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  • Tuesday
    This Is So Fucking Lame, I Love It

    13 comments · 208 views
  • 1w, 4d
    There's a Dick Joke Subtly Hidden in This Blog

    You write too many blog posts.

    I clench my fist. My frown deepens. The computer screen looks back at me, and it seems like it’s laughing at me. Kind of hard for something without a mouth, but… Look, I’m just being poetic here, okay. Of course it doesn’t look like it’s laughing. It’s a fucking screen. It looks square, and that’s it.

    You write too many blog posts.

    I bare my teeth, just like a dog in front of the mirror. Dogs do that because when they see their reflection, they think there’s a different dog in front of them. God, dogs are retarded. I hate them so much. Like, they’re cute and all but come fucking on, they eat their own poop. Like, they look forward to eating their own poop! You can’t justify that!

    Oh, who am I kidding, I like dogs. They’re so adorable, the little assholes. But I still think they’re fucking stupid.

    You write too many blog posts.

    Wait, what. Oh. Oh, right, shit. For a second I forgot I’m doing this noir-esque narration of what’s going through my mind. Okay, let’s get my mojo back. I was angry, wasn’t I? Yeeah that sounds right. Ahem.

    I sneer at the computer screen and cross my arms. I don’t write too many blog posts, I say. Or, like, I think it? I’m pretty sure I’m not actually talking. I’m just, well, narrating.

    Hah. Narrating. See that, asshole voice that’s accusing me of writing too many blogs? I can use italics too. Hah, hah. Fuck you. Man, I love italics. It’s like, they give whatever you’re writing this special tone, you know? Very cool. Hip as shit. Hip as shit. See? It’s so cool.

    You write too many blog posts.

    Oh, cut me some slack! I don’t write too many blog posts, you twat! I wrote exactly the right amount of blog posts! Not all my followers read them. But some do. Some are maybe looking a little forward to them. That makes them worth it.

    You write too many blog posts.

    Fuck you, Asshole Voice. Just… Just fuck you, and fuck your repetition, and fuck the insecurity you represent. I can write anything I want. I can do whatever I choose to do. And they read them, don’t they?

    You’re annoying them.

    Oh, now you’re doing that? They read them. I’m telling you, if they thought they’re annoying, they’ll ignore them. But they don’t. They keep reading. Maybe most of them won’t read the entire thing, but I don’t care.

    And you know what? Because I’m good at this shit. Because I’m confident in my ability to actually make them go “oh, another blog post? By him? Guess I’ll check it out." Because you DON’T FUCKING MATTER. Oh, sorry, was that too bold for you?

    Did you just make a pun.

    No. Yes. Maybe. Shut up.

    You planned this entire fucking blog just so you could say that, didn’t you.

    Look, maybe I did that. So what? I’m sure it was worth it!

    You’re getting cocky. You’re getting confident. You’re assuming your readers won’t leave you if you keep doing this kind of bullshit.

    Oh, no, no. I know what I’m doing. You see, I know I’m getting cocky lately. I’m working on a lot of stories, but they take time, and people are not seeing results. That’s why I write blog posts. But that makes me look like an egotistical asshole.

    Well. Yes. Yes, it does.

    But, cockiness aside, people always root for the underdog. I just need to make them feel like I’m a total fucking loser, and they’ll immediately think I’m cool again. That’s why I hired a mime to hit me in the face with his flaccid penis as I write this.

    Wait. What.

    I smile. Oh, you weren’t expecting this, were you, asshole voice? I caught you by surprise. Yeah, I still believe in my readers.

    What the fuck are you talking about.

    I’m ready to answer. I lean on my seat, my hands on the keyboard.

    And then, the mime, the fucking mime who’s been doing god knows what all this time, he fucking remembers he’s here.

    With a single thrust his hips come right next to my head. Almost in slow motion I see his flaccid penis drawing an arch in the air, gracefully landing on my cheek, the tip of that French’s baguette softly rubbing against my lip.

    The mime looks at me and smiles, his schlong still there, and oh my fucking god did a fucking mime just fucking slap me with his dick. Did. Did that just happen.

    This wasn’t a good idea.

    Oh my God he’s not moving. Like, the fucking dick is still there. THE MIME IS SMILING.

    DUDE WHAT THE FUCK.

    I DON’T KNOW IT’S LIKE THE DICK IS GLUED TO MY FACE OR SOMETHING. OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE THE MIME IS STILL LAUGHING.

    HOLY CRAP DUDE DO SOMETHING.

    I’M TRYING! OH GOD I THINK THE MIME SUPERGLUED HIS DICK TO MY FACE.

