so hear me out on this...

Yeah, I know. It's been some time since updating this thing. I've been busy. Currently, I'm working 7 days a week. I'm doing my roommate (we'll call her Dr. Sanchez) a solid. Dr. Sanchez has a new job, and works 7 days a week, too, but to alleviate the burden, I decided to take her evening classes on Thursday and Friday. My sanity is slowly slipping, which is good for all of you because my ridiculous imagination kicks into 5th gear (6th gear, depending on the vehicle) when I am exhausted. WEEEEEE!

So, you know how I said that the first girl, Dilek, was out of my life... well... NOPE!

She messages me out of the blue. FUCKIN' TYPICAL! I met with her last Friday for lunch. Then, the other girl I was seeing didn't work out. That's okay. It's a good kind of "didn't work out." So now, I have some prospects along with Dilek, the Turkish She-Devil. Moving on...

So, I know a lot of you in the States are freaking out about Donald Trump and his insane antics. I'mma get to that. Now, I started thinking... What if he is right? Well, I mean... what if he is right about the wall along the border? Hear me out...

Now, what is Mexico's biggest export? Cheap labor? Agricultural goods? Tacos? GOD! PLEASE TELL ME IT'S TACOS!

No.

It's...

Chupacabras.

That's right. Chupacabras.

"What exactly is a chupacabra" you may be asking. Shut up. I'll tell you.

Based on my amateur research, a quick peruse of the Wikipedia page, a tendency to jump to conclusions, and somethings I flat-out made up, I will explain what these foul demons are and why Donald Trump is our savior.

That above is a chupacabra. They stand at about 3 feet (1 meter... or yard... you know, I don't know metric... 1 metric yard). Normally, they feast on the blood of goats, but lately, they've had a taste for a different sort of blood. That's right... people. Think I'm making that up? GUESS AGAIN!

Cute-a-cabra

 

According to the Mexican Daily Siesta Gazette, a highly-respected and in-no-way-fake newspaper, thousands of Mexicans have been attacked and killed by these monsters. 

So what? Dead Mexicans.

NOT SO WHAT!

Every Mexican killed turns into another CHUPACABRA (and I am in no way mixing chupacabras with zombies). Soon, they will be an army. A CHUPACABRARMY (don't try to say that word aloud... I wrote it and even I am not entirely sure how to pronounce it).

So why isn't this in the mainstream media? BECAUSE THEY HAVE ALREADY INFILTRATED OUR MEDIA CORPORATIONS! OPEN YOUR EYES SHEEPLE! I'M WRITING IN ALL-CAPS ON THE INTERNET! IT MUST BE TRUE!

Only our glorious savior, Donald Trump, can save us from the Chupanati (or the Chupacabra Illuminati). 

Now, I know what you're thinking. How will a wall stop the Chupa-invasion? 

Duh! Chupacabras can only be stopped by walls. How do you not know that? Everyone knows that. Shame... shame on you.

So, why should Mexico pay for the wall? I know... I know... you short-sighted bastard... I know you are asking this. Again, you disappoint me.

Chupacabras are financially irresponsible and also have a hoard of gold. When pressed, they cannot say no to any requests for money. Mr. Trump knows this. 

Moral of the story: Vote Trump. Stop Chupacabras.

Meh... that's all I got today.

I'm really bad at consistency

Okay... Okay... I can't remember the last time I updated this. I should be ashamed of myself. I really should... buuuuuuuuuut... yeah, I am. I was going to try and play it cool like I wasn't phased... fazed?... phased... I teach English, fuck you.

Anyway, I sprained my ankle walking home at night. AFTER I KISSED A GIRL! WOOOoooooOOOOOoooo... I don't think she saw me fall after she got in her car. Hopefully, she callously drove away. I CAN ONLY HOPE SHE'S THAT CALLOUS.

So, a lot has happened since last I wrote... or at least I think. I know I've had a series of funny thoughts. I can't remember any of them now. I'm sorry. That was kinda a tease...

DISTRACTION!

Well, that was fun while it lasted. Oh! So, important notice. This is a different girl than the girl from earlier posts. That other girl is dead to me... until a booty call. Let's get serious... I may have the willpower not to grovel, but if prompted, I would gladly drop my pants and drill my wiener into her vagina as if I were in a post-apocalyptic world and there was oil in there. By the way, YOU'RE WELCOME FOR THE VISUAL.

So, I need code-names for these women... so, the original chick will be designated as Chick Unfortunately Not Tapping... or CUNT for show... what's sad is that I took a minute to think that up and it's such a poor joke that I refuse to use. I am ashamed. Utterly ashamed. Let's call her... uhhhhhh... Dilek. Fuck it, I'm just using her name. From here on forward, all ex's or past attempted conquests (I know... that's misogynistic, but I cannot for the life of me think of better wording. Maybe... failed-attempts-to-consentually-fornicate-with.... nope... too wordy...) will be referenced by their first name. Sure, some of you have never heard of this name... it's okay. You don't live in Turkey. IT'S SUPER COMMON. So, Dilek is outta the picture.

Good news... there are some other candidates. Now, I'm not a player. First, I barely have game when speaking English, let alone Turkish. Second, I might be being INCREDIBLY optimistic to the point of delusion (Not even the glass is half-full... more like "that glass totally wants the D.") Third, I usually work one at a time or seriously pursue one at a time. I think this is what they call normal dating. Maybe.... I've heard of this concept from third-hand renditions of the premise of Sex and the City. I'm totally a Miranda... I have no idea what that means. Is there a Jessica? Michelle? Chloe? I don't know. I only know there's a Miranda... I digress.

So, let me tell you a school (yeah, Daddy-O... I'm so lonely). If you want to talk to ladies in foreign countries and you are reading this, offer to teach them English in exchange for learning their language. It helps learning English and being around beautiful foreign women. It's okay if you look like gay hobbit... you have something that all the good-looking local men don't have. An American/ Canadian/ British/ Australian/ New Zealand-er... New Zealandian... New Zealandi... Kiwi Passport. YAY! Just keep playing the fact that you are looking for a wife. Never mention that you're poor. NEVER.

Anyway... I'm sleepy. I did this. Done. Finished. Blaaaaaaaaam-O.

Bye.