Porocrom's Crappaper

A wise man once said “Treat her rough, get some muff”. When I heard this I immediately dismissed it as codswallop, but last night my skepticism was shattered by the events that transpired.

There is a bar near where I live called 'Phil’s’. It is dark, dingy, and smells of feet and hockey equipment at the end of a day-long tournament. However, it has $1.75 drinks, so we go. I went with my buddy Nathan; my roommate and wingman extrodinaire Kevin; Virginia, my former lab partner, and her friends. It was partway into the night when I found myself beset by Kevin and Nathan shouting at me to go hit on this random girl in a pink shirt. I protested that I am not 'that guy’, which they did their best to refute using the logical tools available to them ('Yes you are!’).

While I was being verbally pummeled for my lack of will to bother random girls in bars, a group of ladies came up to talk to Nathan, having apparently met him some time before. To get my two harping buddies to leave me alone, I decided to undecoriously perform a suicide mission on one of the girls there so they would leave me alone. To compound the inevitable failure, I decided to be the biggest jerk I could possibly imitate. I made nothing but disparaging comments about her every statement, ridiculed her in front of her friends… I was theatrically rude.

Nothing in my many years of bar-going could prepare me for what happened next.

Far from being offended or discouraged from further conversation, this girl (who we shall call Cyndi) was intrigued by my ruthless and irreverent banter. The more I berated and disparaged her, the more interested she seemed. I’m pretty sure that if I had punched her she would have gone down on me.

I ask you people, what kind of sense does it make that being nice, courteous, complimentary and generally decent is a turn off? If I met a girl who upon meeting me immediately began talking shit, it would be SO OVER. Why should I have to pretend to be an asshole just to get the time of day and a dance?

The story doesn’t end as well as you might think: we spent a good portion of the evening grinding each other into oblivion on the dance floor, then her roomies (who were giving me some serious stink-eye) had to go home, so she left. I did get her number though… worship me for I am your god.

Last Saturday, I went to a club. When I say “a club” I mean “the club”, and when I say “club” I mean “a pigsty where all men between the ages of 15 and 80 and some women between the ages of 16-17 congregate”. I live in a village of 3,000 people (when we’re being invaded) and this particular club services an area of about 5,000 people (if you count sheep to be human). Therefore, you can understand the dismal situation in which I was in. The general quality of the male population ranges between “sheepfucker” and “homeless person”. The quality of the women is somewhat good, with some glaringly magnificent exceptions. Most women shower, too.

So, I went to the club with a few friends and we walked up to the entrance. Standing there was a fat whore who could obviously not get any tricks so she decided to make a career change. She asked me for four euros, to which I promptly replied “What the fuck? Are you out of your fucking mind? Look where you are, you skanky ho”. She did not relent and threatened to call security, but then she remembered there was no security because the place was a fucking hole. I felt extra generous that night so I gave her the money so she could get something to eat for the next month (never mind that she could very well live merely on her extraneous fat) and proceeded to not bite her. So generally I was very very nice.

We walked inside and sat at a table. The DJ was awful, the songs he played were irrelevant to one another and he synched them with all the grace of someone with Parkinson’s. If he could at least get the beat right, I think he could have been really good at scratching. The dude who handled lighting also sucked, but what do you expect, he’s probably Albanian (Albanians are to Greece what Mexicans are to the US). The people were invariably of the general variety I described above.

Being so fascinated with the general atmosphere in this magnificent nightclub, I turned my gaze to the air conditioning, which appeared not to be connected to an external unit. Then I proceeded to read about thermodynamics and entropy on my cell phone (I love Wikipedia) in hope that I would discover an air conditioning system without external units so I could put a bomb in it and wipe all these people out (no dice, btw, the second law of thermodynamics doesn’t allow it).

