Home...Home...Home...

So it's official...almost. Five years and three tries later, I am almost through with my freshman year of college. I'm hoping that every "year" of college doesn't take this long. I don't see that happening, since I don't see myself dropping out (again) any time soon. College is pretty easy actually. And I don't mean to belittle those who have a hard time with certain courses, or simply feel that they aren't smart. But when I look at the alternative, (working a full time job, that probably sucks) college is really an easy and far more enjoyable gig. Now if you happen to paint bikinis on supermodels or do something you find fulfilling like saving children then prehaps it may be a different situation for you. But compared to the grinds of a commission based retail sales job, college is far more interesting and simply much easier to care about. That said, the eye candy on average is spectacular.

I haven't had the chance to really reflect on the proverbial "shit" lately, mostly because reflection in my life generally means a hangover of gargantuan proportions - and a free day to revel in it. Sadly and yet thankfully, the implications of my lack of reflection mean that I don't drink as much as I used to. Is that good? Is that bad? I have friends who'd say yes, some who would say no, some who would say maybe, and then there are those that would say they didn't care. As for me, what do I think? I think I miss cigarettes. I think I miss "snakebites". I think I might even miss cocaine. I think I should have never left (and you're free to wonder where I mean - since I'm not so sure myself). I think...I think I really miss sex.

I was watching "Open Season" the other day. It's an animated short starring the voices of Ashton Kutcher and Martin Lawrence. Ashton's character (the deer) has a crush on Giselle (sensibly enough, a doe.) Maybe it was the music, or maybe it was because I still had morning wood, but I was thinking dirty thoughts. If that doesn't make you want to take a step back and analyze where you are in your life, I don't know what will. I mean, it's bad enough I was sexually attracted to a cartoon character, but it's even worse when the cartoon character isn't even human. Note to self...stop that.

Okay, enough about me for a second. I know, why else would you read my blog if you weren't slightly interested in me, but I want to tell you a story. A story about a twenty something year old guy, a half decent guy...okay maybe not a half but definitely a solid one third - decent guy. A story that's just so sad, so funny, and so ridiculous that the twenty something year old guy just couldn't have made it up. Now with all that build up, this story better be good. I'm still trying to prepare myself to tell you. Because quite frankly, I feel bad for this twenty something year old guy, but I can't stop laughing at him.

For the sake of not writing twenty something year old guy over and over again, I'm going to name this twenty something year old guy Milo. Milo isn't what you would call "mild-mannered". But that's not to say Milo is insane, rather Milo is simply Milo and the events that happen to Milo sometimes seem as if they could never really happen to anyone other than Milo. Fuckin' Milo. Milo has been desperately trying to keep his life on the kind of track that doesn't include cigarettes, a superfluous amount of alcohol and a bottom bed of rock that he just so loves to hit. Milo's the kinda guy people like to party with because Milo can fucking party - sometimes too hard, make that often times too hard.

Milo once had a broad, who at the very least he thought, liked penis. It was a safe assumption he decided, afterall they were together weren't they? Well the word wrong doesn't quite seem to cut it at this very moment. Then again, we have to remember that Milo isn't all that right to begin with. So Milo laughed, mainly to keep from crying at this point, because he thought - well at least he doesn't have to torture himself with images of her getting railed by massive cock(s)...but from time to time he does anyway. So the ex is a lesbian...Milo thinks it's better this way. At least that's how he felt at first. But now a days Milo isn't so sure of most things, except one very important thing. That Milo has loved, still loves and will continue to love - vagina. The only penis Milo ever loved was his own and sadly it has also been the only loving his penis has received in quite some time. But do understand that this has been primarily by choice...not really Milo's choice but rather the choice of the women he knows. *shrugs shoulders*

But with this new-found revelation, Milo began to question many things about his past, about girls, and specifically lesbians. Now, Milo doesn't have a thing against lesbians. In fact, you could deduce from Milo's love for vagina that lesbians would probably rank highly on things Milo liked - I mean just consider the presence of more than one vagina. But still the question does arise among sexual orientation, preference and most likely both. The more Milo has learned, the more he has realized that it is never a simple answer of right or wrong, yes or no, truth or lies - hell it's seldom even about the answer.

