I Had Cyber Sex With A Stranger In A Chatroom

The year was 2011. It was another uneventful Memorial Day and I felt the need to do something spectacular. Something so marvelous, that I would be able to inscribe the memory on my tombstone or urn after my passing. But since everyone that I associate with was still down the shore with their friends, or getting drunk and having sexy time, I had to think of something on my own. So I started thinking about all the really cool things you can do by yourself: take shots, watch pornography, smoke weed. But none of those things really seemed like a good idea at the time. That is until I remember what AIM (AOL Instant Messenger) was good for. Cyber sex.

Back in the early 2000s, AIM was the shit. It was a forum where you can get screen names from all your friends and talk to them on the computer. You know, instead of meeting them in person and having a jolly time. The premise of it was just mind-shattering and I think it set the benchmark for all the future social media sites that we are accustomed to today. So while Mark Zuckerberg is blowing lines with $100 bills and wiping his ass with $50s, he should pray to his heavenly Father thanking him that AIM took off the way that it did. Otherwise that goofball would probably be the president of Google or something way less cooler.

(2008 Gold Medal at the Virgin Olympics. More details to come)

The great thing about AIM was that it inhibited chat rooms. These were private rooms that held about 40 or so people and allowed them to talk about a certain topic together. It probably started out just like that until one day some creep messaged a girl and asked her one simple question: A/S/L? For those who lived under a rock, or were cool enough to hang out in real life, that stood for age, sex, location. So if you were honest, 13/m/nj, you pretty much got dismissed immediately. All the creepy, pervy guys wanted to talk to 11/f/la. But every so often you hit the jackpot and got a 14/f/fl. Bingo bango bongooooooooooo.

The next hour was spent discussing stupid fucking topics such as, Blink-182, Yellowcard, Doug, and other queer things that you thought were cool at that age. And the next 3o minutes were make-or-break. They would usually ask for a pic followed by: s2r. Send to receive. Do you send a real picture? Will she find you disgustingly hideous? Do I send a picture of my 1 inch penis? What do I do? The answer was simple, really. Find a picture on Yahoo! images and send it to her. If you were lucky she would send one back. Probably in the same manner that you just did, because let's be honest. Attractive, skinny girls did not go in chat rooms. They were too busy peforming oral sex on the cool boy in the 8th grade.

(Me before college)

Finally you would ask the fateful question. "Hey, wanna cyber?" And they'd usually say yes and then you would type to them that they were so hot and how you wanted to kiss their mouth and touch their private parts. And they would repeat the same things to you, even though they were 42-year-old men looking for a little excitement. But heck, what did we know at that age? Not that we were cybering with an old man, that's for sure. Either way, we got ours and they get theirs and everybody was considered a winner. At least that's how I felt until they shut the chat rooms down. Gone are the days of cyber sexing with someone via text. That is until Skype was born.

My Skype sex post is by far my most popular. People like reading it because they are excited about this new technology. You can sit at your computer and pretty much video sex with the person on the other side. It's still considered cyber sex, I guess, but now you can see the person in real time. And still type dirty things to them. Skype actually dominates AIM in every single category because if you pay $8.99 per month you can have group video chats and if you're an uber-horny fuck you can pretty much orgy cyber-sex. Technology never ceases to amaze me. So before the world ends in 2012, you have to try cyber-sexing. It's pretty cool and so am I but you already knew that because "I am better than you."

How To Make This Memorial Day Weekend Fun, Fun, Fun

It's that time again. The unofficial kickoff to the summer. Back when I was in high school we would go down to the shore, rent a hotel/motel for the weekend, kick back, and drink some beer. Lots and lots of beer. Of course, I don't condone such behavior because I was a wayyyy mature 17-year-old. Now it seems as I get a little bit older, it's losing its luster. I'm no longer sleeping in a bed with 4 other people passed out drunk. Nor am I vomiting on those 4 people. Instead I go to friends' houses and sit and relax and barbecue and calmly drink beers. It's amazing what can happen in 6 years time. So I've taken the liberty to concoct all the ways that you can still have fun this weekend.

1.) Stop updating what you're doing on Facebook - I don't know how many updates I've seen for the past week or two about people proclaiming their excitement for this impending weekend. I don't give a fuck that your are going to Bethany Beach, Dewey Beach, OBX (Outer Bankxxx), Miami, Las Vegas, or wherever the fuck else you bothered me with. Facebook is a social medium thats intended use is so I can stalk your pictures. Or your previous boyfriends. I don't need to see the constant updates about how excited you are. Fuck you.

2.) Stop updating what you're doing on Twitter - Same deal. But this time it bothers me more. Stop ranting about how much packing you have to do. As far as I'm concerned, MDW is a 4-day weekend, tops. How much shit are you fucking packing? Do you plan on moving to the beach? If so, I could give two shits less. I like going on Twitter to see people make fun of some random person they don't know. Or for some philosophical shit. Not your play-by-play as to how the traffic is, where you are going, who's going with you. None of it. If I'm not involved, I don't fucking care. So leave Twitter alone. Please.

(So really the first two were for my sake, and I'm pretty much the only one who matters, so...)

