Let's Talk About Naivety.

Over the course of about 20 years, the sincerity found in relationships has degraded to the point of almost non-existence. With the newest Influences found in music, movies, and general society, binge drinking and casual sex have almost become the social norm. If I have any reason to believe in some kind of mythical deity it would be that sole reason. For those of you who know me personally, you have seen me evolve through the complicated intricacies of the social ladder. From a kid shitting his pants in a skating rink bathroom, to the polite seventeen year old, who is "oh so naive", and all too trusting of the deceit and tricks of the promiscuous female psychology. All the way to the vengeful, drunken, will -say anything- to- get -in-a-girls-pants, asshole that I am today. Now be aware, the previous description of my evolutionary timeline is vague at best. The actual transformation involved many more layers and stages, one of my personal favorites being my transition from naivety, to reckless disregard for other people's feelings.


After a failed two year relationship ending in an illegitimate pregnancy that I had nothing to do with, I went on a bit of a rampage. When it came to females, I had zero respect. Compulsive lying became an everyday occurrence. And as long as I knew it was going to get me laid, I didn't give a FUCK. One girl in particular was absolutely in love with me, and hell-bent on trying to make me settle down with her. Of course, I was not having any part of that shit, especially considering the fact that on a scale of 1-10 she was about a four, and my average standards for actually dating a girl stood around an eight at the least (still the same to this day as a matter of fact). Honestly the only reason I was keeping this girl around was because our conversations normally went a little something like this. (Keep in mind that I didn't have a car at this time, and I was only seventeen years old).





-Me (talking on the phone) "Hey what's up? You wanna come over?"



-Obsessed girl- "HEY! I was just thinking about you baby!"



-Me- "That's what's up. Hey, before you come do you think you could pick me up a log of dip and something to eat from Burger king?"



-Obsessed Girl- "Sure baby you know I got you."



-Me- "Awesome, get me a Large Deluxe grilled chicken sandwich, with fries and a HI-C"



-Obsessed girl- "That's my favorite hahahahaha!"



-Me- "Don't get anything for yourself please. I don't want you to smell like burger king while I'm fucking you later."





-OG - "Oh yeah, that's always kind of gross. Do you want anything else?"



-Me- "Yeah the dip, remember? Make sure you get Copenhagen Wintergreen. I don't want any of that Grizzly Mint crap."



-OG- "Oh yeah the dip! I can be so forgetful sometimes! I'll be over in a little bit babe, I love you!



-Me- "Me too."


The next step after one of these pretty much scripted phone calls, was for me to go into my room and play video games until I got a text message informing me she was in the driveway, which I would blatantly ignore. After about ten minutes I would reply with "Go ahead and let yourself in." She would then proceed to come in, have a seat on my bed, and watch me play games. After a while (seemingly right on schedule) she would begin to let out sighs of frustration, and start making comments about how I was not paying any attention to her, and then make this really annoying sound (almost relatable to human speech) about something concerning her feelings. These complaints were pretty much always blotted out by the sound of my chicken sandwich and my Xbox. After I finished my meal I would suggest we have sex, at which point she would forget her meager complaints and immediately oblige. The only problem I had with banging this girl was the fact that she CONSTANTLY wanted us to be face to face... Honestly getting this girl to do anything but Roman Catholic Missionary was like pulling teeth. This obviously wasn't my first choice of position considering her little issue with genetic cosmetics, but I would normally go along with it for the first twenty minutes or so just to keep her thinking that she could make me do anything she wanted, when in reality it was me who was in control; weird how that works huh? Now for the best part of our daily ritual, the part where she leaves without nagging or asking questions. Realize what I just said. This girl would come over to my house, bring me food and tobacco, watch me play video games, fuck me, and then go home without another word. It was fucking awesome. I probably would have considered wifeing her up if she was hot.


