My Ex-Neighbor Is Probably Really Glad I'm Gone

My last apartment was on the first floor and shared a fenced-in back patio with the rest of the residents on my side of that building. I'd never seen anyone else out there, so I was in the habit of leaving my blinds open when I was home. I never thought twice about it because no one else was ever back there. Until Hot Blond Dude moved into the apartment next to mine. HBD would sporadically be outside smoking or talking on the phone. Never at the same time as me however. When he did this, he was always crossing in front of my window and sitting in the chairs that were literally right outside my door. Most of the time I just forgot the blinds were open and went about my business--including "me time" of the self-abusing nature.

Then during one quality time session, after a while, for some reason I looked over at my window, and caught the glance of HBD! He was on the phone, and he whipped his head away. At first I was really embarrassed. Not only could he see everything I was doing, but my computer monitor was positioned in such a way that he HAD to see the porn that was playing. Oops. I ran to the bathroom and waited a few minutes. I crawled to the window and turned the thin wand that closes the blinds. Ya know, to make it look like they magically closed themselves. Then I realized he was shirtless, and it was lovely. I went back to work, all the while thinking of HBD.

I never did introduce myself or talk to him. I passed him on the sidewalk in front of our building once. He was holding hands with what must have been his girlfriend. I imagined him turning to her and saying, "holy shit, that dude. . ." and I had to laugh. I moved out two months after that.

Da Real World

I was planning on writing a critique of the new Real World, but it was so boring that sarcasm, cursewords, and foul imagery wouldn't even help it. I was excited because there's a tranny, but it turns out she's the world's lamest tranny. Lame as in extremely unentertaining, not hobbled. I like my trannies wild and violent. There's an ex-army guy who claims not to be affected by his time in Iraq who CLEARLY has mad issues. A faggoty Mormon who sews his own clothing (ie pink under a sport jacket collar that shows when he pops it).



There's only ONE black girl--unforgivable!



There's a homo guy who based on the previews of upcoming episodes has anger probs.


There's a gym-obsessed dude who looks like a douchewrap supreme, but seems like a really sweet guy.

This Surfer Douche Looks Like a Turtle

A Double Shot At Love contestant Trevor looks just like that turtle from Finding Nemo.

Nightmares and Dreamscapes

I had this fucked up dream last night. People were presenting building proposal models to me for some reason. One of the guys who made a little model was Chuy from Chelsea Lately, and he made a hole in the model through which he stuck his junk. And it was impressive junk. I wonder what Freud would think? He'd probably do a bump of coke then tell me I want to fuck little nuggets. Seems pretty accurate.

Pop Off, Son!

Bad Girls Club.

Everybody loves a show about unstable bitches. Here are some thoughts on last night's episode.

Amber B. is interested in a lying ape named Greg. Before she let the other roommates make up her mind about him, she had this to say about him:
"He's genuine. He wants to know me for me. He wants to know my family." Sorry, honey, but he's just buttering you up. He thinks if he tells you what you want to hear, you'll let him take your black cherry.

Kayla let us know that her ex-boyfriend mind-fucked her into hating light-skinned women. "He like light-skinned bitches with better hair than me. (To Tiffany) Yo hair is curly just like mine, but my hair is thicker than yours. So my hair look nappy until I put a grip of gel on my shit." Wow, I haven't heard anyone use the word "grip" in, well a grip while. "Because of my ex, I hate a bitch that's lighter than me!" Then why the fuck was he with you? I'll answer for you--because you put out and do all the freaky things in bed you feel you have to do since your self-esteem is so low and you can't believe anyone would even date you.

Tifffay, the light-skinned bitch of the house, has a boyfriend named Skeet. As in skeet-skeet, meaning cum. That's classy. She explained how the skin issue within race goes all the way back to slavery. There were light slaves like her, and they got to do the cooking and cleaning, be in the house, and not outside in the fields picking cotton.

Then there's Ailea. This bitch got issues for days, primary among them, DADDY issues. She never knew her father and is now dating an OLD ass man she met online. She flipped the fuck out on Amber M. It started semi-normal, as a conversational confrontation, even though Ailea's leg was shaking uncontrollably the whole time. Then a bitch just SNAPPED, knocked over chairs, and popped off. I feel like she's going to go fatal attraction on her popop lover. She admitted to him that she was taken to an institution to be evaluated (which really doesn't mean much unless she's not telling him that she was kept there for a month or something). She used to throw things, yell, and want to "really hurt people." Sounds like a temper tantrum for a two-year-old right? Apparently it was only two years ago. "I'm really not a crazy person." I do feel bad for her, but the thing is, once you identify a problem like that, you have the responsibility to deal with it. If you keep doing the same shit, you're going to get the same shitty results.

