Archive for Women

Travel Advisory: Dos and Dont’s

Posted in Advice, Comedy, Humor, Life with tags , , , , , , , on October 13, 2011 by deviant11b

We are entering the second largest travel season of the year, we’ve already gone on Spring Break and lowered our inhibitions for a week, so now its time to travel for the sheer pleasure of traveling rather than the strange people who wake up next to you after a night of doing shots and yelling “This is to my dog sparkyyy!!!!”. There are several things you need to remember when traveling and I hope to help everyone out in this post. What to pack, how to pack it, where to go, where not to go, there are several key ingredients to a successful vacay and I know at least 10% of the recipe.

What to pack: Not always as easy as you’d think it is. Take this scenario you live in Alaska, its snowing outside, dark all the time, and the polar bears are trying to break down your door to eat your young. In a panic you through a parka, snow pants, snow shoes, and a shotgun into your carry on luggage. You drive to the airport and pick up your ticket to Florida. “Fuck” you think, “What am I going to do with this parka?”. That’s not the biggest of your worries though, you forget the shotgun in your back pack that was thrown in due to an instinctual urge to protect your Eskimo tykes. You move to the security check point and wait in line until its your turn to be scanned, you toss your baggage onto the x-ray belt and move through the body scanner. The next thing you know your being tackled to the ground and hit with billy clubs as everyone else runs in terror at the sight of a shot-gun. Now if you don’t want that happening to you pay attention to what I’m about to tell you. Pack for where your going, not where your coming from. Pack shorts for Florida, jeans for chicago, and a bikini for Africa. Leave your guns at home, unless your planning on selling drugs on vacation. If that’s the case follow the rules and put them in your checked luggage.

How to pack it: Preferably in a suitcase, but a duffel bag will do in a pinch. Socks and unmentionables go in the top slots of the suit case, slacks on the bottom, and shirts go on top. Sex toys always go in dark non-see through bags, you don’t want a TSA agent holding something up asking “Whose giant 12 inch black dildo is this?” You will turn more red quicker than the tiny rabbit he missed that was in the same bag. Just don’t bring liquids at all, when you get there, buy tiny week-long hygiene supplies, 12 bucks wont kill you.

Dressing for the airport: Theres one rule for each gender. Women dress down, and men dress up. Women should wear sweats at all times in the airport because the one thing on every mans mind while in the air and sipping on their seven dollar beer is how awesome it would be to join the mile high club with the woman sitting next to him on the plane. Sweats will help you ward off those pesky fellas. Men need to dress up so they can claim they are on their way to an important business meeting in France, or Germany, or where ever sounds good at the moment. You will never see your plane neighbor again so lie your ass off about what you do. If you’re a janitor on the way to a different state because you couldn’t quite clean up to Arizona’s standards than tell them your being relocated to headquarters in New York, and that you gave up your first class ticket to a soldier that is flying home. Sure fire approach all the time.

Where to go: Well its cold outside so fly somewhere warm, California and Florida have beaches that are open all year round so go there and act like you’ve never seen the ocean before. Stare in awe at the bronzed beauties littering the beach. Women again wear sweats to the beach, especially if it’s a nude beach. It will tell men your different and that you want no part in their hotel party, which is really them raiding the mini bar and ordering pay-per-view movies from the hotel. Go somewhere where there is a good night life. Austin has a nice nightlife, but when you wake up you have to deal with the fact that you’re in the middle of fucking Texas. Vegas and Miami are good bets. Vegas is always a party, and Miami has the beaches at day and bars/clubs at nights. Guys break out your awesome dance moves, even if you suck at dancing the fact that you don’t care about making an ass out of yourselve will net you more drunk women than the thug standing at the bar with his arms crossed. He may be hard… but you party hard.

Where not to go: Be careful when booking flights to warm climates. Florida is good, Spain is nice, Southern California is beautiful, Iraq is not… If there has been a war in your country of visitation in the last 15 years just say no. Uganda, Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan, and now Libya. These are all horrible choices. You may see nothing but sand when looking at pictures, but that’s because there is nothing but sand there. Also if the camera turned the other way you would see nothing but bodies on the ground and police beating people in handcuffs. Would you travel to South Central LA in the early 90s? If you answered no to that question than stay away from… well the whole middle east. Your visas wont mean shit if someone shoots you.

