Quit Playing Games With My Shart

I was playing some Dance Dance Revolution: Mario Mix the other day when I got a phone call from that girl who I scared off with my post about Duke. I thought oh, shart! she's gonna give it to me now! But actually she called to say sorry about breaking things off via email and that she and I were "as cool as two pairs of hang-dried overalls swishing in a spring breeze in a burb just outside of Atlanta." Hopefully, this will put to rest some of the accusations I've got from some of my more irate readers and finally bring some closure to the issue at hand. That issue being is DDR: Marmix a viable DDR title or is it just some kiddy Nintendo bulldoo?

My take? I'd say it's pretty viable. I've spent many hours dancing to my mirrorself (Luigi) and I have grown some pretty harsh fungi to cushion the blow of the hard concrete of my basement cell floor against my raggedly described feet. So anyways I went back to pumpin' it up after I got off (lol) the phone with her. Can I get an A on Blooper Bop? Will Toad be proud of my progress in the Story Mode? Who has stolen the Music Keys? Will Bowser's Castle be unbeatable? When will my step-dad stop hurting me? These questions raced through my mind as my feet moved in patterns so complex it'd have MC Escher (or whatever that rapper's name was) going DAMN, BOI!

I was dancing so hard that I didn't realize there was a rumbling in my tummy. Dang, I thought, I gotta fart. Little did I realize I was in for the shart storm of the century... or so I thought. It was just a sweaty fart, nothing to detract me from workin' it to a little Garden Boogie. That's when my eye caught the bag of DS games sitting next to my bed. "What the shart is that?" I asked no one in particular. I paused the game and then opened the bag even more and saw that it was filled with DS games that I had never played, never even dreamed of beating. Was Christmas in August this year? That's when I sharted. The shart heard round the world some would call it, while others would go to call it the Book of Revelation of Sharts because the sharts just kept on falling like the half notes on Fishing Frenzy.

Why'd I shart so hard? Well let me tell you, not only had I eaten three Crunch Wrap Supremes for lunch, but I had a realization. It wasn't Christmas. It wasn't even Santa's Birthday. Those games that I had hardly played... had been bought with my own money and then forgotten. I've just been so distracted by games like DDR and Tetris that you can't even beat that I'd forgotten what got me into this whole business in the first place.

Sharting.

Not the shart that comes when you're dancing too hard that your sphincter can't handle it, but the sharting that comes when you've beaten a single player campaign and you say, "Hey game developers, this shart is for all that hard work." God when was the last time I've been able to say that about a game? Not since Army Men: Sarge's Gay Mutiny has a game moved me to shart so fondly. I felt ashamed. Here I'd just been forgiven by a girl who had been disgusted by me (probably for the way I had forgotten about single player games) and I couldn't even forgive myself enough to give a shart about a lousy bag of DS games. How far have I fallen? Do you all know what I use as a stand for my DDR: Marmix game pad? I use a bag of unplayed Gamecube games. A big bundle of games stacked up just to hold the peripheral for a game that has no ending! Nothing to shart over but some lousy arrows. Well Mr. Miyamoto you can take your arrows and shove them up your dry clean butt because I'm making a stand. I'm going to beat all those DS games and then I'm going to trade in all of those Gamecube games for Wii credit and you won't shart on my shart parade!

I think I'm going to start with Kirby Canvas Curse right after I level my toon up on WoW... OH SHART!

(to be continued)

Where Dat Cat Shit Go To?

If there is one thing that has consistently been there for me in my life it would have to be cat shit. It's the mortar to my stone. I couldn't tell you if the sun was going to rise tomorrow but I sure as shit could bet that I'd be passing over some cat shit in the hallway as I walk to the bathroom. I'm not sure if there is a Cat Shit Fairy that comes and drops them on the carpet every night while I'm sleeping or if it's just the cat shitting on the floor, but I am sure that while I can't depend on much--I can depend on cat shit.