So I told you that story to tell you this story. One night after our daily ritual she wanted to go on a drive. I was dressed pretty much like a slob, I had my normal; stay -in-the- house- all-day video game attire on, and I really didn't want to go anywhere after sex. But she kept insisting and kept insisting until finally I gave in, threw on some flip-flops and hopped in her car. We drove about 20 minutes until we reached an abandoned parking lot. She flashed me a coy look and got into the back seat.

-Me (staring at her in the back seat)- "What the fuck are we doing here?"


-OG (taking her clothes off)- "I always wanted to fuck you in my car, get back here"



-Me-"Are you fucking kidding me? It's 9:30 at night and you drove me all the fuck the way out here to fuck in your car?! We could have done that in my driveway!"



-OG-(now in nothing but her shirt.)- "Awwww, c'mon baby it will be fun!"



-Me-"Jesus Christ... Fine but don't expect any kind of fucking performance. I really would rather be at home."



-OG- "Don't worry about It baby, you know I don't care about that, I just want you inside me."
(By the way I absolutely hate it when girls say that. It makes me feel completely disgusted. I don't know, maybe that's just me personally.)


I proceed to get in the car and climb into the back seat. I start getting into it without any real enthusiasm, until I notice that her shirt is hooked onto the handle of my car door, and every time I thrust it comes closer and closer to pulling the handle and disengaging the door latch. When she's not looking I reach up and unlock the door. I start thrusting as hard and fast as I possibly can in an effort to get the door to swing open, when finally... SUCCESS! The car door is now only being held shut by gravity and with every ounce of hate for the female population in my body built up to this moment, I put both my hands on her chest and push her out of the car and into the parking lot. I begin giggling like a 5 year old who just got a new transformer as I proceed to slam the door shut, turn on the overhead light, and lock every door in the car. "OG" Is now standing outside the door of the car with no shoes or pants on banging on the window and screaming curses at me like I just murdered her family. I cracked the window just enough to inform her that "Screaming is only going to attract attention!" After realizing that I'm right, her irritated screeches turn into loud pleading whispers.



-OG-(in a loud whisper)- "Alan, Let me back in the fucking car right now, people are going to see me naked! WE'RE GOING TO GET FUCKING ARRESTED!"


-Me- "Correction. YOU are going to get fucking arrested for being naked in a public parking lot."


-OG- "Alan, you are being such a fucking asshole right now. FUCKYOULETMEBACKINMYFUCKINGCARORIMNEVERGOINGTOTALKTOYOUAGAIN!"


-Me-"You should really be more polite to the guy that holds the fate of your criminal history in his hands. "


It then occurred to me that I could possibly use her plight to my advantage. So of course I began to use her nudity as a bargaining chip.

-OG- "Fine. Alan, can you please let me back into my car so I don't get arrested. I'm going back to college soon and I don't want to get into trouble.


-Me- "That's better. Now I'll let you back in the car on one condition. You have to let me put it in your butt.


-OG- "NO! You know I don't do that it's gross!"

-Me-"Well I haven't ever done it before, so it could possibly be your only bargaining chip to protect your higher education."

After about 10 minutes of pants less negotiation back and forth I settled for a blow job. (I'm a sucker for fellatio. Sue me.) . She finished me off, drove me back home, dropped me off and asked me to call her, but after that little incident I pretty much just stopped. Soon following my break in contact, weeks and weeks went by where I was overburdened with scorning text messages, and empty threats of violence from boyfriends, which I barely batted an eyelash at. Soon enough the texts stopped and I never really heard from "OG" again. I can only assume one of two things happened to her 1) she's successful and right about to finish up her college degree. Or 2) she's failing out miserably with a few kids and some other dickhead going to town on her crotch. I should feel bad but to be totally honest I'm pretty much indifferent. Let's be honest, if you are a college student, letting a thoroughly average looking 17 year old kid take advantage of you, you probably deserve it. 