I liked Kayla telling Ailea "none off that lesbo shit around me, okay? Cuz I don't like girls. But can I have a tongue kiss though?" She's all like that normally, but get this bitch liquored up, and it's scissor time.

Greg was baffled that Amber B. didn't trust him. His argument that he was trustworthy was that he's a third generation Eagle Scout, and he produces his card for it. "You're a boy scout?"
"I still am."
"So you're gay?" Alright, the last line was made up, but come on. Amber asked him earlier if he was into dudes, and he got really defensive but freely admitted that he'd kissed his guy friends on the mouth. One answer he gave her when she asked was "I'm straight as ever." Perhaps he did mean to say arrow, but it's probably his mind's way of saying "it's not gay if a guy just blows me" without really saying it. They were in bed later: "Are they real?"
"Yeah."
"Really? Awesome." He probably high-fived himself.

Then later at a club, Kayla rips her dress, and wah wah wah it's all about her. She wasn't wearing panties. What the fuck? How common a practice is that? Have girls learned nothing? What's the purpose of doing that anyway? Are you that much of a cock-hungry thundercunt that you can't be bothered to waste time removing them later for access to your gaping maw of a vagina? She gets in the limo and cries that she's sick of everything being about her, so to prove that point, she removed the rest of her attire. This causes old Lighty to get ready to pop off: "On my life, I'ma fuck her up. Right out here. Chicago style." What exactly is Chicago style? Is she gonna beat her ass with just mustard, no ketchup? Or is it a deep-dish whuppin'? She says later "I'm silent for a reason. (Points to herself) Deadly weapon. I'ma fuck yo ass up."

Good times.

BitComet Best, Part Deux

I just spent way too much time looking through video titles to find these, but there are some good ones. I apologize for any repeats:

Milk Junkies

The Great American Squirt Off

Asian Babymakers

Japanese Office Sluts

Anal Chaos
(sounds messy)

Big Tits At Work

Fuck Me. . . I'm Fat
(kiss me, I'm Irish)

All Star Bodybuilders In Heat

Weapons of Ass Destruction 6

Bukkakepee

Ultimate Sex Party - Slut Bus

Scale Bustin Babes

Private British - Virgin Asses

Big Tits Boss - Mrs. Titty

Baby Got Boobs - Breakup Sex

Gay Frat - Backdoor Affair
("gay frat" = redundant)

The Best Lesbian Dreams

Anal Perversions

Masturbation Mayhem
(every night with me. sometimes twice)

Monster Cock Worship
(see above)

Female Ninja Rape - Ninjitsu Notebook

Sodomania 33

Gangbang My Face 3

No Cum Dodging Allowed
(I imagine the girls/guys who dodge it with Matrix-style bullet-time)

Mommy Loves Cock

Anal Assault
(sounds like a DJ name)

Up and Cummers

Caesar's Hard Hat Gangbang

Cougars In Heat

Milfalicious

Moms Gone Wild 2

She Is Half My Age 6

Horny Black Mothers and Daughters

Screw My Wife Please

I Fucked Your Wife Again
(I see one dude telling this to the other with a sheepish smile and a shoulder shrug)

Tiny Tit Squirters
(I don't know if they squirt from the tits or from the vag)

Spermaparty

The Big Swallow

Evil Anal 6
(this is my favorite, but I don't have a joke for it)

Mommy Loves Big Black Dicks
(also the title of a children's book to explain what little Jimmy walked in on)

Holy Fuck It's Huge 5

Anal Devastation
(Katrina-like anal annihilation)

Sex Trek - Where No Man Has Cum Before
(meaning a location or an object.orifice? I seriously doubt there is something man has yet to ejaculate upon)

Cockasian 2

Dark Meat, White Treat 5

Ass Cleavage

Your Mommy And Me

My Wife, Your Meat

Pussy Contest 3
(what's the criteria to win?)

Tit-Fuck Tryouts

Strap-On Sistas, White Boys Only
(I think I'm going to go back and download this. . . )

My First And Final Face-First Foray Into Furburger

I'd like to tell you a story. It's a magical tale about one young gay man's experimentation with the opposite sex.

