Jason Doesn’t Know Whore

–noun

1.	a woman who engages in promiscuous sexual intercourse, usually for money; prostitute; harlot; strumpet.

I’m not saying I don’t see the appeal.

I’m just wondering why guys have to tell me about it.

There’s a lass I text on occasion. Being the vacant vanilla bullshit broad that she is, she will be referred to as “BabyGurl.” She’s a self-admitted tease, has been raped recently, and I’m not dim enough to not associate the behavior with the event. However, I also believe that bitches talk shit. It’s not that I question the likelihood of every girl in the US having been raped by the age of 15. It’s just that, with that kind of prevalence, it’s kind of like me trying to milk being a child of divorce.

Anyway, I’m just ending my evening stroll when someone calls me restricted. I’m not saying it was her, but… come on. His name is “Jason.”

me “Hello?”
Jason “Do you know BabyGurl?”
me “Uh, maybe?”
Jason “She texts you a lot.”
me, still legitimately baffled about whom he’s referring to “Uhhh…”
Jason “She added you on yearbook.”
me, getting a touch fed up “Yeah, okay.”
Jason “I’m going to kill her.”
me “That’s rude.”
Jason “What would you do if I killed her?”
me “Probably never find out about it.”
Jason “What?”
me “I’m a dude off the internet bro, who’s going to inform me of her demise? You? I don’t even know who you are.”
Jason “I’m… uh… Jason.”
me “You’re a shining flower, aren’t you?
Jason “Huh?”
me “You’re a shitting fuck, aren’t you?”

Jason “…What if I just beat the fuck out of her?”
me “Still rude.”
Jason “I beat her before.”
me “Congratulations. You’re a man.”
Jason “Ya. I beat her cuz she wouldn’t have sex with me.”
me “Ooh. A real man.”
Jason “I’m going to rape her right now.”
me “Have fun with that.”

Some time passes after “he” hangs up with me. I’m back inside. I’m on the computer. My pants are off, etc. Texting commences, it’s BabyGurl telling me that he kicked her, he’s chasing her, “I’m hiding.” Whatever. I ask who is doing all of this, she says nevermind and that she has to go. Maybe she just got home and she wants to go take her pants off, too.

Or maybe she doesn’t because she doesn’t take her pants off for anyone. More texts:

“its jason”

me “Okay.”
Jason “do u think BabyGurl ugly?”
me “No.”
Jason “yea she is & don’t u think she fat?”
me “Well if her booty is as ghetto as she claims it is, then probably.”
Jason “would u date her?”
me “Only if she never had sex with me”

Jason “wat did i ask u again?”
me “If I’d marry her or something.”
Jason “u wuld marry her?”
me “Maybe.”
Jason “but u guys would have ugly children cus she ugly”
me “So you are an idiot. Glad we re-established that.”
Jason “i kno i am but u dont care bout her”
me “Are you going to make a point?”

Stupid question.

Jason “no”
me “I didn’t think so.”

Of course not.

Jason “yup me ither bye btw here da damn ugly whore”

I wait a few minutes to see if BabyGurl says some shit. Nothing.

me “Haha. He doesn’t know what a whore is.”

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I Hate Listening

Music not really a good topic to talk to me about. I typically hate it. I find it to be distracting.

For the most part, now that I think about it, I just hate to listen. This extends further than simply lack of musical taste, however, into other areas. I prefer older games with written dialog (or even older games with no dialog at all) so I can mute the fucker, I prefer foreign films because when I download them illegally they come with subtitles, and silent films because… duh.

And this was because I find music distracting from whatever I’m trying to pay attention to. If I’m playing a game, I’m trying to kill things. If I’m watching a movie, I like to be able to think about the plot, or appreciate the choreography. To establish the necessity for this as clearly as possible: Resident Evil, Memento, Buster Keaton. I’ll get into why I hate attempts at storytelling in video games another time. Suffice to say that the voice in my head doesn’t speak loudly and does not like being spoken over.

However, lately it seems this voice has quieted. No longer merely a rambling whisper, it seems to have silenced entirely. The angry, critical inner-Editor-in-Chief has apparently stepped down. I’m much more at ease, and unfortunately much stupider than I once was.

Which means I can now enjoy some tunes.

I’ve started by downloading a bunch of discographies, and listening to albums through once, saving only the songs that are immediately of interest to me on the first listen.

Thus begins the “First Listen” portion of my iPod finally getting used for something other than porn.

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