July 09 Quitters

[DeanTheCoot]

Day 133

I've realized that one of the bonuses of having a toddler is he/she is a perpetual scapegoat for my farts.

I can't abuse this privilege. The wife would definitely catch on eventually. But from time to time, if I can eke one out silently and do my finest acting, I can even fart when my wife is sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME.

"Oooo, Jack...did you do poops?"

Goddamn right. Jack did poops.

OWNAGE

[DanTheMan]

There was time, before I was married with a little newt, when my life's only mission was to defrock girls and bite, suck, lick or eat their skin or some bodily fluid.

I had quit drinking, so I couldn't sit alone in the woods and mumble to myself anymore. I had a lot of energy to burn. Being sober, I realized that extremely drunk girls were vulnerable. Not in the date-rape sense, but in the easily-conned sense.

The fact was, sex didn't really interest me. I just wanted to make people do things they either didn't want to do or normally wouldn't do. In some circles, such people are called "sociopaths."

But anyways. This all leads back to dip, and let me tell you how:

One night, I was in the bar with four or five friends. Because I was sober, my speech was solid and, in turn, I was irresistable to women. I also did not smell like puke or hamburger, and my eyes looked really pretty. Did I mention that I am also a very gifted dancer? Girls like dancing.

I decided to lay my skills into a tall young thing. Not a knock-out, but not Helen Keller, either. WASTED. That was why she became my mark. Absolutely don't remember her name, but she lived in a nearby town, and she kept asking me if I knew so-and-so and so-and-so.

Of course, I told her I knew ALL of them, and I made up fun stories.

Also, I told her that I was a commercial jet pilot.

Not much later, I had her pinned against the stall wall in a putrid men's room. I was kissing her and biting her neck and whatnot. She was giving me a handjob and blabbing about her horses or some shit.

Up until that point, I hadn't realized that I still had a fatty in my mouth, because I had been spitting on the bar floor. But now, I was chest to chest with this chick, and I couldn't divert myself to spit.

I decided to be resourceful. Every time I laid my lips on her shoulders, I let a little bit of spit run out of my mouth and onto her back. Before I knew it, I was pretty much spitting all over this girl. Into her hair. In her ears. I unbuttoned her jeans and started spitting directly into her panties.

(I do still remember what her stomach/pubus area looked like. It was nice.)

Honestly, the girl was so drunk that I could have been dripping hydroflouric acid on her, and she wouldn't have noticed.

I didn't feel bad about it because no self-respecting person should end up in a bathroom with a stranger.

Even if he IS a fine dancer.

That was fucking awesome....and gross. Entertaining. I am a bored sumbitch tonight. This shit is priceless.

Dean!!! This is brutal truth. I think so highly of you, and this does NOT lower my opinion of you in the least, but it does make me terrified of men. Really, really terrified. I might have to become gay. :(

You think highly of Dean?!? I'm not saying he doesn't tell some nice stories, in fact I do recall a knife fight between him and a small child, reminds me of I'm better than your kids. Back to my point, if you were convinced Dean was a good guy you could possibly be gay and just not know it.

LOL! So your saying most men don't think this way about poor, sweet, innocent drunk girls? I think Dean just told the truth that most men won't admit. Please correct me if I'm wrong. I would love to believe that most men are good and decent, but from my experience, I'm thinking Dean's thoughts are pretty typical - the spitting part, well that's absolutely repulsive, 'puking' so we'll ignore that.

You're missing the point here.

Some girls just deserve it. 'boob'

Some girls WANT it.

Some girls want to do it to you 'drool'

[RoyJester]

There was time, before I was married with a little newt, when my life's only mission was to defrock girls and bite, suck, lick or eat their skin or some bodily fluid.

I had quit drinking, so I couldn't sit alone in the woods and mumble to myself anymore. I had a lot of energy to burn. Being sober, I realized that extremely drunk girls were vulnerable. Not in the date-rape sense, but in the easily-conned sense.

The fact was, sex didn't really interest me. I just wanted to make people do things they either didn't want to do or normally wouldn't do. In some circles, such people are called "sociopaths."

But anyways. This all leads back to dip, and let me tell you how:

One night, I was in the bar with four or five friends. Because I was sober, my speech was solid and, in turn, I was irresistable to women. I also did not smell like puke or hamburger, and my eyes looked really pretty. Did I mention that I am also a very gifted dancer? Girls like dancing.

