Bangor, Maine I know there are some extremely jealous married women out there, especially when it comes to any “ex” their husband may have. At one time, prior to being married, Mr. Goat called me by his ex’s name. I stopped in my tracks, turned around, and gave him one of those “What the…” looks and as the realization of what had happened settled into that sometimes confusing head of his, he explained how it should be taken as a compliment. Fourteen years later, I’m still processing that statement. My point is: I didn’t beat him to a bloody pulp over the mention of her name, I didn’t maim him after running into her at some store. No. I save those feelings of rage for leaving cabinet doors open, toilet seat lids up, and grape jelly smeared across the counter-top – those daily reminders that some men are just brain damaged. Not once has jealousy sent me into a tailspin to where I’d take a plastic ball bat and ram it through his ballsack to his guts.
The same cannot be said for Roxanne Jeskey, the 48-year-old crazy bitch who’s now accused of the torture and death of her husband because of a phone call between he and his ex. (more…)
Spring Hill, Florida I have a younger brother by five years and I’m here to tell you there was no bigger pain in the ass than he. Whine, cry, tattle-tale and the little shit was always getting into my crap. And he never got into trouble for his antics because he was the baby. There were good things about having him around though. It allowed me to hone my “clever skills”. I constantly had to change-up my game as he became smarter and my will to not get caught became greater. I think those times were good for us both. Hopefully I helped shape who he hides deep within himself today, the non-neurotic cool guy. Or perhaps I helped contribute to the sniffling little brat he still is today – the one who sends me love letters saying, “you’re dead to me”. Either way, our sibling rivalry only went so far – hiding prized possessions on each other, etc. And I have to wonder if prized possessions were what the Eckards expected to find as their daughter said, “Mom, we have to dig up that hole. What’s in that hole?” (more…)
By ThinkGoat’s evil twin
Louisville Kentucky Autoerotic asphyxia, asphyxiophilia, hypoxyphilia, erotic asphyxiation is the intentional restriction of oxygen to the brain for sexual arousal. In other words, you’re going to let someone damn near strangle you to death to reach a good orgasm during sex. I like to call this sex game, “you put your hands around my neck and your balls end up in your throat” but that’s just me. I like to play rough. If my partner doesn’t mind his scrotum in his neck, I guess I shouldn’t mind a little airway restriction – and I can guarantee you one fucking thing – I don’t know of one man who’s unhappy with the natural placement of their bag so I’m thinking my pristine throat and breathing pattern is just fine thankyouverymuch. And people, if you’re having problems reaching orgasm or you just like sexing dangerously, buy some fucking toys for crying out loud. Put nails through them or something but god damnit, strangling just leads to some bad shit. Sooner or later your luck will run out and there’s no crazy sex games in heaven, if that’s where you plan on going. (more…)
New Bedford, Massachusetts It’s a hard choice for some children, putting their parents into a nursing home. At least it should be a hard decision. Those places are just plain evil. I don’t know if the “homes” were invented to exact revenge from children who had horrible childhoods or what the deal is. There’s nothing that remotely resembles a “home” there. No old person’s home I’ve walked into has smelled like a nursing home. Sure, some smell like piss but most elderly people don’t mix in that unmistakable chemical smell. All the furniture is covered with some wipe down plastic upholstery, the food sucks, and the majority of the residents are pissed as hell their children turned on them. As if all that weren’t enough, there’s generally a contingent of staff who don’t really care if the old people are squishing crap between their butt cheeks and especially don’t give a damn about the petty spats that occur between roommates. Seriously, what staff member is going to listen to someone like 98-year-old Laura Lundquist who bitches that the old lady in her room gets too many visitors and complains about a table at the foot of the bed? Loony Laura is just a crotchety old hag anyway – one who’s now facing a shitload of legal troubles. It’ll be interesting to see what happens with this murder… (more…)