Disheartened, I raised my eyes and beheld a stunningly beautiful woman on the table across mine. She was tall, with blond hair and hazel eyes, and her body was shapely and with huge boobs. I stared at her for a while, and she, becoming aware of my gaze on her, retaliated with unrelenting staringness. I decided that time was of the essence, and that there was nary a moment to waste. Immediately, I stood up and walked towards her. Approaching her, I said:

I: Hi, don’t I know you from somewhere?
She: (Coldly) No, you don’t.
I: Are you sure? You look really familiar.
She: (Frowning) That trick is old, no, we don’t know each other.
I: Wtf bitch, stfu. Being a whore doesn’t make you an expert on tricks. Oh wait, it does.

I didn’t really say that last line, but at that point I was very pissed off. Her “did you think of that line or did you read it on a cave wall?” attitude was fucking annoying, and if a woman talked to me like that I’d beat her into submission. As you can see, it had never happened before, so I was baffled. If nothing else, I hadn’t been rude or anything, and she had. I decided to show nothing of what I thought, and exact my terrible revenge upon her.

I: Isn’t your friend’s name Joanne (actual name changed to protect the other hot chick)?
She: (Surprised) Yes, how did you know?
I: Weren’t you in the same class as her?
She: Yes, I was.
I: Oh, we went on the class trip together. (These trips are customary on the last year of highschool in Greece and typically last seven days)
She: Oh, you’re from [my village]?
I: Yep, that’s right.
She: (Smiling) I don’t remember you, but we didn’t hang out that much, we had kind of a feud with you guys (laughs).
I: (Smiling) Yeah, I remember.

I am guessing she felt like a total bitch at that point, because she realised I actually did know her (obviously) and she was quite into me, since she had been staring at me before I went over. I was quite pleased with this turn of events, and a “HAHA, PWNT, BITCH” almost escaped my lips, but I managed to retain my courteous and friendly disposition.

I: (Half-jokingly) Well, your teacher always blamed us for anything that happened, and you girls were always late in the morning.
She: (Laughing) Yeah, we always got up half an hour past when we were supposed to.
(I say nothing, silence ensues and becomes awkward, and she is clearly expecting me to ask her out)
I: (Smiling) Well, that’s what I wanted to ask you. Nice to have met you, bye.
(I walk away, not waiting for her reply and bask in my pwnsive victory)

I am assuming she regretted being such a bitch, because there were 2 men and 3 other women in their group, and the men looked like they had been hit by a train carrying ugly. In the wake of this devastating victory, I decided to hit on a friend of mine, but she was very receptive and not at all a bitch, so there’s nothing to write about that. he rest of the night went pretty uneventfully (if you exclude the fact that I had sex with the village twins, they’re not very bright but there’s two of them) so there’s not much else to say, except that concurrence in sex = nice.

If you have a blog and can’t find anything to write, read a woman’s magazine. They’re so full of crap that they’re guaranteed to make you puke and share your hate for them with the world. This is the case of this post. I just found one of my sister’s magazines lying around, so I thought “I’ll just read this for a bit, maybe it will give me some insight in women”. Well, the only insight it gave me is that women (actually it’s just that particular writer, but I figure if that magazine stereotypes men and sells that well, I’ll stereotype women, it can’t hurt) are unbelievably and mind-bogglingly stupid.

It was a column about sex advice or sex situations (I doubt that even the writer knows exactly) that dealt with what happens if you do certain things (or people). For example, one of the cases was the “pity lay”, where you have sex with someone you don’t really want to, just because you kinda like them. Her conclusion was that it is very wrong and that “you come to when someone on you yells something like 'I’m coming’ and you feel so relieved it’s over that you will almost want to kiss him — but you don’t”. That’s cool, I can agree with that. I don’t enjoy sex with women I don’t want to have sex with either. Very well so far.

In the next case, this piece of shit, this unbelievable dreck goes on to say something far more preposterous. Before I tell you what it is, I would like to note that I hate this magazine and its ilk. I would not even wipe my ass with it because my sphincter would be so offended that it would close up and kill me of shit poisoning. These abominations are even printed on glossy paper which takes forever to biodegrade. Anyway, the next case is about the “desperate lay”. In this case, a desperate woman gives a desperate man permission to do the unthinkable and have sex with her, even though normally she would be way too good for him, but, she is as we said, desperate. Wake-up call, bitch, if you were all that hot you wouldn’t be desperate in the first place, but I’ll let this one slide.

