How many of those Academy Award people got laid on Academy Award night, do you suppose?

Never mind the acting, let’s talk about what regular guys are concerned with, shall we?  (I’m all keeping it real and shit…)

Sure was a lotta pussy at them Academy Awards, wasn’t there?

Some year, now that I’m nearly living alone, I’m going to get all fucked up on something, get naked, grease up, and jack all the way thru the Academy Awards, from the red carpet crap, till the very last award, spewing a stupendous stream of spooge as The End rolls across the screen.

It’s not that those actress women are THAT hot, and even when they are, the show isn’t,  you know? But, I thought I should have one big jizzfest where I make up for all those high school boners I got watching with my parents.  Especially with my mom…I mean…you know, she wasn’t half bad…

All seriousness aside, those good looking women, in all that fancy jewelry and expensive dresses and shit, are just begging to get banged, am I right?

I always try and take women at their word, especially when they are wearing some kind of FUCK ME! clothing…and everyone at the Academy Awards was, or was trying to look fuckable, you can’t fool me. 

Except, most of the women would probably call me  a list of bad names, beginning with “pig.” 

Hey, I’m no different than most regular guys, except maybe I don’t give a fuck if people like what I have to say or not, and most guys are still trying to get laid, you know? So I can understand their reluctance to say anything.  But, because they don’t say anything, doesn’t mean they don’t think it.

I understand these things. I’ve been a guy for quite a few years, now.

There IS a problem with this, of course. 

Women dress how they dress.

Sometimes it’s to entice men;  just as often it has nothing to do with men at all.  And sometimes it’s to give us blue balls, knowing they look hot, but we still ain’t gettin’ none.

But, that’s not the problem.

The problem is that, no matter why a woman dresses as she does, or despite the message she’d like to send, or thinks she’s sending,  every guy that likes the way a chick is dressed, knows she wants to fuck.

Your woman gets dressed up to go to a party where there will be adult beverages, and perhaps a taste or two of illegal substances, she’s looking hot, you sure ought to be able to expect to get fucked or blown nasty some time during the night, no?

Got a date to a New Year’s Eve party?  Tell me she ain’t oozing promise to fuck you till you bleed later on, am I right?

Just going out to dinner, and she’s wearing those pants that go up the crack of her ass, just the way you like?  Hey, man, she’s obviously telling you it’s ass time when you guys get home, with maybe some face time in the car.

You see what I’m getting at with these examples, right?  There are a million of them, these are just three of the hundreds of personal examples I could give you, but still have too much pride for.

It was just a difference in language.  We were speaking different languages at those times, do you see?

She didn’t speak “thick dick,” and I didn’t speak “cunt.”

Now, imagine the Academy Awards. 

Though I don’t give a shit about them, they are a BIG deal all over the world, and anyone of the big shots showing up there is a powerful rich celebrity type, either accompanied by his woman, or her man…and all the guys are thinking that tonight, this night of all nights, he’s going to get full access to that amazing body.  If she gets an Academy Award, and she drinks a little, she’s gonna beg me to fuck her with it…shit…how hot is that going to be?

That’s what I’d be thinking. It’s what any regular guy would be thinking.

How many of those guys went home and had to jack off? 

Worse, how many of them were too goddamned pissed off too wax the dolphin, being rebuffed by that cock teasing cunt again?

I’m glad I have none of those expectations any more. They were too stressful and annoying. Sure, you get to fuck now and then, and sometimes it’s even really good…but…more often than not, it was just a wasted hardon.

Well…I mean…with her.  (There were several “hers,” by the way…all thru my life.)

In the words of that famous hippy poet and philosopher, U. Enore…

No problem. If you don’t want to fuck me, someone else will.  I’ve never had a problem getting laid.  How about we do it your way for a while, and see how that works out for you?

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…When I get you home, I’ll give you a sausage to eat, a goddamned Italian sausage, you know what I mean, baby…?