Lameking.net

Today I masturbated.

I know, some of you are turned off when I talk about self-pleasure but this is really funny. If your offended, just click the button in the top right hand side of the screen and fuck off for all I care. I’m not making any money from this site, I do it for my “fans” I tell you! Here’s my story - I just moved into my new place with an entirely new group of roommates (One of them being from Mexico whom I call “The Luchador” because I keep forgetting his name).

Some of my other roommates I had just met this week so it stands to reason that I felt like a bit of a stranger in my own home as they went about their daily activities and I was still getting accustomed to the ins-and-outs of the new pad. Don’t you hate it when it’s dark and you are walking down the hall groping the wall looking for that light switch? I do. Anyway, I was “holding it in” all week (Again, I felt a little creepy wacking off in the bathroom in the house in which I don’t know anyone, and the jibber-jabber of broken Spanish kills my erections, especially when they watch wrestling). I mean, come on, who goes around jerking off in bathroom’s of strangers’ houses? Nobody does that.

Well, long story short is today was the day I spanked myself silly in the bathroom downstairs to this: http://www.xvideos.com/video5228/cute_girl_get_fuckt. And yes, I had my laptop que it up and I took it off the desk and brought it right into the bathroom with me because I have no shame. If I spoke Spanish I’d tell my roommate what I was doing but the electrical cord I had tied around my neck and frilly g-string I had on should have given away my intentions.

I really like this girl because she’s my “style” and I love the dark features, body (And the fact that she has a pulse), and the stockings just do it for me. I’m talking bow-chicka-chicka-bow-bow. Anyway, I got about 1 minute 15 seconds in and I felt like I was erupting and shooting fireworks out of my penis, my body went into convulsions and I started quivering in ways that most school girls to when they feel wiener for the first time. Forget “cum rags” I had to use a beach towel.

That is all, Lamekings, go in peace and have a weekend. Or shall I say, ¡Acabo de masturbar y vine cubos, y yo adoro lucha!

6 months and I’ve been without a fucking job. I am completely serious. I have a degree and 3 years of experience too. I’ve been getting by on less than $1,000 a month (Epic feat in SoCal let me tell you) from my card counting skills at the local casinos. I have a few winning sessions, and of course a few losing sessions, but overall the last 6 times I’ve been I’ve come out ahead 5 times which has just been magical. Highlights include 1 strike in which I took $400 from them in one hand splitting 9/9 against a 6, pulling 2 17’s with the dealer busting out. (Anyone wants to team play in SoCal do msg me k thx)

I don’t know how anyone gets a job anymore, I seriously fucking don’t. I’ve cold called, resume “blasted” and networked with everyone who would listen to me open my mouth. I’ve sent out countless emails, letters, thank-you’s and sucked so much verbal cock my mouth hurts from puckering up to HR idiots. I can tell you “Where I want to be 5 years from now” and I know how to turn my weaknesses into strengths. “Oh this looks like a great opportunity for me, I’m so excited to meet with you” literally falls off my tongue each time I speak to some of these people. It’s an act, they know it’s an act, I know they know it’s an act but it’s a song that must be sung. This is professional business speaking, overly polite bullshit.

My search has had it’s ups and downs; 3 companies verbally gave me the green light and last second the plug gets pulled from internal issues (See: Money). One company out here made me come in 3 times, fill out an employee “quiz”, supply references, and come back in to meet with 1 guy who decided to take the day off when I was in there meeting the other 5 people I’d be working with. Then they dragged out the process for 5 months and it was paying $10,000 less than what I was making before. The benefits were great, the company was stable, and it seemed like a match, right? When your unemployed, broke, and creditors are calling you do these things. These stupid irrational things and you keep a smile on your face the entire time because what else can you do?

I’ve gone from a sense of “freedom” the first week I was laid off to anger, to resentment, to frustration, to tranquility, to desperation, and finally where I am at now - “FUCK EM”. That’s where I’m at right now as well. It’s reached a point to where I just don’t give a fuck anymore and whatever happens, so fucking be it. I’m also changing my attitude with these guys as well, I’m frankly sick of my time being wasted by every empty promise in the book. When they call me with their golden “ticket” of opportunity, I’m calling bullshit and like I tell women (It’s YOUR HONOR my penis is in your mouth) and it’s YOUR honor I’m at least passively interested in your fucktard of a company.I had one guy I met with last week who spoke to me for 2 hours on the phone, we were laughing, sharing common interests, and it seemed like an exact personality and professional match.