There you go my travel tips, they should help keep you from being embarrassed or arrested at a security checkpoint, and should keep you out of danger when abroad.

Hug Lady, Accidents, And My Return To Blogging.

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Life, Military, Writing with tags , , , , , on September 5, 2011 by deviant11b

           If your one of my five die-hard, hard-core subscribers, who wait in line until midnight until the release of my newest rantings, than you may have noticed that I havent written anything in a while. I promise there is a perfectly good excuse, I’ve been enjoying my time back from Iraq. I’ve been back for a little over a week, and so far I’ve been enjoying my time back. So far my time back has been defined by a few things; the hug lady, my first car accident, and my return to writing. I will explain all in due time.

          The first thing I will have to explain to all but a handful of people is the hug lady. I don’t know her name, and I doubt many soldiers in Fort Hood do, but any one who has deployed know her. I’ve hugged her a total of four times, but some people havent been lucky enough to hug her an even number of times(that’s a one way trip to a war zone if you’re wondering). The hug lady is about 80-90 years old, and ever since the beginning of the two wars she has been there to hug every soldier to deploy out of Fort Hood before they get on the plane. Keep in mind almost every plane leaves past midnight and arrives at the same time. For a woman that old, that is a hell of a commitment. I suppose I need to supply some background information on her though. Her son was in the Army during Vietnam, he wasnt stationed in Fort Hood though, so when he deployed she wasnt there to hug and kiss him good-bye like most of the younger soldiers families. Her son died in Vietnam and she was never able to hug him again. So now she stands there at one in the morning hugging a thousand soldiers as they get on the plane to go to war. When they return, she is there again at one in the morning waiting to give them a welcome home hug. Usually there are fewer soldiers to hug, but that’s why she does it. She does it for the guys that wont ever get to hug their own mother again, and she does it for the guys who might need a hug after a year away from home. The thing that stuck to me the most though is when I stooped down to hug her, I moved my weapon away from my chest. She thanked me for that. Maybe she just doesn’t like the cold steel of a weapon pushing up against her, or maybe not wanting to feel the tool of war against her is just a motherly thing. Shortly after I hugged her I was standing behind a bus with 800 other guys, waiting on a bus to move so we could walk across a field to meet our families. I gave my dad a hug that night, and the next time I hug my mom I’ll be back for good, and she’ll never have to worry about sending me off to a piece of shit country again. Now this was probably the sappiest paragraph I have ever written, and will ever write, but oh well. If you don’t like it, fuck you.

             Two days after hugging the hug lady I was standing on the side of the highway smoking a cigarette surveying the damage of a small fender bender caused by me not seeing an SUV as I was pulling out of a parking lot. This was my first accident, and I thought I handled it rather well. The lady I hit did not handle it so well. Not 15 seconds after hitting me at 15 miles an hour(rear collision not head on) she was calling 911. The ambulance came, and she climbed in the back only to be pushed out after they realized that even a premature baby would have survived the bump. Four days after that she was calling my unit telling them that I had no insurance. For those of you not in the military, this can really fuck you. Fortunatley I had insurance, and my unit knew this. They called her and rather sarcastically told her that I did indeed have insurance, and to talk to her company to figure out what was up.

            I suppose I should touch on my return to writing. I would have written early, but I just couldn’t figure out what to write about. When I was deployed I was constantly pissed off. Now that I’m back, I couldn’t be happier. I don’t know the exact quote but there is something that says that the only time anyone ever has an opinion is when everything is going wrong.  That’s pretty much how it was for me. When everything was going horribly I had no problem figuring out what to write about. So far the only thing going on back here that I have to bitch about is that they drilled out a filling of mine just to figure out it was fine, then put the filling back in…only in the Army. Now if you think my blogs will become more docile and PC than you are wrong. You can still expect the same style from me in the future, just about other things.

            I guess what I really need to say here is that I’m happy to be back, and even happier to be out in less than two months. Also now that I have access to beer again, expect an even more tumultuous blog.

