Posts Tagged ‘Adam Relayson’

Naughty Vignettes

“This is crazy.”  he thought as his left shoe flew at the door, rebounding and shattering his lamp.

This is not the kind of guy he is.   Who takes a strange girl home after a couple drinks?  She could have a disease.  She could be a whore.  She could be his cousin.  She could even be a Democrat.  That succession of bad thoughts sent a chill up his spine that made him break the kiss.  It took about 3 seconds to dislodge her tongue from his throat.
This is crazy.  He’s not this guy.  This is not his cheap cologne.  This is not his 20 dollar silver Faux-lex.  This isn’t his crusty hair gel creating the perfect sleazy quaf that shines under a neon moon.   … And that is definitely not his hands cupping a cheeleader’s ass.
Larry.  This is Larry’s doing.   “She’s a bitch.” he said. “Always said you could do better.” he said. “Let’s get a few drinks.” he said.   “Gonna get you LAID.” he said. Larry’s pitch sounded fine.  His theories had merit.  And like most bad situations, it seemed like a good idea at the time.  But oh, then there are hotties with boyfriends and drunken mis-understandings and sloppy bathroom revenge screws that lead to massive bar brawls and getting thrown out and starting all over again at the bar up the street– oh my.
Her bra is on the floor. Her –BRA– is on the floor.   Yes.  Those are her breasts.
His pants come off so quick he nearly falls.   This is not his life.  Things like this don’t happen to boys who write poetry and play World of Warcraft.    Romantics don’t do one handed monkey flips to blondes named Denise… or is it Marisa?  Good boys don’t rebound from their slutty ex-girlfriends with a one night stand.
Ohhh. Wonder how long it would take to get her tongue out of there?
“This should stop.” he thinks.  “This should… definitely… stop.  In a minute or two.”  As his head hangs upside down off the couch, he considers putting those brakes on before he makes a mistake … for the second time in an hour.  But then he remembers that crooked little smirk.  Of all the bars in all the world, Lisa had to walk into his.  By the way she carried on, you would think she’d followed him just to rub the other men in his face.  It wasn’t enough that she broke his heart, she wouldn’t stop until it lay beating in her hand.
He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.   And then came the whiskey. Just a shot. And then another.  And another.  And the next thing he knew he was on the bar with his shirt unbuttoned singing Paradise City while Denise here (or is it Cherise?) gave out swoons previously only reserved for Elvis Presley and Henry Kissinger.
And then suddenly there’s naughty language and forshadowing.  And sloppy makeouts.  Nudity.   The occasional violated stuffed animal.  And of course, one handed monkey flips.
Maybe he is this guy.  Just maybe.  At least for tonight.  And then twice more tomorrow morning.
…  JACKIE!  Her name is Jackie!  It’s tattooed on her butt.


She can feel his labored breath on her skin.

It wakes her from dreams in a cold sweat.  The feeling of disgust fills her and the smell of vodka, cheap cologne and sex fills her nostrils.  With held breath, she snakes out from under Jamie’s arm until she is free of his terrible, comforting grip, held only by the familiar memory of her situation.  De ja vu is a bitch.

Erica sits upright, naked save for the dirty velvet sheets, listening to his snores.  How many times?  How many times has she been in this situation?  How many more times will she do this to herself?   ‘Never again’ she said, so many times before.   Each time with sincerity.

But then its another endless, pointless day at work.  Another phone call from home about her baby sister’s wonderful new husband.  Another bad date. Another unpaid bill. Another this, another that.  And it’s a few martini’s and a phone call. 

Jamie is familiar.  He’s good in bed and he’s there.  And for a moment… just for a moment… he’s what she needs.  She fucks him and it doesn’t feel so bad.  Even if this isn’t going anywhere, she’s greatful for the distraction.

She slips on her panties and pulls her dress over her arms and walks out the door.  Jamie never stirs. 

She’ll be back.

Why You Fuckers Should Love Me

You’ve had dreams about me, admit it. You think about me during the day; have imaginary conversations with me… sometimes you pretend we’re making out. At night, you are overcome by torrid sexual fantasies. It’s alright. It’s perfectly natural. And likewise it’s natural that you would have questions about me… things you were too afraid to ask. Well now I’m going to let you know every intimate detail, and if you’re willing to listen, Adam is gonna make love to your ear, baby.

