Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

December 6, 2013

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…


Pinky just got kicked to the kerb, FoffI was supposed to be going there to bone it tonight, but despite the lack of a hamster wheel there was no lack of the usual wimminz fare of say one thing, do another, and frankly my life is too short, no matter how good and kinky the sex was, so kerb time it is.

So… sitting here having just discussed it with a couple of the lads down the pub. Nothing of value was lost, because there was nothing of value there anyway, if there was, she would not have said one thing and done another… QED

So… further to a comment one of them made, it’s all about the feelings, and channelling Derek & Clive, you got to have fucking intuition mate, and channelling AfOR (because you almost certainly DO have fucking intuition mate), you got to fucking listen to it.

I had *that* feeling last night, that hard to describe feeling, that combination of being kept in the dark and fed on shit, and knowing something ain’t right, and wondering why you’re the last one at the party to get the joke.

Ask me to explain it, or justify it, or back it up… and I can’t, I can’t give you anything except I had that feeling, and knew it was significant, and recollected other times I had had that feeling.

It’s not a feeling that just applies to your dealings with wimminz…

This guy

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2518874/Father-receives-photo-XBox-One-duped-Ebay.html

He had that feeling, in his own words.. “It came in a brown envelope. When the postman gave it to me I kept asking him if he was sure this package was for me and he kept saying it was.”  he KNEW…

Like I said, justification, explanation, supporting evidence, I can’t give you any of that shit when I get that feeling, all I can tell you is I have that feeling, and that feeling has ALWAYS BEEN FUCKING RIGHT.

A guy asks you “do you think my wife is cheating on me?“.. he already knows the fucking answer, he has that feeling.

Thing is, Pinky that just got kicked to the kerb, she could no more adequately explain her actions and choices than I could explain the feeling, I do not mean I will never know what went on in her head, I mean even if I had a nanosecond by nanosecond replay of whatever did go on in her head, I would be none the wiser… observing the process in her head is as much use as observing the feeling in me.

None.

Every guy I have ever met who gets that feeling starts playing what if scenarios in their heads, looking for an answer or explanation or enlightenment, they will never get it, that urge to look for answers is the “dark side” of that feeling.

If I had listened to the dark side I’d have gone to her place as planned, and maybe been greeted by plod, maybe been greeted by darkness and locked doors, maybe been greeted by who knows what, the dark side of that feeling wants knowledge, explanations, answers, understanding.

With experience, you get like me..

As DMJ says in a current piece, I get that feeling, I go snake eyes, people do what they wanna do, if da bitch wanted me to know where I stood or what the fuck was going on, nothing would have stopped her from making sure I knew… NOTHING…

The very fact that I did not know is the feeling, is the reality, do not be attracted by the dark side Luke, come over here to the light side, go snake eyes with me, turn that car around, drive home, edit your contacts on the phone to move the skank from “current” to “skanks” + “blocked“, turn your back, walk away, she is literally dead to me.

There is no animosity, there is no hate, there is no desire, there is no wanting to know, there is nothing, there is only memory, fun while it lasted.

Past tense.

Move on, chilled, take the opportunity to do something you want, play Skyrim, go down the pub for a pint, walk the dog, anything, as long as you are snake eyes.

Snake eyes, stopped me going to her door, stopped a possible altercation, stopped possible po-lice involvement, stopped me continuing to feel that (unpleasant) feeling, stopped me giving a fuck, stopped me seeing her as anything except past tense.

No good EVER comes from ignoring snake eyes and going to the dark side and embracing that feeling, none, ever, not ever.

DMJ’s article was spot on, snake eyes != (is NOT equal to) Mr Nice Guy

Mr Nice Guy gets fucked over and loses, every time, BECAUSE he is trying to be Mr Nice Guy.

