Pregnant Midgets

I fear very few things in the natural world. The things I do fear aren't the normal sorts of things people are fearful of, like lions and tigers and bears. No, my biggest fear are angry midgets and especially angry pregnant midgets. Let's investigate the reasons behind this very rational fear, shall we?

First and foremost let's examine the anatomy of a midget. Essentially they are a lot like we people, except they tend to be much, much shorter and have tiny little disproportionate limbs. Midgets are hard to pick out in a crowd due to their inhibited stature. They also try to hide due to their very rational fear that someone is going to steal their gold.

As a man I have something most scientists call genitals. These genitals, though glorious, are quite sensitive and rather low on my body. Because of their lowness they, sadly, are within the punching reach of a midget, or small child. Suffice it to say midgets are a walking nut punching machine. Like most men, I like to keep my testicles safe against most kind of harm, so you can understand why I'm so fearful of midgets.

I hear you asking the question "but what about pregnant midgets. Why are you more afraid of them?" Well, chum, because pregnant midgets more often than not tend to be females. Females tend to be irrational, as will be proven by all the angry comments I get on this note. Not only are they females but they also tend to have little things growing in their bellies that will one day come out of them. If you've ever had a tape worm or a wood tick you'll understand how uncomfortable it is being pregnant. Compound that with the pregnant female being a quarter the size of an actual human-being and you got yourself one really pissed off ball of tiny fury.

There's a few other things I'm afraid of, such as granny panties, that I'll talk about later. Until them enjoy, and ladies, please remember that children read these notes so keep your derogatory comments PG-13.

Love, Sex, and Mental Handicap

An adoptive mother in the UK is pleading for a woman to have sex with her 21 year old son with Down syndrome. She feels that her son should be able to do the same things other people do; such as enjoy sex and find love. She feels compelled to get his V-card punched because, "If he doesn't get a girlfriend, I will feel really bad, because I have sold him this thing that he is like everybody else. That's why I'm working overtime to get this sorted for him." Otto has said that he's tried getting himself a girlfriend for a few years now and has had no luck, as well.

In my opinion this lady is off track. She wants Otto to feel loved, to feel a connection, but the thing is she's not asking anyone to fall in love with Otto. She's just asking someone to have sex with him, which isn't love; it's a result of love.

I think by getting Otto laid he's going to be let into a lot of harsh truths. He's going to realize that sex isn't love; he's going to feel empty. He figures that sex is the solution to feeling lonely, when it isn't. It can further complicate a person, especially a person with limited cognitive ability.
Otto needs to earn love, not be given a girlfriend, or a sex partner. He needs to deal with the rejection that people who don't have special needs deal with when it comes to love. He needs to grow from those rejections. But that's the focus of this, isn't it. In the quote above the adoptive mom says outright that she feels compelled to get him laid because the whole time she's told Otto he's just like everyone else.

This woman's lying to Otto, and she's willing to lie to him again (by showing him false love) to cover up her lie that he's just like everyone else. I'm not sure if this is something I should break to you people, but people with Down syndrome are not just like everyone else. They have a cognitive deficiency. They lack certain things that can allow them to develop; they lack things that allow them to socially interact. Otto is different.

Sigh.

Otto says he's tried to get a girlfriend for three years. I've tried for longer, it's part of life. Maybe he should realize that even though it's something he wants, a girlfriend doesn't mean it's going to be something he's capable of getting. And, who knows, maybe there is a girl out there for Otto, but this isn't the way to get a girl.

What does this teach him anyway? Can't find a girlfriend? Well, mommy will just have to ask strangers to have sex with you

I'm that Dude

Ever watch Cops and laugh at the silly excuses the perps give to the police when they're caught with a VCR under their arm? "I didn't steal it. I mean it. He gave it to me. It was a present!" Today I found myself in a similar situation. I was doing something that seemed really sketchy, and my excuse for doing it, and being in possession of a few select items, would have just been as believable as the VCR stealing thief.

It started out at work today. We were running low on Diet Coke and I was told to go fetch some 24-packs from the nearest Copps. Normally this wouldn't be a big deal, except my purchasing card expired and I wasn't issued another. Also, I didn't have a car that day. So the education coordinator, my boss, decides to give me her debit card to purchase the divine soda. Then the program director, my boss' boss and a doctor, decides to lend me her van.

Now, it's awkward enough buying stuff with my boss' debit card, and driving the program director's van, but I decide to do it. I notice a catch though when I realize the program director parked in the parking garage. So I just ask her if she wants me to park elsewhere. She exclaims, "thanks Dan. Good thinking" and hands me all three of her ID badges for various hospitals.