I’m going to do an interview. And who better to interview me, than… ME!

Let’s get this orgy started! (Because that’s how Adam gets down.)

ADAM (INTERVIEWER) : Hey there, slick!

ADAM: Hello.

AI: Would it be inappropriate for me to tell you just how FUCKING SEXY you are?

A: Right back at you kid.


AI: Anyway, down to business.

A: I thought you would never ask.

AI: So, Adam… may I call you Adam?

A: No, no…. sir will do.

AI: Of course, sir. What inspires you?

A: Wow. You don’t pull punches do you? Hmm. Well, I’d have to say human triumph over adversity. I love that moment when someone succeeds against all odds. I think it’s because that’s the way I view myself, as an underdog. I think the idea of a man doing what they say can’t be done speaks to something in all of us. Also… I am inspired by a woman with a sweet caboose.

AI: Aren’t we all, sir. Aren’t we all. Now, if you could have two jobs besides your current career path, what would they be.

A: Celebrity Photographer and Formula One Driver. I’m addicted to speed.

AI: And the photography?

A: Well, I love photography. I think the idea of a picture is amazing. Go through your photo albums sometime and look at them. Just look. What a photo really is, is a moment frozen in time. Plus, I hear celebrities are all sluts, so I think it would be a good move socially.

AI: Right. Well, on that note: what do you look for in a woman?

A: Enormous breasts.


A: No seriously, gigantic tits. Write that down.

AI: I’m right there with you. We’re almost the same guy. But, is there anything else?

A: Not really. … Well, you know… the normal things. Sense of humor is a big one. I think she has to be unique on some level, like having a fresh perspective, a way of looking at things that no one else does. Intelligence and organization. I’m really loose when it comes to being organized.

AI: How do you feel about public displays of affection?

A: I’m totally up for outdoor naughty time.

AI: Good to know. Celebrity crushes.

A: In the “makes my pants get tight” category, I’d have to go with Katherine Heigl and Eva Mendez. In the “Please Marry Me” section, I have singer Miranda Lambert and actress Sophia Bush. I may be willing to sell my soul for the last two.

AI: Oh, me too. Me too. What are your favorite television shows?

A: Off the bat: Babylon 5, Alias, Veronica Mars, One Tree Hill, Firefly, Angel, Buffy, News Radio, Mad About You, Roswell, Heroes, Chuck, Life, Grey’s Anatomy, the Colbert Report

AI: What is your favorite movie quote?

A: I love John Francis Daley’s line at the end of Waiting.

“Oh you shut up asshole! Always gotta be right with your little quips! We get it man! You’re cool and edgy! Yeah! You’re the coolest guy at Shennanigans! Thats like being the smartest kid with DOWNS Syndrome.”

AI: So while we’re on that train, what are your favorite movies?

A: Garden State is a big one, simply because if I had any talent, that’s the movie I would have made.

AI: You’re being much too modest.

A: You’re right, I am. Other than that… Return of the Jedi had a big effect on me as a kid. As did Stripes. Also Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, Pirates of the Caribbean, Oceans 11 and X2. I could go on.

AI: Please don’t.

A. Right. Next question.

AI: What’s your favorite dirty word?

A: Succulent. It is the dirtiest word in the English language.

AI: How so?

A: Just try it the next time you’re going down on a chick. It works. Trust me.

AI: Will do. Now, who are your favorite musical artists?

A: Chesney, Led Zepplin, Paisley, McGraw, Miranda Lambert, Tori Amos, CCR, ACDC, and Stone Temple Pilots

AI: What are some of your favorite books?

A: I’m really into autobiographical books, like Have a Nice Day! A Tale of Blood and Sweatsocks by Mick Foley and If Chins Could Kill by Bruce Campbell. Also, The First Counsel by Brad Meltzer and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

AI: If you were stuck on a desert island and could have three comedians there to entertain you, who would they be?

A: Right on; tough one! Dave Attell would be there so we could talk about crazy shit. Lewis Black would be there to rant. And I would want Laura Kightlinger there. She would make me laugh and then we would totally fuck.

