So I've been doing some writing, it's a bit of a themed fiction.
Well, it's me writing Harry Potter porn out of boredom.
I Don't Fuckin' Know. take a gander if you want.

You know what's odd?
I'm in a really good fucking mood.
Like, awesome mood.
I'm loving it.
I've been nice to customers.
I'm making friends.
What the fuck is going on?

So it occured to me, I don't think I've ever told you the story of why I won't go to gay bars.
So my only gay friends are a couple, who're 48 and 43, and have been together for 14 years.
So they go to places I don't usually go as they like kare-oke and I like heavy metal and dub-step.

We're in this bar, it's a kare-oke night.
Why you ask?
Because it's a gay bar!
Apparently we theme every day.
Because we fucking can, and every day is a party.
Except Sunday.
Which is shit.

Anywhore.
So I'm one of the youngest there, and for my age group, the fattest.
I weigh, roughly 220lbs and I'm 6ft1.
I'm straight people normal, but gay people obese.
So I'm insta-hated by my age group, who seclude me away with the old rockers.
Who're awesome anyway, so fuck you foundation wearing, Cher loving bitch boy.
If I ever hear If I Turn Back Time, or Leona Lewis' Bleeding Love again, I'll go Third Reich, seriously.
One of the rockers sings an Ozzy song, I can't remember which.
Fuck you, I was hammered. Then comes and talks to me about never cutting my hair.
Thanks for that tid bit, I don't plan on it.
So I'm talking to all these gay guys, they're all really cool 80's guys.
One of them has AID's and should have been dead in the 80's, but he's still living, still partying, and still rocking the mic.
Awwww. But tragic.
Obviously nature calls. It's been like 3 hours.
I'm like a camel, I pee rarely. Apparently it's a sign of bad kidneys.
Fuck you, I hate peeing anyway, I'll just get new ones.
So I toddle off to the bathroom, it takes ages, I'm wasted and lesbians wanna ask where I got my shoes from.
Zebra print high tops, thankyou.

When I have to wait to use the cubicle.
There are guys jacking each other off by the urinals, I don't wanna disturb that.
When this dude comes out, not many teeth, looks old, smells ungodly.
He walks up to me, and offers me some crack.
I kindly decline, I've stopped being a junky (hence why I'm a chubster, but that's a whole other story)
He then proceeds to tell me I've got nice eyes.
Thanks, I know. I'm hot.
Then it's, with that long hair, you kinda look like a girl.
I never shave, ever, I've always got stubble, I look fuck all like a girl.
Unless I dress up, then I'm hot as a girl too.
So I'm like, uhm thanks I guess.
Then it's.....how about we go back into the cubicle, smoke some crack and you fuck my ass.
I'm like, what. What?

So I left, without peeing, and pretended my friends are my boyfriends.

And that's the story of why I won't go to gaybars!

Why the fuck have I not paid more attention to Betty Fucking White?
Damn being English.

I am seriously concidering become Prime Minister.
You know you'd love to see me get assasinated.

So, on some dudes profile it asks questions about his ideal guy.
One of them is his friends, and he says he wants them girls because he wants a gay guy.
Do people, honestly, think gay guys are just friends with girls?
We've no male friends, because we may accidentally fuck them, or they won't want to be friends with us incase we hit on them?
Well, fuck you.

Most of my friends are straight males.
Yes, really straight, not "I'm not usually into dudes but I'm drunk" straight.
It's not even a matter of me being their 'pet gay' I'm just their friend.
My sexuality doesn't come into it.
Except when they're like "Fuck there's my 10 to 4 girl, what do you think?" then they remember.

tl;dr version
My sexuality isn't defined by who I make friends with.
It's who I like to stick it in.

'little' is a lie, sweetness.
Weeee more blogs on work.

We've got a new guy.
He's faaaaaaar too chipper.
At 11am, on a Sunday, when you come in, and I've clearly had a huge bowl of bitchflakes, with a side of fuck you juice.
Do you really think I wanna hear you call me a petname only friends have for me, and then ask inane questions.

