“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Ok, I'm back.

Many of you have asked about my trip to the strip clubs with the lovely Mistress Victoria. Well that hasn't happened yet. If all goes to plan that will be (as I'm typing this) tonight (Tuesday). Ener since we first made plans I've been working on cleaning the place up to the point where one might believe that actual human beings have been living in it as opposed to, say, a family of giant raccoons.

It's been a few days. I've moved more stuff than I have since moving in. The results are barely noticable.

I may need a spanking...

Anyway, some of you have also noticed that www.TerriblyWrongOnline.com hasn't been updated yet. This time Jack and I both had shit to do and so, apparently, did all of our other contributors. It happens. Chances are we'll be updating at the regular time next weekend if not sooner depending on when Mace has the time to do it. I plan to have the strip done just as soon as I recover from the above mentioned night out with Mistress V.

Fortunately all I need to do to work on the strip is sit in a chair and keep my hand steady. Should only take a few days to get back into that kind of shape.

I woke up from a nap at midnight and went to my regular late night grocery store because I'm out of just about everything, most notably things that contain my one true addiction, sweet, life-giving caffiene. So I pull into the infamous Kroger parking lot, where the incident with the stupid SUV driving bitch happened (Funny side note, the employees say she used to be a regular customer, but she hasn't been back since they took my side.) and I'm greeted by an ambulance and a firetruck.

Turns out they had a gas leak. This meant that if I wanted real food I had to go to fucking WalMart. In case I haven't mentioned it here lately, I fucking hate fucking WalMart. I go anyway though. When I get there they have half of the food section roped off to buff the floors. so I wander around WalMart aimless and hungry.

No good ever comes of this.

Now, those of you reading this shouldn't take this as presumption on my part about Mistress Victoria's intentions, but as I'm waliking by the pharmacy section I realize that I'm fresh out of condoms. Again, this isn't me presuming that anything of that nature will be going on with Victoria, but knowing her I could have an impromptu after party with a house full of strippers on my hands.

Things get kooky like that with V around. That's why we here at the Graveyard so look forward to her little visits.

It was actually quite nice to be buying them again as I haven't done so since 1997 and the majority of those expired and crumbled to dust a long fucking time ago (as, probably, most of these will, but better to have them and not need them than need them and not have them).

The condoms were easily located and I figured, what the hell, let's go all out and get some lube just for fun, cause even if the whole multi-stripper, gang-bang doesn't happen a bottle of lube will NOT share the same fate as the unused condoms...

And I'd never thought about it before, but as I'm reading the little signs at the end of the rows I realize that amongst the 'toothpaste' and 'deodorant' sections there is no 'lubricant' section at WalMart.

And I think that's a damn shame.

I finally find it in the 'feminine hygene' section, which is a great place to be wandering around at 1 AM on a tuesday morning. I finally decide on a small bottle of Astroglide because I've heard good things about the product. I almost got KY Jelly, just to taunt Nathan C (not to be confused with my roommate Nate B) who told us years ago about the great lube he and his girlfriend had found called K9 Jelly.

We've been giving him shit about that Freudian slip for at least twelve years.

You know, because guys are dicks.

So I'm pushing around a cart with nothing in it but a box of condoms and a bottle of lube, completely oblivious to the fact that there are actually other people in the fucking store.

I realize the social akwardness of it in the middle of the pet section.

Don't you fucking judge me either. The two things had NOTHING to do with one another. And it's a shame that our society is so repressed that the natural thing is to be embarassed by such situations.

Fortunately, I ran out of shame a loooooooong time ago as you regular readers are already fully aware.

Some of you more than others.

Hi Rich.

But then it further occurs to me, standing there in the pet section with my pervert gear, that on the way there I'd walked through the toy section with that stuff sitting right in the kiddie seat.

So as soon as the security tape is reviewed I'll probably be on some fucking list somewhere.