Books For Bullets, A 23 Year Old Freshman

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Life, Military, School with tags , , , , , , on August 17, 2011 by deviant11b

        I graduated highschool in 2007, I graduated with a fairly low GPA and without taking the SATs. Why did I do this? Because the Army didn’t care what grades I made, or if I took the SATs. All they cared about was the fact that I graduated, and had a clean criminal record. Almost five years later this is coming back to bite me in the ass. As of today I’m three months away from getting out of the Army and beginning my new life.

      This may sound odd, but I’m more nervous about getting out of the Army than I ever was about joining, or even deploying. I’ll be on my own for real now, with bills I’ll need to pay, and jobs that can actually fire me for whatever reason they want. I’ll have to start watching my mouth lest I bring a harassment suit against me. I’ll have to mature even more, and stop farting whenever I feel like it. Right now short of drinking and driving my decisions don’t really have any real consequences. Yes, the real world is a daunting place to live in, and I can’t help but feel like I’m stuck in the starting block watching the other runners get a couple of laps head start.

     When I begin school this Spring I will be a 23-year-old freshman, now since I’ll be going to a community school for the first semester I wont feel so out-of-place, but when I go to the university I’m planning on going to I’ll feel like an old man. I cant help but feel like I wont be too far off from Luke Wilson in Old School living by a college partaking in its pleasures as an old man. Now if I happen to fall into bed with Elisha Cuthbert I wont ever complain again, but since that’s about as likely to happen as Israel and Pakistan giving each other a slap and tickle, I shall continue to gripe.

      Its been four years since I last used my brain for anything other than figuring out if I had enough in my bank account for a case of beer. Sine and cosine are something used for signatures and joint business ventures to me. Obtuse simply describes a leadership style, while acute is the type of anxiety I get when thinking of school, rather than describing triangles. I consider alge-bra to be just another of Victorias Secrets(how lame was that?) All the young whiper snappers I’ll be going to school with are fresh off 12 years of continuous schooling. There is an upside though, I’ll have a leg up on them on everything other than academics. I can buy beer. I have many more life experiences. My maturity level is higher than most people my age, although my sense of humor would beg otherwise. I can talk to women rather than stare at their chest, knowing that eye contact leads to skin contact later. unfortunately no schools in America have classes that grade on any of my advantages. I’ll have to relearn most of the things I never learned in the first place. Tests now will be more complicated than running for two miles or shooting off 40 rounds of 5.56. Now I’m sure I’ll succeed, if for nothing else then to never have to join the Army again, but I’m still incredibly apprehensive.

        Most of the people I graduated with are now finished with college and are off to careers not jobs. Some are doing advanced schooling to become doctors, and lawyers, and such. When it comes time to finally look for a career I’ll be 27 maybe 28 meaning I might be able to retire at 70. That’s assuming I find a job out of the gate, really though I have no idea what Id like to do. Id like to write for a living, but magazines, and newspapers are going the way of Sarah Palin’s career. Id like to have a cool job like a US marshal, or FBI but my experience in the Army has told me nothing is ever as exciting as Hollywood makes it out to be. I might like to teach, but If I come across a student that acts like I did I would be fired for beating up a kid. Id like to play a sport as a job, but I have a whole shit load of work to do for that one. Basically I’m drifting down a creek of feces with no out board motor… or something like that.

       Ahh college kids, while I don’t have a lot of experience with them, I’ve had some. Now most are alright and I’ve gotten along with them well, but others are horrible, nasty creatures that think they know everything. I once sat in on a class where a kid said all infantrymen were stoopid folk, I took offense to that one but behaved myself because I didn’t want to embarrass the girl I was with. When I’m off on my own though I’ll have no second thoughts about embarrassing myself with retaliation. I cant stand some of the kids that go to college. I’m sure you know some of them. They think they need to force their opinions on everyone. They think they are right, and everyone else is wrong. They think the government is out to conquer the world, and therefore all soldiers are evil little minions. I will not do anything to sway their beliefs, instead I will probably just act like an evil minion and give them a wedgie or hang them by their shoes and laugh. In all seriousness though, Im a grown man who has done two deployments, and should someone feel the need to insult me I wont take kindly to it.