I even wanted to hang out with the guy if things went well because I really enjoyed our conversation - both hail from startups and had both rode the rocky ups and downs of the tech industry. I went in the following day per his invite (Saying to him on the phone; “If your in town, I will make myself available because I’m excited about this match”) and I felt it clicked.I walked out of the interview confident I’d get an offer the next week as he told me specifically, “Call me Monday to touch base” and I presumed that meant to iron out specifics for the next week.4 calls, an email, 2 text messages (Texting… I know, but it’s California we are different here) in 3 days and no word back. He returns my email 4 days later and makes me out to be somewhat of a stalker asking me to quit emailing and calling. Gee, that’s funny because you said you’d be expecting my call on Monday and you were unavailable, I’m just trying to be proactive and I want to let you know I’m sincerely interested.

I guess on his planet that’s not how you get a job, you just kind of hang out and smoke weed in between beach trips and Mario Kart and work kind of just finds you. Money isn’t earned, it’s just picked from the tree in the backyard and girls don’t expect dates or dinner for sex it’s the first word out of their mouth and they are upset when your penis is anything but 5 inches.

I also think that some of these fucks get a power trip kick out of having someone come down to their office at 1 pm, dawn a business suit, pay for parking, print out resumes, be overly polite to people you don’t even know, and basically fuck up their entire afternoon to come down and answer endless questions about stupid bullshit nobody gives a fuck about anyway. I’m not landing the space shuttle I’m in marketing which means I make spreadsheets and graphs and supply the VP’s with whatever bullshit they want or need to sell their useless product. I can operate Excel and I know how to email people, can have the job now? Oh you want to see 30 pages on how to market pens? Yes sir I’m on it.

Secretly, I also think that a lot of these male-dominated companies are looking to hire 20 somethings who look good in business slacks and dresses because their spineless, dickless, assholes who cannot get laid in real life so they get off (Literally) by bossing and telling some young girl who wouldn’t give them the time of day in high school how to fax and develop spreadsheets. “That’s not how I take my coffee!” echoes though the hallways. Yes I mean that, and I’m probably right too.

I also think a lot of these employers are on a magical fantasy island where they think they can hire someone who will work for $35,000 a year with 10 years of experience working directly with their competitor. Realty checking in here: these people do not exist. If you want someone with experience, who presents well, who can really help your company, you have to pay them what they are worth or they will just leave in 3 months anyway when they are not challenges and your $17.50 an hour starts to suck cock in this economy where gas here is $4.25 a gallon and lunch anywhere will set you back $12.00. Here’s a resume I think Mr. Loser wants working “under” him:

Does that seem like reality to you? I’m just checking because that’s not to me either. Well, fuck searching for a job and this emotional roller coaster, I’m back to Mario Kart and that bong isn’t going to hit itself.

Happy job hunting in 2008, friends.

Well I’m back here posting on Lameking, again. I was busy the last few weeks planning a hiking trip up K2 with my friend Adam, but sadly it fell through. Adam said he could get a deal or some sort of 2 for 1 discount on the helicopter rental and English speaking pilot through some page he found on Google but reality set in when we found out that this great 2 for 1 discount would still cost us almost $20,000 fucking dollars.

I met this girl (Not the one pictured here but the girl I did meet did have brown hair and boobs which is close enough) a few weeks ago in a bar and ended up back at her place somehow, and by the powers that be I some how managed a little action. The best thing is that she’s pretty dirty and despite my shotty track record with women and my questionable sexuality preference as of late (Ahem, tranny pornos!) we’ve been sending nasty texts back and forth all day and it makes my day go by a little faster (Well, I’m unemployed at the moment so it speeds up the commercials).

I have the iPhone and I have a bad habit of clicking too quickly and when you pair that with not caring too much it’s a deadly combination. Her name is Brandy and I have a guy named Brandon B right next to each other in my address book and I accidentally texted “I woke up this morning with a hard on and I masturbated thinking of my fingers in your ass” to my auto mechanic and sadly I didn’t get a response. I guess I’ll have to find a new mechanic now due to me fingering some random girls butt.

This week is starting off great, no K2 and I have to find a new mechanic. Or the kicker could be he’s been secretly hoping to receive this text from me and it’s taking him 24 hours to select his words very carefully when he responds. The anticipation is killing me here. Well, Brandy is calling, I’d better go. Stay tuned this could be a pretty funny story.

I just got back home into Southern California from Las Vegas about 4 hours ago. I was in the city of sin for 5 days, but before you start thinking strip clubs, orgy’s, and doing blow in the bathrooms, I was staying with my parents in a hotel far away from everything for a family reunion. This was a very muted trip - at least from the perspective of the activities planned: movies with my parents, dinner and lunch with extended family, and .01 cent keno/slots with my 82 year old grandparents with cranberry juice when the cocktail waitress was within shouting distance.