It's a shame then that cat shit is so nasty. Luckily I've found a way to deal with all the cat shit in my life. I call this method Out of Sight, Out of Mind. I've coined that phrase so give the props where they're due. Cat shit loses its odor and becomes rock hard pretty quickly so it's really easy to either step over or kick into a corner. Sometimes I'll lift up a rug and slide it under. If I'm feeling edgy sometimes I'll pick it up and put it in a sock. There are literally thousands of places to hide cat shit in a home, and if that's not your style then you can always just avoid it. Just think hey I bet the next person who sees that shit will clean it up, so I'll just pass by and close the door.

Once you've mastered this simple technique for avoiding cat shit you can easily apply it to other depressing or nasty things in your life.

I really don't like wars because I think they are stupid and mean and so when people say stuff like, "Hey have you seen all those wars over in that country? There is footage all over CNN!" I gotta think of a quick way to avoid having to think about them. Here is where I use the Stutter Technique. I imagine that the person I'm talking to has a very bad stutter and that when they said CNN they actually meant CN (cartoon network). So I'll respond to their question about war footage by saying, "No dude I haven't caught that rad toon but I sure am stoked about the new season of IGPX." At that point they'll usually say, "Oh man that show is rad!"

Disaster Avoided! The stutter technique can be used to divert any conversation that might not appeal to you. Remember: ignore what the person says and assume they are talking about Cartoon Network's newest line up. This is the key to keeping all those nasty rumors about war out of sight (or hear in this case lol) and out of our toon-loving minds.

What if you are one of the few sheltered people who doesn’t know enough about the Network of Cartoons to hold a convincing conversation about it? Well you are going to need a new technique. If we use what we know about cat shit we can develop any number of exciting ways to avoid those “bad” things in life. The second technique is called Feast of the Blood Wolf. Dogs love to eat one thing more than cat shit and that is human flesh. If you are like me you starve your dogs 5 days out of the week so that when they go upstairs they’ll be ready to eat all that shit that the cat left over the last few days. Well let’s say someone keeps spouting off some nonsense about Evolution (aka Devilution). Sometimes you are just in too much of a rush to counter them with your sound Biblical Evidence and need to be on your way. That’s when you simply release your dogs on them and let the dogs do the convincing for you. Who’s a survivalist of the fit now?

Maybe you aren’t a dog person. What then? Well that’s where my third technique, Paper Bag Hat, comes into play. This is a stylish variant on the original out of sight denial gig. You just take a big brown paper sack, fill it with this week’s cat shit and then put it over top of your head. You may have to lay down for a day or two to let the shit set in. This method will keep everyone who might ever talk to you from coming anywhere near you. In this manner you can live in a world free of worries in which YOU make the news. In your head. This also keeps your floors cat shit free which can be nice if you aren’t very good at stepping over the little logs.

In closing, the best way to deal with cat shit is not to yell at the cat. This will only scare it and make it shit even more. The thing to do is to just slide your gaze on by. Push that shit into a corner and go to sleep, America. You can’t keep a cat from shitting, but you can keep an eye from having to look at that shit. Use my techniques and you’ll never have to worry about that annoying doo doo ever again.

4 portraits of 4 wonderful women.

1.
Well I'm sure all of you are wondering just what happened to that girl who read my blog and was so disgusted that she never wanted to see me again. Well I emailed her and waited and waited and waited. My F5 key is totally worn down and you can't read it at all anymore, but finally I got a response. Not in my email though instead it was on the wonderful website Facebook. Now normally I wouldn't check facebook because I'm not at school at Duke anymore and I think I shouldn't support a site that doesn't support my beautiful Technical College, but my friend Danny D told me that there was this hot young dotty that I needed to poke. And what do you know I had a message waiting for me. Finally some answers!

Nope. Just some round about e-talk asking me to call her if I wanted answers like it was some crazy unanimous tip to the police. I was expecting to have to meet her down at Pier 7 with $10,000 in unmarked bills just to figure out what exactly disturbed her so much. But listen, I don't need answers anymore because I've already thought up of plenty of hypothetical answers to why that are probably much more entertaining, such as: You were disturbed by my sentence structure, you were disgusted by my lack of 1980's TV show references, you felt sick when you read that I had spelled it griffon and not gryphon. I guess I'll never know.