So here I am, my boss' debit card in one pocket, all my program director's ID's in another and her gigantic set of keys in my grubby little mitts. Sadly, this isn't the first time I've had to borrow a doctor's car, or used my boss' debit. But it was the first time I did it all at the same time.

The entire trip to Copp's I was thinking to myself how awful it would be to get pulled over by a cop and have to explain why I had a debit card that wasn't mine and 3 forms of identification belonging to a doctor whose car I just happened to be driving. "No, officer, I work with these people. They just gave these things to me to buy diet soda. No, the ID is to get into the parking garage...I don't know why there's a check laying out in the open on the passenger seat. This isn't my car; but I belong here."

When I get to Copp's I decide to lay low and not draw any undue attention. Unfortunately it's hard to do that when you're in a crowded line trying to decipher a post-it note with a pin number on it. I was just waiting for a customer to go, "is that your card? Is THAT YOUR CARD!?" or have the cashier call over her manager and detain me.
I decided to act smooth and talk up the cashier. Then I realized that's just how a con-man would do it, so I cut it out. I started to strategize how I was going to react if I was caught. I decided the best way to do it was to punch the pregnant cashier really hard in the face, shove the elderly woman in line into the gum rack and run as fast as I can with my supplies. Thankfully it didn't come to that.

On the way back, I had one more sketchy thing to do: I had to park the car. Now, I hate parking cars that aren't mine in parking ramps. I'm more than happy to park on top of the ramp in the lamest spot available, but this was a busy doctor's car...and they also had "Doctor Only" parking.

So I fulfilled a life long dream and parked in the "Doctor Only" parking spot. I was so happy, but cautious, just in case someone tried to call me out. I wasn't sure what I'd do if someone tried to call me out, though. I mean, I did have a screwdriver and ice pick handy...

Vagina Monologue

I have a over a thousand dollars worth of fake vaginas in the trunk of my car right now. I spent an hour in the Birthing Suites yesterday scrounging all the fake cervixes and lady bit models I could find. I don't care what those lesbians say in those Vagina Monologues, they are not beautiful. They're a disaster. Nothing but pain and misery comes from them.

Not only did I have to face the indignity of looking for fake vaginas but I also had to walk the long way back from the Birthing Suites to my department in a very busy hospital. Try sitting in an elevator with a model of a very realistic bottom portion of a woman. You'll get stares. It didn't help that they were selling cookies, because my boss, whom I was helping, decided to pick up some fresh cookies for the department. There I sat at the cookie kiosk with all the unpleasantness.

What disturbs me the most is that now I'm desensitized to it. I was trying to get one of the models out of a bag and wasn't getting any leverage, so I stuck my whole hand up the va-jay-jay grabbed the baby inside the womb and used it as a class three lever to shove the model out of the bag. They don't teach you that at medical school, kids. They don't even teach that at serial killer school.

Things aren't so bad though. The reason why I have to cart around a bucket full of vulvas is because we're having a procedure fair at the medical school. A procedure fair is a lot like summer camp. We get to show medical students how to suture pig's feet (severed), and we get to put casts on each other and saw them off. It's like medical arts and crafts. And during this time I get to hit on girls who are better than me, but don't know it yet. I get to pretend I'm someone important.

Maybe this year I can convince them I'm a doctor.

My Exploits of the Day

Today I saw a girl that I thought was very pretty. I decided that I would kiss her. So after building up the necessary courage I walked up to her and kissed her on the lips.

She didn't look too happy and neither did her boyfriend. Her boyfriend was kind of big and I was starting to regret my hasty decision.

I decided to play the whole thing off as one of those cultural misunderstandings you always read about in Readers Digest. So I started babbling in a foreign accent and told them that open mouth french kissing is how my people greet strangers.

Realizing this ploy wasn't working to convince them I decided to bring out the big guns. I closed my eyes and gave her boyfriend the biggest open-mouth kiss ever.

Immediately afterwords I broke character and put my hands on my hips and said, "oh, God". Thankfully the boyfriend was also incredibly shaken. I decided to take that opportunity to sucker punch him and run away screaming like a woman.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find the right girl.

3AM Phone Call

This is the transcript of a phone call I made to a girl at 3AM on a weekday. I wasn't drunk. Her name has been changed to Peggy per the court agreement.

Peggy: H-h-hello?

