The Misadventures of Jance Merrick: 2009

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Support Suck a Cock Day 2009!

Support Suck a Cock and Make it Happen Day 2009! That's right, Liz, #7 is calling!!!

Encontré a un chico delicioso esta noche, y él no habla ni una palabra de inglés. Soy supuesto encontrarlo mañana. ¡Yo no puedo esperar para permitir que su asno de puertorriqueño joda la mierda de perro fuera de mí!

Thursday, August 20, 2009

The Side Effects of Love

The confusion I’m feeling at this moment is unlike any other I’ve dealt with in the past. Usually, when I have a relationship or sexual woe, I storm the kitchen, raid the fridge, and play Golden Girl to a large hunk of Sara Lee’s finest. It may seem a bit overdone, but trust me, there’s a good reason for that….most of the time, it’s successful.

But on this evening, an evening I had not prepared for, I find myself with a whole cheesecake in the fridge, and I’m not even interested. Now, I know what you’re thinking. A problem Frank can’t figure out? Say it isn’t so. But it is. And here it is. This evening, the old and forgotten thirty something named Kevin stumbled back into my life to remind me of all the fun I had being he’s concubine. Beseeching me to hang out with him, to allow him a window into my life, the father of three exhausted the better part of my shift at the hotel this evening, forcing me down memory lane.

Initially, I thought the visit had something to do with my justified disappearance from the Barn Project, but as I soon discovered, this aging, unshaven incubus had other matters to discuss. Matters of the heart, he said. For what seemed like days, I heard, “I miss you. I need you in my life,” and all the while I’m channeling the lyrics of that old 50s song, “What in the World’s Come Over You.” I mean honestly, does he expect the tired old “I can’t be without you” shit to work?

Whether sincere or sincerely full of crap, this guy is still married. Yes, it was wrong of me to delve into a relationship like this, but as the self proclaimed King of Imploding Relationships of the Past, I wanted the adoration. I wanted the attention. And what I got….well, that was a heavy heart and a guilty conscience.

I’m not condoning or speaking out against behavior such as this, for we are all slaves to our passions at one time or another. But after a while, I can’t stand the thought of possibly ruining someone else’s life. I can’t the thought of bringing the pain to their doorstep that was once brought to mine. I’m sure Kevin doesn’t have a conscience, for if he does it can’t be much of one.

Several times now, I’ve caught a glimpse of his truck on the way home from Greencastle, parked in his favorite fucking spot just before Exit 16. I thought of questioning him tonight, of prying the truth from his greasy little fingers, but I realized something. The exhausted words he’d use to formulate a speech wouldn’t convince me otherwise. I’ve never been able to believe a word he says.

So I guess what I’m feeling isn’t confusion after all. It’s anger. I’m all trying to Faith Hill this shit and say, “Let me let go,” but he’s glomming onto me like a tick on a slow moving hound dog. Whatever was there in the past, it isn’t there now. Frank Hardy is better and worth more than being someone’s play toy or someone’s favorite used to be.

His selfish days are over, and hopefully, in taking the necessary time away from the dating circuit, I will be able to reevaluate everything. I’ve already come so far, but like the rest of the world, I’ve still got a long way to go. Hey, at least I’m on the road. I just wish I could find a remedy for the side effect of love and relationships. The bloating. The headaches. The constant rectal pain.

Doesn’t sound like something Advil can handle, and so, I’ll finish this glass of wine instead and toast to the undoing of it all. Here’s to starting fresh. Here’s to terrific sex, and to Kevin’s stupid wife who’s not gonna get any.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Karaoke Summer Finale

As I'm sure all of you are aware, the end of the summer is nearing, and that's why Thursday, August the 27th, we are having a luau-style karaoke celebration. I will be doing a special performance. A perfomance that is sure to go down in Harpers Ferry history. No, it has nothing to do with John Brown. I only hope Angie doesn't hang me for what I'm about to do. In any case, dress for the occasion is beachwear/summerwear. We don't expect you to show up shirtless or pantless.....that's MY job. However, board shorts, khaki or demin shorts with summery tops or wifebeaters are permitted. Everyone will be given a lay upon their arrival and must keep with the theme of the evening. Girls, I strongly suggest cute sundresses or skirts. Lindsey, you know exactly what I'm thinking. No, I do not need to borrow the white top. Haha. I already have an outfit picked out.

