Jeffassociates

Jeffassociates
Homos and heteros welcome.

Friday, May 17, 2002

Welcome to J|a's final post from Portland. On Saturday I hit the road for LA to begin the life that I'd always promised myself was just around the corner. That's the plan, anyway. It's possibe that I'll just fall back into the same routine I left, sitting around and watching tv while throwing bottle caps at my friends' crotches. The old traditions could prevail, but I certainly hope not. I just might have to make a permanent move somewhere that nobody will ever find me. No forwarding address, no goodbyes, nothing. Head some place where I can live with myself despite giving up on life and the world. Fuck all of you. I could do it. I would do it. But if you are my friend, you will help me to make sure that it never comes to that. Look out for me and make sure that I'm doing what makes me happy. Don't let me lose another six years of my life. Thanks. I'll be posting again when I have something to say. Some serious gay shit should be going down Memorial Day weekend so check back that following Tuesday to hear all my hot holiday ass grabbing stories.

Thursday, May 16, 2002

Why are female friends of mine always bothered when we're mistaken as a couple when we go out together? Today, such a faux pas illicited the violent response of, "OH MY GOD!" from my companion. I don't get it. Shouldn't they be fucking stoked to be thought as the girlfriend of a serious studmuffin like me? If I were a chick I'd think that I was totally doable guy. Shit, I'm a dude and I still think I'm doable. Smart, funny, and hung with a handsomely narrow cock designed to deliver virtually pain free anal. Also, my pugilistic hands can punch the living shit out of big tits which, I'm told from very reliable sources, gets the ladies wetter than monsoon season in India.

No, there's nothing particularly clever about vulgarity, but it's my only recourse in the absence of inspiration.

For those of you who are interested in my impending moving schedule, I may push it back a day to catch the Hella show up here on Saturday night. One final night of partying might be the best way to usher out my last day of this town. Be certain that I'll be down in LA in time for the West Coast gangsta' style Memorial Day pool party at the posh Beverly Hills estate of Dr. Alan. You're all invited!

Wednesday, May 15, 2002

It's now completely joyless.

Tuesday, May 14, 2002

I can't be bothered with this site right now. The logistics of my move back down to LA among other things is occupying way too much of my time. I'm really driving myself crazy, and this shit ain't helping. With the exception of some very brief moments of pleasure, my life is currently altogether joyless. Don't ask me to make you laugh. Sometimes we must also cry.

Monday, May 13, 2002

I'm starting to enjoy karaokeing far more than I ever would have expected. My only concern is that the people that frequent karaoke bars are either female or gay, and with my naturally faggoty tendencies I'm more often than not probably being "mistaken" as a homo. It also doesn't help that my song selections have a significant amount of camp value. For example, tonight I sang "Blame It on the Rain," "It's Not Unusual," and "One Night in Bangkok." Not that I mind the gay come-ons, but when they start to outnumber the amount of times in a night that a really foxy piece o' snatch tells me she's really digging my shit then I might be taking the joke a little too far. Whatever, beggers can't be choosers. At least I'm getting some sort of sexual attention, I guess.

Another anecdote: a couple of months back I was walking, a block away from my apartment, when I noticed that my fly was down. I looked around to see if there was anyone about who might catch me zipping up and saw that forty or fifty feet ahead of me there was a homeless guy walking my direction. Better him see me zipping up than with my barn door open so I nonchalantly reached down to conceal my shame. I thought I had pulled it off rather discretely, but as we passed one another I heard him muttering under his breath, "Fucking faggots, think they can get away with anything." Yeah, I guess we do.

So in conclusion, if you are gay and are tired of being hassled by close-minded homeless men, head down to the karaoke bar for some hot cruisy action.

Friday, May 10, 2002

Today I was told by some guy on the street that he liked my face. It was the gayest thing that anybody has said to me in a long time, probably since Ian moved to Atlanta, and it felt really good. Am I the only one who's more flattered by a gay come-on than a hetero one? I guess I tend to think that men have better taste than women. What I need in my life is a homosexual admirer like Sal Mineo's character in Rebel Without a Cause to fawn on me, telling me I'm the greatest thing since pocket pussies or, I guess in his case, the Ass Master. At the same time, I'd be poking some short, big-titted chick like Natalie Wood whose small hands would give the false impression that I possess an adequately sized cock. But nuts to that red windbreaker. I could never roll in something so totally gay.

And you're really going to miss this site?

Thursday, May 09, 2002

Everyone in Portland looks forward to the spring. After about eight months of rain and gray skies Portlanders are ready to party come this time of year, and this afternoon as I strolled through the park there were quite a few of them engaging in typical sunny spring day activities. One girl in particular was lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows as she read a book. The soles of her spread feet faced me as I continued along the path, and a quick glance revealed that from my vantage I could look right up her skirt. Embarrassed, I averted my eyes, but soon the sage words of Kurt Vonnegut entered my head (I paraphrase):

"Girls try to conceal their panties at all costs while men try to get a look at their panties at all costs."

So I again trained my gaze towards the deep recess of her groin. For me to ignore it would be like if you told dogs and cats to stop fighting. It would be that fucked up and against all the laws of nature that God created. Did I forget to mention that this was some top-shelf pussy? Totally tappable. I wondered how close I could get before she noticed what was I was doing. Could I actually get my head up that skirt and plant my nose on the crest of her stinkbridge? Sometimes I think that it's only thoughts like these that make my life worth living at all.

I'm reminded of a story. I was once told that an ex-classmate of mine was outside an L.A. nightclub when a woman came stumbling out crazy drunk. She fell over and barfed all over the sidewalk. She remained in a fetal position until a random passerby stopped behind her, lifted up her skirt, pulled aside her panties, and proceeded to lick her box. When he had his fill, he stood up and exclaimed, "Only in L.A.!" Hands down the greatest hero in American history.

I'd like to conclude today's post by encouraging my female readers to reveal their panties with alarming frequency. What man can have suicidal thoughts when the prospect of a panty sighting is a legitimate reality? Give me a reason to live. I beg of you.

/archives

Gayest of J | a:
  UPS and Cum
  Kiddie Sex
  My Big Trunk
  For the Ladies

DJ | a:
  V

J | a Reading:
  How to Win Friends...

Friends of J | a:
  Eric Associates
  DaveAssociates
  Yum!