     Dating should be fun, I know that it might be OK for Seniors to go out with Freshman, but I might be one of the older people in some classes. Everytime I would look at another Freshman girl Id feel like a guy on to catch a predator, slowly eating his cookies before being tackled and tazed by the local PD.

     When you do one thing for four straight years, you get very comfortable in the pattern you set. In a few short months I’ll have no pattern, and no safety net. I’ll be tossed to the wolves with fresh meat dangling from my appendages. While I am most certainly nervous about getting out and going to college, I am also very excited. I’ll finally get to experience college. The parties, the football games, the endless hitting on women, oh and the whole learning thing will be fun too. I know I’ll do alright though, because I know what its like on the other side. I know what its like to spend years away from family and friends. I know what its like to be 22 and have someone come into your room and tell you it’s not clean enough. I know what its like to sweat my ass off for six hours, only to have to sweat for six more. Most importantly I know that after December, I never want to do those things again. So I know I’ll do alright when it comes time for school.

Dear America, Remove Stick From Your Ass

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Life, Politics with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 13, 2011 by deviant11b

A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar… heard this one? There used to be a time in America when a joke like this might have been common place. There used to be a time in America when people could joke about homosexuality, race, religion, and other modern-day hot topics. That day is long gone, and unfortunately we most likely will never see it. Recently people like Tracey Morgan have been in the news for telling jokes. They may not have been funny to everyone, but to his audience they were funny, and if you think your gonna see the Tracey Morgan from 30 rock when he’s doing his stand up, than your just retarded. Oops can I say that? America just doesn’t seem to get “funny” anymore. Across America in every work place there are harassment seminars for everything, in fact I’m pretty sure the only people who legally cannot be harassed are white males. Not that its illegal, it’s just that we seem to be the people with the thickest skin. We never run to HR when a female makes a comment about how nice our shirt looks, or complain when we are refered to as “you people”. Now before I get a lot of hate mail let me say this, I hate both racism and sexism. Theres never a place for it, but not everything everyone ever says is out of hate.

      When I first joined the Army I thought I was entering the last great vestige for true men. A place where you worked dirty, played dirty, fought dirty, and talked even dirtier. I was wrong. There are sexual harassment seminars, racism seminars, don’t bash gay people seminars, and pretty much any other seminars you can think of. They don’t serve any purpose. The women here are so hideous that they’re not even worth harassing. More than half of my leadership is some kind of a minority, and no one is going to act so gay that Elton John is going to be in danger of losing his queen crown. So why do we have these seminars? Political correctness. Now there are some situations where being PC is a must. I can’t imagine it would work out too good if Obama made Felipe Calderon speak to him over a ten foot wall and laughed the whole time. But in the average work place a slightly off-color remark can be funny. Now dont go around throwin down the N word, whether it ends in an -er or -a it’s usually a good idea to keep that word holstered.

        America as a whole has become afraid of what other people think of it’s self. When Janet Jackson’s boob was violently ripped out of her top by my personal hero JT the FCC jumped all over it. They acted like no one had ever gone online, or to a book store, or seen an R rated movie. Its was a tit, with a pasty on it! There was nothing to see that can’t be seen at any beach in America. But America had to keep its sexuality under wraps. When Tracy Morgan made that joke about gay people, we acted like we all were offended by the fact that he wanted his kid to have an easier time going through high school. When that dude from Frasier went on that racist rant though, the outrage was justified. Why have the same outrage for three completely different acts? Because America has lost its ability to reason.

       And with all the seminars we have we are still not as PC as we think we are. Is affirmative action really all that PC? Is it politically correct to reward people for being a certain color? Is it politically correct to wear a shirt that shows off your chest, or has small letters going across your nip-line and get offended when people look? I’m not trying to stare, I’m just trying to read your boobs I swear. We have politicians that rally hard against gay marriage, and are later caught in a gay sex scandal. That is not PC, but it is funny. Why is it funny? Because I still have my sense of humor. You know whats not PC? You expecting me to have the same bland sense of humor you do.    

      I’m not even going to touch religion.