See you all on the 27th! Remember, dress in your summer/beach best!!! Thursday 8pm-12am.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

What Wine Will Not Cure

So, I'm sitting here on the telephone, talking to yet another random boy, listening to him blah blah blah about what am I doing tonight, and without my trusty glass of wine in hand, I have to say being alert sucks more than losing a potato sack race to the eldest Brady children. Why, oh why, can't I be drunk and subdued? At least if I were tipsy I could fake compassion and humility. I wouldn't be sitting here listening to this guy remember things I never told him.It seems this is the case as of late. I'm not bored. I'm not at all depressed.

On the contrary, I'm actually quite relieved. You see, just before I totally snapped under the pressure of my needy friends, I stole away for a much-needed break to regroup and recenter. Thankfully, I did so only seconds before I pulled a Reba McEntire and blew them all to hell in a sailboat. In the last few months, I've been pulling away because people are starting to irritate me with their bitching, their complaining, and their refusal to adapt and grow from the tragedies and mishaps in their lives. My apathy is choking me. I used to care; I used to care deeply, but now I'm to the point where I feel like telling them all not to take the "Lean on Me," song so goddamn literally.

So between issues with the Apple Dumpling Gang, and the many boys who've swept in and out of my life, emptying their baggage on what's left of my innocence like a Hoover set to reverse, I'm just tired and bogged down. More exahausted than Cher during her bout with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I'm just a sleepy little fag. And although drinking is not the answer, I have to say, I heart sipping on my wine in the cool glow of the midnight hour and mutilating the shaft of my penis with my left hand. It saves me the trouble of having to show this generation's Bo Dukes and Fred Fllinstones how to give a proper blowjob. "Cup your hand around the head. Now take it between your lips slowly...." Fuck that shit.

A wise old crackwhore once told me, "No one can fuck me better than me...." Oh, wait.....maybe that was Liz. Oh well, same difference. Avoidance is the key to my success as of late. Avoidance and abstinence. Maybe it's selfish of me to steal away and take to the streets solo like Rodney King's bastard lovechild, but I can't help it. Everyone has time to do their own thing and no one questions. When I do it, all hell breaks lose.

I didn't realize that because I've alwayys been the first to give guidance and advice, I was being held to a different standard than everyone else I know. I don't like this, sir. Not one little bit. I feel like the fattest kid in the neighborhood, just a nickel short of an ice cream sandwich. Come on, niggas. Give a boy a break! Or kiss my ass! Yes, that IS my ass.

Sex Outside the Bedroom, A Must!

For all you lame-asses that haven't taken the time to consider the possibilities, let me paint a picture for you. Imagine it. Sex outside the bedroom. Doing it somewhere other than the same old same. I honestly suggest you try it, for the benefits are truly orgasmic. Whether you're trying to add a little bit of spark into the ever-dwindling flame of your ten year romance, or you're attempting to lasso yourself a Sunday kind of man, the benefits of doing it outdoors are unavoidable.

I've done it on a swing, on top of a U-Haul, everywhere imaginable, and believe me, after 3 years with the same man, the environment becomes a key element in the spontaneity of your intimate life. Who wants to do it over and over again, their legs over the shoulders of the man who conquered them missionary style years ago. I don't know about you, but I'ma complex person. With my varied moods and the multi facets of my personality, I'd like to think that I can be conquered in many ways.....in many places. In fact, I require it. I crave it. And just to show you I'm not some stupid fag that has no idea what he's talking about, let me show you the satisfied faces of those braves souls who have dared to go barein public, and obviously don't regret it. What do you think? Isn't it about time you grabbed the hubby and started freaking it behind the Taco Bell? Email me and let me know your spin on this subject.

Which Power Ranger Bulge Hits YOU Hardest?

I'm on a weird mission, you guys. I know this is going to sound awful, but I'm sitting here at work, drinking my Dr. Pepper, trying to decide which male Power Ranger of the 16 Seasons produced for the United States, is the hottest. I've narrowed it down to my Top 15. Email me and tell me which one of the fifteen sexy, spandex-clad action heroes you prefer.