It was just a joke!

Whoa! Whoa! What the fuck are you doing?! Put it down. Why the hell are you doing that to your face? What? What do you mean this is what "I" wanted? Slow down. You mean to tell me you're doing this all because of that stupid joke I made last night, about: "I'd like you more if you always had on make-up." Seriously? I was high as a kite when I said it. It was a joke! What the fuck is wrong with you?... (If she wasn't a total wildcat in bed, I would've left her ass a long time ago)

I simply can't stand people who take a joke, too personally. Come on! That's why it's called a joke; though it may have been said in poor taste; but regardless, a joke. People can be so sensitive. If I really wanted to insult you, I wouldn't act so nonchalant about it and say: "I was just joking". Please. I'm a grown man. I don't have to hide being an asshole. What truly baffles me is the really insecure types, that always take it to a whole another level. The ones that drastically try to alter their appearance--that have you thinking they're not all there--just because they took your comment way out of context. Whether it be something simple as modifying their hair, weight loss/gain, or just going all out extreme with elective surgery. Seriously? Even if it wasn't a joke, are you really gonna let others dictate how you feel about yourself? Cry me a river. 9 out of 10 times, it was a fucking joke! Don't blame the world for your stupid insecurities.

Shot Through The Heart

There's something about this photo that gives me a full blown hard on. Just look at her! So adorable holding the cold steel of a revolver in her palm, in hopes her aim is precise enough to hit the target. There's nothing sexier than a woman who knows how to properly use a firearm. Just something about chicks and guns, that gets me completely wound up. Though the concept of a woman knowing how to protect herself, easily turns me on--I would never teach my girlfriend how to shoot--since there's always that one chick you're not too sure of. You know the type. The chick you purposely fail to mention that you own one, in fear she'll go bat-shit and start using your head as target practice for not putting down the toilet seat when you've finished or smoking the rest of the 'pot,' without asking her first for permission. I don't know about you, but the last thing I want, is to get shot with my own gun. I'm just sayin'.