      We are the only country that feels the need to continuously apologize for its own history. Yes we had slavery, but then the country fought a civil war. Women were held down, but then there was the suffrage movement. Jim Crowe laws were around, but then they were abolished. My point is that we are one of a handful of countries that can fix whats wrong with it without any outside help. We shouldnt apologize for that, we should celebrate it. While the middle east gets in an uproar over women driving, we have women supreme court judges. While Africa kills each other, we have a black president. While pakistan stones gays to death, we have TV shows about their lives. Whether or not you believe it America is one of the better places to live if you’re not a straight white male.

     So the next time you hear a joke that offends you, just walk away knowing you have a higher moral standard and a more boring sense of humor.

Dating Follies Of A Fatter More Nervous Deviant.

Posted in Comedy, Dating, Humor, Life with tags , , , , , , , , on August 8, 2011 by deviant11b

     When I was in high school I had a number of things working against me when it came to dating. I was out of shape, which the picture above clearly shows. I was awkward around girls I thought were out of my league, which includes all the girls in the photo, based solely on their beautiful faces. Finally my confidence around the fairer sex was lower than Osama’s rotting body.

            When I joined the Army I shed about 40 pounds which left my body looking like a greek god, which you can clearly see in the picture below.

    But this post isn’t to brag about my new body, rather its to look back on my amazing follies of the past.

    In junior high I had this crush on a girl I had known for a while, I knew she was out of my league, but that never stops crushes. Anyway I thought the way to her heart was to be a fucking white knight with no spine. No favor was too small, if she needed five bucks I probably would have robbed the 7/11 on the corner and given her the $350 and five cartons of smokes I made off with. Needless to say this tactic did not work at all. All of that was also assuming she would have asked me for a favor, but because I spent most of the time staring at her from a far she didn’t approach me for the time of day. Now you might think this would be the end of the story but fast forward ten years to my first time home from the Army. I had a couple of weeks at home before I had to deploy to Iraq, and a buddy of mine was having a party at his apartment. I went to the party, and got severely obliterated. Nature called and I was in a rush to answer, but the bathroom was occupado. Being an inconsiderate prick, and having been in the field for the last month or so I walked outside and began relieving myself on his front lawn. While I’m standing there with my penis in one hand and a beer bottle in the other who should walk up to the door but the girl I had a crush on ten years ago. As I tucked myself back into my pants, I asked her how she was doing. I’ll give her this, she was polite and just smiled rather than run away screaming, or jabbing a sharp object into my eye. I shamelessly walked back into the party, and by the end of the night I was doing push ups with her on my back like a tool.

      At the end of junior high I had landed my first girlfriend, she was hot, really hot. The fact that she was hot is probably what doomed it in the first place. I was so nervous that I would say or do something to fuck it up that I just never said or did anything. I hadn’t blown up like a blimp yet, but that didn’t keep me from being awkward around her. When I was dropped off at her place to watch a movie (yes dropped off I was only 14 at the time so fuck off) I always sat inches away from her, thinking that if I made a move she would freak out. I did not realize that the fact that I made no moves freaked her out even more. The relationship did not last long, but I’m sure you already knew that.

    At the beginning of highschool my waistline expanded, and my jeans lowered a considerable amount. I walked around like a member of G-unit, and talked like one to. In one of my classes I had this pretty good-looking girl who sat in front of me. We started talking one day and she asked if I liked to smoke pot. I took one look at her cleavage and nodded an excited yes, nevermind the fact that I had never smoked it before. She asked if I had any, and I again nodded my head. I told her I had a lot, and when she asked how much I told her I had a pound or so. Now I knew nothing about weed, but when I answered that I had a pound or so, I pretty much told her I was a dealer. We made a plan to hang out later that week. I went around high school asking people if they knew where I could get a pound of weed, and now I understand why I got the looks I got. When we finally did hang out I had some ‘splainin to do. Thankfully she saved me the trouble and walked away from my befuddled ass.

