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January 8, 2008

I Love Anonymous Sex And Voting

Posted by Ryan McGivern under Activities, Blog, Comedy, Politics, Sex
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voteThere’s nothing more fun than a nice, old fashioned anonymous sexual encounter. Except for voting, that is.

I love the way I can step into a curtained off booth and do it so hot and fast without any thought and feelings of responsibility! And when I step out of the voting booth, I love the dirty feeling it gives me to see the unknowing but suspecting people milling around! Weeeeeee!!!!

I love it. It’s a rush.

Barack Obama doesn’t know me. And I sure as hell don’t know him. All I know is that he’s about ‘change’. Change for what, or change from what, I’m not sure-but who cares?! I’m high, horny, and votey!

People will tell me its dangerous. “You’ve got to be careful, Ryan. You never know who’s out there.” Lemme tell you: I’ve had anonymous sex with people that Bob Allen would turn down, and I’ve voted for two different Bushes on three separate occasions. I’ve seen it all, and I just don’t give a damn anymore! Weeeeee!

Are you running for a mid-level governmental job? Ohmygawd, that’s hot. Maybe I could vote for you right here right now!!

What I love best about anonymous sex and voting is the absence of consequences. Sure, I’ve been knifed while going to ’second base’ in a Wahoo’s Fish Taco bathroom, and currently live in a country who arbitrarily invades third world countries on a whim, but that’s negligible in comparison to the rush I get by acting capriciously.

So, Mitt Romney: You’ve got my “vote” so long as you-

  1. Don’t talk
  2. Don’t look me in the face
  3. Give it to me rough
  4. Never try to find me at this bar again

Ryan McGivern

Bob Allen: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bob_Allen
Mitt Romney: http://www.mittromney.com/homepage

 

January 3, 2008

“A School Boy’s Education In Love”

Posted by Ryan McGivern and J.J. under Blog, Comedy, Improvised Writing, Romance, Sex
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boyI was in kindergarten when I first learned about sex. My teacher, Mrs. Rudolph, an older lady who smelled like the Walgreens cosmetics department and wore only pink sweatsuits, fell asleep one day during nap time. Her slobbering face schmushed against her desk and she snored like a female Chinese baby being smothered to death. All my classmates were also asleep, but I peed my pants so I went to wake Mrs. Rudolph. I noticed she was reading something before she passed out, so I pried it from under her greasy double chin. It was a Hustler magazine. I quickly retreated to the cubby closet and got some fresh underwear from the “Clean Underwear For Paul” bin and stashed the magazine in my Alvin and the Chimpmunks backpack.

After naptime, Mrs. Rudolph sat us all in a circle and demanded to know where her “personal reading material” was. She said if someone didn’t speak up, she’d tear out all of our tongues, pin them to our jackets for us to take home to our parents. I didn’t bulge. I had found meaning in life and no empty threat could ever take that away from me. Over the next years, I waved this leverage like a German flag all over old Mrs. Rudolph, blackmailing her into being my sexual mentor. In fourth grade she showed me how to french kiss, which was difficult having only the stub of a tongue after her ad-lib removal of it. It was in seventh grade that she directed me in my ‘home economics’ class to sew a “tongue quilt”. She joked that while there were many with gilded tongues, I would be the first with a quilted tongue. Whenever she would make that joke, I would make a howling noise because I couldn’t properly laugh tongueless.

Years later I married Mrs. Rudolph. During our anniversaries, after I pass out on my annual Appletini binge, she removes another body part. These days I am limbless, facial feature-less and belly-buttonless. But I really do love her with all my heart, although she’ll probably take that next year.

People always told us we would never work out because of the age difference, her chronic vaginismis, and the fact that I was slowly becoming a tapeworm-like being consisting only of an esophagus and anus. But we’re still together after all these years. She is my lover, my friend, my kindergarten teacher, my mutilator, my next of kin, and the victim of my blackmail. But with all that binds us together, it’s still her sense of humor that I love the most.

JJ Stein and Ryan McGivern

 

November 30, 2007

How To: Talk to People

Posted by Ryan McGivern under Activities, Blog, How to, Self Improvement
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trekI went to the Check Cashing Place this morning and I made the mistake of asking my attendant through the bullet proof glass how she was.