3.) Avoid your parents at all costs - Unless your parents are fun as shit, which I doubt, exclude them from all of your plans. Actually, I think you should go the extra mile to ensure that you are somewhere that they won't be. I don't want to have family time, I don't want to sit and eat Chilean Sea Bass from the grill and drink wine coolers, I don't want to eat your organic, nitrates-free hot dogs, and I don't want to listen about your problems. I would prefer to be with my friends, making everyone feel awkward as I describe the parts of the male genitalia, and get hammer-drunk. These are things I can't do if mommy and daddy are around. The same reasons probably apply to you.

4.) Bring condoms - They say that the most pregnancies occur each year on Memorial Day Weekend. People are so excited for the summer that they are willing to have sex with anything that has a pulse and two legs. That's good news for me because I am ready, willing, and able. Plus, they are probably really slutty and will let you do anything you want to them. In that Kanye West/Katy Perry "E.T." song when he raps "And then Imma probe you" he has to be referring the butthole right? Every alien abduction case I ever read about includes an anal probing, not a vaginal or oral one. Well to get back on point, I think most of the girls will be up for probing this weekend as well. So add "lubrication" to your list that includes condoms.

5.) Just get hammer drunk - Even if you get stuck with your parents, everything is better when you're hammer drunk. It's even better when you're with friends. Anything can happen when everyone is smashed. Games of "Kings" in which people are getting naked, girls going to pee in laundry rooms because they are that out of it, pissing yourself, sleeping on a trampoline. All these things are possible and likely if you black out with your friends and have a group sleepover. Group sleepovers are underrated and that's usually when the most fun occurs. So it would be in your best interest to sleep with all of your friends and hope for the best. That's why we went to college, duh.

This MDW I will be alone in my room playing Dungeons & Dragons being bitter that everyone is having so much fun and having sex and being drunk and updating their Twitter and Facebook about how much fun they are having. But it will all be thanks to me that you are having that much fun. All because you read my blog and got some ideas. Ideas that only I could think of because "I am better than you."

The Best Way To Get In A Girl's Pants Is Magic

I once received a text message on my phone sometime during the 2007-2008 school year. The text read "I can't stop thinking about magic." It was from a friend of mine, the same friend who found it necessary to camp in our apartment watching shitty movies on HBO because he didn't want to pay for cable. And heck, I never minded walking into my house to see him sitting there watching anything. His presence alone ensured a fun time. One day he saw a video of David Blaine on Youtube, and magic became a new fascination that would only be quenched once it was fully mastered. These next 3 weeks were beyond entertaining for me. (P.S. He really thought this was David Blaine)

It all started with card tricks. Finding the 4 Jack's who robbed the bank, or throwing them at the wall and holding some Ace was what I became accustomed to. I didn't get to see any of those lame quarter behind the ear tricks or doves flying out of hats. It mostly started and ended with card tricks. Once he got comfortable enough, he took his talents on the road. The road meaning our next door neighbors apartment. Four girls, 2 of which had boyfriends. But really nice, cool down to earth chicks. Time for the magic show. He performed his patented two card tricks and did them well. I think they pretended to care. I was in awe.

After that show was when magic really took over. I received a text message at 5:14 am stating the above message. I knew it had engrossed him and wouldn't stop until it failed. The true test would be if it worked at a party. Get a girl really drunk, show her some magic tricks, and see if her panties will drop. But we had one problem. Our master illusionist was in a long-term, committed relationship. There would be no panty-dropping. So we settled on watching the 'The Prestige' with Christian Bale on repeat. I never found out if magic tricks worked on drunk chicks. That is until today. I'm taking up magic.

I spent the early portion/my whole day going to local magic shops finding a cape and top hat that fit me perfectly. I went to a pet store and bought one of those albino-looking rabbits. I went to an animal rescue in my town and asked if they had any doves. They didn't, so I captured some pigeons in my backyard. Spray paint will work, won't it? I bought trick cards, trick coins, a wand, cups and balls, and last but not least, a Criss Angel DVD for beginners of magic. Since you already know all my secrets of how I became so good, don't be disappointed when I show you the neat tricks.

None of my friends respect me or would have sex with me, so I thought the next best thing to do would be to create a posting on Craigslist. In my posting, I wrote that I am an executive magician and that I can make a girl's panties drop with one flick of my magic wand. Whether they want to dive deeper into that and assume my private part is a wand is entirely up to their discretion. Otherwise, I showcased a picture of myself and my contact info. Not five minutes had passed before I received a phone call from a girl asking me to come show her some of my magic tricks. I simply had to oblige.

So I drove down about 25 miles from my house to this girl to show her some magic. I clearly didn't think this through because I don't know this girl at all and it could actually be a perverted man looking to have his way with a stellar young adult. Fortunately for me, it was a decent looking girl and my magic act began. I showed her several tricks, 1 or 2, until she told me to come up to her room. At this point in time if you have believed anything happened from paragraph 3 until now, you clearly are entirely too gullible. The only thing that drops girl's panties is her low self-esteem. That and a picture of me because "I am better than you."