Me: [in a whisper] ...croutons...croutons...c

croutons

P: Who is this? What

M: There's a crouton conspiracy, Peggy. They've devised a way to steal our shoes.

P: ..........

M: Do you want to know how I know? I have the powdered donuts cornered. They told me everything...

P: Dan? Is that you, Dan?

M: I need help Peggy. I'm going to eat the donuts.

P: So eat the fucking donuts, why did you call me? It's 3 AM. I have class in a few hours.

M: I don't want to eat them! They made me do it! Oh God. Peggy! Peggy, how many trans fats are in powdered donuts? How many crunches do I need to do to burn them off?!

P: I don't know.

M: ......c-can you at least look?

P: Dan

M: What are you wearing?

P: My pajamas...um, sweatpants and a green t-shirt

M: Pretend this is the 1800's, and I'm a conservative gentleman

P: Fu, sigh. I'm wearing a black, shapeless dress with a white bonnet.

M: That's hot. Are you incorrigible?

P: No.

M: Ooh. That's hot.

P: No, no stop, this is weird. We aren't doing this. We aren't doing whatever it is this is

M: Don't get so worked up malady. Have a scoop of warmed whale blubber to calm your...

P: I'm going to...I'm going to call the cops and they're going to shoot you in the face.

M: Oh.

Waste of Life

Remember in lab when we were discussing why your boy friend hated me? You seemed to think that the reason why he hated me was because I was an asshole. Every time you said it was because I was an asshole I rebutted you, and said "there was a good reason why I was an asshole".

Let's forget for a minute that the real reason why your boy friend hates me is because he is an irrational, controlling, selfish, ugly asshole who is incredibly jealous and lacks basic human empathy. I mean, the guy told you to stop being my friend, for God's sake. The people in our lab agreed: no boyfriend should tell a girl who should and should not be their friend.

Unless of course that girl is a person who has the emotional maturity of a spoiled five year old, who also lacks empathy. See, the real reason why I was an asshole to you wasn't because you didn't decide to go out with me when you broke up with your other boyfriend. No, it has a lot to do with the fact that the night you did break up with him I followed you around like a puppy. I helped you move some clothes out of the apartment the two of you shared, I helped you get settled, did some quality shopping with you as well...during a fucking snowstorm, mind you.

I admit, I wanted you while you were still going out with your other boyfriend. But I thought we had a connection, so I stuck around and listened to you as you told me how big your boyfriend's cock was or how much he didn't appreciate you. I wasn't trying to break you up, I actually gave you sound advice. I wanted you, but I didn't act on it because you were spoken for, and I'm a classy guy.

That's why, the night of your break up, as we stayed in your friends apartment and I messaged your legs and back I didn't try to go any further. I really cared about you, and wanted to be there as a friend first. Then, maybe after a month or so, I was going to ask you out. I wasn't going to rush things.

Sadly you were going to rush things in the lamest of ways possible. The same night, the very same fucking night you broke up with your boyfriend, the same night of the snowstorm, the same night we moved you out of your boyfriend's luxury condo you decided we had to meet up with this one guy. Did I mention there was a snowstorm, biggest snowstorm of the year?

I pressed you, and asked who the guy was, and why we had to meet him. You were insistent that we meet this guy. Me, being the stupid gentleman that I am, wasn't going to let you drive alone in the blizzard to Bowl a Vard to meet this guy. I decided to drive you.

Little did I know I was driving you to meet your future boyfriend. Little did I know that in less than 72 hours you would be shacking up with this guy. Little did I know that this friendship, and my whole concept of who you were would be shattered within those 72 hours.

We hung out at Bowl a Vard for a while until it was decided we should go sledding. On our way to the hill you told me that the dude who would be your boyfriend in 72 hours asked if I would be "competition". You laughed it off and told him that I wasn't going to be competition. I can't believe you told me that. It's okay to tell him that, I guess. It's sad though that I really thought you cared about me, or at least maybe was capable of looking at me in that way, if only for a moment. You weren't though. I should have kicked you to the curb then and there. Sadly, I'm a fucking gentleman.

Sledding was fun that night. A group of people had gathered and it reminded me a bit of grade school. I bundled you up in some of my old jackets and sweatshirts. I gave you my extra hat and mittens. You looked like a Frankenstein LumberJack. I should have known something was amiss when you were chasing your future boyfriend around, and when you decided we should abruptly leave shortly after he left the hill.

