I'm Into Nice Teeth... And Sex N' Stuff Too!

My philosophy has always been that when a woman feels comfortable enough to fart and burp around you, then it's time to bail. But, what do you do if she feels that comfortable from day one? Well, she's probably a real classy girl, so I suggest keepin' her around for good. Maybe slap a ring on that finger and let her carry your last name proudly as you boast a picture of her smiling in your wallet. Not. I bet her breath smells of cigarettes and shame, doesn't it? Are these the lips you want kissing your future children? Regardless of her binge drinking, promiscuity and possible (and quite likely) father issues, it's best to avoid these slags at all costs. Why you ask? Well, I can't really give specific dating advice as my last date was with a magazine article about bras and their different cup sizes, however I am an expert at pretending to be an expert, so here we are:

1: Sluts may be fun at night, but they are only worth a night of fun. Example: You bring skanky-mc-suck-a-lot to your apartment and next thing you know she has a toothbrush grazing yours in the cup that once held only your own mouth cleaning utensils. Wait, maybe germaphobia is something you weren't mentally scarred with by uncaring parents and blasphemous Jewish television... Ok, say she leaves behind a bloody string of memorabilia from her latest abominate draining. Now what? Exactly, the solution has already been avoided when you brought that wretched wench in to your humble abode.

2: Hygienic habits often reflect our true human nature. Example: You bring slutty-mc-swallow to your apartment and next thing you know she has her skid-mark stained panties hanging on your shower curtain. Maybe touching disgusting specimens of diarrheal leakage doesn't bother you? God damn you must be a disgusting son of a bitch. Anyway, if that image of the gruesome outcome of fast foot doesn't put you off, doesn't seeing her everyday get old? Don't you wish you could kick her in the ovaries and call it a day? No? Jesus, you are almost beyond repair.

3: Love is what you call the combination of lust and boredom. Example: You're getting your nob polished by a sweet, almost too delightful to be slutty (but totally is) skank in the bathroom of a TGI Fridays when you accidentally blurt out the L word. And I ain't talkin' bout 'Lollipop". What happens when she shows you what she got in da' candy shop and you love it? Well, first of all DON'T PANIC. Remain calm, and we can get through this together. Cum, zip, run. Or, "CZR" (pronounced caesar). It's that simple. Don't hesitate, procrastinate, anticipate or levitate. Cum, zip, run.

For more information on how to be a total jack-hole, and probably stay a virgin well in to your 30's (where it ultimately becomes creepy and awkward to even attempt to date a self respecting and dignity having woman), follow the instructions at the bottom of this post.


I'm Lee. But my friends call me Lee. Aren't I a colorful individual? If you'd like to bombard me with hate mail, please send a message to leecooper@1guy0job.com

Where I'm From, Catz Get Popped.

Tonight was:

No, seriously. I'm staring out of a barred window at some reasonably attractive community college enthusiast with a price tag on her dignity. Ten bucks, I think it was. It's not that I dislike living in a place that constantly smells like a septic tanks ass, it's just that I'd like to be able to drink a glass of tap water without the fear of led poisoning, or, you know, go out for a walk without being shanked in the streets for drug money. It's a good thing I know Martial Arts. I think he has a gun in his apartment.

The Area is:

I was at a local diner getting ready to feast on the most expensive item on their menu (the $2.99 triple cheeseburger surprise) when I came across a thick, black pubic hair. It was long, but coarse and rough. Actually, it was fairly soft for a hair from the pubic region. It had a pleasant lavender scent. Whoever it belonged to used a nice shampoo. Not the dollar brand stuff, this was like Pantene or Dove. The good stuff. Anyway, I didn't bother complaining. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a passive person, it's just that I don't like arguing with people who speak English as a fourth language and have the comprehension of a Ritalin addicted second grader.

Closing thoughts:

Also, I hate horses. I always hear people raving about how great they are. Some people even say horses are beautiful... Whats beautiful about a horse? The flies around it's face? The huge chunk of shit it leaves behind? Christopher Reeves was rendered paraplegic thanks to a horse, not to mention the nasty fucking teeth. I heard they eat horses in Holland; I wouldn't even give them the satisfaction.

It's like a hang nail. Really, it is.

I avoid manual labor like police did Harlem. I hate working, and I especially hate working hard. Which is why I developed the following method: I don't work. That's right. I have a job, sure. Who doesn't these days? I see kids working at the grocery store, girls hookin' corners, teenage criminals; everyone is making a living. But, me? I'm just sitting in an office, bored as can be just writing this blog, pretending to work.

I think the message I'm trying to convey is that college is important. Well, that and sucking co- shit, my boss is coming!

Happy birthday to... who?

