Mad Blogger

It's time you came...

This place stinks, it stinks like last year. Mad-blogger.com has 2011 written all over it. SAD! Ok, end of grief. Lets’ get back to business (what business?) Anyway, how are y’all doing? From the little I can gather, some of you pinched noses, snatched weaves, drew bonokos, started political parties, vowed to run for office no matter what the Hague says, fought spouses with sugar-canes, website owners hacked into their own websites and put up SOPA/FIFA/FKL/URP/ODM/UDM/PIPA/G4S shit on the front pages, slept with the neighbor’s wife… ummm that last part was me. What a way to kick off 2012!

What is SOPA anyway, Sex On Papa’s Arms? No? Ok, then it’s Sex On Papa’s Ass – That doesn’t make much sense, I apologize. I’m that much addicted to sex that I think anything and everything is somehow connected to sex. You would think I’m a master in love making, I’m not and I embrace it.

Yeah some of us are a minute men, and don’t be shy about it. Embrace it, live with it. Don’t take drugs to lengthen the experience. Take your minute of hard action and be glad that you can get it up. There are some men who have forgotten how an erect penis looks like; you should be grateful you ain’t one of them. Also don’t try some techniques to make it last longer… Our doctors (sexperts) are full of shit; they’ll tell you to try the silliest of things to satisfy your partner. Who said I want to satisfy my partner? Me sleeping with a lady is to satisfy me. If I get satisfied in a minute and she doesn’t, that’s her problem.

I have my one minute and I can take that to the bank. (That phrase maybe out of context)

What the sexperts suggest you do to cum later is too difficult for a man of a weak scrotal sac. I’ll list a few & let you see how absurd that shit is:

•  Go to your happy place: This means if you feel that you’re about to climax, say a minute into it, then stop thinking about sex or the woman under/on top of you and let your mind wander into other stuff that make you happy. Ummmm what? My happy place is between this woman’s legs. What other happy place do you want me to think of? Fuck you let me cum early!

•  Pull out: Okay, this is a bit reasonable but here is the thing, I’m not a porn star. I can’t pull out, really I can’t plus why would I wanna pull out? It’s so good in there and I want to be in there for the whole damn minute. Heck, I’ll even do a “Kemboi dance” after my award-winning performance.

• Contain your excitement: Bullshit, how the fuck am I supposed to contain my excitement when I haven’t had sex since last year. Yea I know last year is just last month but still…

• Sex position: Apparently missionary is one bad motherf… Oh, I don’t know something about supporting your body, pressure, blah blah blah, you cum early! What, these fucktards want me to change my favorite sex position too? I wouldn’t be surprised if they suggested you do wheelbarrow style. Unless my lady will be ferrying potions of ballast from point A to B as we do it then there is no way we’re gonna do it wheelbarrow. I rode wheelbarrows as a boy and there is no way I’m gonna do it as man. Do you know how stupid wheelbarrow position looks like? The mental image is wrong that I’ve just spat on my keyboard!

• Cool down skills: Good goth, what? When I read that the first thing I asked out loud was, ‘really have you ever had sex?’ A pussy is anything but cool so don’t tell me to try ‘cool down skills’. Keep that shit to yourself!

• Talk to your partner: iCant! Most of my ‘partners’ are chipos. How do you even begin explaining to your clande that you’ll only take a minute of her time? Bitch will walk out on you before you even raise it. This is actually one of the reasons some of us are ever single because, trust me, you don’t want to disappoint the same lady twice. If it’s a girlfriend, she will dump your lame ass dick and if it’s your wife she’ll fuck your neighbor and make sure you know it. Yeah, your neighbor can gerrit, you cunt.

• Control your breathing: Ha Ha Ha, that’s funny. What do they mean by control your inhale and exhale? What, did sex suddenly become yoga? I don’t want regular breathing, it is sex, the breathing during fore-play is already out of the self control zone, what of when “shuma iko ndani?” Controlled breathing comes with relaxation and relaxing is possible right after climaxing. That shit is just plain undoable.

To be frank, I tried the sex position one. Yea I tried something different the last time I got laid (which is like a century ago), instead of missionary, I tried cow girl. It was great, not that I lasted longer, it was the very same minute but this time around I didn’t do the hard work. She did all the mounting, ingenious, ain’t it?

