2009 - The Year In Poontang - A Magnum Opus by Yours Truly (pictured above in the eighth grade, at the peak of my sexuality) — notice the pooka shells and the G-shock watch? That there is a Jurassic 5 shirt signed by Charlie Tuna. Got it at the Warped Tour.  I bet you money I’m wearing Enyce cargo pants as well.  ANYWAY…

Wowzers! 2009 flew by just like Chesley Sullenberger’s plane missing the runway! So much music, so many movies, so many near-schtups, failed schtups and successful gasms.  Where to begin?!! I know where to finish, but starting is the hard part.  Let’s see, perhaps I will start last January and work our way up to this week. Hope you have an egg timer with you in case you are baking - this could take a while.

Last December I met this girl Laura. I’ve blogged about her before. We met in Hawaii at The Four Seasons and I tried finger-banging her on the bathroom floor. She had this smokey Tara Reid like voice and the spunk of a thousand semen. I thought she was the greatest thing since sliced bread. She watched DEXTER, had a pretty bangin’ bod (shit, we could all use to lose a few) and was a lot of fun to be around. In October of last year I took her to a Beck concert, trying to seal the deal with spliffs and “Nicotine & Gravy.” I blew it, and I remember the exact moment.  I was standing in my driveway after said concert and I took the road of honesty rather than James Dean cool school.  I told her how much I enjoyed being with her. I told her how much she made me laugh. I told her I wanted to eat her pussy for all of eternity. (I’m paraphrasing).  To make a long story short, I threw a Thanksgiving party the following November (this was in 2008) and I found her making out with a kid from Harvard Westlake. In my own backyard. On my French upholstered outdoor patio furniture. I wanted to die. I wanted to evaporate. I felt so beyond stupid. Laura wasn’t just some girl I wanted to schtup. I actually liked her. I know this confuses most, but really, the blog is schtick. I’m not REALLY a misogynist. I just play one on the internet.  Laura went on to date this kid who is 5 times bigger than me, and still thinks Dickies are cool.  We talk on Gchat from time to time, and she was at my Thanksgiving party (again, in 2009). I looked into her gorgeous eyes (her best feature) and well, I had no choice but to move on. I learned a very valuable life lesson with Laura (that holds true for all men who actually like a girl): DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT tell the girl you are courting that you actually like her until you literally come inside of her. Females have this weird thing in their brain and they only like you, REALLY and TRULY, only after having gotten fucked. I flunked biology, but I can damn near guarantee an A in Human Development because I learned one thing: NEVER tell a girl you like her until you have schtupped her. Otherwise, it’s a game changer. And to Laura, I hope you find a job sometime in this life, or at the very least, do something daily besides eating yogurt and masturbating with your shower head.

Bree was the sweetest girl I’ve known to date. She liked me because I reminded her of Seth Rogen (new Seth or old, fat Seth?). We met out a bar one night in January and next thing I know Da-Da-Daddy go hard.  Venus Vs. Mars. Bree would invite me over to her office (she is a massage therapist) for a massage and a fuck. It was beautiful.  I felt so cool. I had it all. I was king. I started liking her. One night I invited her to sleep over and she called me saying she would be at my place in five minutes.  An hour later she called me crying, saying someone had backed into her car and that she couldn’t drive. Sounded pretty pretty pretty bogus.  After questioning her I realized she was full of shit, drunk, and lying. She hit someone’s car, fucked up hers in the process, and fled the scene of the crime. To be honest, at 22, this might’ve been ok behavior for me to tolerate.  However, now 25, I don’t have the time of day for this bullshit.  I can’t take the lying, the BS, the untruth.  We didn’t speak for a few weeks and than I called her to make-up have some sex.  We continued to schtup for a few months until one day when she had enough.  She told me, “I’m more than you bargained for and I know you don’t want to date me.”  I replied, “Yeah, because I don’t trust you, you drunk-driving nutbar.”  This is not something a nice Jewish girl from Dix Hills would do.  It just isn’t. Being a non-Jew is one thing. Being a non-Jew who can’t drive…can’t deal with that deck of cards. I do think she is a sweetheart. I still like her.  A lot.  I hope she doesn’tknow how to use the web.