AI: Mmmmmmm… Kightlinger vage… niiiiiiceee.

A: I know, right? Totally hot.

AI: Okay, let’s do some lightning round questions.

AI: Best concert experience.

A: Chesney 2006 at the Cajundome with Dierks Bentley

AI: Food you couldn’t live without?

A: Mandarin Chicken

AI: Favorite vacation spot.

A: Walt Disney World

AI: Three countries you want to see before you die.

A: Australia, Italy and France.

AI: Nicknames?

A: The Crazy Mexican, and a bunch of other things I don’t want to talk about.

AI: And now I would like to go through the questionnaire made popular by that pretentious hairy ball sack faced James Lipton.

1. What is your favorite word?
A: I’m gonna have to go with Titties. It is also my favorite thing ever.

2. What is your least favorite word?
A: She-male.

3. What turns you on?
A: Titties. It’s sort of an all-purpose answer.

4. What turns you off?
A: Rap music.

5. What sound do you love?
A: Guitars, and babies laughing.

6. What sound do you hate?

A: Rubbing balloons. Rap music.

7. What is your favorite curse word?

A: Fuckwit.
8. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?
A: I would want to be a Broadway singer/ dancer. Or a rock star.

9. What profession would you not like to do?

A: Clean public restrooms.

10. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?

A: “Come here you sick motherfucker! Where the hell you been?? Miranda Lambert’s been waiting inside for you, and she just told me she wants to s— your c—!”

AI: Alright, any final words you’d like to leave with your audience?

A: If you suck it just right, I’ll leave you a creamy delight!

AI: Well said, sir. I salute you.

How I’m Doing 2/22/8

You know how I know that I’m getting old?  Because I can’t go for a walk without tripping into some sort of medical problems lately.

A few weeks ago, I had gigantic blisters appearing on my feet.  Then I hurt my back… WHILE I WAS SLEEPING… somehow.  Then I got sick last week.  Now?  I’m pissing blood, which means my kidney stones are back.  YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Right.  So in the meantime, I have been unable to go to the gym for more than, say 4 days total, in the last month.  And I’ve put some weight back on.  FUCK.  I’m big.  Not disgustingly big, but big.  And you know what?  I don’t really feel like changing right now.  I’m not depressed.  At least not noticeably.   It’s hard to tell.   I’m usually passively depressed, and since it’s a regular state for me, it’s difficult to gauge.   I’ve been really scared I’m going to die ever since the beginning of the year.   Which does suggest depression.  But truthfully, any day that I don’t want to put a gun in my mouth is a pretty good day by me.  Which I think is a really excellent perspective… or a really bad one… depending on the way you look at things.

So I went to the hospital today to see my Urologist, because… you know, when blood comes out of your dick, it makes you want to do that.  The blood didn’t really worry me, as I’ve gone through it before.   What did worry me was that the last time I went there I was given 3 possibilities (not options).  If it was small enough, they would zap the stone with a laser, thereby breaking the stones up enough to pass safely (re: sssslllllliiiiiigghhhhhttlllly less painful).   If the stone is too big,  the laser won’t do anything.  In that case, they might put in a stent.  A stent is a rubber tube that runs to your kidney and drains your piss.  It requires surgery… and that I not only have a tube sticking out of me, but that I carry around a bag of piss all day and night.   Ummm…  no.  Not if I can avoid it.  (Although at that time, I’d had the stone for a month and wanted to swallow fireworks to make the pain stop.)   The last option required him to shove a rubber tube up my urethra.    I was very much against that because HE WANTED TO SHOVE A TUBE UP MY COCK.

say it with me





Fortunately I ended up passing it.  Although he did scare the piss out of me by  telling me that I had an unusually enlarged prostate.   Then he gave me that look that says “You might have cancer.  Or you might not.  Or you might have some shit no one has ever heard of.  Or not.”  Then he walked out and never mentioned it again; simultaneously forcing me to shit my pants and leaving me forever with the secret fear that one day my prostate is going to grow as big as a a skyscraper and attack Tokyo. (I’ll spare you the fake Japanese dialogue involving Rhodan and my asshole.)