    WHY DID YOU EVEN HIRE THAT FUCKING MIME, THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ALL DEEP AND SHIT.

    I DON’T KNOW, MAN! HEAT OF THE MOMENT!

    YOU DON’T ASK A FRENCH MUTE TO DICKSLAP YOU IN THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT!

    WELL MAYBE WE SHOULDN’T DWELL IN THE PAST SO MUCH!

    YOU HAVE A DICK IN YOUR FACE!

    I FUCKING KNOW THAT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

    TELL THE MIME TO GO AWAY OR SOMETHING!

    YEAH HE’S NOT ANSWER---wait. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

    What?

    He’s answering, but, like, he’s answering in a mime way. He’s mimicking some shit. Oh God I don’t have time for this.

    But what is he saying?

    I don’t know. I think he says he’s trapped in an invisible box. God, I hate mimes.

    Then why the fuck did you hire one?

    Because I wanted to be an underdog! Seemed like a good idea!

    You get more and more pathetic by the hour.

    Come on, man! I’m just not good at being deep, okay?

    Yeah, sure. You know what? I’m out of here. Go fuck yourself.

    Uh. I already did that.

    …What?

    Yeah. In a previous blog post. And then I had a foursome with myself, too.

    Oh.

    You seriously write too many blog posts.

    OH, COME ON!

    32 comments · 234 views
  • 2w, 1d
    Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell FUCK

    Well ain't Christmas just the best fucking season ever. Oh, wait. It's not.

    At least for me, I don't know about you. Maybe you're like, this starry-eyed whimsical kind of person who believes in the Spirit of Christmas© and how its A Time for the Family©, and if that's the case then look, more power to you. That's pretty awesome. You go, girl.

    But in my case, Christmas means having to visit all the members of my family, and I'm pretty sure my family is like, the retarded cousin of the Mafia, because this is not normal. Like, I love them and all that jazz but fucking Christ, man. It's not like they hate each other, it's that they're midly annoyed by each other.

    Which is far worse, because at least when you hate somebody else you're like, clenching fists, and swearing revenges, and maybe falling in love with some random daughter out there and having a dashing adventure while discovering love and rock'n roll. Annoyance means that they go "yeeeah your Uncle Ruffalo is cool, but you can't really trust him! Once he asked me if he could borrow your uncle's donkey, and I said, yes, and when he turned it back the donkey had been raped! Raped! Who the fucks rapes a donkey?!" And no offense, but I've heard that same stupid story a hundred times already. They never let anything go, and whenever they get offended they make amends with petty revenges (like raping the other's parrot, for example), which offends the other, who also gets a petty revenge, and OH MY GOD THIS NEVER STOPS.

    Like, think I'm exaggerating? My 92 y/o grandma is explaining me in excruciating detail RIGHT NOW how my mother's mother once told her the dress she was wearing was pretty when clearly, it wasn't. What a fiend. I'm writing this while nodding and saying "sure, grandma", and she won't shut up, and oh dear Lord please kill me already.


    So yeah. Hate Christmas. Like, it's the worst time of the year for me -- on top of everything I just said, I hurt my arm again (it's a chronic injury, so there's little I can do about it -- it gets worse like once a year or so) so I can't even write as much as I'd want to. And man, I really want to write.

    For starters, I'm still working on that heist fic, and I'm actually really close to the ending, so not being able to finish it in one go sucks a lot. I'm also working on a collab with Pearple Prose (if you know that guy, you'll know a collab with him will end up being pretty high-quality-ish, because even though he's a lazy bastard, he knows what he's doing) and then a completely different collab with MrNumbers (if you know that guy, you'll know a collab including me and him is doomed to be absolutely fucking stupid, and thus GLORIOUS).

    So that's three stories. But wait! There's more!

    RainbowBob came one day to Skype and, out of the fucking blue, gave me a pep talk so inspiring my scrotum turned into a keytar and I started playing Take On Me with the neighbour's bulldog. That was fucking weird. But yeah, he WAIT A FUCKING SECOND WHAT IS MY GRANDMA DOING BRB

    Okay back. Turns out she's bored so she randomly started cleaning the house. I made her sit down again, because holy shit, grandma, you're 92. Calm down. Wait she's talking about how some random cousin once stole a chicken. That'll keep her busy.

    What was I saying? Oh, yeah. RainbowBob and I had a little talk, in which he showed me two things: First, I'm leagues behind him (I already knew that). Second, in real life he's not a sentient sponge (that was a surprise). And then he told me I should go back to original fiction. And so I did!