Also.
Die.

I generally find the gay community excrutiatingly funny.
Being a part of that community, I get access to things you straight people don't see of us.
Like how a large portion of us are homophobic.
Don't ask.
It makes no sense to the normal ones of us either.
But this kid on this blog site is complaining his penis hurts as he just got circumsized.
Though he's now gone on to say the only thing that'll make it better is getting his iPod Touch.
I actually laughed out loud.

Also.
Gay saunas.
I learn, today, at 22 and a half, that they are real.
I honest to god, didn't believe anyone, for a long time, that they exist.
Are there straight saunas?
Where you have sex, not get a massage.
Or is it one of those gay things?
Like underground clubs where the bathroom consists of a bath, where you urinate on someone.
Seriously.
They exist too.
I was a podium dancer in one when I was younger.

Now I'm not so much part of the gay community either.

I've recently been added by all my ex's (and a large portion) of the gay males of my home city.
This disturbs me a lot, I'm also a little paranoid they're trying to figure out if I'm a little slutty because of a shit life, and lack of confidence.
Which isn't the case.
I fuck around, because I'm fucking good at it.
I fuck around, because I love sex.

Plus, it's funny to sleep with one guy, then he goes out with someone, so I fuck that guy too.
Then I'm like, yay! You're like my sex slaves or something, but not because I've done you both, now you're dead to me.

I also think, my god, those drugs I was on to make me wanna fuck any of you, must have been really, really fucking good.

A couple of weeks ago, I boycotted Perez Hilton, simply because his blog has gone from informative, funny and newsworthy, into something totally bullshit.
He just badmouths everyone that isn't a 16 year old boy with his top off or Lady Gaga, it's never got news I give a shit about anymore and quite frankly, his hatred for Megan Fox, for no reason, really annoys me.

I get my news from blogs, newspapers, the news and stuff where I don't have Twinklight forced down my throat.
If I wanted to watch a movie about a bunch of old guys emotionally and mentally abusing a stupid high school girl, I'd watch Salo.

So, here is a conversation (that might be slightly dramatized for comedic effect) I just had at work. (I'm on break, lame, everything is lame, working is lame waaaaaah) anyway, it was 2 old ladies, we'll call one Mavis and the other Mildred:
Mavis: What dessert comes with the OAP Roast?
Me: Oh, I'm sorry, but unfortunately we don't do the offer with a dessert today, that's just on Mondays.
Mavis: But it says Monday to Friday.
Me: Yes, the OAP roast is available Monday to Friday as an offer, but only on Mondays do we sell a dessert with it.
Mavis: Okay, well I'll go ask my friend because it's not me who wants it.
Me: Okay then, I'll just give you a few minutes then.
Mavis: Mildred! MILDRED! THEY DON'T DO A DESSERT TODAY!
Mildred: WHAT?
Mavis: I say, I SAY THEY DON'T DO A DESSERT TODAY! IT'S JUST ON A MONDAY!
Mildred: WHY? IT SAYS MONDAY TO FRIDAY!
Mavis: THAT'S JUST THE MEAL MILDRED! THE DESSERTS ARE MONDAY!
Mildred: WHAT DESSERT IS IT TODAY? DO I GET ICE CREAM!
Mavis: I'VE JUST TOLD YOU, YOU DON'T HAVE A DESSERT TODAY! THAT'S JUST A MONDAY!
Mildred: BUT IT'S ONLY MONDAY TODAY!
Mavis: MILDRED IT'S THURSDAY!
Mildred: BUT I MIGHT NOT LIVE TO MONDAY! CAN'T I HAVE AN ICE CREAM TODAY?!
Mavis: NO THAT'S EXTRA!!!
Mildred: I'll just have fish and chips then.
Mavis: WHAT?!
Mildred: I'LL HAVE THE FISH AND CHIPS!
Me: Does she want peas, salad or mushy peas?
Mavis: MILDRED! MILLLLLDREDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD DO YOU WANT PEAS, SALAD OR BEANS?!
Me: But I didn't say beans.....you can't have beans.....beans wasn't an option.
Mildred: MAVIS! MAVIIIIIS I WANT BEANS WITH IT!
Me: Oh god.
Mavis: She'll have beans with it.
Me: Beans wasn't even an option......I didn't say beans. Is peas okay?
Mavis: HE NEVER SAID BEANS DO YOU WANT PEAS WITH IT?
Mildred: CAN I HAVE GAMMON?!
Me: Why. Why me?
Mavis: Can she have gammon?
Me: Sure, with egg or pineapple?
Mavis: Oh just give her anything she's not fussy.