That night I hung out with my older friend Rex. We took full advantage of $1 beer night at a bar near his condo. We sang along to an 80s cover band, and made fun of these three girls we always saw there: Fatty, Elvira, and Plain Jane. Their names pretty much sum up what we thought of them. Fatty was a crazy slut whom I eventually befriended (for one night) and found out she fucked half the guys at the bar and no one will talk to her anymore.

Anyway, we left the bar and went back to his place to continue the party. Rex told me he wanted to get laid, but I guess nothing worked with prospects at the bar. He said he should just have a hooker come over. I laughed and changed the subject. At one point he disappeared, and when I asked him what he was doing, he said he called a connection (a.k.a. madam) to send a girl over. I thought he was kidding. Cut to an hour later. He got a call that someone was at the door downstairs for him. That's when I realized he wasn't joking at all. We retrieved her from the entrance. She was an exotic-looking woman, perhaps 40 years old. I forget her name, so I'll just call her Slut. We chatted for a minute, and I kept thinking, "um, well what the hell am I supposed to do during all this. Awkward!" I figured I would just slip onto the rooftop landing and quietly chill for a while. Slut was Venezuelan or something ethnic like that. I found this extremely interesting in my state of intoxardation, so we started talking in Spanish. Five years of studying the language and a perfect score on the AP test culminated in my being able to make smalltalk with a prostitute.

Even though I wasn't to be involved, just the fact that I was there warranted Slut to ask for more than the $400 she received upon entering the condo. I made it clear I wasn't going to be doing anything, let alone watch. Slut saw the opportunity to ask for more money, and Rex said he would gladly give it to her, but he didn't have any more than what he gave her. Well that was a lie. For some reason he had about $10,000 cash from a recent commission. He got her to agree that what he already gave her was sufficient. They started making out and all that fun stuff. I was intrigued! I'd never seen straight sex in person, so I found it clinically interesting. Plus, Slut told me to stay! I guess she thought I was cute.

Rex removed her dress and panties (I hate that word, but it's funny) and lifted her onto a wide banister-like partition between his bed and hallway. Then the muffdiving began. Rex was doing it for a few minutes before he pulled his head up, looked over at me, and made a gesture to indicate I should try it. I don't know what made me do it. I didn't think much about it at the time. I'm pretty sure I thought it was rather funny, so I figured, "what the hell." Keep in mind, I had never done this before, and I had never had a close up look at the vag. So I didn't really know what I was doing, but I just emulated what Rex did, and what I've seen the few straight porns I've watched. I was pleasantly surprised to find a lack of foul odor and taste. That was really my only concern. It was clean, pink, and freshly scented, like Barbie's dream car. Oh, and shaved. I would have been really put off by an abundance of hair. She moaned and pinched her nipples, all the stuff she probably thought we wanted to see since she was being paid for it. I did not find it arousing at all. It was more like a task that I wanted to accomplish. After a while, she writhed, moaned some more, and um, ew, got a little. . . um, juicier? I took it that she climaxed.

After that we all moved to the bed, and they started fooling around with each other. I grabbed a boob here and there, but I wasn't really willing to do anything else. I left my underwear on and halfheartedly made a show of playing with myself, though it was clear to me that no arousal would happen for me in that region. I probably could have made myself, but I was focused on the wall or Slut's body because I didn't want to stare at my friend while he was banging her. It would have felt rude! Without a word, I slipped away to the bathroom for some mouthwash and waited it out.

When it was all over, I just couldn't believe I did it! But I really wanted to be able to say that I had tried it once, and it was obviously not for me. And it makes for a funny story. Slut left, and Rex and I laughed and talked about it. It was uncannily not awkward. He imitated me going down on her, and I had to find that hilarious. At some point before she left though, we exchanged phone numbers. For what purpose, I have no idea! She called me several times over the next couple months and left voicemails saying that she really wanted to see me again. I saved her number in my phone as "Slut."

So that's the story of how I went to town on a Venezuelan prostitute's ladyparts. It happened, it's over, and I have no desire to repeat it. At least now I can say I tried it, and apparently I was good at it. Hookers lie, but their axe wounds can't. I rock.