    So I'm working on four different stories at the same time, not counting college work. All of that, with a hurt arm and my family yapping in my ear. Sigh.

    But hey, at least this ind of stress is giving me a lot of inspiration. I doubt I'll ever get to write down all the ideas that come to mind lately (Example: Ice Cool, the OC whose problem is that he's way too fucking awesome to have any kind of meaningful relationship or fulfilling life. His father was a shark, which is cool. His mother was two sharks which is so much cooler. He's in absolute despair and seeks help, but nobody can help because they're too busy high-fiving him.) But, look, at least I know the well is not dry yet.

    So yeah. Go me. Now, if you excuse me, I gotta talk with my granny and insult a lot of people I have never met in my life. Seeing how old the woman is, chances are they're all dead by now. Sigh.

    14 comments · 177 views
  • 3w, 2h
    This Is The Kind Of Crap I Imagine When my E-reader Runs Out of Battery In The Train

    Poof!

    “Aragón.” A black figure appears right in front of me. Black as in clothes, not as in racism. “We need to talk.”

    “Woah!” I almost spill the coffee I was drinking, and take a step back. “Holy fucknuggets, what the hell are you?!”

    “I’m your – wait. Fucknuggets?”

    “Eh, what can I say, I’m a romantic.” I arch an eyebrow as I shoot the figure a better look. It’s kind of exactly like me, but apparently way more emo. He looks like he buys stuff at Hot Topic. “So, uh, seriously: what the hell are you and how are you in my house?”

    “I’m your dark side,” the figure says. “Your inner demon. I’m the voice that whispers to you at night, the blackness that makes you wonder how blood tastes.”

    “Oh. So you’re, like, the part that desperately tries to look cool and edgy and appears like an idiot instead.”

    “Pretty much.” The figure crosses his arms and locks eyes with me. “And we need to talk.”

    “Oh God, no!” I press a hand against my chest. “Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re breaking up with me!”

    Silence.

    The figure blinks. “What.”

    “Please don’t break up with me! I can change!”

    “What the everloving fuck are you talking about.”

    “I still love you, Edgy Aragón!” I grab my clone by the neck of his shirt and get my face as close to his as possible. “We can sort this out!”

    “Argh!” The figure pushes me away and turns around, coughing. “Aaaargh! Christ on a bike, man! Don’t get that close to me!”

    “Woah, hey.” I frown. “That’s not a nice react---wait. Bad breath?”

    “Bad breath doesn’t even start to describe it!” he says, still coughing. “What the shit, dude?! What did you eat, a goat’s asshole?!”

    “Uuuh.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Sorry. Y’see, I tried to give some spare change to a hobo I found in the street but I accidentally ended up giving him a blowjob instead.”

    WHAT?!

    “Look, I’m not good at random acts of kindness, okay?”

    YOU’RE FUCKING SICK!

    I make a pout. “Is that the reason you’re breaking up with me?”

    “I’M NOT BREAKING UP WITH YOU, YOU EEJIT!”

    “Oh.” I blink. “Oh. Okay, that’s pretty good. Amazingly good, actually.” I eye him a little harder. “Because, not gonna lie here – you’re pretty hot.”

    “YOU FUCKING COCKWI---what.”

    “I mean, I’d tap that.” I cock my head to the side and look at his butt. “I’d totally tap that. Say, are you free this Friday, by any chance?”

    Silence.

    ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!

    “Look, we both know you know it.” I shrug. “Why fumble around when we can go straight to the point?”

    “I DON’T WANT FUCKING ANYTHING WITH YOU!”

    “What?” I frown. “Weren’t you, like, a part of me? That means you share my thoughts.” I look at his butt again. “And my buttcheeks. You also share my buttcheeks. I love my buttcheeks. Which means you also love them.” I raise my eyes to his face and wiggle my eyebrows. “Right?”

    Silence.

    The figure squints. “Shit,” he says.


    Twenty minutes later, we walk out of the bedroom with ruffled hair and more sweaty than before. “Well,” I say,  stretching my arms, “that was surprisingly disappointing!”

    “I can’t believe I just did this,” the figure mutters, not looking at me.

    “I mean, if this is how I am in bed, no wonders all my hookups leave the country after sleeping with me!”

    “I seriously can’t believe I fucked up my holy mission this badly.”

    “Like, do I always cry this much?” I look at the figure. “Because after a point it got pretty annoying.”

    “This was supposed to make you realize the error of your ways,” the figure continues. “You were going to become a better person after this. Instead, we just spent twenty minutes having the worst sex of my metaphorical life.”