I decided to lay my skills into a tall young thing. Not a knock-out, but not Helen Keller, either. WASTED. That was why she became my mark. Absolutely don't remember her name, but she lived in a nearby town, and she kept asking me if I knew so-and-so and so-and-so.

Of course, I told her I knew ALL of them, and I made up fun stories.

Also, I told her that I was a commercial jet pilot.

Not much later, I had her pinned against the stall wall in a putrid men's room. I was kissing her and biting her neck and whatnot. She was giving me a handjob and blabbing about her horses or some shit.

Up until that point, I hadn't realized that I still had a fatty in my mouth, because I had been spitting on the bar floor. But now, I was chest to chest with this chick, and I couldn't divert myself to spit.

I decided to be resourceful. Every time I laid my lips on her shoulders, I let a little bit of spit run out of my mouth and onto her back. Before I knew it, I was pretty much spitting all over this girl. Into her hair. In her ears. I unbuttoned her jeans and started spitting directly into her panties.

(I do still remember what her stomach/pubus area looked like. It was nice.)

Honestly, the girl was so drunk that I could have been dripping hydroflouric acid on her, and she wouldn't have noticed.

I didn't feel bad about it because no self-respecting person should end up in a bathroom with a stranger.

Even if he IS a fine dancer.

That was fucking awesome....and gross. Entertaining. I am a bored sumbitch tonight. This shit is priceless.

Dean!!! This is brutal truth. I think so highly of you, and this does NOT lower my opinion of you in the least, but it does make me terrified of men. Really, really terrified. I might have to become gay. :(

You think highly of Dean?!? I'm not saying he doesn't tell some nice stories, in fact I do recall a knife fight between him and a small child, reminds me of I'm better than your kids. Back to my point, if you were convinced Dean was a good guy you could possibly be gay and just not know it.

LOL! So your saying most men don't think this way about poor, sweet, innocent drunk girls? I think Dean just told the truth that most men won't admit. Please correct me if I'm wrong. I would love to believe that most men are good and decent, but from my experience, I'm thinking Dean's thoughts are pretty typical - the spitting part, well that's absolutely repulsive, 'puking' so we'll ignore that.

You're missing the point here.

Some girls just deserve it. 'boob'

Some girls WANT it.

[GlennFtheKodiak]

There was time, before I was married with a little newt, when my life's only mission was to defrock girls and bite, suck, lick or eat their skin or some bodily fluid.

I had quit drinking, so I couldn't sit alone in the woods and mumble to myself anymore. I had a lot of energy to burn. Being sober, I realized that extremely drunk girls were vulnerable. Not in the date-rape sense, but in the easily-conned sense.

The fact was, sex didn't really interest me. I just wanted to make people do things they either didn't want to do or normally wouldn't do. In some circles, such people are called "sociopaths."

But anyways. This all leads back to dip, and let me tell you how:

One night, I was in the bar with four or five friends. Because I was sober, my speech was solid and, in turn, I was irresistable to women. I also did not smell like puke or hamburger, and my eyes looked really pretty. Did I mention that I am also a very gifted dancer? Girls like dancing.

I decided to lay my skills into a tall young thing. Not a knock-out, but not Helen Keller, either. WASTED. That was why she became my mark. Absolutely don't remember her name, but she lived in a nearby town, and she kept asking me if I knew so-and-so and so-and-so.

Of course, I told her I knew ALL of them, and I made up fun stories.

Also, I told her that I was a commercial jet pilot.

Not much later, I had her pinned against the stall wall in a putrid men's room. I was kissing her and biting her neck and whatnot. She was giving me a handjob and blabbing about her horses or some shit.

Up until that point, I hadn't realized that I still had a fatty in my mouth, because I had been spitting on the bar floor. But now, I was chest to chest with this chick, and I couldn't divert myself to spit.

I decided to be resourceful. Every time I laid my lips on her shoulders, I let a little bit of spit run out of my mouth and onto her back. Before I knew it, I was pretty much spitting all over this girl. Into her hair. In her ears. I unbuttoned her jeans and started spitting directly into her panties.

(I do still remember what her stomach/pubus area looked like. It was nice.)

