The Time I Joined A Cult And Faked An Orgasm!

Namaste!

Hope everyone out there in blog land is fat and happy.  I am ok.  My pee is clear and it doesn't burn, so that's pretty much all I could ever ask for.

I'm going to get into a little house keeping here first, before we hit the main topic of this post.  First off, I am going to be making a little change to the "photo de la semaine" feature of the blog.  For those of you who don't know, the "photo de la semaine" used to be a weekly photo taken by my girlfriend Jera.  The photos were always tremendous, and you can still look back at them by clicking the "photo de la semaine" link at the top of the page.  

Now, as you probably know, or can easily discern, the photo of the week has not been changed in many many weeks.  This is in part due to the hectic schedule of Jera, and the foolish procrastination of Charles.  So I am going to leave the feature there, and it will follow the same general principle, only from now on, it will be "visual art of the week," and will include stuff by both myself and Jera.  I'd like to start this new week off with a photo of a painting the young lady did in school last semester.  Here it is:

The Beginning 

When Jera painted this, I was mesmerized and blown away.  What do you guys think?  I know I couldn't do it.

So, let me know if you guys find this acceptable.  The only other thing I can think of is making it "picture of Charles' wang de la semaine," but I think I would need a special camera lens of some kind for anyone to even be able to recognize the tiny little prick.  Hopefully, then, this will suffice.

Next order of business is my new product line.  It occurred to me recently that when Obamacare fails to do the absolutely impossible, and when grips of people realize that they cannot "keep" the health care plans that they liked before, as the Saint, Dear Leader and President promised they would...

...there are going to be a lot of people out there grasping at straws to figure out how to stop from getting cancer from their canned vegetables...

Now causing cancer.  I couldn't tell you how, but... I'll believe just about anything.

...and from all that DDT that McDonald's is intentionally spraying into our atmosphere.

I KNEW it was them.  The Mayans predicted this shit.  The only thing that will save us now is carbon credits and Al Gore in a Whole Foods uniform.

With all these people in need of healthcare, I figured I'd get into the homeopathic remedy game.  In 2007 alone, Americans spent $3.1 billion dollars (true) on homeopathic remedies.  For any of you who don't know what homeopathy is, let me have Wikipedia help us with some info.

Wikipedia says: 

Homeopathy (also spelled homoeopathy or homœopathy) is a form of alternative medicine in which practitioners treat patients using highly diluted preparations that are believed to cause healthy people to exhibit symptoms that are similar to those exhibited by the patient. 

This is sheer brilliance, and I am amazed that we even need doctors when we have this stuff around.

Wikipedia goes on:

The collective weight of scientific evidence has found homeopathy to be no more effective than a placebo.

Oops.  Ignore that part.  Wikipedia is wrong sometimes.  Let's see what else it has to say.

Homeopathy's efficacy is unsupported by the collective weight of modern scientific research.

Ok... clearly this article needs to be amended because these are bull-shit claims.  Anyone with common sense knows that homeopathy works.  That's why the doctors don't want to tell you about it.  Duh.

Let's ask Wikipedia one last time...

Use of homeopathy may delay or replace effective medical treatment, worsening outcomes or exposing the patients to increased risk. 

Oh fuck you, Wikipedia.  You don't know what you are talking about.  You are written by twelve year olds!

Anyway, all that aside, I would like to introduce my newest product.  Say hello to happiness, and goodbye to any goddamn thing you can imagine might be wrong with you.  I give you:

!!!!!

Charles' Drops Cure What Ails You!

Use For:

Menstrual Cramps

Goose Bumps

Dick Lips

Funny Face

Liquid Shits-a-lot

"I'm Too Fucking Happy" Disease

HIV

The Cancer The Republicans Gave You On Purpose

Addiction

Fuck-Face-Icitis

Whining and Bitching

and

ANYTHING ELSE!!!

That's right, ladies and gentlemen.  For the first time ever, I am revealing the secret homeopathic wonders of the ancient Shataqanawa Indians in a liquid drop format.  Whenever you feel like you might have pancreatic cancer, or like you may be suffering from what the evil western doctors call a "heart attack," put two drops of Charles' Drops under your tongue, burn some sage in a bowl resting on your chest, and you will be cured within minutes (or never).  This is the real deal.  Don't ever take those poisonous "antibiotics" or "vaccines" again.  All you need is:

CHARLES' DROPS!

Now at the introductory low, low price of:

$150/ 30ml bottle!  

Stock up now while supplies last.  To order, indicate your interest in the comments section below!

Alright.  Now all I have to do is put a couple of fliers up around Boulder and I should be richer than an astronaut in no time.

Now, the part you have all been waiting for:

The Story of When I Joined a Cult for a Weekend and Faked an Orgasm

Now this is a long ass story, so let me preface this by telling you that it is going to take two or three posts to get it all down.  But we are going to play kind of a game with it.  The game is this: I will not tell the next section of the story unless I get at least 30 comments by individual people in the two or two and a half days after I post the preceding part.  So if I post this blog and don't get a bunch of funny (or mean, or whatever) comments by, say, Sunday morning, then I will retire the story forever and no one will get to know the end.  This is convenient for you, because if you hate me or think me a jackass or find my story offensive, just don't comment or tell anyone else to comment and, with any luck, I will be put in my place like the bitch I am.  