    “Oh yeah! That’s how it rolls with this guy!” I say, grinning and pointing at myself. “Surprises everywhere!”

    Poof! Poof!

    Two red figures appear in front of us. “We need to talk,” they say, talking at the same time.

    “Argh!” I take a step backwards.  Then I notice they’re also identical to me. “What the hell?! What are you two supposed to represent?!”

    “Your lust and inner demons,” they reply.

    “What?” I frown. “How many of those I have, exactly?”

    “No, no. You don’t get it,” the figure on the left says. Then he points at the Edgy Aragón I just fucked. “I’m his.”

    Silence. The Edgy Aragón’s jaw almost hits the floor.

    I blink and scratch my back again. “Really? My inner demons have inner demons on their own? Man, I have issues.”


    Also wooo the Royal Guard featured Today Is A Good Day to Die, I'm on a roll!

    20 comments · 192 views
  • 3w, 6d
    "Very Special Somepony" Sounds A Little Dumb

    ”Twilight…” Pinkie swallowed her heart beatings so fast she could hardly hear herself. Her legs were trembling a little. She felt cold. “Would you…?”

    “Yes?” Twilight asked, her voice soft as a puppy among towels. “Pinkie?”

    “Would you…” Pinkie shook her head, and finally managed to make eye contact with Twilight. “Would you be my special somepony?”

    My God, that last line is bullshit. I’m not the only one who thinks that, right? As in, dear fucking hell, people – that’s just wrong.

    I’m used to every single ponyism out there, except for this one. I get why the show couldn’t use “Valentine” in this context, but… Look, “very special somepony” makes everypony sound like they’re seven years old. Yes, I’m aware that I used “everypony” unironically in that last sentence, thus making myself sound like a seven years old. To that, I say shut the hell up.

    And seriously, we need some other way to say “would you be my valentine?” because right now every single fic that tries to pull that fucking “very special somepony” stuff out ends up being either corny or ridiculous. Literally anything is better. Here, let me try:

    ”Twilight.” Pinkie grabbed Twilight’s tail and gave it a gentle pull, causing her friend to stop and turn towards her. “I have something to ask you.”

    Twilight blinked. “You…” She looked at the calendar, and smiled. “You do, huh?”

    “Yes.” Pinkie smiled back, and took a deep breath. “Twilight Sparkle…”

    “Yes?”

    “Twilight Sparkle…!”

    “Yes?!”

    “TWILIGHT SPARKLE…!”

    “YES?!”

    WILL YOU BE MY LIL’ FUCKNUGGET?

    FUCK YES I’LL BE YOUR LIL’ FUCKNUGGET!

    “GOOD, LET’S PLAY ROCK ‘N ROLL WITH THIS ELECTRIC GUITAR I PULLED OUT OF MY ASS!”

    “FUCK YES TO THAT TOO!”

    Then the door of the library opened, only to show Spike behind it. “OH MY SHIT, TWILIGHT!” he screamed, “THE ENTIRE FUCKING TOWN IS ON FUCKING FIRE!”

    “I DECLARE MYSELF UTTERLY FLABBERGASTED BY THAT INFORMATION!” Twilight replied. “IS IT BAD?!”

    “WHAT THE EVERLOVING SHITASS ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, IT’S CHILD-FUCKINGLY AWESOME! THERE’S FIRE AND LAVA EVERYWHERE!”

    “OH MY BOWELS!” Pinkie screamed. “LET’S GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY ROCK WITH THIS OTHER GUITAR I PULLED OUT OF MY ASS!”

    “THAT SOUNDS CUNTASTIC, PINKIE!” Twilight roared.

    “EVERYPONY IS DYING BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE IT’S SO METAL!” Spike ululated.

    “I CAN TALK FOR SOME REASON!” Owlowiscious yammalammadingdonged.

    “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!”

    “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!”

    YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!”

    Man. This is how all love scenes should go. I would so read a romance fic that played like that.




    Also, hey, I got reviewed by the Seattles Angels! And this blog post has probably alienated all the new followers I got because of that, huh. Eh. Clickitty here.

    26 comments · 306 views
Apr
27th
2013

Well, for some reason it's just not advancing the approval queue. It's been there for more than 48 hours now, so... Huh. It's not being denied, it's just that it hasn't been seen yet.

So, eh, I'm going to post the link here, just in case someone wants to, you know, read it. It should go up someday, but till then, I don't want the few readers I have to wait too much.

So, here you go!

LINK TO THE STORY

Aragon · 61 views · Report
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