So, you know, this time wasn’t as bad, but I was still praying he wouldn’t rape my cock with his big rubber straw.  (No means no!) This time Herr Doktor skipped the chapters on kidney stone Genesis and went straight for the Book of Revelations about Adam’s Genitalia.   “Okay, let’s get you in a stent.  Oh look, I have the very one I’m going to shove inside you sitting here in my desk drawer next to packets of strawberry jam and duck sauce!  Would you like a demonstration?”   I’m paraphrasing there.   I put the brakes on him there.  I need a little foreplay before you cut me open, you know?  It’s only been four days, so I would at least like to try squeezing it out before I do the death dance with Doctor Cut M. Up.    He assured me that I would be unconscious and that I wouldn’t feel a thing. As if that’s supposed to make me feel better.   Here are two things I’ve learned about anesthesiology.

~A very large number of deaths are attributed to the anesthesiologist giving the patient too much.  They never fucking wake up!

~Some patients are given too little and end up waking during the surgery.   Great.

So basically, the doctor has very little margin for error.  And frankly, I grew up in this state.  I know what the educational system that produced these fuckers was like. What if I get the one asshole who went to public school?   Or maybe this guy:   “Hey!  You’re my first! I’m so nervous! Hope I don’t accidentally kill you.  Shit.  I need a joint.” Or something.

Hell with that!

So I’m trying to get this damn thing out of me.   I’ve been drinking 100% Cranberry Juice (you’d be surprised how much of Ocean Spray is actually just sugar.).  Interesting note:  did you know that warm cranberry juice tastes exactly like someone vomiting in your mouth!  I didn’t!  But I do now.   I have to keep forcing the shit down my throat.  Which his hard, but then I remember the good doctor coming at me with that god damn tube.    You know what?  I think I’m going to drink some right now.  Mmmmmmm!  Vomit-y goodness!  (All that’s missing is the corn nibblets.)

So let’s get off my dick.  (…   …  nevermind)   I’ve been trying to fix my budget lately.  I’ve been spending too much money, and I want to start saving.  Australia is the goal, however likely that may be.   It’s been difficult trying to figure out ways to save money that won’t make my life more miserable than it already is, but I’m getting older and sacrifices need to be made.

I’m planning a camping trip with Chris.  We’re going to meet at Little River Canyon which is part of the Appalachians.   I’m not big on the camping, but it will be nice to get out of town.  Plus there’s cool shit to do, like canoeing and kayaking.   I’m hoping to do that next weekend.

The writing is going well.  That is to say, I’m actually getting shit done.

Lastly, I bought some basketball tickets.  So I’m looking for some lovely ladies to go see the Hornets with me.   Any takers?


Pieces of Me

The very idea of a blog is self-aggrandizing. It’s terribly narcissistic.

So as long as I’m being obnoxious, let me tell you about myself. After all, if you’re reading this, I’m assuming you give a shit.

I’m Adam.

And I’m kind of a mess.

Okay… not quite that bad.

I’m 28 years old. I live with my father. No girlfriend, few friends, and I hate just about everything and everyone. All of which makes for convenient comedic cannon-fodder.

Curt, romantic and old fashioned. And I’m set in my country ways. I’m sort of like Curly from City Slickers.

Except pudgy… less grizzled… not a cowboy… not nearly as tough… probably not even as attractive… you get the point.

But that’s just part of me… maybe most of me… but not all. I am obnoxious and rude. I can be dirty and lowdown. Mean and excessive in my vulgarity. (Can one be vulgar in one’s vulgarity?) But I am also artistic and sympathetic. I am good humored and often good natured. I’m a writer and a photographer, a dime store therapist and a twelfth century philosopher. I’m a man who tries. For however much I may fail in my endeavors, I do try.

I love women.

I love comics.

Fast cars.

And my friends

But those are just aspects. They’re really all just pieces of me.

This is the me that celebrates life.

This is the me that is all geek.

This is the me thats pure whimsy. (It’s also the me that loves “the bitches”. Juuuust kiddin’ ladies.)

This is Katherine Heigl. I’d like to have sex with her.

This is who I am.

This is the place I feel most at home.

This is a woman on a horse.

This is just me.

Ultimately, I am a writer and these are my observations.