Anyway, I’m not a total jerk, I’ll go down on you to try and ameliorate the situation. Yea, to some people the word ‘ameliorate’ is a big one. That’s me trying to make you forget I’m a minute man. I think it’s working… NOT.

Moving away from that… Who has seen my sex life? I hear it was last spotted under a Mango tree, place of it is last action. If you do see it, please mail it to me <! –me@mad-blogger.com –> Ladies, somehow that is a pick up line.

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I leave you with these quotes  ==>”"<== Yeah, quotes.

Mad Blogger on Facebook.

Mad Blogger on Twitter.

No, there is nothing wrong with that title but since some of you are in cloud 9 with the Christmas spirit, let’s stick to Merry Christmas. It’s Christmas Eve as I write this. Yes, I don’t have a life but before you go all judgy judgy on me, let me remind you that you are reading this. You too should get a life. Ok, let me be nice, it’s Christmas and no temper raising is necessary. We’re friends? Yes? Good. Who wants me over for Christmas? No one? I thought we were friends! Looks like I’ll be spending this one with me, myself and I. It’s a perfect chance for me to touch myself where I have never been touched before! What, you didn’t think I would sneek in some perversion in a Christmas post? That line was crossed the moment I decided to use ‘jizzmass’ in the title! Let’s move on…

Christmas is the season of giving, I don’t know what they mean by that but I’m sure my neighbor’s wife won’t mind some love on the side when the husband ain’t looking and it will be free. Yes this time, I won’t ask for payment. << Smart horny people know what I’m talking about.

Perversion aside, let’s be careful on the roads people. No sippin’ and drivin’ or sexin’ and drivin’. You know, “ati baby nikalie usikie nikikuinua“  and you are driving. SMDH! Stay Safe. 2012 needs people to live it. You also got to stay away from minors. {Watoto wa shule} Be careful when you are chips-fungaing. Kids are everywhere, you don’t want to be asking, “who’s your daddy?” only for her to say, “I don’t know, my mum is single!” Hard on becomes a Hard off. << I didn’t type that last part. This PC has auto-correct like my Smart phone and when I say smart phone, I mean it like it sounds, it a Smart phone. Well that is if what is written below the silhouette of Michael Jackson is anything to go by. Did I hear someone say ‘fake’? STFU, you are not on my level.

Before I head out, let me thank y’all who have been reading this shit blog. I have a special place for you in my…. NO, let’s not get emotional here, it’s just a blog but in all seriousness and sincerity I can master, THANK YOU. You are weird people, why? You have called me insane on numerous occasions but you still come back for more. What does that say about you? HEHEHEHEHE.

I know you have places to be so I’ll make this short: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR. Damn, that was hard, I’m rarely that nice.

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On a lighter note: I received a text yesterday and let’s say my day was made. Here it is word for word:

Hi, how are you doing pal, I heard you are sick? Get laid soon - WHAT THE FUCK?

It’s an obvious wrong number since I’m in near perfect health but if not getting laid is a disease, then I’m definitely very sick, Ladies are you reading this?

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See you bagas in 2012.

Mad Blogger | 2011…

IF I grow up, I want to be Mr. Funny man. Feel free not to laugh:

•  I’m at such high perversion levels in my life that I can tell the color of girl’s pants by looking up her skirt… I hope you realize that that joke is not funny, if it was I would be making money out of it.

• Twitter has experienced an avalanche of lame word play ‘gurus’. Someone felt the need to tell them that not everyone can do word play and I was like, ‘Really? I didn’t know word play was a girl’

• Someone asked me what my number one priority I life and I said my love for sarcasm. He told me to get my priorities straight. I don’t get it, really I don’t. Are my priorities gay or something?

• I saw this ad that a producer was looking for script-writers for his new sit-com and I thought to myself, is comedy writing so hard that they have to hire programmers to hack it? Get it? Script? No? Okay, nobody has died from a bad joke yet!
•  Don’t you just pity the Jehovah’s Witnesses, all this time they have been trying to tell us how Jehovah screwed up but no one gives a shit. That joke is so lame; that its ‘punch line’ is more of a ‘pat on the back.’