As in most cases, the right answer isn't possible without the right question, so Milo asks - how did he ever end up with a lesbian? Well, it could've been the mutual interest in photography, art, music, literature - no...maybe a common desire to "get the fuck outta here" - warmer, but still no...Ah! A mutual love of vagina?! har har. Milo makes me laugh. Yet, these answers, as amusing as they are, failed to satisfy Milo's real quest for "truth". Perhaps he isn't asking the right question.

Was she always a lesbian? Now that's a quandry I think Milo isn't fully prepared to query. But at times, when everyone else is asleep, Milo sits and stares into the dim light of his PowerBook, and he wonders if any of it is still really worth questioning. Yet, what else can Milo do with his life? He works, he does rather well in school, he lifts, he runs, he flirts, he drinks, he smokes, he laughs, he jokes... But in the small hours of the early morning, when the sun seems no where in sight, when there are more pressing matters crucial to Milo's future, he sits and stares. He alternates from one website to another - methodically, obsessively, compulsively, and maybe even maniacially clicking "home"... Home.... Home.... Home....

Milo is clearly looking for something, but clearly, he doesnt know what, where, or quite possibly even who. Still, the question remains, and Milo considers no...No she was not always a lesbian. At first glance Milo thought, that "no" would be the more difficult pill to swallow. Afterall the implications of turning someone into a full blown lesbian can deliver quite the gargantuan swift kick to the ego's testes. But Milo is one resilient motherfucker. He smirks between clicks, and with an air of unrelenting confidence suggests that she simply couldn't handle the cock. But...(and with Milo, there is always a "but...") he knew that, although possible, it was highly improbable. Milo's seen enough footage to know that women, when willing, are quite capable of handling much more than what he's offering. And, as expected, that air of confidence diminished to nothing more than a flaccid, nearly inaudible, sigh of defeat.

Still, Milo soldiered on, believing that a "yes", could potentially lead to a much more desirable set of circumstances. What could Milo have done? She was always a lesbian. She simply liked vagina. Milo couldn't really fault her for that, especially since Milo had quite a love for vagina himself. Milo assured himself that it simply had nothing to do with him. Except...(oh, and along with "but", Milo's life is no stranger to the concept of "except")...how could a relationship have nothing to do with one of it's participants? Wouldn't that negate what a relationship is? Now, Milo didn't even consider the fact that perhaps the relationship never truly existed, since there were enough factors and situations when clearly a relationship, at least at it's very basic definition, did exist. But Milo wondered why, if she always did like vagina, would she have ever wanted him? I mean, Milo has made enough quivering and shivering to know that he's been properly delivering, but he's honest with himself. Milo knows there is always room for improvement. How does liking vagina lead to him? Did Milo have vagina-like qualities unbeknowst to him? And if so, what the fuck were they?! Milo did sweat on occasion, and at times, he could be a bit clammy. Yet somehow Milo knew that the physical attributes were not the ones that really bothered him.

Milo forgot all about the quivering, the shivering, and even the delivering. Milo was now just confused, upset, and a little aroused. Why? He wasn't sure, Milo's always a little aroused. That's just Milo.

So there Milo sat and sadly clicked "home" again and again...and again. And just like that, it came to him. Milo at an instance knew the "answer". As if truly feeling awake for the first time in years, Milo accepted it and veritably embraced it. The answer covered more than his own quandries. Forget about "his", Milo's answer transcended generations, cultures, sexes, animals, religions - whatever it was, Milo had figured it out. I am almost too afraid to share it with anyone, Milo knew that his answer could cause a questioning of epidemic proportions. His answer, ironically enough, was a question. And it made perfect sense. It was rhetorical, it answered itself. Milo was shocked that they left it out of religious documents, political manifestos, children's books, cigarette boxes, alcoholic beverage labels, copyright notices, legal documents, apartment leases, bank loans, ...you get the point.

As his family snores, and his cats lay stretched out beside his feet, Milo once again clicks "home". Satisfied, and feeling slightly proud of his breakthrough, Milo smirked and whispered atop his bed of rock the answer. Not once, not twice, but thrice -

"What the fuck? What the fuck! What the fuck?!"