So last night, I locked up the pub, managed to balance all the money and whatever.
Look at me go, I've got a responsible job and everything.
Yeah, I'm honestly let near a safe full of money, and I manage to make it balance.
When you read the rest of this, you'll be like, why? You're clearly terrible at responsiblity.
I can't even spell it. Is that right?
Seriously.

Anyway.

I left my place after locking up or whatever, then go round to my local.
I get in and I'm greeted by my friend Kim, we do some shots, get a bit tipsy.
But half an hour later, the bar closes.
It is 1am on a Monday, so I can understand.
So we go to tesco, buy some booze, I'm like, oh my god, movies and booze and chilling.
Sounds good.

8am.
8am is when I finally, passed out from how drunk I was.
8.Fucking.AM.
Conrad, or Condom as we were calling him, after confessing he wanted to suck my dick, even though he's straight, passed out at 2am.
As you have to, we stripped him naked, and drew all over him.
We watched some gorey(gory?) movies and got even more hammered.
It was a good night!

What was NOT good, was being woken up at 10am by the day Manageress from the bar searching for her staff.
Sadly for me, I'd got them hammered and kept them up all night.
Bodies are sleeping all over the flat.
I'm lost.
I woke up in the seperate toilet, FYI.
There's booze everywhere and a naked dude on my sofa with a cock on his face.

You know what's hard to buy?
A pvc, bunny gimp mask.
I want one for Torture Garden, I've decided to be a PVC March Hare.
I know someone just got a boner.
I'm doing it for them.

But fuck, they're so fucking rare it's untrue.
Spending a Monday searching the back streets of Birmingham and talking to hookers it is this week then!
Maybe I'll go see if that Dominatrix still has her dungeon.
:]

I random member button, a lot.
If you're active on here in the last week, then I'll more than likely view you like 9865387457845745 million times.
It's not because I want your cock/vag in my mouth.
It's because my random member button wants your cock/vag in it's mouth.
Or you just frequent here a lot.

What I've noticed, is I'm blocked by quite a few members who I've never even spoken too.
I'm confused as to why.
Am I a bad person?
Am I a dick?

I know it takes me like a week to reply to a message, but I usually do.
Unless you're boring as shit, then why bother?
If you can't entertain me, I don't want to talk to you.
That doesn't make me a bad person, I just don't see the point in talking to people who I've nothing in common with.
Anyway.
I'm confused, and a little annoyed.
Why block me?
What did I do?
Can people tell me next time?
At least have the politeness to tell me you're blocking me.

So, on the 4th of December I'm going to a Fetish Club, called the Torture Garden.
Check it out here: http://www.torturegarden.com/home/

Me and my friend Mel, whom I call Mistress, are going.
It's gonna be fairly intense.
She's gonna dress all vamp/dom and more than likely make out with girls and I'm dressing as a PVC Alice in Wonderland.
I know the outfit needs to involve this:
http://www.etsy.com/listing/35532048/classic-latex-feather-neck-corset-your?ref=sr_gallery_5&ga_search_query=latex&ga_search_type=category&category=clothing&ga_page=4&order=&includes[0 (Unknown or private posting)]=tags&includes[1]=title

Anyway.
That's my story for the day.
How me and a Dominatrix are going to a Fetish Ball.
:]

I want to go to work right now, as much as Jews did gas chambers.
Seriously.
No.
Don't make me.
Someone rich, will you marry me?