Anyway, the woman has sex with the man and realises that he just makes her give him lots of blowjobs and leaves her and never calls back. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? How low must your IQ be to think this? First of all, you ignorant, ignorant piece of shit of a writer, what kind of a desperate man would never call a woman he just had sex with back? Secondly, does it never cross your mind, before so ignorantly assuming that all men are evil, that there is a chance a desperate guy would be, you know, actually nice? And to top it all off, since when is sex something a woman gives? When two people have sex, they (hopefully) both consent to it, and they (again hopefully) both enjoy it. I fucking detest the notion that men beg women for sex, and women, being the noble creatures that they are, find it in their hearts to grace some poor man with their infinite kindness and allow him to have sex with them, something that women don’t enjoy at all, and, in fact, find somewhat distasteful.

Wake the fuck up. It’s the same for both men and women. Both the man and the woman were desperate. They had a night of desperate sex and probably both enjoyed it. If you know you’re not going to like the sex because the man is desperate, why not just spend the three fucking dollars to buy yourself a dildo and spare us the fucking crap? I must e-mail this bitch and give her a piece of my mind.

The rest of the article is about the same. It goes on endlessly talking about women as if they’re all hot and smart and wonderful people and men are the walking scum of the earth and they don’t deserve any woman. I’m thinking of rallying up all the men and agreeing not to have sex with any woman that has these views. Hey, she’s too good to have sex with men anyway. Or maybe the writer is a lesbian, in which case, forget I said anything.

Today, as I was journeying deep in the vast jungle that is the Intarweb, I came upon a site called Date me, Natalie!. It is about a guy who attempts to get Natalie Portman to date him through word-of-mouth and clever internet marketing. Seeing as how this blog already has reached fifteen billion people (don’t believe the counter on the side over there, it’s lying) in the known universe, I decided to make my plea to Kate Beckinsale public. Date me, Kate!

Much like the Natalie Portman guy, I also have seen you and I think we are compatible. It is not anything romantic or anything, because I know you are married and have a daughter, but I wouldn’t object to hot, sweaty sex either. I just know that we have much in common, because I know you very well from all those parts you played, which are totally how you are in reality, and not at all the imagination of the screenwriters. For example, do you remember how in that movie, Laurel Canyon, your boyfriend didn’t respect you or treat you right or nothing and you decided to fuck his mother? I would never do that to you, Kate. Also from your movie Shooting Fish I know that you like clever, handsome guys, because you can learn all about an actress from the parts she plays, and I am totally clever and handsome and have a million pounds stashed in my basement.

I am friends with many women, many of which are prettier than you, but you are the one I would like to date, because from all your movies I think you are my soul mate. You are strong and resourceful (as seen in Van Helsing) and also romantic and very cute (Serendipity). You are all I am looking for in a woman, and also I know you like to party (The Last Days of Disco). I totally like that too!

You are so different and special from any woman I have ever met (or not met, for that matter). Even though I have never met you I know I am the man you have been looking for all your life. Other women are too snobbish, immature, shallow and/or ugly, whereas you are none of those things (as far as I know, which, admittedly, is not very far at all). I have singled you out of all the women in the world because I saw some pictures and I think you are the only woman in the world worthy of someone posting on a website about.

If you don’t want to date me, Kate, that’s fine. I know that you will always love me in your heart and that your husband is the only thing preventing you from marrying me. Some day, mr. Wiseman will meet with an unfortunate accident, and then we can be forever together, my love!

I was having a rather enjoyable discussion with some friends recently, when the argument that the woman is the one who chooses the man came up. I can see how one might arrive at this fallacy, if they take into account the following scenario:
Man sees woman.
Man talks to woman.
Woman either spreads legs, or slaps man in the face.
At this point, many argue that the woman has made the choice, which implies that the man had no choice in the matter. This portrays men as horny, sex-crazed beasts that go around talking to any female they encounter, not even caring if said female belongs to the same species as they. This, members of the alleged jury, is a non sequitur.