The Best of BitComet

I was browsing available videos for download, and I couldn't help but notice the massive amount of pornography. There were some great titles, so I really wanted to share them:



Anal Lesbian Sweethearts

All Out Anal 2

Massive Asses 3

Anal Domination

Private British MILFs

Rio's Anal Revenge

Wet Lips

21st Sextury Clit Club

Anal Sex 4 Dummys (sic)

Ballbusting British Bitches Football Practice (might not be porn)

Naughty America-Bookworm Bitches

Lesbian Foot Worship

Triple Creampie Fantasies

Strap Attack 6

Lactating - Milking Mature Saggy Tits

Fucked Up Handjobs 3

Cum On My Hairy Pussy 6

Tittylicious

9 Friends Clusterfuck

Big Ass Anal Heaven 9

Asshole Fever

Giant Black Greeze Butts

That Teen's Got A Bushy Pussy

Straight Boys Who Drink Semen

Swallow My Cum Bitch

The Cum Artist 2

Teenage Anal Princess

Anal Rehab

Bubble Bursting Butts 2 - Creampie Sex

Big Titty Christmas

Rock Of Loathe

Since I'm really into masochism, I checked out the third installment of the Rock of Love series. Yikes. This time around, the skanks are all traveling with Bret on his tour. He promises that if he doesn't find love this time, he's giving up. I assume that doesn't include more shows however.

Here's a quick breakdown of the sluts. I may have missed one or two, they mostly blended together into a blonde, booby mess.

Brittaney: "pornstar." Getting paid to be fucked on film doesn't make you a star--it makes you a prostitute. She serenades Bret with her goblin voice. One of the other girls said "if I was a director, I'da yelled CUT right away." Well, if I were a director, I'd have yelled CUNT right away.

Melissa: blonde. sutpid. boobs. NEXT

Nikki: [pictured above] the shining star. She has tits up to her chin and a plastic face. She said Bret is gorgeous. Maybe she needs eye implants too? Get this, she's a DJ and a graffiti artist. Her spinning name is DJ Lady Tribe [rolls eyes]. She doesn't do graffiti anymore because she got six months in jail for it. To deter her from climbing over walls and doing other stunts to tag walls, etc., she got size KKK breast implants. Her rationale is that she can no longer do all physical feats necessary because she might pop a boob. She's also a rapper. She busted out lyrics written on the backs of papers whose headlines read "genital herpes" and "gonorrhea." Red flag, Bret. Red flag. You know a bitch got those at the free clinic. Girls who think they're pretty get so damn lazy. The think they can always rely on looks without having to resort to trickery, manipulation, and deceit. Take a lesson from Lacey on the old Rock of Love. She was busted and knew she had to be resourceful and conniving. You won't always have your looks, but you can always be a tricky bitch. And you can't just keep getting surgery. Demi Moore looks good for about five minutes between all the months of procedures and operations she has to recover from. In the end, she'll just end up looking like Jocelyn Wildenstein. Trust.

(did she get a head enlargement?!?! What the fuck is wrong with it??)

Ashley: blonde. big tits. Snoozerella

Heather: When snapping her photo, Bret told her to be natural and beautiful like she is. Okay, one of those things she has never been, and the other she hasn't been for YEARS.

Megan: blonde. boobs. She really did refer to herself as an "animal traineress." Well good. Maybe she can tame that bogus weave monster on Bret's head.

Constandina: *sigh* She said she was from the foothills of the Appalachian mountains. Read: INBRED. She says she's a very spiritual person. Please allow me to steal a line from Daniel Tosh: "I'm not honest, but you're interesting!" She claims to have a masters degree in storytelling and wants a PhD in mythology and folklore. Is that shit real? She's getting these from online schools that aren't real, right? Bitch has a masters degree in BULLSHIT.

Natasha: Or, Token Black Girl: That's a man. Aspiring madam. I'm so glad women aren't afraid to go for their dreams these days. I have a feeling I'm going to like her, but I also have a feeling she might get the boot for being violent. We'll see. Not crazy about her eye makeup. Looks like her makeup artist is Michael J. Fox.

Marci: blah blah blah, she made the mistake of thinking she's attractive enough to ignore cultivating a personality.

Stephanie: blonde. boobs. looks like Jessica Simpson. She's an LPN, so she can't be entirely stupid. She has a cripdaddy (that would be crippled daddy) who's married to a 26-year-old.

Kelsey: from Utah. She has Milo Ventimiglia strokemouth.

Maria: she's 40, a retired model. blah blah blah

Marcia: at first glance, she's crickets galore, but there's more to come. She the resident fatty.

Mindy: flapjack titties. No need for further description.