I've given up the phone for good though and all other forms of communication that don't involve the prefixes e- or blog-. Of course you could just hop on my WoW Vent. Server if it's that important to talk directly. We'll be raiding BWL next Tuesday and I can try to find a spot. Just go to the Silver Hand Realm Forums and check out our thread for info on the addy. And no, you can't roll on the phat purplez.

2.
Next up is my Mom. It's bad enough that she has to read this blog and hear about all this horrible stuff, but now random people are emailing her about how concerned they are for me. I don't really get this. My Mom is a great woman and has no influence on the content of this blog and I feel bad that she has to be linked to me through it. So I've had to take down some information regarding my location/name etc. I love her a lot and I don't want this to cause her any grief (not sarcasm). Thanks for everything, Mom and sorry about all the masturbation.

3.
This next girl is a real bitch! LITERALLY. I'm talking about Snickers, of course, the cute little fluffy mutt that I've been watching when I house-sat last week and who I'll get to play with again when I house sit some more in a little while. Snickers is your average yippy little rascal with a heart full of gold (and hopefully not worms!). She's playful and very protective and I doubt I would have survived this one night had she not alerted me to the presence of a robber in the house the other night. Her barking gave me the advance notice I needed to escape, and when I returned later fearing the worse (that the household goods had been taken) I was delighted to see Snickers feasting away on the corpse of that nasty old burglar. She even helped me dig a shallow grave for him.

Anyway, let's get serious. The point of this portrait is awareness. I believe that Snickers is afflicted with... a weak sphincter. She'll try really hard to poo poo and half of the time it just won't make it all the way and it gets stuck in the hairs on her backside. It's really hurting her cuteness. I'd do something about it but I'm no veterinarian and I'd be afraid I'd rip an artery or something else sphincter related, so if any of my readers are animal doctors please drop me some advice. Everyone else is welcome to donate to my Save Snickers' Sphincter Fund by paypalling me like $50 bucks or something.

4.
Lastly, I'd like to just jot a quick blurb to this girl I've had the pleasure of taking out on a few dates (she will remain nameless and faceless so to protect her from the blog-hungry vultures that feast on gossip). Ever since 1st Grade when I was kicked in the balls by a different girl (who's name was Hailey Slocker, what a bitch) I realized that I'd have plenty of run-ins with girls who could kick my ass. I'm not proud of it, I'm just really weak.

Anyway this girl is an ex-ECW wrestler chick who actually held the Championship Belt for awhile. I met her at a Wrestling Expo and we hit it off. LITERALLY! She actually hit me in the face, but it turned out awesome. Since then she's beaten me in all types of wrestling (arm, leg, ear, etc) and she's a blood thirsty pool shark. She's torn up my DDR mats while showing off her skills to me. She can eat faster, climb harder, and dance better than me by far.

Also she's real pretty and I think she's got a great new haircut. I like her a lot and I think as long as she can deal with my horrible past that we'll get along fine. I'm writing this post from the hospital because she broke my jaw when she gave me a good night kissu and I gotta say that I have never hurt so good.

***
Anyway, I'd feel like I betrayed my readers if I left off on a high note like that so I'll give you this week's Tetris Update a little early. Last night I played for about 2 hours on one game and finally broke the 999 line mark. I stopped at about 1020 lines total (lvl 103) after my hand was cramped and I became really sleepy. My score was 2,542,379 which more than doubled my last previous high score. I think I can go much longer if I just work on my hand endurance. Well on that note I'm off to read some Neal Stephenson novels and I'll hope to get a pic of the Tetris score later so I can prove it. God, that will be sad.

One is silver, one is gold, the other is pure platinum.

Well my best friend just moved away today to live with his brand new wife in their nice little cottage home with white picket fences in downtown Charleston. What can I say about him? He was my first love, my first kiss, my first lay. L'sigh. I'll miss the old cunt but I'll be sure to come and visit and listen to them argue about whose money is whose. It'll be fun maybe we'll even get to spend some time together when she makes him sleep on the couch. They were partly responsible for the creation of this blog. So I owe all my e-success to them. Their blog can be found at http://duncanchronicles.blogspot.com so if you like hearing about stuffy old married couples then head there. For Dan's personal blog that Mary E. isn't supposed to know about go to http://ifucklilboiz.blogspot.com to read all about some of his favorite activities.