Work Blog

A lot of people in the world would call me a slacker for having a lot of free time at work. I like to see it as more of a reflection of their jealousy for my job and disdain for their own. Fuck, if I was working in a movie theatre, scraping gum and popcorn off the shitty rubber floors while simultaneously juggling an associate's degree, child support, and a 35 year mortgage, I would probably hate my life too. Gloating aside, the everyday struggle of searching for work to do at my job has a tendency to get mildly tedious. I mean think of the situation I'm in on a daily basis; I'm constantly flanked by people who are higher up on the proverbial food chain than myself, and they are in complete belief that If everyone in the office isn't constantly engaged in some sort of menial busy work, the entire universe is going to fucking IMPLODE. This may seem like an overstatement to some of my civilian readers. But all you assholes in the military know exactly what I'm talking about; The constant fear that your Sergeant is going to come around the corner, only to completely dismantle you in front of your juniors for: "NOT HOLE PUNCHING THE FUCKING MENTORING JACKETS!!!!!!"

Honestly the only reason I'm getting away with writing right now, is because I have a chronic streak of unreasonable paranoia and a quick "alt-tabbing" thumb and ring finger (Thank science for proper typing technique!). I'm sure the civilian sector has its own share of problems when challenged with scraping through a 10 hour work day with nothing to do other than scan through The Chive, and mindlessly alphabetize filing cabinets. But at least they have the ability to unionize to avoid being thrashed by their manager. Besides, think of how ridiculous it would be for a manager in casual office attire to scream maniacally at his peons for not meeting their deadlines; that's a fucking lawsuit waiting to happen. On the other hand, I feel like the fact that I always hold the option to throw my minions to the wolves, and run to the shady recesses of the outdoor smoke-pit (which has almost become a safe zone for screaming across the "P.O.G" Marine Corps) whenever I see fit, Is a pretty good common ground.


To be completely honest, I find it a bit frustrating to be micro-managed by my bosses, only to walk to the other side of the office to turn in paperwork, and find them getting playing "Words with friends", and watching the football game. AWESOME. I didn't want to watch the Giants game at all; I was completely content doing everyone else's bullshit fucking paperwork. I hate to bitch and complain but I'm sure a lot of you have some of the same complaints about your upper management that I share. If you feel like you can combat my situation leave comments down below, let's see if we can't get a bit of a conversation going about this.

     If you haven't heard the news yet, I have been extended for an additional year out here in good old Japan. I mean as much as I would like to come back to the states, I have been here for so long at this point I'm basically indifferent. Besides, you can't really beat the pay out here. This was a pretty random topic considering the direction I'm actually looking for this blog to go, but I figure adding any new content to the site at this point is good fuel for the fire. On a side note, I'm happy to have gotten as many views as I have even if it seems menial, but subscribe!!!! More subscriptions = more publicity and views, and this could possibly lead to me becoming an internet personality in my spare time, which could possibly= $$. Needless to say, the practice I'm getting is definitely critical to my future as a writer.

The Beginning of the End of Procrastination..... (And most likely the beginning of some more as well.)

So here it is. The first entry into the diary of all diary's.

I have procrastinated so damn much over the past few years about picking up writing again, that It took me getting into debt to decide to get off my ass and start doing something productive.

I'm most likely going to be off to a rocky start, considering that my past 3 years in the Marine Corps, (which has been spent mostly swilling alcohol down my throat hole, and beating my liver senseless) has left me, without a shadow of a doubt, absolutely fucking brain dead.But fear not my loyal, future fans! In due time my sentence structure will no doubt become more streamlined then a brand new Maserati. ( I had to spell check Maserati..... told you my brains were shit.) Now then, enough nonsensical complaining about my blatant alcoholism, I'm sure you are here to read something far more entertaining. Before we can get to the balls of this long, and no doubt, thoroughly entertaining story, how about a little foreplay;My full name Is John Alan Moore II ( Yes the "second" not JR, my father is narcissistic, sue me.) I was born in Coral Springs, FL and raised in the amazingly wondrous Saint Cloud, FL. I hope you caught my sarcasm there, that was your first test. SC is in fact anything but wondrous. The best part about it is the stupid community college girls running around blowing anything that moves, and its fairly close vicinity to: center-of-the-fucking-universe, Orlando. Now before any successful story, something completely terrible has to happen before something even relatively good happens. Almost like physics, except..... not really.

