Lady Gaga is Awesomely Crazy

Men tend to not have sex with people that could potentially kill them unless they are in prison or date Amazonian princesses.  The biggest danger a man fears from a sexual encounter from a girl is a bumpy crotch or too much teeth during fellatio. That's not as thrilling as it stressful. But imagine how sexy the danger would be if you were to bang a female serial killer...and live!

First off  I'm not talking about any run of the mill, lady serial killer. She has to be of the "kill by hand" variety.  That means no guns or poison.  That's just not fair.  I want my sexy ass serial killer to at least give me a chance to fight back. That's part of what would make her so appealing.

Secondly she has to be hot. Not cute. But HOT. This is the only way this scenario is going to work. Let's picture a sexy James Bond girl type assassin but not professionally trained to kill, she just does it cuz she's nuts. You'd want to seduce a Famke Jenssen look alike

and not some murderous swamp monster that happens to have lady parts.

Now imagine you spend the night with her, this chick that traveled the country and murdered over thirty guys with her bare hands, you bang her and wake up in the morning alive. How awesome would that be? You know for a fact there's thirty dudes out there that you are THAT much cooler than. Talk about stroking your ego.

Another plus is that since you know she's a serial killer, if she doesn't comply with whatever you want you could just report her to the cops.  You could pull off some pro-wrestling type moves on her, pile-drivers, suplexes, choke-slams and she can't say shit to anyone about it. In fact she may even like it. She kills people after all. She WOULD like it.

With all the danger and insanity, it'd be like fucking a sexy grizzly bear or a shark. Or Lady Gaga.

Lady Gaga is a rare type of crazy that you only see in very passionate people, violently passionate but passionate nonetheless.  She has the same "I don't care if I make you uncomfortable" attitude as someone that likes strangling hookers, except she's a hundred times cuter about it.

I'm not saying that Lady Gaga is a murderer, she just seems mentally dangerous.

Experiencing Lady Gaga is difficult. She could of gone the easy route and dolled herself up, appear in a bunch of men's magazines and talk about her turn-ons and all other types of silly shit to appear sexy but instead she chooses to behave like an attractive, special needs kid playing dress up or a future Batman villain.

This aversion to being normal not only makes me nervous but makes me love her more. And not the way her gay fans do. I would actually get in a twosome with her as long as she doesn't have that rumored Vienna sausage, penis thing going on down there.

I love the fact that one day she made a clear decision to tell logic and normalcy to go swallow some cleaning fluid and dive off a rocky cliff.  When everyone decided to walk left she chose to climb a wall and drink an eggplant mojito.  I'm always fascinated by people that choose to be passionately defiant by themselves without needing a group or ideology that some scam artist came up with, to follow like zombie sheep. Some people march to their own drums then others will walk on their hands while beatboxing and wearing a polar bear suit.

Any girl could go out there and show her boobs and wiggle her ass in front of  a camera but Ms.Gaga makes you pay for it because she can and her she has a Martian brain.  I watch her dancing half naked in her videos and enjoy it but worry that I'm going to see some psychologically scarring androgynous shit that I can't un-see like David Bowie dressed as Ziggy Stardust. She's a child seeing what she can get away with before she gets fitted for a strait jacket.

Oh, to spend the night with Lady Gaga must be a wild, performance art like experience, like walking into a room full of cats wearing berets, recreating Pablo Picasso's works on canvas or substituting the reasonable part of your brain with jellybeans made of silver and haikus about long, wet grass. We've seen the ridiculousness of her outfits and know that she's crazy or just  European enough to conjure up plenty of things that are insulting and threatening to the senses.  In bed.

It would be cool. Sort of.

I imagine she would wear lingerie made out of red oak wood, suggest using rainbow colored, arms length, party sized, strap-ons and talk about how she wants to get inside of YOU while pointing to your dick. She would throw gasoline on your boner then give you a kiss, take a picture and text it to your parents. She'd mention having a threesome and tell you to go down on a rose bush then try to stuff a flute in your ass while she wears a straw basket covered olive oil and peeled grapes.

Whether you could live through Gaga's sexual barrage of insanity would be your ultimate test as a man. Most would cave in and leave thinking they were meant to be women but a true stud would tell her to shut the fuck up. "I don't role that way," they'd say firmly. You'd have to lay down the law and tell her you're not giving into her fuck-tard demands, the same way you'd tell the sexy serial killer that you're not letting her kill you tonight. Then you'd leave a big, red, hand mark on her ass and tell her that you didn't come here to "Just Dance", you're sick of this  "Lovegame". It's turning into a "Bad Romance" and you're going to "Poker Face."

If all went well you'd wake up the next morning without something crammed in one of your orifices or covered in some kind of indigestible liquid and fish scales.