So, am I sad? A little bit, but I can still go over to his parents' place and mooch off all of their stuff. I realized today that with this move I'll now have more online friends than real life friends. The live-at-home-watching-anime nerd in me says, this is great! Real life relationships are such a hassle anyways. When a friend moves away they leave only their memories and the used condoms (seriously guys, ever heard of a trash can?). And I know you are going to say, "Yeah, I've heard of one. That's where I threw out all of those cummed up condoms. What the hell are you doing digging through my garbage?" That's when I'll be like, "Listen I think it's better if we just became e-friends." And you'll say, "Don't change the goddamn subject, that's my semen!"

An e-friend is like having a Portrait of that Dorian Gray guy only the portrait doesn't get all old; the friend does. I mean I can remember my friend in his prime when he wasn't getting laid and when he had these creeped out fangs and it'll never fade. Whereas real life relationships are situated in reality, these online ones are in the realm of Fantasy. And if you read two posts down you'll see why Fantasy is a whole lot sexier than reality (it's because of the robot and griffon orgy if you are too lazy to scroll down). I mean why have a warm-bodied friend when I can have a profile page with A HUGE LIST OF STATS? It's like my best friend just became a goddamn superhero with his own trading card. That's pretty rad cuz I knew him when he was just a rookie and I can probably get him to sign it. E-sign it.


"So, you two-faced bastard," you ask, "what is the other side of this coin?"

Well this coin is no ordinary coin. It's one of those State Quarters that are in so low supply that every grandma in the country is collecting them up for when they'll be worth 26 cents. The other side of this coin (the coin of friendship) is that of the perpetual e-friend. A friend who has only ever been known online which you meet in numerous cybersex chat rooms. These are what I like to call my "True Friends."

Everyone knows that the length of someone's e-penis or the depth of their virtua-vag is measured in how many online friends they have. The guy with the deepest v-vag would have to be my best e-luv J. Lust. J. Lust is like Kentucky's equivalent of that Russian band Tatu. You know those two hot underage lesbos? Well that's what he's like or so he's told me. You can read his Blog over at http://thejosephlusterreport.blogspot.com and you'll get to read all about the legend. J. tells me that when we meet finally, once I save up enough money for the hotel room and his bus ticket, that's he's going to "love me to death." I can't wait. He sounds like such a cool guy, he showed me a link to his dungeon (which is really his parents' basement) and it was rad, he had all these fake body parts lying around like the kind you get at Spencer's around Halloween so I guess he used to work in one of those places. Anyway I'm into the whole gothorror scene so I really want to meet him and just talk about life. You can read more into his personal life at http://ifuckbigboiz.blogspot.com which is his other blog.

Finally meeting an e-friend is like unmasking the ghost at the end of Scooby Doo. It's a little scary at first and you gotta be really high when you are cybering with them, but in the end they turn out to be pretty nice guys who just want to steal money from the circus or steal pirate treasure from the museum. It's great fun so I suggest posting all your personal info and going out and meeting all the e-friends you can, especially if you are one of my younger readers (like under 13) because once you get a job it'll be harder to travel out to motels during the day.

If you are a friend e- or otherwise and you want me to post a link to your blog then send me the url in an email to mattstoop@gmail.com and make sure you put Booboo Blog in the title to get it past my spam checker.

Once we are connected by blogs we'll never go out of touch and the world will be a whole lot bloggier.

Low Rider

I guess I should have put a big old disclaimer before I started this blog because I think there is some general confusion amongst some of my readers. The thing is this: I am a huge Roller Coaster Enthusiast. I pay $13.75 every quarter so that I can wear the t-shirt and carry my card proudly in my fanny pack (also that 3-D video they send out is pretty rad). So some of you might be thinking, Ugh this guy is so messed up I mean did you read about that rollercoaster he was talking about. That shit is impossible! Well listen, I did my homework on it. I did all the calculations then I programmed it into that Disney Roller Coaster editor in Dos. I did that shit so that you would feel enlightened! I didn't expect some of you to lash out and say my theories were unsound. If you don't believe in the future of the coaster then you are no friend of mine.

