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CelebrityFIST! » Archive for Miscellaneous Shit

Archive for the “Miscellaneous Shit” Category

HE’S CRAZY I TELLS YA!!  CRAZY!! (more…)

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First an apology of sorts.  I haven’t been around much the last week or so; mainly because I had some … ‘issues’ to take care of.  Very long story short:  The only thing worse than going thru Valentine’s Day alone is going thru with it WITH someone.  :puke:

Details I’ll share another time but it involved money, drinking, sexual frustration, and video.  Sounds like a bad Miramax movie.  (shrugs) (more…)

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I thought I’d try writing some ad copy for Agent Provocateur since I still want earn some cash and don’t wanna have to spend too much time on it.  Ya know since the regular job just keeps me level (damn drinking binges and mysterious credit charges!) and since my “earn money as a medical claims processor” job hasn’t quite panned out.  And since this blogging earns me - oh - whats zero divided by infinity?  :P

Anyway, *ahem* “Looking to put that spark back in your relationship?   Tired of the same in-and-out?  Bored with the ‘lumberjack and international jewel thief’ scenarios?  Try Agent Provocateur lingerie as a ’spice’ in the sexy soup that you make!  The lingerie is sure to get that ‘wiggle back in your tiggle’ as our lovely Silvia Dimitrova shows you that anyone can look good in our lingerie.  Even your wife?  Or girlfriend.  Or mistress.  Or ’significant other’.  Or ‘real doll’.  Or that mannequin you swiped from the Salvation Army.

Needs work?  Well here’s Silvia anyway showing off what they have (and SHE has as well!). (more…)

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Christina Hendricks.jpg

As you know I’m a perverty kinda guy and I like my pics with skin - lots of them.  But I can make exceptions.  Christina Hendricks is DEFINITELY an exception.  I’d probably post her pics if she was in a biohazard suit.    Besides, you can you NOT want to see pictures of that rack (even though its covered)!?

Yeah, I know she’s married.  Don’t care.  It’s not like her orifices are filled with concrete, dig?

….suddenly pictures a mold of her vagina …. faints…

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How much of your body could be recycled?


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Is your cat plotting to kill you?

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Well here we are at the end of the twelve days of beachmas.  And despite some hiccups actually managed to finish it.  So as a treat - SEX ON THE BEACH!!  W00t!

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Short version: Got home late last night, had to go to jury duty today (again) and forgot to post this up in the process.

The good news?  This is the nude beach edition!  Enjoy!! (more…)

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FUCK! The night before xmas and all thru the house
Some creatures were stirring but no fuckin’ mouse
 
The sole stocking was hung on the chimney in disgust
(Done simply because it was a Xmas must)
 
I was nestled alone all snug in my bed
As visions of blowjobs danced in my head
Drunk on my ass after many nightcap
And settled my brain in an alcohol nap
 
When out on the lawn I heard a bunch of shit
Disrupting my slumber of cum splattered tit
I staggered from bed to see what’s up
Spilling some tequila I had in a cup
 
Then I heard some horses tearing up my roof
Shingles were falling from each fucking hoof
I managed to open my eyes and did see
Santa falling down my chimney
 
So I grabbed my poker that I had had nearby
And started bashing the fucker in the eye
Blood splatter the fur he wore all around
I knew that this was his last stop in my town
 
He looked up and said “Chaoz, it’s me!”
And I told him, “Well, fuck yeah I can see.
But you fucked up this time of year
With illusions of goodness and holiday cheer.
 
 People are miserable and think they can buy
Some person’s kindness in a blink of an eye
But love can’t be bought nor can it be sold
(though sex can be - or so I am told)
 
So sorry fat man but you simply must go
Besides nowadays who ever gets snow?
I heard whimper away until he stop and I knew
That he had now go on to his heavenly due
 
I went to the chimney and shouted above
“The fat man is dead now who wants some love!”
The deer understood me and got the fuck out
Leaving the damned sleigh as they scatttered about
 
The season is not about buying some stuff
Its about knowing who’s got your back when its rough
So I see Santa’s corpse and all I can say is:
“I wonder what I shall do on Valentine’s Day?
- Chaozengine Enterprises (c) 2009

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It’s 4:53am and I’m sleepy.  Maybe I’ll go with the other 4 women remaining some other time.  Or not.  #11 did give me something though.  The reality of hope, ironically.  She made me realize that my own goofiness was a positive thing and not a negative.  While she ultimately went another way she was kind enough to remind of that.  … … If find it interesting that my last post of the night is hers.  She wasn’t the most influential, she wasn’t the most attractive, she wasn’t the most … well anything really.  She just was.  Like I ‘was’.  This was (at the time) her favorite song.

Somehow I can’t think of a better way to end my extended festival than with this.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ‘99 ‘09,

Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long term
benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis or
reliable then my own meandering experience.  I will dispense this advice….now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, nevermind, you won’t understand the power and
beauty of your youth until they’ve faded, but trust me in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of
yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous
you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra
equation by chewing bubblegum.

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind: the kind that blindsides
you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts; don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy.  Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind.  The race is
long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive; forget the insults. (if you succeed in doing this, tell me how).

Keep your old love letters; throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life.  The most interesting people
I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives; some of the most interesting 40 year
olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of Calcium.  Be kind to your knees — you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t.  Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t.  Maybe you’ll
divorce at 40; maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.

Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself, either.  Your choices are half
chance, so are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body: use it every way you can.  Don’t be afraid of it or what other people think of it; it’s the
greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance…even if you have no where to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions (even if you don’t follow them).

Do not read beauty magazines; they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents; you never know when they’ll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings: they’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in
the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but what a precious few should hold on.  Work hard to bridge the gaps
and geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you
were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.

Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old; and when you
do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children
respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you.  Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse,
but you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you are 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.  Advice is a form of nostalgia;
dispensing it is a way of wishing the past from the disposal–wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and
recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.
Peace.
Alternate version.
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