      Mid way through highschool I went on a something called a workcamp, which is usually a church sponsored trip to a downtrodden town. While there you work on people’s homes and help them out. People from all over the place go there, and in my group I had this girl from PA. She probably wore a little too much make-up, but I didn’t care I thought she was hot, er-go I acted like a fool. When she said she wanted to be a model, I sputtered out that she would be a “really really good model”. If she was painting, I was painting. I did everything in my power to ensure that she never talked to me. Later on when I got home I sent her a MySpace request, remember MySpace? Anyway she rejected me, and now I forget her name.

     Finally in my senior year I came into my own. I was still tipping the scales at an outstanding 225 pounds, but I had charisma, which was the only thing that saved my ass. My nerves were calmer, and my words were smoother, my gut may have been bigger, but my tongue was quicker and that enabled me to act with a tad bit more normalcy than I had previously demonstrated.

     Now a days my confidence is at an all time high. Most likely due to my past experiences. I’ve lost those LBs that kept me grounded all those years ago. I can actually talk to women now instead of just staring. Now I’m not saying I’m a stud, but I’m light years ahead of where I used to be, and that’s always a good place to be.

Boys Rule, Girls Drool

Posted in Humor, Life with tags , , , , , , , on August 6, 2011 by deviant11b

Since the beggining of time one thing has remained painfully obvious. Guys are better than gals in everything. We dominate in all the sports that truly matter. We have the best jobs, the fastest cars, and the finest women… real lesbians are icky. We are stronger, faster, smarter, and our penises are always bigger. We wear pants they wear skirts. I decided to create a national holiday today since August is so devoid of them, and I settled on Man Day. A day where all men will drink beer as one, grill brats as one, cheer on their favorite team as one, and watch porn as… well that’s still going to be an individual event. To honor the first ever Man Day, I came out with a list of things we are better at than women. This will henceforth be known as the Man Day Decree.

On this, being the sixth day of August. One David Willis set forth upon a great gender a list of sexual inequalities. Purpose being to perpetrate the truth of true men, and the myth of a great women. So in as much as a downtrodden man can find hope in these following words, in the form of 25 points.

1. Women cannot stand and pee. Men enjoy this freedom it is truly gods gift to us.
2. Women must carry in the womb a child, not to exceed nine months. Men must sit idly by and laugh as the woman gains weight.
3. Men have protruding reproductive organs. If for no other reason than to measure them against fellow-men to see who is more manly.
4. Burping is a mans thing, women shall be scorned for attempting such a feat.
5. Farting to.
6. When having intercourse, men have the ability to complete the act long before the women-folk. It’s a race… we win.
7. Higher IQs: Newton, Einstein, Edison, Tesla, all the presidents, Dr. Seuss, Twain, and Eminem. Need I say more?
8. War… no body does it better.
9. For a whole week out of the month our emotions stay the same, and we don’t bleed from our kit and caboodle. Can you say the same thing?
10. Rational thinking is exclusive to men. A woman takes as much time picking out shoes as we do picking out perspective mates. Actually I can’t tell who gets the short end of that stick.
11. Badass people in history. We have Leonidas, Caesar, Napoleon, King Arthur, King Kong, Wolverine, and Audie Murphy. You have Joan of Arc.
12. Muscles make us look hot, muscles make you look scary.
13. Million Dollar Baby. What happens when a woman tries to take over a mans sport? She gets paralyzed.
14. Crying. You do it, we end it.
15. Shopping. When we make money we save it, she gets those boots with the fur just so the clubs looks at her.
16. Blonde hair. When we have it, it makes us look good. When you have it jokes are made.
17. Brunette hair. You may be smarter than blondes, but your still a woman.
18. Choice of mates. You always seem to fuck this one up. Why are there no nice guys out there. Cuz your having sex with every Charlie Sheen you can find.
19. We are way better drivers than you are. Thats why every manly car comes with a manual transmission, and a prius comes in automatic.
20. Age treats us much better than it does you. Robert Deniro, Gene Hackman, Al Pacino, Clint Eastwood, and George Clooney all still have their jobs. Yes that Golden Girl hosting SNL was a cute gimmick, but that’s all it was.
21. Before going out all we have to do is shower and put on a clean shirt. You have to sit in front of a mirror and treat your face like Van Gogh’s canvas, except when he painted something it never made him late for dinner.
22. The ability to skip numbers 23-25 if we please. And I damn well please.