Letters to Strangers

For the few of you not familiar with my newest hobby, check this out.
Today, we torment Daniel.

Since I have you here, and the room is already paid for, let's look at some other stuff.

I got this very fun Skype friend request the other day:

I'm a lot of woman, but I don't think even I could handle a whole Ukrainian army. Pick a regiment.

My friend Emma sent this to me:

I think the italics are on the wrong word here.  Let's try: "Centipedes? In my vagina?"
No? ~shrugs~

Finally, I have painstakingly collected search terms people used to find my blog and compiled them into neat, pretty little pictures - not because you care how they look, but because it soothes the monster which resided within my soul.

First, the recent obsession with Chatroulette.  Here's what the people want.

I am offended by this because I never misspell masturbate. 

Now take a look at the varied and very wrong ways people are spelling Chatroulette:

Not that bad, I suppose, but they get worse:

There's a dick in cup of coffee joke which exists, but unfortunately, I cannot access it.

It's pretty clear they've either already started before getting to Chatroulette, or are typing with their penis.

Now, feast your eyes on this random nonsense:

I know I've said a lot about Katy Perry, but I've focused mainly on her eyes and cupcake tits - I ... wasn't even aware she had feet fingers.  Do they mean toes? What the fuck is happening?

This is downright distressing. Seek help, you.

I never, ever joke about anal sex. I do, however, run into the issue of choking on nut sacks about fortnightly. Any advice would be appreciated. To be fair, I never used the phrase "natalie portman eats out mila kunis" for one thing, because that is not how it went down in Black Swan, but also, the exact phrase I used had something to do with "Portman tacos", which I find equal parts hilarious and juvenile.

Hey! I like titties, too!  But maybe tone it down a little - there are no tits here, I promise. Also, whoever searched for "titties.....hell yes!" I really, really need to talk to you. 

Hi.  See a fucking doctor.

I have a tiny nerdgasm every time someone finds my blog by searching for stuff like "spacing guild navigator".  Also, I'm calling the police.

That about sums this up.  I've made you look at a lot of stupid things. Sorry about that.  Now, check this stupid thing out, and try not to get addicted to it.

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Chatroulette Deux

Remember when I told you I had more goodies for you? Well, the time is now. The internet eye Snickers have arrived. Oh my god I can't waaaaait.

My second trip into the land of  "Seriously, I'm this bored?" actually started out quite gently with a couple of nice Polish people. Look at those sweeties.

Then. This.

Followed by this.

This guy was kinda great. I asked if he was from Jersey, he told me he was from California. I told him he looked like a guido and he straight up shut the window. Good times.

I rounded out my second night with a child making a very brusque demand for tits.

Admittedly, these weren't my best comebacks, but to be fair, I was drinking and just lucky I could type words.

Day three was even more interesting. Although I'm very sure I also mean depressing. Yep, more of this:

I do really like the jaunty bug-eyes I gave him to hide his identity. It really needed hiding, too - that black bar is only this ample because I knew not one of you would want to see that guy's tush.

Next, more demands for tits - why can't any of these kids spell "peek"? Is this Pun Night, Fun Night?

These guys just screamed at me that I was ugly - which, at the very least, was something novel.

But then - a Chatroulette miracle. We like Smang it, dang it.

Chatroulette wasn't done dishing out something different, though.  A girl! And I was just the special guy for her.

She was truly beautiful, the only reason I appear as though I've found a wad of gum on my pants is because I was utterly unprepared for the stuff she was doing. This was the tamest screen shot I could get before I jetted out of there like a virgin or something.

Then there was the Kittenman! Oh my god the Kittenman.  For absolute reals, if you heard the noise he was making, you'd still be chuckling, too. I almost couldn't even.

I especially love the person on the bed in the background just cooling out like this is just another day, another screeching session with the Kittenman.

Things went back to relative normal at this point. I ran into some dudes from Chile and used almost all of the Spanish words I know in an attempt communication with these delightful lads.

I gotta say, though. My elbow looked pretty damned gordo up there. I'm-a need a Shake Weight or sumfin'.

Speaking of Shake Weights.

Enlarge if ye dare.

It's at this point I get a little silly.

This happened:

Clearly losing my sense of humor, it's at this point that Chatroulette sends me the most delightful creature they possessed - El Dido, the Mexican Charlie Day. Oh. my god.

 

 

Of course that magic could only last for so long (and before you ask, he left very politely after we talked about how great tacos are), and this is how I ended my evening:

Two weeks later, I still very much can not believe that this is my life.
Don't be like me, be someone completely different.

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Chatroulette

I'm a little late to the Chatroulette party, but I dove right in headfirst, being sure to shield my face from flying cocks and balls as I splashed in.

But let me start from the start.  I got my feet wet by dipping my substantially silly toes into the bleak world of chat rooms, again.  It'd been many years, so I feared I was out of practice - what was not helping this endeavor was the fact that I was ripped to absolute shreds on vodka.  I'm lucky I was able to form a cogent sentence, let alone type it and get a couple screen shots.  As you'd expect, about a dozen people tried to cyber with me based only upon the fact that I seemed to exist somewhere in time and space.

My first few experiences on Chatroulette were incredibly normal.  There was a nice 21-year-old German guy with a foot fetish who looked 15.  He was probably 15, actually.  Then, there was the Josh Grobin lookalike who quite cheerfully donned a fuzzy hat for me, while being appropriately delighted that I'd put on a chef's hat.  I can't tell you how many times I told people I was a chef.  I need professional help.

Anyway, things eventually became what you'd expect from Chatroulette.

But then, it got a little weird again.  Nico likes weird.
 

That guy was pretty great, but I have no idea what he's doing with the pictures he took of me.  He won't get very far, though - he added me on Facebook, so I know where to find him.

It didn't take long before it was clear I'd stumbled upon someone masturbating.  I called him right out on it - and he was all too ready to cop to it, and start making requests, almost all of which I refused - but none of it was amusing enough to share.  He just kept insisting I show him body parts while I coquettishly (in my mind) refused.  He gave up.  I have that effect on people.

Then.  There was this guy.

I did not stand up - but he did, which is why I didn't screen cap more of this display of affection from him.  Just imagine increasingly more pained and scrunch-faced expressions from me, at the sheer horror of what I was witnessing as I found myself unable to turn away.  You never forget the first time a creepy stranger ejaculates on his desk while you mentally add hand sanitizer to your grocery list.

Then there was Jesper, from Belgium.  Jesper, Jesper with the bedroom eyes.  I'm quite sure there is something wrong with me, because even minus vodka, I think this guy is the dreamiest I'd seen so far on Chatroulette.  Jesper, if you ever find this, you have my eternal gratitude for only asking to look at my eyes, as well as your completely delightful follow-up question.

I went in for a second dip the next night, and it did not disappoint.  More to come.
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