I know women that BEG to be chosen. They go to clubs and nobody comes to talk to them. I ask you, is that choice? Even the most hideously deformed man is free to try his luck with a member of the opposite gender, regardless of whether he succeeds or not. Women, on the other hand, are not able to do this, as it is not considered “normal” for a woman to go up to a man in a club and initiate conversation with him.

The argument I am making is that, in fact, men have a lot more choice than women. If I go out to a club and there are a hundred women there, I have a hundred to choose from. Even if a woman doesn’t notice me, I will make her notice me by talking to her. Women have to choose from at most two or three men that come to talk to them, out of the hundred or so that may be in the aforementioned place of social gathering. Also, if a woman likes someone who, for whatever reason, has not noticed her, she is shit out of luck. Good luck choosing him, girl.

Closing, I would like to ask of the members of the fair sex never to say this kind of bullshit again in my presence, else I shall be forced to pretend to listen to them while I lose all respect towards them I may have gained. Thank you.

I realize this isn’t a very Christmasy sentiment, but seriously, women, WTF!

I read this comic in the morning paper advertising “A world without men”. Three women were sitting around a TV and it said “Today, no crimes were committed and no puppies were put down in shelters” and the women are having a conversation:

Woman 1: More pie?
Woman 2: No thanks, 4 pieces is my limit. But I will go for more shoes, who wants to go shopping?
Woman 3: No thanks, 317 pairs of shoes is MY limit. But I will go for that 5th slice…

Apparently the artist’s view of paradise is one in which a bunch of fat women with too many shoes can gorge themselves without fear of censure. Now I will allow that it is supposed to be humorous, exaggerated, and a reaction against years of female oppression, but it is still downright offensive. Now maybe if I had my logic circuits rewired to a pair of ovaries the panel would be funnier, but there is a problem here.

I am often shocked and chagrined by the amount of male-bashing prevalent in the media. Apparently it has become okay to treat men as stupid, childish, brutish and unnecessary. “But Ian, they are!” will quip some dumb broad with an IQ I can count on my fingers and toes. Shut up bitch, men are talking.

See? Now THAT is offensive. Why? Because it is classifying an entire group of people in a certain way to get a laugh. Are the women laughing along? Only the ones with senses of humour, I suppose. I’ve said it before, and I will keep saying it until people start listening. EQUALITY DOESN’T MEAN YOU ARE BETTER! Equality, as the word would suggest, means that you are EQUAL! If a cartoonist submitted a strip in which female stereotypes were perpetuated to such an extent, he would be strung up by his… err… thumbs. This is because we are sensitive to the unequal status of women in our society, as well we should be. But ladies, don’t bite the hand that wears the other ring. Men have their deficiencies, and BY GOD so do women. You’re not perfect, you’re not closer to perfect than men, you’re not smarter (and yes, science has “proven” this, Gill), and you’re sure as hell not better.

I could go on at length, but I will spare you a further tirade. In conclusion, please read Poro’s posts because he is a funny guy (even though he can be a dink) and remember Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all Men. Now get back in the kitchen and make me a sandwich.

Riddle me this: Why do women have to make it utterly and painfully clear that they absolutely will not, never-ever, not-if-every-man-on-earth-dies-except-you, have sex with you? You’re hanging out with your friends (women included), and you (or someone, anyway) makes a completely harmless joke about you and the woman having sex. The woman always says something like “not in your lifetime”. Why do they say that? Do they think that responding to the joke equals having slept with the person, and that will label them as easy?
It is very, VERY annoying when they do that, since the entire fun of hanging out with girls is the innuendoes (and sometimes the sex), and it’s good fun anyway. What is it, girls, do you feel superior by doing that to someone? Does it make you feel powerful that someone made a joke about you? Well, it’s mean, and I couldn’t bring myself to do that to a woman. By the way, it’s not about actually having sex. 99% of the time, I’m not even attracted to the girl I joke with. It’s also not about actually not wanting to have sex, I have had it from women that were much less attractive than me (yes, they were THAT ugly). Also, most of the time it’s not a subtle dismissal. It is an EARTH-SHAKING ROAR that shouts “YOU ARE DISGUSTING AND I AM NOT BLIND, I AM JUST WEARING THESE EYEPATCHES TO AVOID LOOKING AT YOU” right in your ear.
This entry is deliberately short (well, not deliberately, I ran all out of anger). Expect better posts later.
And, by the way, ladies, a hint: When guys joke about sex, they’re only half-kidding, so if you want all the copulation, take it half-seriously.