Farrah: blonde. boobs. I'm sensing a theme here. Ladies, listen up. Being blonde, having a fake tan, and huge fake boobs doesn't automatically make you pretty!

Brittanya: nice name. She has cheek piercings in her dimples. Not cute.

Beverly: snoozerly

SaMANtha: When her hair is down, she has mad MOM hair. She has motion sickness. Good idea to be on a show taking place on a bus. That's like a person with a phobia of cock (phalluphobia?) agreeing to be the receptive partner in the world's biggest gangbang.

Taya: Penthouse pet. Whatever. Bret wears more makeup than her.

Gia: lesbian. shows her rack and makes out with Bret right away.

They all get drunk, yada yada. Marcia pours a beer on Ashley, Gia and Farrah dyke out for a while. At some point, someone says "Beverly is a dude. And I don't think Bret wants to date a dude. Seriously." Well his makeup, hair, and clothing tell a different story. The skanks go on stage at a Bret concert then go drink at a bar. Bret shows up with a bad case of dick-sucking-voice. Then Gia and Nikki are involved in something so gross, it can't even be shown on television blurred. All I know is it involved drinking out of a pussy. TWATSHOT! Heather bites it on the stairs on her way out. Full on assplant, dramatic exit fail.

The next morning, the girls assemble in front of the bus, and Nikki hobbles up to them with mad sex-walk looking like she got all her holes flooded all night long. Marcia drinks a bottle of tequila, vomits, then proceeds to make out with Bret. The "blondetourage" has a group kiss with him, and when all you can see is the backs of their heads with nasty barbie hair with dark roots and crabs crawling everywhere, they all look the same.

Marcia throws chips in Ashley's face, Ashley pours a beer on her. Then it's ON. Marcia doesn't fuck around and decides she just gotta choke a bitch out. So she does. Bret lets her stay, which is probably his only good decision in the entire episode. And why is Ashley so upset? I'm sure her face has been covered with much more vile things than chips. Marcia says she was upset about the beer, but not because it got her all wet: "you do not waste alcohol like that. That is not cool." What? Is there a shortage of it where she's from in Brazil? I imagine parents in this country guilting their kids when they don't finish their liquor like "there are thirsty children in Brazil who don't even have alcohol!"

Nikki shows up to elimination in a Vampirella swimsuit, drunk as fuck. She's trying to do sexy poses, but she keeps knocking into the sluts around her. The smoldering bedroom eyes, or rather, roofie eyes as they look, seem to say "do me in the butt. I'll be passed out anyway, I won't even know." Unfortunately, even the occular promise of anal intercourse isn't enough to save her from getting chopped. She also has "F-U-C-K Y-O-U" written across her knuckles. This is one classy broad. They should really say "F-U-C-K M-E." Nikki really needs her own show. the premise could be something like Who Wants to Fuck a Tranny Mess? My girl Marcia is saved. Ashley is going to be pissed. Yes! Reality TV show murder is imminent!

Bret says to the remaining girls waiting to get passes "without a doubt all of you has individual personalities." There is seriously nothing to compliment them on. He was like "you're all definitely. . . um. . . breathing."

To come on the Rock of Love Bus:
boobs will be jiggled
diseases will be spread
babies will be made
falcons will be punched

Below are Token Black Girl and Mom Hair (with hair up):

And Now A Message From My Brother

His account of a good deed on his birthday:



“No good deed goes unpunished”
-Some pessimistic asshole

I was reading that great book by Maddox given to by my brother when I noticed it was 3:15am. I decided to do what any other good birthday boy would do, have a cigar. As I was smoking in the dead of night I heard a noise approaching from the north, on Heath Ave. I did some stealthy maneuvers and spied on an extremely intoxicated man that was yelling at the wind, the cold or an imaginary person. Mixed phrases I caught: “cold” “I didn’t do anything” etcetera, etcetera. I saw a taxi come from the west, but I was too slow to move out of my perch, flag him down and tell him that a stumbling drunk was trying to get home in negative eighteen, CELSIUS. I went inside and got ready for bed. It wasn’t guilt, it was just that I didn’t want to hassle the community with another dead person froze on the sidewalks. Then God butted in. You have to understand, God and I have an understanding with each other. Generally we just stay out of each other’s way, and when we pass, exchange pleasantries and such. It’s a tumultuous but amicable relationship.