As I discussed elsewhere here, when I was arrested for my alleged FRA from the psycho skank ho ex, the initial reaction was to convince the po-lice that I could not have raped the bitch because I am a nice guy and rape is alien to me, the fact that I didn’t rape the bitch is irrelevant, I wanted the po-lice to SEE that I didn’t, and the only way to prove a negative is to try to make the other guy like you, and to do that you WILL lie…. you will, for example, deny any sex happened, and the DNA will prove you lied about that, and at that point you’re left with admitting you lied about the sex, but maintain you never raped anyone… good fucking luck with that.

Despite the fact that the FACTS are that early this week Pinky wants to spend the rest of her life with me, *some* fucking thing happened while I was 200 miles away, I dunno what and I never will, all I know is I had that feeling and next thing I know I am being blanked.

*IF* I had been dumb-ass Mr nice Guy enough to turn up at her door, and *IF* plod were there, there is no possible thing that I can say to them that will do me any good whatsoever.

Snake eyes, now the FACTS (verifiable by GPS and extensive digital records of texts etc etc etc) are that early this week I was there and everything was perfect, and I ain’t been within 50 miles of there since, and when whatever it was happened in the last 24 hours happened, I still did not go there, and I will never go there again, or attempt to contact her again.

Bottom line, I may well get “that feeling” again, but it won’t be Pinky behind it.

The last ship on that route already sailed.

If I get that feeling again, even if I get it 1,000 times, it will be 1,000 different causes / people, and in 1,000 cases snake eyes will kick in, and in 1,000 cases within 24 hours it will be ancient history… that is a scab I will ***NEVER*** pick at again as long as I live, I just discard it like a lizard losing its tail…. or a turd I send off to the coast with a flush.

November 10, 2013

WIFE = Washing, Ironing, Fucking, etc


I have said to many people, and many wimminz, that a relationship is very, very, very much like a job.

There is an interview process, there is a trial period, and then there is the employment period, with benefits, but at no time can you just decide to goof off and get a free ride without getting your ass canned.

But the fact is that it cuts both ways, wimminz aren’t just shit at relationshits, they are shit as employees too…. but sadly, so are many men…

Today for my sins I took my car in for some new tyres, for one reason and another to do with leasing you have to go to certain suppliers for certain things, and you aren’t allowed to do anything yourself, not even change a blown bulb, but the flipside is “just do it” no matter what and no worries about the munnay…

So, a small tyres / brakes / service place, you could get 4 vehicles inside, and 5 employees, all guys, and frankly they were a shower of shit, wandering around, sat there chatting to each other (and I don’t mean chatting while working, I mean sat there with a pneumatic wrench in hand talking to another guy sat on one of my wheels) working at a speed like they have never done this before….. my car, 4 new tyres, another car, up on ramp, new track rod and bushes, third car, brake test and service….  I was there a fucking hour and a quarter.

Cunts *deserve* to go bust, and I know why the leasing company just moved over to this chain, they are fucking “cheap”, not cheap as in cheap, but cheap as in cheaper than the other fuckers that used to have the contract.

I’m sure a large part of that “cheap” is because the staff are all on sweet fuck all money per hour, but even so, you can do the job the way I do mine, get stuck in and do it properly and look like a professional, and then sit back and chill once the customer has pulled out…

Me, I’m a captive customer, I got no choice but to go there, but others…. while I am there cooling my heels (hey, fuck it, I’m on the clock so it’s not like it’s *my* time they are wasting) guy comes in and asks how much to do a clutch on his 6 year old Citroen

Oooh, sucks teeth, looks at book, book says 5 hours @ 50 quid an hour, checks clutch price, ok sir that will be 370 notes, eg 120 for the clutch kit, that ain’t including the tax of course, which is 20% on top of that… so they want to charge this cunt 370 + 74 = 444 quid to do a fucking clutch…  OK, it’s a Citroen and OK it is front wheel drive, but even so…. if you are a local municipal bus driver and do all the overtime available you can pull in 18k gross, 18,000 / 52 = 346, that’s before tax, so even if you are married and get mortgage relief and shit your take-home is going to be under 300, so these fuckers want 1.5 weeks take home for 5 hours work…

Check GSF car parts and the clutch kit is 64 notes…. RETAIL… not trade..