I was somewhat stuck at South Pointe because I decided to fly in from California, as the collective “we” were there without a car. It cost me $25.00 each way to get into the mix (A la the Vegas Strip) when I wanted out of the bland earth tone bingo mecca for a few hours, and that got old real quick - especially if things went down hill at the tables in the other casinos. I’m also convinced that the South Pointe Casino as it’s called has an age limit - in order to hang out here you have to be 65 years old. Immediately I thought up new versions of the name: Crowpoint Casino (Think: “Old Crow”), SouthCroast, and The Croast.

However, as fate would have it, one night I was able to connect with a friend who is stationed out in Las Vegas as he is a proud member of the Air Force and him and I made our way into the action (With him thankfully picking me up) after my parents went to bed at 8:30 on a Saturday night in Vegas.

Now, I’m a tall guy (6′4″) and I don’t have any problems talking to women and one of things I’ve been doing recently with all of the time I have is hitting the gym hard (Thanks unemployment), so if you throw me into the same hormonal demographic as my peers with 6-7 drinks in both of us, and its pretty common for me to be able to slide in and make a few things happen. Folks, this is called foreshadowing in writing and it’s a preclusion to the final “bang” in the story.

We went to “Pure” at Caesar’s palace and after I talked my way into the place without paying a cover, I managed to get myself sandwiched between two young ladies - one a slightly more chunkier version of Princess Blueyez and her friend who shared the same waistline but wasn’t quite up to par with her friend in the face. I’m pretty sure they were not hookers because they were buying me drinks, and truthfully, if they were hookers they’d be broke very quickly because if your going to bother paying for it, you’re going to buy better.

3:30 AM rolls around and both girls are all over me, we’re both making out, sharing 3-way kisses, and just being a sloppy mess. To the onlooker, it could have appeared two ways, 1 way being: Wow, look at that fucking guy! or the more possible variant: Look at that drunk guy with those two fat chicks. But this is Las Vegas, we’re all plastered, and I have the possibility to up my count by two in one evening. I’m game for anything at this pointe.

“Hey, where are you staying? Let’s go back and drink some more in your room.” Princess says.

“Well, I’m in town on a convention (Lie) and my coworker is in the room with me, I can’t kick him out (Another lie, I’m sleeping 4 feet away from my parents) of the room now.” I reply.

“We live too far away, where are you staying?” Princess counters.

“Um.. well.. (Flashes room key) here, it’s kind of new, have you heard of it?” I let out trying to up the Croast’s ante.

Within 3 seconds of witnessing the key to the South Pointe Casino they are doubling over in laughter, and within 30 seconds, they are holding each other’s hands and running for the exit. I guess that told them a few things about myself: 1. I don’t have any money and 2. I could have been duped (Just for the time being) by two very ugly hookers.

Score broad: Croast: 1 Spooner: 0

This morning was absolutely amazing. I woke up with an erection and decided to take advantage of that since it’s the first time I’ve been hard without the little blue pill or booze in weeks. Maybe my luck is turning, but anyway I was watching this boygirl tranny porn (Here if your interested) and right as I had that twinkle in my eye my phone rang.

Normally, I’d let it go straight to voicemail,  but I’ve been job seeking for a few months now and I have my resume floating around everywhere (Including Speedway!), I thought this may have been an offer. I’m also dead broke so every time the phone rings, it brings hope. I made a mistake and decided to answer. The lady on the other end of the line opened with the standard corporate bullshit line “Hey, Spooner, is now a good time?” and boy, how do I answer that? Ironically, in one sense, it was just about that time - but in the other, no.

“Sure” I let out, but right as that happened, the other thing happened. I had it everywhere and it wasn’t stopping. All over my fucking laptop touch pad, my phone, hell I think I even got some in my hair. I started with the profanity and the lady on the other end of the phone must have been completely and utterly confused.

“Fuck” I said right into my phone.

“Excuse me? Is everything alright over there?” she said.

“I..I.. I was jacking off to transexual porn and you called right as I money-shotted into my palm and in a fury to answer the phone I got goop all over myself, my laptop, and my $700.00 phone spilled kool-aid all over my laptop, let me give you a call back” I countered.

I’ve got a meeting for tomorrow at 10 AM, this time I’ll call my grandma 20 minutes before our meeting to ensure no funny businessss or hijinksss on my end. Sssorry, the “S” key is sssticking and I don’t know why.

Some of you have known of this site and have been reading for a while, whilst others of you are brand new to my hijinks and I guarantee that if you visit this page with any degree of regularity you’ll fall in love with the content. I have many fans around the globe, and often times when I’m out and about doing things during the day my fans approach me and ask for autographs and pictures.