I was out in the proverbial “park” the other day, and as I was walking my pet elephant (his name is Judith and he’s 2 years old), I saw these two dudes, who were obviously pretty gay, kissing. I thought, flabbergasted, “omg wtf r these dudes doing, this sux”, and I was appalled and shocked. I continued my walk, obviously disturbed, when I saw these two other chicks, who were also obviously pretty gay, kissing. Then I was like “wow, this rox, we should get more of that”. I stood to watch them for a bit, but they must have noticed Judith after 10 minutes so I had to leave, making a mental note never to take him for a walk again, he’s too conspicuous.
This prologue serves as an introduction to the following question, that torments me ever since: Should I support gays, lesbians, or neither/both? All of these choices have their advantages/disadvantages, on which I will promptly elaborate.

Supporting neither.

By supporting neither, you will most often be flagged as a damn bigot, and some people might figure out that your strong disapproval is a reaction to your oppressed homosexuality, or in other words that you’re gay. BAD. I don’t think there are any advantages to this opinion, so it’s rejected.

Supporting lesbians.

This is a real quandary. As you surely know (or as any man will tell you, if you’re a woman), The order of enjoyment in sex is, rated:
Two women and you (10/10)
Two women (9/10)
A woman (8/10)
A woman and you (7/10)
You (2/10)
A man and you (-124/10)
This argument seems to be clearly in favor of supporting lesbians, but the very very clear disadvantage is that for every lesbian couple, there are two less women that would sleep with me. That is very very disturbing and clearly a point to consider before reaching a verdict.

Supporting gays.

The disadvantage here is that two men having sex is disgusting, unless you’re homosexual. Should one condone this behaviour in favor of its advantages? Considering that most homosexual people do not like to provoke and do not have sex in public or in your house, I would say that it doesn’t bother me much. Although the same could be said about lesbians, but I hope lesbians will change their minds and have a lot of sex in public, or even better, in my house (LesbianOrgiesInMyHouse@poromenos.org, email me if you are a woman and willing to try). But, back to the subject in hand, the very very appealing advantage is that for every gay couple, there are two less men that compete with you, so your chances with the opposite sex are much higher. If we believe the various jokes, gay people are handsome, kind, caring, and rich, which is kinda like a lottery winner deciding to become a monk and giving you all the winnings.

Supporting both.

The advantage here is that everyone will think you are very open-minded and generally rock. The disadvantage is that category 1 will not like you very much and will probably think you are the spawn of satan, and will curse you in church on Sundays, so make sure your Save vs Spell is very high.
By the way, bisexual women do not belong in any of these categories. I am always in favor of bisexual women, there is no doubt about that (BisexualWomenHere@poromenos.org, email me, we’ll get a ThreeOrMoresome going).
After a lot of thinking, I have decided that I will support both. I have reached this decision because I feel that lesbians are a great great source of enjoyment (just look at all the woman to woman porn), and I also feel that gay men will help offset the loss of two women and actually help in raising my odds. Finally, as long as gay men don’t hit on me (OR SHOW ME PICTURES OF THEIR NAKED BOYFRIEND IN THE SHOWER, FUCK YOU, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE), they are welcome to be as gay as they want, I support that.
Finally, I would like to stress that BISEXUAL WOMEN SHOULD CONTACT ME ASAP. No dogs please.