Honestly, the girl was so drunk that I could have been dripping hydroflouric acid on her, and she wouldn't have noticed.

I didn't feel bad about it because no self-respecting person should end up in a bathroom with a stranger.

Even if he IS a fine dancer.

That was fucking awesome....and gross. Entertaining. I am a bored sumbitch tonight. This shit is priceless.

Dean!!! This is brutal truth. I think so highly of you, and this does NOT lower my opinion of you in the least, but it does make me terrified of men. Really, really terrified. I might have to become gay. :(

You think highly of Dean?!? I'm not saying he doesn't tell some nice stories, in fact I do recall a knife fight between him and a small child, reminds me of I'm better than your kids. Back to my point, if you were convinced Dean was a good guy you could possibly be gay and just not know it.

LOL! So your saying most men don't think this way about poor, sweet, innocent drunk girls? I think Dean just told the truth that most men won't admit. Please correct me if I'm wrong. I would love to believe that most men are good and decent, but from my experience, I'm thinking Dean's thoughts are pretty typical - the spitting part, well that's absolutely repulsive, 'puking' so we'll ignore that.

You're missing the point here.

Some girls just deserve it. 'boob'

[justkeepdancing]

There was time, before I was married with a little newt, when my life's only mission was to defrock girls and bite, suck, lick or eat their skin or some bodily fluid.

I had quit drinking, so I couldn't sit alone in the woods and mumble to myself anymore. I had a lot of energy to burn. Being sober, I realized that extremely drunk girls were vulnerable. Not in the date-rape sense, but in the easily-conned sense.

The fact was, sex didn't really interest me. I just wanted to make people do things they either didn't want to do or normally wouldn't do. In some circles, such people are called "sociopaths."

But anyways. This all leads back to dip, and let me tell you how:

One night, I was in the bar with four or five friends. Because I was sober, my speech was solid and, in turn, I was irresistable to women. I also did not smell like puke or hamburger, and my eyes looked really pretty. Did I mention that I am also a very gifted dancer? Girls like dancing.

I decided to lay my skills into a tall young thing. Not a knock-out, but not Helen Keller, either. WASTED. That was why she became my mark. Absolutely don't remember her name, but she lived in a nearby town, and she kept asking me if I knew so-and-so and so-and-so.

Of course, I told her I knew ALL of them, and I made up fun stories.

Also, I told her that I was a commercial jet pilot.

Not much later, I had her pinned against the stall wall in a putrid men's room. I was kissing her and biting her neck and whatnot. She was giving me a handjob and blabbing about her horses or some shit.

Up until that point, I hadn't realized that I still had a fatty in my mouth, because I had been spitting on the bar floor. But now, I was chest to chest with this chick, and I couldn't divert myself to spit.

I decided to be resourceful. Every time I laid my lips on her shoulders, I let a little bit of spit run out of my mouth and onto her back. Before I knew it, I was pretty much spitting all over this girl. Into her hair. In her ears. I unbuttoned her jeans and started spitting directly into her panties.

(I do still remember what her stomach/pubus area looked like. It was nice.)

Honestly, the girl was so drunk that I could have been dripping hydroflouric acid on her, and she wouldn't have noticed.

I didn't feel bad about it because no self-respecting person should end up in a bathroom with a stranger.

Even if he IS a fine dancer.

That was fucking awesome....and gross. Entertaining. I am a bored sumbitch tonight. This shit is priceless.

Dean!!! This is brutal truth. I think so highly of you, and this does NOT lower my opinion of you in the least, but it does make me terrified of men. Really, really terrified. I might have to become gay. :(

You think highly of Dean?!? I'm not saying he doesn't tell some nice stories, in fact I do recall a knife fight between him and a small child, reminds me of I'm better than your kids. Back to my point, if you were convinced Dean was a good guy you could possibly be gay and just not know it.

LOL! So your saying most men don't think this way about poor, sweet, innocent drunk girls? I think Dean just told the truth that most men won't admit. Please correct me if I'm wrong. I would love to believe that most men are good and decent, but from my experience, I'm thinking Dean's thoughts are pretty typical - the spitting part, well that's absolutely repulsive, 'puking' so we'll ignore that.

[RoyJester]

There was time, before I was married with a little newt, when my life's only mission was to defrock girls and bite, suck, lick or eat their skin or some bodily fluid.