She clanked my money into the metal slot that’s big enough to clank money through but not big enough to fit a pistol through and said:
“Next.”
I guess that meant her day was “just fine, thank you.”

I have a hard time communicating with people, too, I’ll admit it. Whenever I’m trolling chatrooms, I’ll do something stupid like ask ArwenElf203948 if she wants to meet me at the Blockbuster by my house without first waiting the ‘requisite 10 minutes of IMing before asking to meet a stranger at Blockbuster’. There seems to be so many unwritten and written rules about how to talk to people!

When I am Ouiji boarding by myself in my incense drenched bedroom and I ask the spirit what color underwear it’s wearing, the marker always jumps over to the “Goodbye” in the corner. How am I to know all the finer details of necromancy if no one tells me?

If the waitress at Denny’s doesn’t have the proper etiquette and social tact to introduce herself formally and shake my hand, of course I’m going to call her “Sweet Tits”- but still I’m the one who gets looked down upon by the Denny’s management!

To give you yet another example of how hard it can be to have an adult conversation with someone, this is what happened to me last night at the Minx’s men’s bathroom:
Some Guy: Hey. What’s up?
Me: Hey! Not much how are you doing tonight? Don’t you just LOVE the DJ here?
He plays just the BEST music!
Some Guy: Yeah. Cool. You wanna party?
Me: Ohmygawd I love to party. I’ve been wanting to party all day.
Some Guy: Yeah? Let’s go into the stall and talk about it.
Me: Your shirt is just adorable! I love it.
Some Guy: Yeah. Well, I’ve got some other cool stuff to show you too.
Me: Show and tell? Aren’t you the brave little boy in front of the class!
Some Guy: Yeah. Uh, can you keep your voice down? I mean, the staff here
are really uptight about this kind of thing, so…..
Me: Where did you get your shirt? It is just adorable!

We went back and forth like this for like 20 minutes and I never did find out where he bought his shirt. I mean, what gives?

There is nothing I find more difficult than talking to girls. I know, many of you might have pegged me as a ‘Don Juan’ type but I am pretty much the opposite. I’m more John Cusack than John Cusack could ever be. I think that in the Guiness World Record for the most sexually frustrated animals it would be a tie between me, captive pandas, Trekkies, and the roadies for Ratt’s ‘Invasion of Your Privacy’ Tour.

Not that talking to people is all that important when you have a blog. Why bother talking to people when you can sit in a dark room on a Friday afternoon and blog about how difficult it is to talk to someone?

Ryan McGivern

Me: www.myspace.com/mckibbon
The Minx: www.minx-la.com

 

October 1, 2007

Flowers that look like ducks

Posted by j.j. under Blog, Google, Search
No Comments 

At this moment in time (which has already passed), if you searched Google for “flowers that look like ducks”, mindflowers.net comes in the top seven! I’ve hardly been so proud, which I recognize is a deadly sin, so if I spontaneously implode or drown in a vat of piping-hot Velveeta this week, unfettered pride is the culprit and dogmatic Christianity must be true.

Oh the things you think about when you have a blog. I’ve collected some of the amusing search terms folks use to discover us:

  • all things testicular
  • average amount of man chowder
  • do morning glory flowers make you hallucinate?
  • the bible, me and despair
  • do men like getting flowers?
  • how to raise unicorns
  • do sperm banks help you ejaculate
  • proof of wormholes
  • the enema women like
  • what it is like to be a trucker
  • gangrene and hospice
  • penis bulge of Zac Efron
  • i know him like the palm of my hand
  • bringing back Reebok Pumps
  • putting sperm in food
  • flowers that make you throw up
 

August 12, 2007

Aggressive passivity

Posted by Ryan McGivern and J.J. under Blog, Food, Nostalgia, Photography
[2] Comments 

In the mold of Found Magazine, passiveaggresivenotes documents those messages from your upstairs neighbor about the fact that you have to make noise to live and maybe sanity depends on a bit of music, or to the roommates who never wash their dishes, or from the politically correct anal-toads who decry the flushing of toilets unless they are full and brown. These notes remind me of my time in residence in cooperative living situations. I apologize for the third one in advance. Link

service

Passive Aggressive

bathroom

 

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