Some fans even go as far as to alert the media, paparazzi, and local news channels. Often I’m notified by my PR company of things and fans will call in and report what I’m seen doing around the city. Below you’ll see a snapshot of the last 48 or so hours of my life, and we you can tell, I pretty much live a pampered and lavish lifestyle surrounded by unobtainable items for the common folk and everyone is jealous of me.

Hi this is Marissa, I’m a long time fan of Lameking and I just wanted to say that I saw Spooner last week walking down the street. He was looking a little ragged (I could tell he had two different color socks on, but was oblivious to this) and I saw him get into a verbal confrontation with a homeless man over a quarter. From what I could make out, Spooner said that he saw the quarter first and that he had “dibbs” on it while the homeless man cried foul. In a surprise move, the homeless man, wearing black fingerless gloves, sucker punched Spooner right in the mouth, and within moments, they were wrestling on the ground right there on the sidewalk.

After 45 seconds roughly, the homeless man jumped off Spooner and I saw him making a gesture at Spooner, calling him what I could roughly hear “A sick fuck” and then I saw Spooner get up, and say something like “I’m not gay, it was just the friction” and walk away.

He never did get the quarter.

It seems that I can’t even squeeze the happy lumberjack now-a-days without comedy ensuing. Bad luck follows me around like stink on a monkey and today was a day like no other.

My neighbor is a reverend and his wife is a well-read housewife who is into gardening, her cat, and making small talk with me when I take the trash out. The “Rev” as we call him in our pad is into playing the saxophone and can be heard piping away daily around 3:30 pm, which is also the time I make a sandwich and take my mid day break from work (I do the whole home office thing).

My stress reliever normally involves visits to xtube, redtube, and xvideos.com which you can probably deduce from the context isn’t a site about puppies and kittens, it’s about young girls getting drilled every which way and even in ways you can’t comprehend or understand. Let it be known that I have very good speakers that I bought so that I could hear footsteps in Counter-Strike (Cool, right?) so I have the full on porn experience over here.

I caught myself fapping today to a very good scene with Shayla Styles in it (She digs black guys and anal), and half way through her scene (She’s piloting a plane, can you imagine her really doing that?) I hear the sweat melodies of the Sax filtering in through my cracked window. My lunchtime masturbation ritual now has a soundtrack orchestrated by a reverend. I know you have to be jealous of this, as from what I’ve discussed with friends, I’m the only person with such a circumstance.

The best part is that the “Rev” is a very good saxophone player, often times I have to pause mid stroke or turn down the “Oh, right there, don’t stop!” or “Yes, Yes, I’m coming fuck me harder!” on my speakers when he is into the second and third musical frames because sound is really beautiful and it’s a free concert. Once or twice I caught myself stopping completely because I’ve been so captivated by the musical beauty that’s surrounding me. I picture him sitting around his kitchen table wearing some slacks with a loose fitting blazer with the music stand in front of him playing some sweet jazz, while his wife is looking on with a warm smile on her face dipping and turning her head in approval while knitting him a scarf.

Meanwhile, they are completely unaware of the meat attack going on 10 feet away from their kitchen window while I’m beating myself silly with the curtains drawn and spitting every so often in my hands for lube watching 2 black guys fuck a drugged 19 year old in the ass.

How’s that for irony?

Did you really think that I’d be able to stay away from this? Please. Few things I need to get off my chest; first off thanks everyone for the support, including Mike who saved my butt when the domain went up for auction (Fetching $250.00 from one lonely bidder who was probably into Cosplay). When I took lameking down I got a ton of emails (Okay I got 3, but that’s a ton for an E/N site), and a lot of IMs from people begging for me to put the site back up. 2 Years later I heed your cry, friends. Also, if you had me linked before, and you wish for me to reciprocate the link back to you, let me know. If your a fan of my work, after I get a few posts up and get my layout squared away, please drop me a plug. If you want hot cyber, my email address is spooner40oz - at - yahoo.com. Send me porn, spam, and Viagra offers please.

I’m going to try to update this page with goodness twice a week, once with a weekend wrap up post and another midweek. Keeping with Lameking customs and traditions, the self-deprecating humor, porn (Teen panty pics, etc.), and imagery that you’ve grown so fond of will be making it’s Ali-like return to the web. I know there’s a big market for what I did, so here I am.

While I get my new layout, server configuration, and all that junk setup and operational, let Internet prodigy, Ian, bedazzle you with his interpretation of “I Believe in a Thing Called Love” which I am making my Lameking.net theme song.