Fortunately I hadn't gotten to the automotive section yet because it would be just as awkward to be caught looking over a 12-piece socket set with that stuff as it would have been in the toy or pet sections.

And NO WalMart doesn't carry gerbils.

Sick bastards...

I decided to pick up some other odds and ends I needed around the house to cover the evidence of my depravity before continuing on, and it was while I was wandering that I found what I really wanted to blog about. I found a holiday product I'd never seen before: Resurrection Eggs.

Some of you readers who have been dealing with the real world far more than me for the last few years may already know about this idea. I didn't. I found out when I got home that it's like the Christmas Advent Callendar and just a way of cashing in a little bit more on the death of Jesus.

Surely Mel Gibson is smiling somewhere.

But at the time, I, the godless pervert, didn't know this and the idea of Ressurrection Eggs hit me kind of funny. My first thought was that since eggs are unfertilized chicken embreyos can they really be resurrected? This led into a heated debate with one of the clerks over the sanctity of unfertilized chicken life and the morality of chicken stem-cell research that almost got me thrown out of the joint.

I think I may have stumbled onto why it's been so long since I had to buy condoms...

All of this brings me to one thing though. Easter is coming up.

I never understood Easter growing up. Actually, I didn't understand most of Christianity, but this was one of the big sticking points. Christianity teaches that killing is bad. I'm a little on the fence about that one, but overall it seems like an OK thing to teach in a general sense. But the story of Jesus tells us that because we are all wicked and sinful, because Adam and Eve sinned and we're being punished for THIER sins, that Jesus came to us and because we treated him like shit and ultimately nailed him to lumber and left him to die we're then absolved of all our sins.

Huh?

One person is put on the planet who isn't a total fuck up, who has the power to help mankind and make everything right and KILLING him is the answer? That never made sense to me till one day I had an interesting thought.

And not the kind of interesting thought that led me to find out exactly why you don't put ice cubes in a deep fryer, no this one ended without bandages.

See, I've always tried to make sense of Christianity (which is probably the single biggest reason it never took in me) and one sticking point that I always kept coming back to, the bit that made so much of it conflict is the idea that God knows what's going to happen and that he understands us.

Well what if he doesn't? I thought. What if he's learning as much about us as we're learning about the world around us? What if that's the very reason we're here in the first place? Follow me on a bit of a trip here. Bear in mind that I don't believe in most of the Christian mythos per-se but it's funny how all this fits together.

Let's say that God doesn't understand how we as a race have been given everything and yet we're still stupid, brutal, evil bastards by and large. So he comes down here to see what the deal is. He tries to live the way he believes people in our position should be living, tries to help out, and in the end he gets his ass kicked all over Jerusalem and gets pegged to a freaking tree and then, having experienced what the world is like he understands to an extent just why we're so fucked up as a race and maybe forgives us for being stupid, brutal, evil bastards.

It certainly explains his change in tone from that point on doesn't it? Not as quick about whipping plagues on people after having seen what everyday life was like back then.

So now that I've made everyone's Easter celebration feel weird I'm going to go put away my sex jelly and get a few hours sleep before my bisexual, dominatrix friend takes me out to the strip clubs.

If I don't survive the evening, be it known that I have no regrets. Or at least, I presume that if the thing that kills me is what I'm hoping it will be, then I'll have no regrets after that.

We've all got to go sometime.

Oh, I almost forgot, I burried the condoms and lube under incidental things I needed, not realizing that I still had to check out. I went through the line with a pack of screw-in hooks, an air compressor coupler kit, poker chips (from the clearance isle), a dishwashing wand and replacement sponges for it, and the first season of 'Zatoichi' on DVD (from the $5.50 bin), and assorted groceries in addition to the naughty stuff.

The woman was just chatting with me casually till she picked up the lube and then she got embarassed as hell. I don't know why. People buy that stuff all the time. Granted, I guess they don't usually buy it while they're buying thier groceries, but still.

Peace out bitches.


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