That being said I am going to have to rethink the roller coaster theory I created in the first post in light of some of events that transpired. Ok, so pull up a gamefaqs for Brain Age and let's get ready for today's installment of Coaster Thinkin'.

What is the most undisputed fact about roller coasters? Well for those of you who don't get the newsletter let me fill you in: it is that the Japanese will try their hardest to outdo any other country when it comes to roller coasters. So imagine if you will the reaction of the Japanese when they see that China has this crazy messed up Inverted MegaChuteCenteroftheGoddamEarth Coaster. They are going to want to outdo that shit with something so insanely low and high at the same time that it'll blow the Level Zero Paradox a new butt.

So, first off this is a sit down coaster and did I mention it's a fuckin' Mobius Strip? A Mobius Strip made out of yin-yangs. You didn't know that? Well, guess you are wishing you got that newsletter. Anyways... So this coaster orbits around the earth, one of the loops goes out around the moon the other around the Earth. This thing gets going so fast that you actually split molecularly into three separate beings, you follow? Now it's all engineered so that "one of you" is going to be directly over the "other you" right at the middle of the Strip which hovers at a point 2 miles above the Earth. The "you on top" is hit in the stomach really hard and forced to take a shit which falls through a worm hole right into the face of the "you on the bottom." The "you that gets dumped on" is going to be feeling pretty low, while the "you that just got to take a dump in someone's face" is going to feel pretty awesome. This causes a warp in space and time which causes part of the ride to explode into a huge confetti ball that falls down around the "third you" on Earth. That "version of you" is going to feel pretty awesome, but then you'll realize that the confetti is polluting the environment and you'll feel pretty low.

Well my friends, that roller coaster metaphor is just like what happened to me today. I thought I had hit my lowest point ever when I decided to start a blog (likened to the Chinaman's inverted coaster). But today I just got one-upped by the Japanese so to speak. Today I reached a low so low that it is impossible for me to even fathom it.

Today I was dumped by a girl who was having a great time with me until SHE READ THE FIRST TWO POSTS ON MY BLOG AND DECIDED THAT I WAS TOO DISTURBING TO DATE ANYMORE.

I'll let that sink in for a minute.



Now I'd like to add that my blog is totally serious and it's main purpose is to connect you, the reader, with the truth about how low a man can sink. I guess once people found out some of the gross things I've done in the past that it's only natural that they would want to cut off from me. Ce la Vie or some French shit. Anyway, I guess you can't ever live down something so disturbing as having accidentally brushed up against a black girl's boob. I thought I could have left that behind me in the past when I left Duke, but that bouncy ebony specter will hound me until I'm cold in the ground.

I can barely live with myself after what happened so I can honestly understand why people would find me monstrous now. I won't deny it my hand came in contact with a black-skinned tit. Ok, there I'm dealing with it. Can't you? I am dealing with it by really getting into my roller coaster hobby. It really takes my mind off some of the low shit I've done and helps me really convey myself over the blogosphere where metaphor is a golden tongue against the cruel chaos of a spider's web (the internet).

Well I haven't heard back from her yet. She dumped me via email and I replied to try and figure out just what went wrong. That's a pretty low way to dump somebody... through a cold and impersonal email. So here's my tip for the ladies: if you are going to break off your relationship with someone be the better person and do it by leaving a personal comment about it on their blog.

The Hippogryphs and the Space Bees

I'm having such a wonderful time writing this blog and reading all of your amazing comments so far. I think my mood is being augmented a little by the fact that I'm currently masturbating as I type this entry (the latest ADC-Elite fansub of One Piece came out today and the camera lingered on Nami's cleavage for a few too many frames and I couldn't help myself). Anyway, as I work on my one-handed wpm score I'll relate to you my love of Blogging thus far.