After that night, we were both soaking wet. Thankfully you had a change of clothes and warm blankets set out for you by your new roommates. I didn't, however, and I was left to sleep in a chair in my soaking wet clothes. I didn't mind that so much since I was with you...although I did mind the constant texting between you and your future boyfriend that night...it kept me awake.

Well, the next day you insisted on getting a new cell phone and I, still being dumb, obliged and drove you all over Madison...during a snowstorm. Later, at Chili's I told you that I wish you didn't just look at me as just a friend. I thought it was a cheap shot that you told your future boyfriend that I was no competition. I mean, shit bitch, I'm a fucking man, way to neuter me.

Your mind was made up and a day later I went on a breakfast date with you...to the pancake house your future boyfriend worked at and had him serve us. That was real classy, especially after I told you I liked you. The next day you called me on my last day of class to see if I wanted to go with you to the pancake place and see your future boyfriend with you. Obviously, I was in class so I couldn't pick up, but I called you promptly when I left class 15 minutes later. You told me that you would call me in 30 minutes. I waited in Madison for four hours for your call. Awesome.

Well, that was the last time we really carried on a conversation for the whole part of Winter Break. You were too busy occupying every waking and sleeping moment with your new boyfriend. Apparently by that time you had already moved in with him, which was something you said you were never, ever going to do. I guess a lot changes in 72 hours, huh?

You're so pathetic. You need to be with someone to validate your own existence. You don't feel loved unless you're the center of attention. You're willing to stop being friends with someone for a guy you've only been dating a week.

Mostly you're pathetic because you can't live on your own. Your last boyfriend broke up with you twice. The first time was because you were dating him for a month and you wanted to move in with him. He refused and broke up with you because, well let's not sugar coat it, because you're fucking crazy. Then, when the two of you got back together you forced your way into moving in with him. You stayed at his place every night, and slowly but surely all of your shit was at his place. Same thing with this guy. You've barely had been going out a week and you were already practically living with him. In fact a month ago, the two of you moved into another apartment and adopted two cats.

You claim that things are different, you excuse this bad decision because you think this relationship is way different than the last. You're a complete moron. I'm glad I know that now. This relationship is just as bad, your boyfriend is jealous and controlling.

Your boyfriend is so jealous and fearful that I'm going to steal you away from him that he's forbade you to talk to me. Although, he's still allowed to talk to this chick he fucked and had a relationship with. In fact, and you told me this, your new apartment is right across the hall from his former fuck buddy and he goes over there to smoke weed with her when the two of you get into arguments. Hmm, sounds like you should be the jealous one, right? I mean we never fucked and had a relationship quite like theirs.

Back to me being an asshole. I think I was justified in being an asshole. You lead me on, you took me on your first few dates with your new boyfriend even after I told you I liked you. I went because you made it seem that there was a chance I could convince you to like me. But, you already made up your mind, it was just a nice little lie to keep me from leaving.

I was an asshole because you chose a guy over our friendship, a friendship which you claimed was deep and lasting. I was a jerk because the day I went to a friend's funeral you decided to meet me at the mall and shop for shirts...never once asking me about the funeral. In fact, your crazy ass even had me try to come up with an epithet for some stupid gold angel you were going to put on your friend's grave. Classy. I remember giving several heartfelt epithets and having you degrade them. Wow, you are an enormous bitch.

The same day, after I reminded you I had just been at a funeral, you decided to go to dinner with me and finally talk about why you were ignoring me. Except there was a catch. We had to go to the restaurant you work at, and be served by your boyfriend. Wow, really set the mood to talk, didn't it.

So the entire time I was trying to spill my guts and understand why you threw our friendship under the bus, why you lead me on, why you never seemed to care about me you were waving at your boyfriend, writing love notes and drawing cute pictures to him. Every time I was comfortable to continue he would come over and flirt with you.

I fucking hate you. You told our lab that the reason why I stopped being an asshole to you was because you had "called me on it". Sorry, bitch, the reason why I stopped being an asshole was because I realized you're worthless, you're not worth my time. You had something great: me as a friend. But you threw it away for an ugly, controlling and jealous boyfriend.

You still have an affect on me though. I don't trust women as much as I used to. I have a hard time being kind to them. I question every little move they make, always fearful that I'm going to get hurt by them. I'm fearful that one day they're just going to stop talking to me. I don't feel like I have much to offer these days. The only thing I had to give was my friendship, my kindness and love for you. Not romantic love, but the love friends have for each other. You threw that away, and now I'm having a hard time putting myself out there again.

Fuck you for being such a waste of life.