Just so you can get a good feel for how absolutely shitty my pre-pubescent years were, I have decided to give you a single story just to set the mood for this entire blog. (excuse me If my typing gets a little vulgar here I occasionally need to let my "real nigga" out in order to properly tell this particular anecdote.

When I was about twelve years old I thought I was the baddest mother fucker alive. I talked shit like Muhammad Ali on steroids, before the Parkinson's. The only problem is, I stood about 4'11 and weighed in at a "solid" 160 Lbs. One night, after begging my parents to go out to the local ice skating rink for about seven and a half hours. I got in a mild argument with a real fucking winner. the kid was at least sixteen years old, 145 Lbs and had clearly reached puberty way before my fat ass managed to. After challenging him to fisticuffs in the local bathroom for about 30 minutes, I finally managed to get him mad enough to fight me. The really funny thing about this Is, I was scared for my life. Because with as much shit as I talked, to as many people as I did, I had never been in an actual fight before.....

Let me take a break here to read your thoughts quickly. You are right now either, A) scrolling to the back button to find something else to read. B) Think this is a waste of your time because of the generically drafted tale. OR C) are pissed that I took this break in the story in order to recapture everyone's attention. Just a precautionary measure to keep everyone on the same page, because I assure you, this does not end at all like you think it is going to.

So with my knees shaking, I swallow my pride, and follow the (justly, mind you) testosterone enraged, mongoloid to the bathroom. He stands back and like a gentleman allows me to have the first swing, and without any knowledge on how to fight at this point in my life, I begin to throw a pissy, girlish like tantrum, feebly trying to unleash some sort of damage on his face. This immediately turned into the following scene which to this day still rolls out like a set of photographs to me;

1) While flailing my arms around like a retard, I hear a sort of chuckling sound.

2) Upon looking up I realize I am looking into a giant oncoming fist.

3) After being punched hard as shit directly in my fucking eyeball, i stumble back into the trashcan/backwall.

4) My meatball like shape and size do not let me recover fast enough to defend myself properly.

5) I see a black and white converse coming at the lower end of my stomach, which upon impact presses me up against the wall.

6) My bowls start rumbling....

7) He pushes me harder against the wall and the boyish sounding words that I will never forget to this day came out of my mouth. " OH SHIT DUDE! IM GONNA SHIT!"

I managed to break free from the wall, and make a break for the stall that was directly adjacent to us. But before I could get my pants unbuttoned completely, Fucking disaster. I fucking shit EVERYWHERE. Ladies and gentleman when I say everywhere I mean EVERYWHERE. My pants were completely filled with a sloshy, dark brown, bile like substance that smelled like rotting placenta. There was a trail leading from the wall all the way to the cheesy, plastic, black, and white checkered stall. Sitting in the stall completely ashamed of what had I happened, I heard Hysterical laughter. To my disdain, the guy had ran out and grabbed all of his friends who proceeded to climb over the stall and spit on me, while I was frantically trying to clean myself off. I grew bitter, but then I got a little older and a little wiser and realized that It was probably a well deserved ass whooping. I just think Its sad that someone could reach the absolute lowest point in there life In the sixth grade.

As ridiculous as that story was, I can guarantee things have gotten tons better for me. This little story was simply an introduction to the early years of my life, so you can come to understand my slow rise to power, and inevitable triumph over every fucking person I meet. On a serious note this was a test run. I can promise a lot better content as I go, I just need to get back into that little concept of basic grammar, spelling and creativity. Ill be posting some drunken rants and other things. Its all depending on what the people want and as for right now..... this entire page is empty so I guess we can just see how It goes.

Peace out everyone