I had quit drinking, so I couldn't sit alone in the woods and mumble to myself anymore. I had a lot of energy to burn. Being sober, I realized that extremely drunk girls were vulnerable. Not in the date-rape sense, but in the easily-conned sense.

The fact was, sex didn't really interest me. I just wanted to make people do things they either didn't want to do or normally wouldn't do. In some circles, such people are called "sociopaths."

But anyways. This all leads back to dip, and let me tell you how:

One night, I was in the bar with four or five friends. Because I was sober, my speech was solid and, in turn, I was irresistable to women. I also did not smell like puke or hamburger, and my eyes looked really pretty. Did I mention that I am also a very gifted dancer? Girls like dancing.

I decided to lay my skills into a tall young thing. Not a knock-out, but not Helen Keller, either. WASTED. That was why she became my mark. Absolutely don't remember her name, but she lived in a nearby town, and she kept asking me if I knew so-and-so and so-and-so.

Of course, I told her I knew ALL of them, and I made up fun stories.

Also, I told her that I was a commercial jet pilot.

Not much later, I had her pinned against the stall wall in a putrid men's room. I was kissing her and biting her neck and whatnot. She was giving me a handjob and blabbing about her horses or some shit.

Up until that point, I hadn't realized that I still had a fatty in my mouth, because I had been spitting on the bar floor. But now, I was chest to chest with this chick, and I couldn't divert myself to spit.

I decided to be resourceful. Every time I laid my lips on her shoulders, I let a little bit of spit run out of my mouth and onto her back. Before I knew it, I was pretty much spitting all over this girl. Into her hair. In her ears. I unbuttoned her jeans and started spitting directly into her panties.

(I do still remember what her stomach/pubus area looked like. It was nice.)

Honestly, the girl was so drunk that I could have been dripping hydroflouric acid on her, and she wouldn't have noticed.

I didn't feel bad about it because no self-respecting person should end up in a bathroom with a stranger.

Even if he IS a fine dancer.

That was fucking awesome....and gross. Entertaining. I am a bored sumbitch tonight. This shit is priceless.

Dean!!! This is brutal truth. I think so highly of you, and this does NOT lower my opinion of you in the least, but it does make me terrified of men. Really, really terrified. I might have to become gay. :(

You think highly of Dean?!? I'm not saying he doesn't tell some nice stories, in fact I do recall a knife fight between him and a small child, reminds me of I'm better than your kids. Back to my point, if you were convinced Dean was a good guy you could possibly be gay and just not know it.

[justkeepdancing]

There was time, before I was married with a little newt, when my life's only mission was to defrock girls and bite, suck, lick or eat their skin or some bodily fluid.

I had quit drinking, so I couldn't sit alone in the woods and mumble to myself anymore. I had a lot of energy to burn. Being sober, I realized that extremely drunk girls were vulnerable. Not in the date-rape sense, but in the easily-conned sense.

The fact was, sex didn't really interest me. I just wanted to make people do things they either didn't want to do or normally wouldn't do. In some circles, such people are called "sociopaths."

But anyways. This all leads back to dip, and let me tell you how:

One night, I was in the bar with four or five friends. Because I was sober, my speech was solid and, in turn, I was irresistable to women. I also did not smell like puke or hamburger, and my eyes looked really pretty. Did I mention that I am also a very gifted dancer? Girls like dancing.

I decided to lay my skills into a tall young thing. Not a knock-out, but not Helen Keller, either. WASTED. That was why she became my mark. Absolutely don't remember her name, but she lived in a nearby town, and she kept asking me if I knew so-and-so and so-and-so.

Of course, I told her I knew ALL of them, and I made up fun stories.

Also, I told her that I was a commercial jet pilot.

Not much later, I had her pinned against the stall wall in a putrid men's room. I was kissing her and biting her neck and whatnot. She was giving me a handjob and blabbing about her horses or some shit.

Up until that point, I hadn't realized that I still had a fatty in my mouth, because I had been spitting on the bar floor. But now, I was chest to chest with this chick, and I couldn't divert myself to spit.

I decided to be resourceful. Every time I laid my lips on her shoulders, I let a little bit of spit run out of my mouth and onto her back. Before I knew it, I was pretty much spitting all over this girl. Into her hair. In her ears. I unbuttoned her jeans and started spitting directly into her panties.