To me blogging is like being on the wings of the Millenium Falcon as it speeds into hyperdrive. There is nothing in the world more on the edge of science and progress than the blog-scene. I feel that in our not too distant future the entire Galaxy will be connected together not by a sense of Universal Fraternity but by a sense of wanting to read up on each other's day-to-day lives. Thank Zod for Blogs! If I want to check up on my buddy Tremvlsztaxi-*'s livejournal about how much gas he's consumed out of a pourous ice-pod half a zillion light years away then I'll just do it. I got that thing that updates via my cell phone when my friends add new posts to their LJ's. And further more--hoo, ok, hold that thought while I finish up my jerkin' session real quick.

Damn, that was a good one, I'm feeling that Galactic Euphoria I always feel when... oooo well, hello more cum! Geez, you'd think that'd be enough but--ohhhhh ok, there goes some more. Call me Ol' Faithful haha lol... Oh god, seriously now. There is blood coming out with the semen... And what the fuck is that?

"Tremvlsztaxi-*? Is that you? What are you doing in my penis?"

Through the power of mind talk Tremvlsztaxi-* says nothing and continues to devour the penis that he's been living in, as is the customary love-making practices of his people. Life seems to be going on as usual on the planet Orgasminga.

Cut! That's a wrap, boys!

Did you like that little scene? If you are like me then your hand is down your pants and you are already stimulating whatever kind of balls you have. If you aren't ringin' one out right now then you are either from China or you're my parents or principals and you need to Stop reading my blog and butting into my life! I'm mature for my age and if you don't want to get van-burned then you'll get your noses out of my biz-nass! Anyway, what I did in the first part of today's entry is what I like to call the BATE and SWITCH method of writing Sci Fi stories. And today's new low is an old favorite of mine:

Masturbating to Science Fiction or Fantasy Novels

We've all done it. We've all done it for years. Every Scholastic SF/Fantasy book you'd buy in those catalogs were filled with half-hidden sex references that would have me whipping out my little-boy weenie and going to town in a futile attept at pleasuring myself. Why? Because no one can resist tritely written erotica that's been nestled between the cold steel buns of a Space Opera or LotR knockoff. Try to read through Ender's Game without getting hard! I double dare you.

I've been jerking off (and actually cumming) to Scifi and Fantasy novels for ten years now at least 3 times a day. That's around ELEVEN THOUSAND ejaculations. Now let's say that one sock holds about 20 ejaculations (roughly the amount of 2 and a half poops), then that means I've gone through approximately 550 socks. That's around 100 packs of new socks that I've bought at about $6.50 per pack (which would be 650 dollars) just for the clean up of my own unborn swarm. [Because I'm not some monster who will wear a sock after it's been cummed in regardless of how many wash cycles it's been through.] Thanks, authors! You really know how to make a guy buy socks.

We all know that regular erotica can go choke on a fat load for all we care. There's something about mundane sex stories set in the real world that makes my p-due go beeeeeewwoooooooop. I need to first use my suspension of disbelief to really get into a magical fantasy tale, I then have to love the characters and really care about the plot, AND THEN I want that to all come crashing down into a huge ol' sex romp between a robot and a griffon. That gets me (and America) off. Wondering if whether the sex partner you are reading about is really a robot, or maybe it's a griffon in human form, and then wondering if whether they are faking orgasm with advanced AI or with magic--that's what it takes to write good erotica.

I've masturbated to hundreds of stories in my time and don't think I'm some uptight traditionsalist who only jerks it to the classics. Just the other day I was in Calculus class and I had to go to the bathroom and wank it because this graph looked like two dudes humping. And last Christmas when the Lutheran Church performed their XXX Nativity scene I was there wiping myself up with a spare sheep hat. That's thinking outside of Schrodinger's catbox. I mean sure I've splooged over some of the greats: Tolkein, Card, Delany, heck even some of that queer Bradbury stuff. But like I said I'm a man who looks to the future. I won't be able to get off on to those dusty old tomes for too much longer once the aliens come and burn all our literature. That's why I think Blogs are the future, because they can't get dusty and their pages can't get stuck together with semen.