Lyd was one of the Wild Things. Dating her was a very visceral experience, especially the sex. We met when I was working a part-time job at a Vintage store over the summer. She came in and I helped her pick out some radical threads. Next thing I know we were exchanging phone numbers and I’m buying her beef carpaccio and Pinot Noir for dinner. Our first date was great, except that I was fighting off the flu.  She came back to my place and wouldn’t give it up due to my sickness. However, she did say “boy, I can see you sweating me,” to which I replied, “girl, don’t flatter yourself, that’s the Vic’s Vapor Rub.” A week later she called me from The Belmont (a trendy LA bar) and asked me to pick her up — “I’m a gentleman, of course I’ll do it,” I said.  Ten minutes later and she was inserting the keys to my house, stripping herself of her clothes. By the time she got to my kitchen, she was touching herself, begging me to touch her instead. It was the hottest fuck pre-game I’ve experienced to date. She sucked on my ears, bit my neck, kissed my shoulder blades. Ugh, it was so hot I’m starting to feel the blood flowing to my crotch just typing about it. I’d tell you the particulars of the schtup, but hell, in the event she ever moves back to L.A. I ain’t gonna cockblock myself.  Homegirl is pretty quick with the internet. Lyds moved back to New York shortly after we schtupped.  I got mad at her for I can’t even remember why (oh now I do! She had some dipshit BF I found out about) and I left her clothes on my porch saying “pick them up or they’re going on Craigslist.” I think about her on a daily basis.  I look at her Facebook pics (I also post them from time to time).  I hope she knows that I miss her.  Deeply. Sometimes I’ll come home early on Saturday nights and smoke weed, dialing her number just because. I like to lay in my bed and listen to the phone ring over and over.

Alejandro moved her from Boston/NYC to get into the film industry. Being the busty brunette that she is, it took her oh I’d say only a few phone calls to find employment in the agency sector of this town. I always had a thing for her in college.  She went to Brown and I’d come to visit and flirt with her. She had some BF all throughout college. I remember him being very good looking. I never could get in those pantaloons on the East Coast. However, all it took was one night of her watching me dance at Crown Bar to seal the deal. She was actually the closest thing to a girlfriend I’ve had in years. I enjoyed hanging out with her. I was just as happy to read in her presence as I was to schtup her. I took her to the beach. I brought her home to my childhood home to meet my mother. However, it is with regret that I inform you that a few weeks after moving here, she grew a little bit too affected with L.A. Look, I grew up here and I know how stupid Los Angeles makes people act.  I am pretty used to it.  However, I draw the line at talking shop during pillow-talk.  Pillow-talks is for subjects such as “What your favorite Wes Anderson movie is,” or even, “LC or Heidi - Pros and Cons.” She is super fly when she lays off the bronzer.

KG - Man, this is a good one. However, due to the fact that this girl bakes me cookies on the regs, I can’t really defame her. In fact, the picture of me (above) is from her Facebook page. She ripped it out of our old High School Yearbook. To make a long, jewsy story boring: she is a little fucking minx and I’d kill to toss her around like a Cirque Du Soleil acrobat.  You want to know the truth: ask my roommate about it. He’ll tell you. Scenario is about 1/3rd short of a 3some.  I just want to thank everyone at DEXTER/SHOWTIME who made this little tryst possible in the first place.

Finally, a note to some tertiary bitchez in the game that I don’t schtup, but have at one point:

(See that’s Ali….and that’s Bender…just wharfing a hamburgesa…he loves the squeeze!~)

Ali: You are my rock, my bff, my partner in girl crime. Even though you are the raddest babe ever to have a BF, I love you to pieces always and forever (in the friend way).

Blair: I guarantee you’ll be married by 2k11. And that’s good because the world is over in 2k12. So, if your one year of marriage isn’t full bliss, call me.  I’ll fly to NYC and schtup you the same way I did in the back of your jeep outside of Oakwood, by the North Hollywood park with the Bangers from N.H. High watching.

EmCap: I think I love you. Can we have a Nickeoldeon SNICK themed wedding?

Mom: Thank you for letting me tell you all my goofy ass girl troubles during our Sunday hangs. You are such a cool lady, and I value our relationship more than anything. You have set the bar pretty, pretty high for all the other women in my life. I’ll never forget dancing to Al Green togeth at my Bar-Mitz. I’ll also never forget how you call Jizz “Gizz.”