God: Hey, Charlie, something wrong?
Charlie: No, just tryin to sleep man.
God: Don’t lie dude, I know.
Charlie: You’re gonna save him right?
God: I dunno, right now I’m talking to you, so at this moment, no. If you make up your mind maybe I could get out of here and do something.
Charlie: Damnit, that’s not fair, you’re putting this on me!
God: What’s fair anyways? Oh, hold on I got a call. Hunter, wasssupp!? Oh yeah, The Duke’s outta hell for a day?! Yah man I’ll be right there, I’m dealing with an indecisive asshole, shouldn’t be much longer.
Charlie: DICK!
God: To me-Sssshhh still on the phone. To Hunter S. Thompsen- ok, ok I’ll be. . . . . .
Charlie: Hey, tell Hunter he’s a fucking loser for shooting himself.
God: To me: My boy here says you’re a loser for shooting yourself. Listening, Uh-huh, yeah ok, right, got it. To me, he says “Go fuck yourself, you Nixon-loving commie-nazi. He’s doesn’t have to be justified to a piece of shit, two-bit, blue writer like you.”
Charlie: Touché, Dr. Gonzo, Touché
God: To Hunter: Okay, be right there. Pe-Ace. God to me: here one last thing, “Do it, you won’t do it” bye Charlie, warm the car first.

(It wasn’t guilt, it was just that I didn’t want to hassle the community with another dead person)

With a puff of smoke that smelled almost, but not quite, somewhat like pot. So with a warmed car and another cigar in mouth I was on my way South on Heath looking for a troubled soul. I found him near Clearview Rd. At first I thought this poor pilgrim was an old man with a white goatee. I stopped the car and asked him if he needed a ride. His intoxication was more than obvious upclose. As it turned out it was not a white goatee at all but snot had frozen in his mustache and flowed down to his chin where it made an inch-long stalactite of mucus ice. I actually checked his hands when he introduced himself. They were cold but not too bad, red and not black. So, no frostbite. He had a heavy pea-coat, a red and black striped wool hat and a fake orange flower lei. Jack, as he was called, told me he was trying to get home by himself for he was ejected from the Low Step for various misbehaviors and gotten angry and decided to walk home. He lived on Francis Street, which I did not know where it was (my inadequacies as an Firetruck Driver suddenly came back) But when he said near Arby’s and a bowling alley, I thought South North street because there is an Arby’s and a bowling alley near each other. Jack was adamant about living off of Heath, this baffled me because South Heath ended quickly without a Francis Street, but he couldn’t mean the other Arby’s roughly 3 miles the other direction, could he? I called 411, which was very unhelpful. They told me that I could not get street addresses like that from them and told me that I should have called *611. That number was a customer service for my cellie, I could add another phone to my plan but that would have to wait till later. Jack was able to pull it together and get his phone to act as a GPS locator and give us directions. It was the most high-tech piece of equipment in my car ever! Jack made some dry heaving noises but mostly repeated a few phrases “I didn’t hurt no one, they kicked me out for nothin!” “I don’t want to hurt anyone” “I was grabbin asses!” “COLD” He was able to tell me that he called a hook up, she told him he was crazy and that he was going to die in the cold. That must have been the ranting I heard when he went by. I didn’t want to explain that God conned me into going to get him so, I told him I was driving around on my birthday smoking a cigar and happened upon him, fortuitously. So for the rest of the drive I entertained Jack with a lie about how I hooked up the previous night with a Korean girl that does tae-kwon-do and how we played rough. He loved the story. Laughter physiologically warms you. So, after a while I delivered Jack to his gated community. I took his number but also told him to call me to make sure he was inside and ok. I received no call, so I texted him. He sent me one back “Yeah m so cold” Jack’s gonna be fine. Thanks to me for deciding to do the right thing.
After he left I noticed the snot-ice goatee had thawed off his face and was on the seat next to me. I threw it out the window, no sense in keeping souvenirs of memories like these. My good deeds were punished by having to throw a snotcicle out the car. I was so tired that I didn’t put a glove on before doing this, so my germ phobia is decreased.

UPDATE: Jack just texted me, 2pm the next day.
Jack: “Hey. We txtd last night and I’m don’t know this is.” I texted him back that I found him walking around and gave him a ride. I also added that I mapquested his walk from the Low Step to Clearview, yeah 3 miles in the ice. The following text he sent me said what I did was “top-shelf.” I’ve never heard a drinking reference be used on a person. Awesome. I decided to have a lil fun and texted him back “any time and the head was pretty good too for being half frozen.”