As for the 5 hours on the ramp in an equipped garage with 5 employees, I know a guy who did his on his fucking driveway by himself in 5 hours with nothing more than hand tools, a trolley jack and a couple of axle stands… and that included making a clutch centre tool out of some copper pipe…

These are the same cunts that took (30 minutes was phone calls and paperwork and authorisation) 45 minutes to swap out 4 tyres… with TWO of the cunts on the job, so 1.5 hours labour right there… ok, “free fitting” so the labour wasn’t technically charged, but 1.5 man hours were used and they were actually working faster than the cunt doing the track rod, because I was watching them…..

When I turned up the track rod car was up on the ramp with the wheel off, when I left it was still there, and they guy was still fucking around and talking and wandering away and back and hadn’t *quite* managed to drop the old bushes and track rod… I suspect that was his job for the entire day.

The main dealers who do all the rest of the work, well, they are fucking expensive, but at least they don’t fuck around and get on with shit, but again the spend a *lot*of time on bullshit CYA “quality control” everything countersigned off bullshit, or basically “hunting for work” e.g. going over the fucking bodywork with a UV lamp looking for paint and body defects… (a UV lamp will show shit you just won’t see with the naked eye in the average English weather day…) with the result that a service will set you back just under 300 notes…

Back when I was a lad, a “full service” was a full man-day on the car, it wasn’t just fluids and filters and a brake check, two guys would spend all morning or all afternoon going over the bitch and doing maintenance and touch up work.

When they finished you’d get billed for the bigger shit, like brake friction material, but nobody itemised shit like grease used greasing the doors or track rod ends, that was just consumables shit…. the tyre bill included itemised amounts for valves and balancing… which went on top of the tyre price…

Labour is “free” but the mechanic took a dump and had a cuppa so one teabag and 12 squares of toilet paper are itemised and added to the bill….  and the QA guy has to sign to say the mechanic wiped his ass properly and slurped his tea according to procedure.

Meanwhile they have to make a call to Mumbai and spend 20 minutes in a queue to get authorisation to issue the mechanic 3 ply bog roll and not the cheap 2 ply stuff that the leasing company specified in their 6,497 page procedure manual which you have to adhere to in order to be a “channel partner” or whatever this week’s buzzword is.

Wimminz of course *love* this shit, because no matter what you can just shrug your shoulders and say how awful it is, but it ain’t my fault y’see…..  and get back to the gossip… no ACTUAL FUCKING WORK being done.

In the same town there are a couple of old boys who run their own tyre place… I could have been in and out of there in 20 minutes, literally…. which is why with my own vehicle I patronise places like them, and my “pet” mechanic, who would have passed on the citroen clutch kit at cost and “call it 200 quid” for labour, and you can give me half now and half next week if you like, and he would have lined that fucking clutch up to better than a thou, and cleaned and dressed up ALL the threads and fasteners, and everything else, while he was in there….. every time I took a French front wheel drive car to him I always told him to fit a heavy duty clutch, parts were only 30% more but it would be the last one you ever fitted…

It’s the fucking work ethic, that’s what I am on about here, that is what we are missing.

I’m a procrastinating mother-fucker, but when I eventually get around to doing a job for myself, I do it fucking properly…. today I was on my hands and knees washing my fucking fake laminate kitchen flooring by hand, then I did the inside of the fridge and shelves, then I washed down the tops of all the skirting boards, wiped the tops of the internal doors and lintels, then I did the front door inside and out, and the window sills etc outside, and I don’t know ANY fucking wimminz who will do that.

Not even when moving out and wanting to keep the fucking deposit…

And no, I am not some OCD cleanliness freak mofo, I’ll only do this shit once every two or three months, but it WILL get done now and again.

