Catbear’s special lady treated him right on Valentine’s day.

Don’t pout, catbear. No, you’ll never have sex with a Na’vi, but you can have sex with somebody who’s dressed as one.

© Brock Rizy 2010

Created: December 30, 2007 3:32 AM

Modified: February 14, 2010 12:00 AM

While I stood on the second stair by the life-sized Davy, Davy Crockett bust reading the Dave Eggers snap/flash/whatever they call it/super-short fiction collection I glanced at the blonde usher with the ass-lengthed pig-tail braids and paisley headband, who glanced at me and caught me glancing.  She had an over-worked expression like a manager or at least a shift-supervisor would on a Saturday night downtown at the newest theatre in the city (but she was still wearing the t-shirt, which made me wonder if she wasn’t just a natural leader or at least a good worker).  I fell for her briefly at the cash register when the doofus college dropout working my card expressed that his computer was refusing to acknowledge the purchase I’d previously made on the internet for tickets to the December 29th sneak preview of There Will Be Blood.

Continue reading Milkshake

Catbear would wait until the shark left before he did it.

I hate when the power goes out. It means I have to use my imagination when I masturbate. You can’t do it by candlelight? Nah, that’s too romantic. I just don’t feel that way about myself.

© Brock Rizy 2010

Catbear Traffic Control number sixty-nine!

I was inside her so deep I could feel her heartbeat on the tip of my dick. That’s beautiful, friendo.

© Brock Rizy 2010

Thirty-two times does seem a little high.

I didn’t know I was pregnant! You need to chew your food better.

© Brock Rizy 2010