That Marilyn Manson song is playing again, the one that always reminds me of you.
The one where I'd pull you close, more than likely to head height.
Kiss you.
I doubt I could make love, to anyone, aside from you.

Everytime I get behind the wheel, I'm like, can I even drive?
Then I start the car, a little panicked, reverse out of the drive and start on my way.
The, yes, I can drive! Yay me!

Plus I mostly drive a jeep, so it's not that fucking difficult.
Yeah, my parents are the kinda people who live in the suburbs and own a jeep.
But, with 4 kids, 2 dogs and the whole fact my Dad drives a lot, he's not the kinda man to own a fucking people carrier, like, what is it the Americans say? A Soccer Mom?
I think that's it.
Well, no.
He's not a Soccer Mom.
My Dad would drive a tank if he could.

So I'm at work today, and this guy who decides he's automatically allowed to be a cunt to me, because he knows my name, comes to the bar.
"Make me a drink" he says, with a toothless, and trying to be funny, shit eating grin.
"Any particular kind of drink? I sort of sell a lot" I say, opening my arms, indicating, I'm behind a fucking bar, there's a lot to choose from, dumbass.
"Anything, make me something" he says, again, trying to be funny, and not noticing I've stopped smiling.
"Well, I don't know, what do you like?" I say, as politely as I can.
"I prefer my drinks wet" He says to me, still not noticing if I could set on fire, from how frustrated I am, I'd pretty much be an inferno.
"Well I've got lager, stout, cider, ales, all of different kinds. Alcopops, bottled beers, spirits, juices, cocktails" I tell him, my fists clenched.
"I don't care, anything" He says, whilst I'm still trying to finish off what kinda crap I sell. I mean, it's a bar for fuck sake, who does this?!
"Fine then, I'll make you something" I go off, come back a minute later, with a plastic beaker filled with water.
"What the fuck is this?" He says, clenching the beaker so hard it's looking like it'll snap in his hands.
"That'd be water. It's wet. Is it not?" I say, revelling in that I've angered him.
"I've noticed it's fucking water, you're actually giving me water? I guess you want fucking paying too?"
"No, water is freeee!" I say, like someone posessed. I'm actually full of glee now. This dudes face is changing colours.
"No you silly prick. I wanted an alcoholic drink. I've not come for fucking water. What the fuck, this isn't funny" He says, slack jawed that I'd dare offend him so.
"Well, you weren't exactly very specific" If I could be dancing right now, I fucking would be.
"Throw this shit away and make me a fucking pint of fosters" He says, defeated. Knowing further arguement is simply making me happier.
"Technically, I'm just pouring the fosters into a pint glass. It's already made up" I couldn't end it there.
"You're such a fucking dick!" He says, throwing a tenner my way for payment for his drink.
"Well, when dealing with dumb fucks like you for 50 hours a week, I have to get my kicks somewhere" I say, putting down his pint. In another plastic beaker. Just because.

My boss was watching the whole time, came up to me after and said "Now Glenn, we've talked about you and playing with the customers"
:] What can I say. I like to troll the drunks.
Plus, never go to a bar and be all "I want a drink" it's obvious you want a fucking drink. You didn't come to buy a fucking chinchilla, did you? What the fuck else have you come to a barman for? I don't do sexual favours. Shut the fuck up, tell me what you want, exactly how you want it, and I'll give it to you in exchange for currency, in a polite manner. I may even throw some friendly banter and wit into it as well, no extra cost.
Annoy me, and I'll be so fucking difficult you'll be tearing your hair out.

I haven't been this bored since I thought working in a phone store was a good idea.
I have also found nothing to fuck this weekend.
Depressing.