• I wanted to be a pro pianist but it’s so hard to pull an orgasm face especially when you ain’t been getting laid. I mean have you watched Lang Lang play?
• I don’t hate fat people, really I don’t and very soon we’ll all be competing for food when natural resources are almost exhausted but don’t worry, nature has a way of dealing with heavy eaters, remember the dinosaurs?
• I still remember the first time I had sex; my right hand developed a serious medical condition, that’s how I became left handed. <– Ignore that one…
• What goes around comes around. Is it just me or does that sound like a really dizzy way to scare someone?
• I entertained the thought of doing stand up comedy up until I realized I had stage fright; you know that thing where you want to pee your pants but you can’t because you went earlier? <– That is funny but only when you’re on prescription drugs for mild dementia.
• My greatest fear in life is waking up to find a girl sleeping next to me and I can still remember her name a.k.a marriage!
• What you don’t know about me is I’ll spike a girl’s drink to get laid. It’s like getting a girl really drunk just that my method is illegal.
• They need to make Sarcasm contractible by sex; I need a new pick-up line plus my current girlfriend could use an infection.
• That moment when you can’t get a word right and Microsoft Word won’t suggest a substitute. It’s amazing how “add to dictionary” and I have become such great friends.
• I had a masturbation addiction joke in mind but I found lotion before I could post it…!
• I started a “we cum early” anonymous group, for such a group you would think the members would come early. If only they applied the same tactics in bed…
• They say love is blind, ok don’t you think it is high time love came out and denied or confirmed those allegations?
• The last time I had sex, I came so hard that the sock almost sued for sexual harassment.
• I’m so obsessed with women’s backsides that I pray for a lady to choke just so I can perform a Heimlich maneuver.
• There is a drop of gayness in every man whose dick is curved! You know, not straight? Oh forget it.
• I slept with so many girls in my day that the random one night stands nowadays are no longer with strangers.
• I have come to terms with the fact that I may never marry, not that marriage sucks, it’s just that it doesn’t, but I’m not married; what do I know?
• I get so absent minded at times that when I’m getting head, I start wondering when my dick will get hot so that the ‘blow’ part of a blow job can begin.
• My imaginary friend doesn’t get my jokes anymore; I think he’s coming down with a serious case of growing up. Oh, the irony.
• I think the future Microsoft Word should come with a joke detector, that way I’ll know if I’m wasting my time typing these lines.
• My parents wanted me to be a doctor but the thought of treating them for free was not in me so I became a Carpenter. They live in a wooden house, maybe I should have become a doctor; they are rarely sick!
• A joke about erection ceases to be a one liner when you introduce a full stop. They should call it a hard liner. Ok, what was that?
• If you have to explain it, then it’s not a joke, it’s an inspirational quote or the Sunday sermon. <– My pastor ‘likes’ this.
• If no one understands your jokes, you shouldn’t try poetry either. There is only so much bullshit your subconscious can take before it walks out on you.
• Poetry ends with “try”. What you don’t know is that poets are unaccomplished writers. I’m not surprised; what do you expect when all you do is “try”? Poets, I got no beef with you but I wouldn’t mind pork. Okay, let me hit myself to make poets feel good about themselves:
• Bloggers are gay writers. This shit might get me in trouble with fellow writers bloggers.
• I’m typing this with a straight face; I don’t think these jokes are that funny. Maybe you should read them with a gay face. >> Yeah, I know that straight-gay line is no longer funny.
• I have dreams, yes I sleep too.
• I’m a douche, so much so that I threw a bottle into the ocean with this message: “If you are reading this, it could only mean one thing; it was written”. Hey don’t give me that look; I did say I’m a douche, didn’t I?
• I was watching the movie “immortals” then came the sex scene. I have never been so sexually assaulted. I didn’t see shit, that movie is too dark. Actually they didn’t fuck.
• Watching some sex scenes in movies is good for my ego; they last for less than a minute. It’s good to know that I’m not the only one who sucks in bed.
• Speaking of movies, when they make a movie about me, I want to play me. I mean, who can play me better than me plus why I would I want someone to fuck girls on my behalf?

I’m done.

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PS: Good things happen to girls whose boyfriends have big enough dicks. – Fuck what you heard, that is the original line! –> My Christmas wish is to be the boyfriend…

Facebook <!—or–> Twitter

Sarcasm – In a few words: mockery, cynicism, disdain. <- What you need to understand to get through this post without “catching” feelings!