I recently came upon an email entitled “the Being A Real Guy degree” or some crap like that. It was about an imaginary school where such classes as “Learn to work the toilet seat” and “Learn to share the remote” and shit like that existed. Sounds to me like “the Manwhore degree”, so I am hereupon starting to teach the Quit Being A Bitch degree. Don’t get me wrong, I love women as much as the next pervert (in fact my very mother is a woman herself), but fuck you, ladies. See where the female emancipation led us, now they have time to write crap like this between doing the dishes and the laundry.
I hate this unprovoked “Ooo, look at us, we are flowery-smelling goddesses of wisdom that have finally found their strength and we hate you, you belching, sports-watching, hairy unable-to-work-the-toilet-seat monsters. Vaginas rock”. I never said anything bad about women (not until now, anyway), and I always recognised that the sexes are different but equal (women, stop reading, men, this is just crap I tell women so they won’t hate me too much. HEY BITCH, WHY DID YOU READ THIS?).
While we’re on the subject, what is this crap about the toilet seat? Why should we put it up, do our thing and put it down again while you just sit your royal ass down and go at it? If I hear another woman telling me to put the toilet seat down after I’m finished, I’ll piss with it down and then put it up. Besides, I don’t have a problem with pissing with the seat down, you do.
While I’m typing, I might as well hit this too. I always hear women complaining how there aren’t any nice guys any more, yet they hook up with men that ignore them, abuse them, whatever. I believe, and that email only serves to reinforce that belief, that “nice guys” means “someone who has a lot of money and will do whatever I want”. Even if such men EXISTED, I doubt that you’d find them by hanging out in clubs (not to mention that you blow off almost every guy that hits on you there). That’s like me complaining about how hot models never come to my house to give me blowjobs.
The remote control. What the hell is with this shit? I never watch TV anyway, and I’d rather be dead than caught watching the crap you watch. I think you’re doing this just to bust our balls the ONE time we decide to watch something (not THE GAME, I fucking hate THE GAME, I never watch sports, unless we are EUROPEAN CHAMPIONS 2004! But I digress).
I also hate how you act like sex is a horrible chore we put you through. “Oh, not again, not sex!”. Why do you do this? Do you want people to see that you are an innocent little virgin dressed in white in a world where crazed sex-lusting beasts are out to devour you? Quit it, we know you want sex as much as we do, if not more. Why is it that it’s OK for a woman to not want to have sex, but for a man it’s “neglecting his duties”? Since when is it a duty, if women say they don’t even want it? And besides, on the “headache” issue, is it really THAT hard for you to lie there until we’re done?
Searching a bit, I have found the actual text of the email, so I am going to address a few issues. Bask in the wonderfulness that is it.
“MEN 103…PMS – Learn when to keep your mouth shut”
What the hell, sounds to me that this is advice for you. If you can’t help sounding like a cranky bitch, STOP TALKING. I don’t have to put up with you and nod patiently if you can’t control what you’re saying. I understand that it might feel bad (or maybe it’s just an excuse you make for being cranky all month long, since no man ever knows when women are PMSing), but if every word you say is the beginning of a fight, the sensible thing to do would be to not talk.
“MEN 104…We do not want sleazy underthings for Christmas”
We do not want to give things that cost more than the deficit of a small country for Christmas. It was either this or a pair of slippers.
“MEN 120…How NOT to act like an asshole when you’re wrong”
I don’t know about other men, but I’m never wrong. Not applicable.
“MEN 213…Honest – You don’t look like Russel Wong”
Who the fuck is Russel Wong? He sounds Chinese, so yeah, I don’t look like him. I look Greek.
The downside of feminism is that women not only believe they’re equal, they believe they’re better. Cut that crap. You’re going to burn the dinner.

A message to you-know-who-you-are:
I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING MORE ON THE MATTER. KATE BECKINSALE IS ONE OF THE 5 HOTTEST WOMEN ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH, AND THAT’S THAT. PERIOD.
This is not a real post. Don’t look at it.

P.S. For the other 4, look at the “In love (again)” post. The list is subject to change without previous notice.