(I do still remember what her stomach/pubus area looked like. It was nice.)

Honestly, the girl was so drunk that I could have been dripping hydroflouric acid on her, and she wouldn't have noticed.

I didn't feel bad about it because no self-respecting person should end up in a bathroom with a stranger.

Even if he IS a fine dancer.

That was fucking awesome....and gross. Entertaining. I am a bored sumbitch tonight. This shit is priceless.

Dean!!! This is brutal truth. I think so highly of you, and this does NOT lower my opinion of you in the least, but it does make me terrified of men. Really, really terrified. I might have to become gay. :(

[LaQuitter]

Just had this conversation with my wife, while I was in the kitchen holding my son:

Dean: *putting dishes away...comes across steak knife...holds it like I am ready to slash with it, handle palmed and blade facing rear/outward from forearm...makes thrusting noises...son laughs*

Wife: Honey.

Dean: What?

Wife: Are you stupid?

Dean: What? He needs to learn how to knife-fight!

Wife: Idiot.

Here's one for you........

So my wife and daughter head out yesterday afternoon to attend one of those stupid pre-wedding get togethers to make bows or some shit. My son and I are left behind....thank you baby Jesus!

So after I get him up from his nap, I toss him into our bed in front of the television which is appropriately showing golf. I go about what ever it was I was doing at the time....I look over and he is just chilling watching the tournament. When the time comes to get him, I walk over to the bed, pull back the sheets only to find my son has pulled an "Al Bundy" on me. I'm talking this kid is in there deep...at least half way up his tiny forearm. I ask:

"Matt, what are you doing with your hand down your pants?"

His response, "just relaxing watching the golf."

Mind you he is only two (2). He already refers to it as "junk" and obviously is way ahead of the curve when it comes to relaxing on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

Brings a tear to a father's eye to see his son grow up so fast.

Next weekend, we learn the ins and outs of knife fighting from Uncle Dean!

This is a perfect example of instinct vs. learned behavior.

This is pure instinct.

Where the hell have I been all this time? This is a cool place to hang.

Stretch, that is some funny shit!

[LaQuitter]

There was time, before I was married with a little newt, when my life's only mission was to defrock girls and bite, suck, lick or eat their skin or some bodily fluid.

I had quit drinking, so I couldn't sit alone in the woods and mumble to myself anymore. I had a lot of energy to burn. Being sober, I realized that extremely drunk girls were vulnerable. Not in the date-rape sense, but in the easily-conned sense.

The fact was, sex didn't really interest me. I just wanted to make people do things they either didn't want to do or normally wouldn't do. In some circles, such people are called "sociopaths."

But anyways. This all leads back to dip, and let me tell you how:

One night, I was in the bar with four or five friends. Because I was sober, my speech was solid and, in turn, I was irresistable to women. I also did not smell like puke or hamburger, and my eyes looked really pretty. Did I mention that I am also a very gifted dancer? Girls like dancing.

I decided to lay my skills into a tall young thing. Not a knock-out, but not Helen Keller, either. WASTED. That was why she became my mark. Absolutely don't remember her name, but she lived in a nearby town, and she kept asking me if I knew so-and-so and so-and-so.

Of course, I told her I knew ALL of them, and I made up fun stories.

Also, I told her that I was a commercial jet pilot.

Not much later, I had her pinned against the stall wall in a putrid men's room. I was kissing her and biting her neck and whatnot. She was giving me a handjob and blabbing about her horses or some shit.

Up until that point, I hadn't realized that I still had a fatty in my mouth, because I had been spitting on the bar floor. But now, I was chest to chest with this chick, and I couldn't divert myself to spit.

I decided to be resourceful. Every time I laid my lips on her shoulders, I let a little bit of spit run out of my mouth and onto her back. Before I knew it, I was pretty much spitting all over this girl. Into her hair. In her ears. I unbuttoned her jeans and started spitting directly into her panties.

(I do still remember what her stomach/pubus area looked like. It was nice.)

Honestly, the girl was so drunk that I could have been dripping hydroflouric acid on her, and she wouldn't have noticed.

I didn't feel bad about it because no self-respecting person should end up in a bathroom with a stranger.

Even if he IS a fine dancer.