I think the “complicated relationship” option on Facebook was meant for me or for people like me! Why? Well, I’m still trying to find myself in this grown up world {let it be noted that I may never find myself} and the journey to self realization is very tricky especially when you realize that it’s not an actual journey! Here I was thinking that the self realization involves climbing mountains, living with monks for a while then heading back to the hood with real life skills! {I watch way too many Chinese movies}

Ok, back to my complicated relationships and to be precise, my luck with women. Here is the thing; the sarcastic fuck in me has been getting in the way of my getting laid! That cockblocker has held my genitals hostage; there is no going out! It’s the death of my sex life via sarcasm with the help of an ounce of some sort of honesty… I think I’m coming down with a serious case of walking the ‘righteousness path’. I have acquired a zero tolerance to lies when it comes to women. I think it is common knowledge that you may have to lie to get into someone’s pants especially if there is no panty dropper in sight or if the said panty holder is an upcoming Semenya. {Why would any guy sleep with a Semenya?} But seriously, how do you entice the not-so-attractive lass into sleeping with you? I can’t tell her she’s hot when she ain’t and that’s where the problem lies; for instance a lady asks one of those seemingly innocent questions and the cockblocker in me loads the not-getting-laid mode:

HER: Hey, what do you think of my dress?

ME: What am I supposed to think about it?

HER: I don’t know, how does the fucking dress make me look?

ME: Honestly?

HER: Yeah, honestly!

ME: Well, the dress is okay, it has nice flow but it’s a little tight on the waist!

HER: No, it’s not.

ME: It is but hey, I’m not wearing it, maybe it’s not tight, I wouldn’t know!

HER: Oh, come on, you can do better than that. (I take that as a real challenge!)

ME: Ok, if you insist, you outgrew that dress ages ago and yes it is tight, very tight. It outlines the panty you have on…

HER: I’m not wearing anything under this dress!!

ME: OH! That is all you? So what are those irregular curves on your rear thighs? (pointing to her cellulite)

HER: Curves? What curves? Oh no, you did not just call me fat?

ME: Come on, don’t be a bitch, you are not fat but you ain’t a model either…!

HER: So I’m a fat bitch now? You look at me and all you see is a fat bitch…?

For the rest of that conversation, she promises to have my balls for supper. ‘My balls for supper’? Really, doesn’t she have enough fat in her system already?

Yeah, I’m not the most romantic guy you’ll ever meet but what I lack in romance I make up for with a big di… Oh fuck no, let’s not got there.

In my defense, women nowadays make it so hard for me to give a positive honest compliment. I mean, what are you supposed to say when a woman asks how her hair looks when she has the latest sew on from China?

HER: What do you think of my hair-do?

ME: What hair?

HER: The hair on my head, dumbass!

ME: Oh, yeah that contraption? Ummm, the horse suffered for nothing!

Do you see how easy it is to never get laid? But I forgive weave bearers, that raccoon on most women’s heads is a global craze; even drags are doing it. What I can never spend a gram of sarcasm on is a wig. Know it? That thing that looks like it’s giving head to a lady’s head? It’s the 21^st century, wigs should have died in the nineties and for a woman with a wig, I don’t need bad luck to not get sex from her. I’ll kindly say no! I’ll even try to be ‘sensitive’ about it, “hey, I’m really flattered that you are in the mood to pretend to make a baby with me but you are too fat for my taste…” You can’t refuse sex on the basis that she has a wig, now can you? Fat is far less heartbreaking but don’t take my advice, it never works.

Look at this way, the reason I have shitty relationship with women could be because a higher being is aware of my excellent bed-room skills and has lined up a worthy “opponent” to take me down, go down on me, make me go down on her, have me begging for mercy, make me scream like a girl! {Ignore that last part, I would never scream, no matter how good the sex is} You know, whatever fetish the “opponent” fancies.

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LAME-JOKE-ALERT:

PARTING SHORT: What is ‘parting short’? Is it when you take a midget and cut him in half? Anyway, parting shot; I read somemwhere that sex makes you look good and feel younger. This researchers need to get a life. Like we didn’t have enough reasons to get laid; but don’t get me wrong, if sex makes you look good then by all means please get laid. What I have a problem with is how ugly…., no ugly is such a bad word. I’m worried that the not-so-good-looking and old people among us will start offering themselves to just about anyone with the hope that after a bagging several shag mates they might turn their faces around, literally. You know, start looking good and shit. Bitch please, that shit ain’t gonna happen!

