1. I would usually wake up around 6 am to the sound of my dad getting ready for work, and I’d go throw up in my bathroom. If I threw up or pissed the bed I would usually have a garbage bag in the room to throw my sheet in so I could take care of it later. This only happened a few times but it got more and more frequent. Usually the vomit was dark black, goopy, and extremely acidic. I found out later it was blood.
I had a constant supply of tums that I would eat from. I would then drink a bottle of water, a hit from the bong to reduce nausea, and some valium to stop myself from shaking. I would then wake up at around noon and take more valium to stop shaking. I would usually sleep until about 2 or 3pm, sometimes up until 6pm. Once I woke I would take a few shots of captain morgan to keep the constant body high going, and depending on how much weed or valium I had I would try and make some calls to get some more. Around 7pm before my mother left for work I would go through her meds to find Klonopin and Ambien that I could take later in the evening. I was ALWAYS thinking ahead – because I liked to be completely fucked up by around 11pm. She took a quarter of a 10mg of ambien to sleep, and I would usually take about half of her bottle over the month (Between 20 to 60 depending on the script). Denial.
If I wasn’t hanging out with friends that night I would be on the computer all night or with my girlfriend getting wasted and popping valium. Each valium was 10mg and I’d usually take around 20 per day. Eventually I would get really nauseous because I forget to eat, or just took too much, and I’d have to smoke weed and eat more tums. If I didn’t want to stop drinking at this point I would purposefully push the contents of my stomach up and I would vomit violently, and then continue drinking. By the time it was all winding down I would take up to 40mg of ambien. At the time I liked to tell myself this was to sleep, but I always stayed up and drank with it in order to gain more of a body high/psychedelic experience. Usually by this point my girlfriend would be passed out, and I would just be on the computer. Many of these nights I spent crying from 2 am to 5am, either when my dad would wake up and he could console me, or my girlfriend woke up. Needless to say those two and my substances were my only coping mechanisms. Many times my father would come check on me to make sure I was okay every morning.
This was my routine for 3 years until right around age 22. The only thing I have left that reminds me of it is a bald spot of cement on my floor where my black vomit destroyed the carpet, so we had to cut it out. When we got new carpet (they did this when I was in rehab) they left that cut out. Every morning my feet touch the cold reality of the world, and I am ever so grateful that I am alive. Sorry this was long winded. I had a hiccup last night after two years of sobriety and this was really perfect timing for me to write.
EX Photographer/Videographer for Penthouse/Danni’s/Twisty’s/BangBros here.
When you see high quality images of girls with jizz on them, it is 99% of the time a pina colada mix, or Cetaphil hand soap.
Please remember, these people are acting. Yes, they enjoy it, but for the most part when you cut a scene, it just stops, they catch their breath, ask and take direction from the director, and wait for action again.
Bang buses are not real.
The AVN awards (or any adult award show really) is rigged. Whatever production company/agency pays the most for their talent to win the award gets it. AVN can barely afford to put on the award show anymore, and the convention in Vegas every year is getting smaller. They have to fund it by all means possible.
A lot of these women have kids, are married, or are in relationships. It takes a lot to date a porn star (I’ve dated a couple), but trust, and being open minded helps.
To add to #5, just because they are porn stars doesn’t mean they will sleep with anyone and everyone. Keep in mind they do their best to prevent std’s, and are tested every 2 weeks. Their best means of defense against std’s is to only sleep with other tested actors/actresses, or their significant others.
When and why did you purchase your first Doll? Were you thinking of companionship at the time, or was it just for sex?
I bought Shi-chan back in 2000. Admittedly, my reasons for purchasing her were 70 percent sex, 30 percent companionship. I’ve always been attracted to artificial women such as mannequins, and especially Gynoids, which are robots made in the likeness of human females. In late 1998 one of my best friends, showed me the RealDoll website, as she knew I was keen on artificial women. I thought they were gorgeous creations, and having one would not only dispel loneliness, but be excellent for sex as well. And I was right!
When did you start feeling like Sidore was not just a sex toy but someone/something you were in a relationship with?
It actually didn’t take me too long to regard Shi-chan as a synthetic person, and not simply a thing; it occurred pretty much when I opened her crate for the first time. I was immediately stunned by her lifelike beauty, and after I mentally collected myself, extracted her from her crate, and sat her down on the couch, I just held her in my arms for a while. It felt so right and natural, if you’ll pardon the pun. It seemed perfectly normal for me to treat something that resembles an organic woman the same way I’d treat an actual organic woman.
Part of the (sexual) appeal of synthetics is how much they look like their organic counterparts. If you have a robot shaped like a refrigerator, that won’t have as much draw as a robot in the shape of a human; people will be more willing to interact with the human-shaped one. Further still, if that humanoid robot has artificial skin and sounds like a human, most people dealing with it are more than likely to even have a moment where they forget it’s a robot. With Sidore, her draw was instantaneous. There was never a moment when Shi-chan—or any Doll, for that matter—was merely an object to me.
1. I was kidnapped by my father, and tortured, molested and sodomized for over a week while it took getting state police across multiple states to get me back. There isn’t a news report of this, I’ve already checked. The worst part, my mother never believed me, and I while I wasn’t ever too afraid to talk to people about it, I never can tell anyone how deep the pain runs.