That was fucking awesome....and gross. Entertaining. I am a bored sumbitch tonight. This shit is priceless.

[LaQuitter]

my mouth still feels off

Honestly, Glenn, your mouth still feels off because there is no tobacco in it. So does mine. Every day.

Think of it this way: You probably didn't get used to the ridges and leukoplakia and bumps two decades ago, when you'd been dipping only six or 12 months. It took hardcore use and addiction to get used to that.

Same thing now, but in reverse.

Probably right. It doesn't 'hurt' anymore, but it still feels like a put a whole tin in my mouth. Stale.

I know I'm fucking paranoid, but i have been biting through my cheek like it's a piece of bubble-yum..what the hell can I do to stop? I feel like an ass because I yelp like a lap dog everytime it happens and people look at me like I'm nuts. That shit hurts!

I've done it once or twice myself 'disco. While chowing down on a wad of gum that I am working over to keep the damn dip out of my face.

[LaQuitter]

Day 112

I am wondering what motivates some of us to be so involved with KTC and the people who come, go and stay here. Of course, there are a number of possible reasons why.

But who believes we get so involved because we're trying to set the quit bar higher and higher and higher? Or that we get crazy and talk shit to put more and more skin in the game?

Let me explain.

It might not surface while I ream out someone's ass for not posting roll or for being a general cocksucker, but I do believe that my whole motivation is to make it IMPOSSIBLE for me to cave. I want to put myself out there so much, to so many people, that I become a model quitter who cannot, under any circumstances, let people down and be a hypocrite.

I force this upon myself, you know? I sure as hell wasn't born this way. I am not inherently strong. In terms of addiction and habits, I am a natural weakling. If Darwin was alive today, he'd use me as an example of the weakest being crushed. But because I want to be quit, I need to CHANGE what I naturally am.

Because weaklings CANNOT quit. It's that simple.

Well said Dean. There is no doubt in my mind that this site and the people here are the reason I stay quit. I don't want to let down the vets that have supported me, the August brothers that have depended on and also supported me, or the noobs that need support. Being involved definitely gives you a strong quit.

[jaydisco]

my mouth still feels off

Honestly, Glenn, your mouth still feels off because there is no tobacco in it. So does mine. Every day.

Think of it this way: You probably didn't get used to the ridges and leukoplakia and bumps two decades ago, when you'd been dipping only six or 12 months. It took hardcore use and addiction to get used to that.

Same thing now, but in reverse.

Probably right. It doesn't 'hurt' anymore, but it still feels like a put a whole tin in my mouth. Stale.

I know I'm fucking paranoid, but i have been biting through my cheek like it's a piece of bubble-yum..what the hell can I do to stop? I feel like an ass because I yelp like a lap dog everytime it happens and people look at me like I'm nuts. That shit hurts!

[GlennFtheKodiak]

my mouth still feels off

Honestly, Glenn, your mouth still feels off because there is no tobacco in it. So does mine. Every day.

Think of it this way: You probably didn't get used to the ridges and leukoplakia and bumps two decades ago, when you'd been dipping only six or 12 months. It took hardcore use and addiction to get used to that.

Same thing now, but in reverse.

Probably right. It doesn't 'hurt' anymore, but it still feels like a put a whole tin in my mouth. Stale.

[DeanTheCoot]

my mouth still feels off

Honestly, Glenn, your mouth still feels off because there is no tobacco in it. So does mine. Every day.

Think of it this way: You probably didn't get used to the ridges and leukoplakia and bumps two decades ago, when you'd been dipping only six or 12 months. It took hardcore use and addiction to get used to that.

Same thing now, but in reverse.

[GlennFtheKodiak]

Good call Deano - you'll be glad you went!

http://blog.killthecan.org/?p=119

Thanks for the blog link, sir. What you wrote reflects exactly how I feel. Even during the ride to work this morning, I kept thinking to myself: "I DON'T have mouth cancer...COOL."

It really IS cool, you know? All of us played Russian roulette for a long, long time, and it is very cool to have dodged the bullet. We deserve it, for quitting.

103 days later, though, my mouth still feels ugly. Unlike you, Dean, I did go to the dentist twice a year. Was a fanatical brusher. But my mouth still feels off. Maybe it's the gum surgery still? Haven't had a cleaning since....

Not happy....