I cannot force you to like me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter and if decide to not follow/like me, it’s probably for the best; I’m a loose canon on social media. I also have a Google plus account but that shit gets dizzy when they start talking about circles. I didn’t fair well in athletics and I don’t think I’m up for it now; going in circles is really not my thing…

This is the longest ‘parting short’ I’ve ever seen.

Enough of that, it’s Saturday; let me go try to get some life, it’s been an elusive bitch lately…

Ok, before I go, what does, “…too fat for my taste…” mean? Are we all a bunch of cannibals waiting to run out of food and pounce on each other? OK BYE.

I was grabbed by the gonads, dragged through shit, almost fed to the sharks, beaten, raped, I’m now traumatized, scarred for life, I may never recover, I’m seeing a shrink but it’s not working, I’m contemplating suicide, I have the noose already tied!… Ok, you do realize that I’m bullshitting you, right? I got hacked, that’s what! They owned me, they made me their bitch but look who is back, unperturbed, mad as always, with an ego the size of Jay Z’s lips. {Lame analogy, I know, I’m full of shit sometimes, ok most of the time. } When I tried to login into my account on Monday morning I was met with the defaced page talking about some Islamic Ghost Team and here is the thing; I don’t think the hackers are Islamic Cyber Terrorists, ‘thIs KiNd oF wRitInG’ is a lot more Western than it is Asian. They are probably kids with too much free time and unlimited internet access.

We own you bitch!

When I saw that defaced page I freaked out, yes I did. I almost pissed my briefs but the naïve bitch in kicked in and I thought, “Wow, I’m famous!” I convinced myself that only famous chaps get hacked and when I logged into twitter that morning I was half expecting to find hundreds of mentions telling me how I’m the shit and several liters of urine but I didn’t find shit let alone urine. All I found were five hour old mentions. Wait, why am I telling you all this? That’s a lame thought pattern.

Long story short, the fact that you are reading this means that all is well but after that hack ass jolting, I don’t trust this server so much, oh well we’ll see… Okay, what else do you need to know? I rarely think of what I’m going to write, I just login and write the first thing that pops up and right about now nothing is popping. Light bulb moments are rare these days and frankly I’m not surprised. Thing is, I no longer have a social life, I used to but somehow along the way I stopped being free with people as I used to and people is equal to socializing and socializing is equal to mouth watering posts. Hold up that sounds wrong, very very wrong. What is “mouth watering posts”? Do you guys salivate when you read my posts? That’s gross and I’m gonna stop here because I have no clue what I AM DOING! This hack thing was a total brain drain. *sigh*

Now I hate myself for this gibberish but I’m still going to hit the publish button; yes share this bullshit of a post and be done with it. Ok, now I’m hitting publish and signing out… and in the (not so) famous words of one Mad Blogger, I… I… I don’t have a parting shot. I blame the hackers and I think I’ve just found something to lay the blame on whenever I screw up, the hackers. E.g. yes I’m allowed to give an example; it’s my fucking blog…

CHIC: Hey, you ‘came’ early; you are such a lousy lover!

ME: It’s the hackers fault… :/

CHIC: How? They hacked into your dick and forced you to come?

ME: I don’t know, it’s just their fault, can’t we go with that?

I’ll pretend I didn’t just write that, actually it’s the hackers fault {my new favorite scapegoat}. I have nothing to do with what you are reading. Assuming that you ignored my warning and read this post, you are awesome. I would say I love you but since you who read this post to the very end might be a guy, I’ll stick with awesome since ‘I love you’ to a guy is very gay and probably sue-able. Is ‘sue-able’ a word? Never mind, but there should be a law that prohibits guys from telling other dick wielding fellows they love them. Heck I can’t even tell my dad I love him, I do but I never tell him. Yes my dad & I are that cool.

Holy Cow’s udder {I’m trying to quit swearing}, I promised someone to show up at their birthday today, I’m so dead. There goes my chance of resurrecting my social life. Waaaaaiiit it’s the hackers fault….