The joke about WIFE = washing, ironing, fucking, etc… well, good luck to you with a modern wimminz…

Washing is something they will do under protest, once YOU have bought them a fucking washing machine and tumble dryer, and don’t get me started on that shit about men don’t know how to use a washing machine, in my lifetime I never met a man who had any issues with them, on the other hand every wimminz I ever met uses one of two programs, either mixed coloureds at 40 degrees for everything, or delicates for her own personal expensive clothes, that’s it.

Ironing, you must be fucking kidding, wimminz know better than men you take something out of the tuble dryer still warm and you can put it away without ironing it… I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of wimminz I know who know how to iron a shirt and a pair of pants, some of the rest of them can iron a hanky…. just about.

Fucking, well, no need to go into this… she’ll fuck anything except hubby

Etc, like make me a sammich bitch, rub my shoulders, feed me, make the fucking bed in the morning when you get up, you must be kidding me…

Basically if you want to know what it is like to live with a modern wife, just move into some student digs, take the door off *your* room so *you* have no privacy, and put them all as named persons on your bank account and plastic…. and stay there for life* and keep paying for life… (*even after they evict your sorry ass.)

Actually, it won’t be *that* good, at least students get to get shit-faced and laid now and again…

So there I am visiting one such unfortunate, and we are trying to have a conversation at the kitchen table, because the kids have taken over the lounge and telly and everything else he paid for, meanwhile the “wife” is complaining the Tassimo machine isn’t as good as her friends new AEG (which uses the same *fucking* expensive per cup pods) and then their little 4 year old daughter wanders in, sits on a vacant chair next to us, lifts her dress, spreads her legs, spreads her cunt with her fingers and starts exploring…. to which the wife says “leave your bottom alone darling

I laugh loudly and say to my mate/the father, “that ain’t her fucking bottom…” he just looks pained, one of those I know dude, but what the fuck can I do, looks…

To which the wife (who basically doesn’t like me, she has many reasons, some of them my be true, but mainly I suspect hubby just ain’t allowed visitors in prison) starts telling me off for swearing in front of children.

I look at her and say “You have a 4 year old daughter flashing her cunt to guys in the kitchen and you are concerned about the language one of the guys are using… that is an interesting set of priorities you have there.

I’m waiting for the “how dare you tell me how to raise my kids” tirade, I’m up for that one (some cunt needs to) but it doesn’t come, instead she decides that hubby needs to take some generic groceries to *her* mum and dad’s place, RIGHT FUCKING NOW, because without the milk and sugar in the package she is making up they will die, pronto….

I say “whatever dude, I’m out of here so I shall leave you to your weekend of domestic bliss….. cya

Every time I visit there, which ain’t that often, I have the same thought, I wonder what she would do if I wait till hubby is out the room and grab some tit and ass, not because she is hot, just to see what she would do, I suspect that is partly why she hates me, because she wouldn’t object and yet I don’t do it… but that thought always triggers the follow on thought, if he isn’t fucking her enough, why should I do his job for him.

See, he is a sometime co-worker, and when we are on site together I refuse ro do his work for him, but, I also make sure there is clear and documented demarcation between what he touches, and what I touch, because his work is frankly crap.

It’s a chicken / egg question as to whether his work is crap because he always has so much domestic shit on his mind, or because he has no work ethic he cannot manage his work or private life effectively.

I got no skin in that game, so I don’t care, I just keep certain boundaries enforced, while trying to be a bit of a mate, because despite it all he is basically a nice guy with little or no malice in him, who always *tries* to do the right thing.

The big difference between me and him, that moment with his (? lol) daughter playing with her “bottom”, he didn’t see what I saw, which was a slow burning fuse leading to an ammo dump hidden in the basement…. and a “wife” playing with a zippo ensuring that pretty little Barbie fuse sparkler stayed alight.

 

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