Here it goes:

A few short years back, I found myself searching the "women4men" listings on Craigslist, because I had made the discovery, a couple of years farther back, that the internet is a fantastic place to meet women who are, to put it in the most respectable terms, "loose as all getup."

Now, I don't want to put numbers on this shit, because the figure would only be ball-park anyway, and it is really not important.  Suffice to say that I met several women on MySpace, Craigslist and a couple of other fairly innocent internet places over the span of two or three years.  I found it amazing that these girls would even talk to a stranger online, and even more amazing that some of them were actually posting personal ads in an effort to meet more strangers online.

I hope that no one out there is going to judge me for this.  I assure you that I regret every single encounter, and I also assure you that not every encounter was sexual in nature, or even close to pleasant. Lets just say that there was a good reason that some of these girls were lookin' for guys on the internet and not in face-to-face situations.

I myself was behaving in that deviant manner as an outlet for some kind of deep spiritual pain that has followed me ever since I saw "Titanic."

Long story long, I meet this girl Courtney (I don't remember her real name) and I e-mailed her back and forth a little bit and asked her if she wanted to get something to eat late one night.  She lived in Loveland, a town 30 minutes away from where I did.  I bought her pie, and I was saddened by the fact that she was not supremely attractive.  She had weird teeth that were somewhat longer than normal teeth... kinda like this:

... only like... longer.  And thinner.  Fuck, that picture isn't very good anyhow.  Just believe me though.  

I think an average guy would have found Courtney attractive.  She was small of body but huge of breasts.  Really huge.  And if there's something you know about me, if you know me at all, it is that I am not into big breasts.  I do not understand the male obsession with boobies the size of Pluto.  I don't get it, and frankly, it can be something of a turn off.  I don't mean to be shallow, I just like what I like.  

I'm trying hard not to sound like a dick here.  Let's just leave it at this: on my one-to-ten scale, Courtney was a five at best.  And that was before I heard her whiny voice, vacuous personality and shrill laugh.  

We ate pie at the little diner there and it was uncomfortable and then we got in my car and some more uncomfortable things happened, and then we parted ways.  I think I hung out with her once more, before she went back to Nebraska for school (you see, she was only in Loveland for a short time, as she was a student at a college in Nebraska somewhere.)

With Courtney safe in Nebraska, I could continue my pursuit for a woman with class, charm, a killer smile, green eyes, full lips and a love for all things '80's.  

You guys should believe me when I say that, for real for real, I wasn't just exclusively hunting for this:

I was looking for this:

I just didn't know where to look.  You know how it is.  

So I was working at this body shop, and the owners of the shop told me that they wanted to send me to Denver for a weekend for some kind of motivational seminar.  They were really being hush hush about it, not telling me all the details, but they were gonna pay for the hotel and the seminar and everything.  So I figured that it was going to be one of these things:

Turns out, it was going to be more like one of these things:

If you don't know what this is, click here and read.

So I agreed to go to the seminar, and all the while ol' what's her name (long teeth girl) keeps texting me all the time telling me how she's "doin" and shit.  My inner-self leaned toward the following:

I gave this individual all the clues I could that I didn't want to hang out with her or talk to her or pursue the rest of the uncomfortableness that we had began in my car that fateful night outside of a Village Inn.  A week passed by, and all of a sudden, "long teeth" tells me that she is going to look for a ride on Craigslist (she did not own a car of her own) so that she could come down to Colorado over a weekend to see her family and... *sigh*... me.  I tried to dissuade her, because I had this aching feeling that she was just coming down to see me, and nothing else.  

Now here's where things start to get crazy: she found a ride (with some random old guy she had never met, who wasn't going to charge her for gas or nothing) and she told me when she was coming.  The following weekend.  I never talked to her on the phone, but I am sure the text I sent back was something to the effect of "oh... ...   ...... good..."

It had slipped my mind that I was to be in Denver at some kind of life changing motivational seminar that coming weekend.  I recalled this a couple of days later, and tried to put the brakes on everything.

I begged this girl not to come.

I told her that if she came just to see me, she would have to come with me to Denver and that she wouldn't barely get to see me the whole time anyway because I would be in seminar sessions all day.  I told her that she would be bored and sad and lonely and that it wasn't worth all that trouble just to see me a little bit.  I couldn't get it through to her though.  I think she pulled some of that really sad, crying via text shit on me, and I caved in and finally said "fine."

Fuck it.  If she wanted to have a boring-ass weekend then who was I to stop her?  She wouldn't be dissuaded.  I knew that at least this way I could finally put a stop to all of this, even if I had to act like a total dick.  And the weekend was set to explode.

The Weekend

Intermission

If you guys want to know what happened when I joined the cult in Denver, or what happened with ol' "abnormally-long-teeth," then leave a comment below.  I think that there are some funny and/or offensive moments coming up in the story that you will not want to miss.

Also, remember to tell me how many bottles of "Charles' Drops" you are going to need, because these bad boys really won't last long.

Finally, let Jera know how you felt about her awesome painting.  I wish I could paint one tenth as good as she can.

Have a good couple of days.

Love