In the tradition of lifeless losers across the world, I'm making a blog post on my birthday. As I sit here in my office staring at this white text box, listening to "The Beatles - Strawberry Fields", I reflect upon the terrible year I've had, the troubles and tribulations, losses of both materialistic value and of dear family members. Sometimes I wonder what the point of this cycle of life and death is, and if one even really exists. I have come to an understanding, and even an appreciation of this abysmal existence we humans bear, however when facing what is possibly the most depressing situation I've ever had the liberty of experiencing, it's difficult to come to terms with the emptiness.

Why life sucks:

1: We all die. Eventually.

2: Heaven most likely doesn't exist. However, Hell might.

3: Every year you become older. The girls you are attracted to always stay the same age.

If these three aren't enough, you should wear a thorn crown and go join a nudist colony you hippie piece of shit.

Back to my day:

Working on the celebration of your consummation isn't something I'm alone on, but the deeper meaning behind today and the ultimate reasoning behind why I bottle up my emotions and keep them undisclosed, (which is only masked behind the most artificial smile ever mustered) is the true inspiration for my barricaded mind state and psychological hatred towards every living being. Anyway, I'm going to get destructively drunk and cause some chaos all while laughing at other peoples misfortune. Maybe the government will pay for my oil spills, too.

This is why Americans should stick to burgers...

I love the United States, don't get me wrong with this banter. I love the obese children running through the buffet line, picking at every deep fried delicacy with their chubby little sausage link fingers. I love the homeless people you nearly trip over while jogging, and I love the childless old men that frequent public parks. I love just about everything in the United States, including the almost nonexistent culture. But, sometimes I just want to throw myself off of a 10 story building in hopes that I land on a politician. To avoid political debates (with my luck, every person that reads my blog from this day on will be a democrat) I will sum my entire argument in to one short sentence. Fuck the United States Government.

Forget the jaded health care system which is corrupt beyond repair. And let's toss aside the teen pregnancies, extremely high unemployment rate and blatant disregard of the freedom of speech. I'll even exclude the fact that we have to pay taxes on vehicles we own via registration each year. But, what really bothers me is that every corner in the United States has a Chinese Restaurant, or bistro. Every corner is riddled with fast food joints, nasty gas station hot dog stands and people selling barbecue sandwiches from the trunk of their Ford Pinto. Sometimes I find myself puzzled in this revolving door of decision making. Oh well, I guess I'll just have a burger.

I'm so hood I could...

I decided that it was a wise idea to travel to the 24 hour McDonald's up the road from the building I currently reside in at 10:30 at night. Boy, was I ever wrong. Here's a play-by-play of my escapade.

10:20 - I'm hungry. I search the area for food. My search is unsuccessful. I stare at my cat and contemplate the process of killing, defurring and skinning him. McDonald's it is.

10:21: I'm out the door and trekking towards my destination.

10:21: I'm stopped by two black dudes. Already?

10:22 - I am now barefoot.

10:35 - I'm about 15 minutes from McDonald's. The walk itself is a total of 10 minutes, though barefoot the grainy sidewalk isn't easy. I stepped on several shards of glass, a lit cigarette bud and what seemed to be a bloody condom.

10:36 - I am attacked by a group of Latinos. I now regret renting the apartment just because of its low price. I wonder why it was so cheap?

Between 10:36 and my arrival at McDonald's, the events were so terrible they cannot be depicted without graphic photos.

10:50 - The lady at McDonald's looks like she just gave birth to leprosy. I'm not impressed by the cleanliness (or lack thereof) of the restaurant. I call her hygiene in to question.

McLady:
S'cuze me madafucka? U tellin me I dirteey?

Me:
All I said was that the boils on your fingers look like they might have leaked on to my fries...

McLady
I'm sorri but U can't be doesin this like dat.. Uz being a racism and I'z doesn't appreciate dis kinna treatments.

Me:
I'm sorry, maybe it's your lack of teeth, but could you repeat that part about you being a nasty cum driven piece of hood trash with a future dependant on a government check and the 7 illegitimate children you may or may not already have, Tayihsna?

It's safe to say the night didn't end so well for me. Conclusion: Don't eat fast food.

Define "Epic".

My gear is purple.

Throughout my online career, I've always been against blogs. My comfort zone would have shattered at the prospect of a blog. I couldn't handle the pressure of updating a source with material nobody really cares about. Yet, here I am. I can't promise it'll be interesting, and I can't promise it'll be a stimulating experience, however, I can promise that I will arrogantly exclaim about my daily conquests (whether mundane and tedious or of epic proportions), and post my close-minded, sometimes illogical opinions. But mostly I'll be posting random nonsense I try to pass off as literature for you monkeys to read, so keep hitting the cymbals and dance to the tune of my awesomeness (which happens to be "Hey Jude" by the Beatles).