Mo'Nique is NOT Precious: 82nd Academy Awards Can Suck It

Thanks to Google image search and the use of animated thumbnails to preview movie clips on free porn sites, I've accidentally seen enough gay porn to know that I don't want to intentionally see any gay porn. That being said; I will not watch "Broke Back Mountain".

"Broke Back Mountain" is one movie high atop my Do NOT Watch List. As far as I can tell, "Broke Back Mountain" is a chick flick about two gay cowboys. They're not even 'gun-fight-at-noon' cowboys.  I'm guessing if there's any violence in the movie it takes place after they drop trousers and start administering hands free prostate exams. So if I'm channel surfing and see as much as two cowboys hug each other, I'm pushing the TV out a window.

Recently I've found a friend to keep "Broke Back" company on my Do NOT Watch List. It's a disturbing movie with a long name called "Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire".

Based on the lead actress, I thought it was about talking hamburger people or the Bizarro, female Biggie Smalls.

Baby, baby! Ugh!

The premise is far more disturbing.

In 1987, obese, illiterate, black 16-year-old Claireece Precious Jones (Gabourey Sidibe) lives in Harlem with her dysfunctional mother, Mary (Mo'Nique). She has been impregnated twice by her father, Carl, and suffers long term physical, mental and sexual abuse from her unemployed mother. The family resides in a Section 8tenement and subsists on welfare. Her first child, known only as "Mongo" (short for "Mongoloid"), has Down syndrome and is being cared for by Precious's grandmother.

It hurts just reading that, like someone vomited glass shards into my skull. I can already guess how this shit ends. Bad. Unless Frodo and Gandalf  appear, I don't see how the fuck that movie can turn out anyway good. I think in the sequel they drown and kick puppies and baby penguins to death and then make their corpses fill out tax forms.

But this isn't the main reason why I won't watch it. Though the depression factor is insanely large, it can not be held solely responsible.

Blame it on Mo'Nique.

 I can't stand her and her 'big is beautiful' attitude.  I wish she would lock herself in a Hostess factory and leave my eyes alone. I'm so AGAINST people believing they're beautiful when they're not. I wish we lived in a more shallow world we're people actually would strive to look beautiful instead of rationalizing it with 'self-esteem' and desperate men that would fuck anything with three warm holes.

And now she won an Oscar. So she's gonna feel better about herself. Which means she's gonna speak and be seen more. Both of which make me want to slam my dick in a car door.

MY Oscar speech:

"I would like to say the academy, for making fat douches like Mo'Nique feel special, you deserve to get infected by something embarrassing. And to the rest of you slimmer douches, I hope you all develop drug habits. Congratulations on having a platform where you are deemed important and can virtually masturbate in front of millions of viewers for working a dream job. P.S. Go fuck yourselves."

Sorry J-Woww

Hey, J-Woww, baby. I see you crying and I feel horrible for it. But look at me. I'm crying too. And it's not just because you broke my nose and knocked out a couple of my teeth. Oh well, yeah it is but I genuinely DO feel bad.

I'm sorry I couldn't make it to (insert bar name here) to see you. I really wanted to go. I was going to show up four hours early so I had a chance of making it in the door and  paying the jacked up cover charge to see you but things just didn't work out that way.

I know you traveled this far because you wanted to be seen with me in public.  You wanted the world to know that even though you have the manners of  an eastern European convict, that their was someone out their that thought you were special and wasn't afraid of being within punching distance of you.

Know that you are special, baby.  You punch like a heavyweight kickboxer and have a chest that defies gravity. I've never had to defend myself while struggling to avoiding a boner induced coma.  You were my first time. And second, third and so on. You popped my cherry and possibly one of my blood vessels.

Hey, so maybe we won't be together but you'll be alright. You're really talented (have big boobs) so I'm sure you'll find another guy who loves you for who you are (can take a punch).

I'd really wish you'd stop hitting me, though. You punch like a man J-Woww. You got your point across when you hammerfisted my eye socket into pretzel dust. This is why I was a bit reluctant to come out and see you. Because of shit like this. And because you're crazy. And because of shit like this.

Oops. Kinda repeated myself. Guess the concusion is kicking in.

It was fun when you used to ditch the camera crew and sneak off the set of the Jersey Shore to come visit me. You were cooler then. I guess by that time at night you were all danced and punched out.

Figure now is as good of a time as any to let you know that I'm NOT a millionaire. What we did was fun (because you weren't being violent) but don't expect any free plastic surgery or tanning products like I promised.

So, darling, please let me out of this headlock. Even though what's left of my cheekbone is pressed against your boobs... on second thought.... You can keep hitting me.