Even when you think you are a success, no matter how many mountains you climb, or what you accomplish, it is still overshadowed by your past. When you talk to other people they have no idea how deeply the pain runs through you. What it does, the power that it carries. Even as someone who is viewed externally as being successful, I still feel like a failure at anything. I don’t want to give too much away, because i don’t want this traced back to me.
A simple, senseless act from another person, turns you into a zombie. You fake emotion to others, you fake your attitude, but what really rattles around inside of your head is something that can’t be described. Such overwhelming, crushing force that is involved with everything.
Sexuality wise, I’ve still a virgin, and I’m in my late 20s. I don’t even know who to look at, what I’m attracted to, what gender, what sexual roles, etc. I don’t have a mental construct or feeling of what love is, that side of me is very dead. I fake it that I suck at relationships when talking to others, but the truth is, I feel pain for not being a success at them, but I’m largely emotionless at the actual connection of love. I haven’t ever had anyone in my life that really had that bond with me. I’ve had mentors, sure, close friends as well. But a romantic relationship, I have no idea of what that is like.
Vladivostokavia Airlines, Flight 352
The plane crashed and exploded in flames in Siberian woodlands near the village of
Burdakovka, about 21 miles from Irkutsk. The aircraft crashed during the third turn in
a landing approach to Irkutsk, an intermediate stop for refueling. The first officer was
flying the plane, when at 2,600 ft., an audible alarm sounded indicating a wide angle of
attack. Eleven seconds later the aircraft swung around 180 degrees and entered a flat
spin. The captain ordered the engines at full throttle but it was too late and 22 seconds
later the plane hit the ground, belly first, broke up and burned. Incorrect actions of the
crew. Due to poor communication between pilots, they put in the wrong parameters
while landing causing the plane to descend at the wrong angle. As a result, the plane
stalled and entered a spin and crashed. All 145 aboard killed.
|02:07:53||CAP||… Fuck, push it up! (throttles)|
|02:07:53||F/O||Stop! Stop! Where! Where!|
|02:07:55||CAP||Stop! Stop! Stop! (said in patter)|
|02:07:55||NAV||This way, this way, this way.|
|02:07:58||NAV||Easy, make it easy, easy!|
|02:07:59||F/O||Lets to the right!|
|02:08:01||—||Audio tone of Radio-altitude alert (duration 4 sec) and audi|
|02:08:02||??||Power! Add thrust!|
|02:08:06||F/E||… got it!|
|02:08:09||F/O||Take off power! Oh my God!|
|02:08:10||F/E||Take off power set|
|02:08:11||??||That’s all guys! Fuck!|
By Chad Howse
A pussy can live life in avoidance of ideas he doesn’t agree with, things he finds too difficult to attempt, places that scare him, ventures that frighten him. (Read This: You Know You’re a Pussy If…)
You clearly can’t.
You want to live.
A life of avoidance isn’t living. It’s awaiting death while avoiding life.
Life truly is both brutal and exciting. You have to work brutally hard, but you also have to attempt to do things that scare you.
Fear is a wonderful thing. It’s more than thrill. Thrill is jumping from a cliff. Fear is going after a goal that you know you can very likely fail at. Fear is going to a new land you’re not certain is safe or even logical to visit. Fear hits your soul, it also helps it grow stronger.
The more fear you can face the more life you’ll live, and that should be what most of us attempt while we’re here, to live ambitiously, daringly, and dangerously.
The things that scare us should act as guides to, not from. (Read This: Let Fear Guide You)
They should be stars guiding our journey through life.
You’re not a pussy, even if you’ve lived like one up until now, it just takes a moment, a decision made in strength to start the habit of becoming a warrior, a man.
Make that decision now.
What is it that you’re scared to do but you’ve always wanted to try?
Think of 5 things. Do one now.
This isn’t a matter of ‘being successful’, but of living. This facing fear is addictive. Once you do it a few times you’ll never want to return to your old ways.
1. I have had two experiences with really, shockingly small penises. The first was with someone I very much liked and dated and he was well aware of his deficiencies and went above and beyond in other ways. Namely, he went down on me for hours and always asked if there was anything he could do and was generally great about it. So after we broke up for non-small-dick-related reasons I kept a pretty open mind about the tiny ones.
Cue to several months later I’m about to sleep with a guy I’ve gone on several dates with. His is even smaller than the first but I don’t say anything because I would die if someone said something to me on first coitus about my genitals. But I literally feel nothing when we fuck. And he does nothing to even try to help me out. And when it was over he was like, “Did you like that?” And I was like, “Actually no,” and then suggested he might want to help me out.
I leave it alone and the next time I’m like, OK, surely he’ll attempt to give me an orgasm in another way, and he does not. And I stop him and explain he might want to, and he’s confused and then I’m like, “Well I didn’t feel anything last time.” “Are you saying I have a small dick?” “Well you do,” I say.
And then he screams, “MAYBE YOU JUST HAVE A HUGE VAGINA,” and then I left.
(For size, guy No. 1 was maybe 3 inches hard and guy No. 2 was literally 2 inches. And a normal condom looked like a muumuu on it.)