But I’m really not so crazy about exuding genius nowadays and all I want to get out of this entire blogging gig is, well, get some sexing from adoring female readers. I mean come on people, I’ve been doing this for eight months now and all I’ve been getting are measly marriage proposals from people whose genders are debatable. So we have to step this up! We have four months left before this blog celebrates its anniversary and what have I gotten out of it? Nothing. Absofuckinglutely nothing. Not even one measly blowjob.

So for those of you who are still iffy with the idea of getting it on with one of the Internet’s hottest commodities, you better get to it. I mean it can’t be THAT bad. You’re probably thinking "But you’re totally unattractive and unhealthy. Plus I heard you tried to poison your mom with detergent." But what you don’t know is I’m absolutely charming in person. I don’t know why I’m even soliciting sex over the internet when I could easily come up to any girl in a bar, drop an ultra-smooth pickup line like "Hi girl, I’m a boy. And I want to fuck you. In the mouth.", at which point the girl would make a moaning sound, comply without protest but will get weirded out as I pull out a picture of Tirso Cruz III from out of my pocket and cry when I near climax. Needless to say we will never speak again.

But I prefer geeky internet girls; you know, those ones with cute rectangular emo-looking glasses and those who know how to parition a hard disk on a linux machine.

I just turned myself on with that description.

On another blog related note, a lot of people have been emailing me why I have the commenting system off in my blog. The answer is it’s the natural progression. When I first started blogging, my self esteem for the day was directly proportional to the number of comments I get on a blog post. But a blogger of my stature really shouldn’t care. I mean does Heather Armstrong have comments on? How about Michelle Malkin? Exactly.

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Anyway, Friday night was a very stressful night for me. I went out with my good friend Maffy and several of her office friends. This entire thing was stressful for two reasons: one, I don’t know exactly how it happened, but apparently I’m broke. Not broke in the "Whose dick do I need to suck around here for food" sense but more in the "I can’t spend on booze because I need every penny I have right now to get me through to next pay day" sense. Two, It’s extremely fucking hot even at night. For some people, this isn’t a big deal. I mean, I even see metrosexual call center monkey types walking in the scorching afternoon sun with trenchcoats on (Fucking losers). But being the fat, unhealthy guy that I am, I am not looking forward to doing anything that involves me stepping out of an airconditioned room. The humid warm blanket that greets me when I step out of an airconditioned room causes me to sweat like a bitch after only 5 seconds of standing outside.