I swear to god, those are the exact words that came out of his mouth.) In case his housemates didn't already realize what had just happened, he went ahead and screamed it at 3 in the morning just to make sure. I sure know how to pick 'em.

I'm going to ask for a retrial, tie him up naked only to be found by his buddies as I leave the house screaming that justice has now been served.


NOTE: To clear up a little misunderstanding... *coughcaseycough* the car thing is purely a metaphor. This random guy did not really pull over and pick me up. I actually went over to hang out with my best friend, who happens to be living with him. So no need to call the cops guys. It's all good, okay?

Hookers or Hookahs?

Tight on money, looking to move out of your parents' house? Of course you are, but isn't it more important to be cool?

Why yes! Yes it is. Living with your parents... and your two best friends... that's pretty hardcore right there. Yet somehow, you still insist on stepping it up another notch. First it's that hunk of speeding sex that you just had to have so you could be caught ridin' dirty, and hopefully picking up the chicks. Then its the myspace bandwagon; oh boy lets whore it up on the internets!

But what could make this picture complete? Living with the parents because you can't afford to move out... I KNOW! Let's add a Hookah into the mix! That's another couple of hundred bucks flushed down the toilet, but an increase of 5% of your cool factor. Like oh my gawd, you're totally gonna get the quality hookers now. Hookers and Hookahs, you guys got it made.

In your parents' house.

Sex, drugs, and drop and roll when you burn that shit down. Good luck buddy, and give me a call if you're ever looking for a REAL good time.

Girl on America Action, Oh Baby.

Pornography (according to Webster)
1 : the depiction of erotic behavior (as in pictures or writing) intended to cause sexual excitement
2 : material (as books or a photograph) that depicts erotic behavior and is intended to cause sexual excitement
3 : the depiction of acts in a sensational manner so as to arouse a quick intense emotional reaction

Pornography is a funny thing. Typically it’s applied to what “decent folk” think of as sick and disturbing images of someone expressing their physical attraction to someone (or something) else. It brings out “disgusting” or “disturbing” fetishes, objects and ideas in which people are obsessively devoted to; feet, Harry Potter, poop, cars, whatever creams your Twinkie. Hell, I don’t give a flying hoot what gets your rocks off, and I honestly don’t see anything wrong with pornography.

Well, almost. I despise the pornography that has become of America. I don’t think I’ve ever been too fond of the direction this country has been heading, but within the past six years, I think we’ve taken a turn for the worse. The death of thousands and the crumbling of two tall-standing icons were turned into some hardcore political pornography, arousing simple minded Americans to rise up, outraged at anyone who’s not gung ho for the nation. Magnetic “support” ribbons polluted the roads, serving as a constant reminder of those who are fighting to keep our American dream alive, while the rest of the country sat wide-eyed at their TVs, watching the rise and fall of color coded bullshit. Suddenly, everyone has to either be “Proud to be an American" or move to Canada.

If this is what pornography is coming to, I’ll take girl on girl action any day.