I FOUND A PICTURE OF THE DOCTOR. I WILL SHOW HIS WIFE AND GET MONEY.
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bmuntz
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dvandelmar
I stalked a gal for a few days until I saw her walk out of her house. It was dark. She wore a leather jacket down past her rear. I could see the outline. Not bad. Enough for fun. A friend had mentioned her as a possibility. I called her, and we met for lunch. I had a party to attend on Friday night. She came with me. A bunch of beers into the night. She grabbed my hand and asked me to leave. We drove to my house and poured one last cocktail and sat on the couch. Not sure if I even took a sip before I ripped her clothes off. No foreplay. She loves to talk in the middle. I love it. She wants it harder. It wasn’t working. I stalled for some time. Too drunk. Fell asleep. Out cold.
At about 3am something is wrong. Code Red stands above me. She’s whimpering. Feels rejected. Fully dressed. Even wearing her overcoat. I had barely been with her. Only a couple dates. She expects what? So I’m drunk. I fall asleep. We’re far from married. Isn’t she supposed to be trying to land me? Best foot forward? The pressure. The best in bed are those who allow. They ask you to stop and try later. Code Red expects volumes. Immediately. Too much pressure.
She says she’s going to walk home. Completely outrageous. At least four miles away, and it’s bitterly cold. I jump into a pair of jeans and fleece. I told her I’ll drive her. We get to my car, and she cries harder. She asks why I don’t care. This is our first date. Can you imagine being married to this. No wonder why she’s divorced. I said flatly that she gets to make a choice. Come back to bed, or go home. She comes back to bed. I deliver a courtesy. She cuddles next to me for the remainder of the darkness.
I called her six months later on a warm sunny evening. A few scotches in. She was engaged after having known a guy for three weeks.
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dvandelmar
I have a small dog. Half Fiest and half Toy Poodle. Thin wiry hair. You can just about see her skin under her coat. A fag would adore her especially in her bright red collar and leash. She’s a little neurotic. Always in your face and barks non stop. If my kids didn’t love her, I’d kill her. Not one doubt. Her name is Bridget.
I received an email from a gal with whom I had not spoken in months. She was lonely. Wanted to know if I were hard. Nothing about my children, sports, or current events. Just am I hard. That’s always causes arousal. It’s a matter of what time. I wrote her back that anytime is good. I had no meetings. But didn’t want to take her out for dinner or lunch. We like secrecy. There are simply too many, and running into another could be disastrous. Plus, all my options remain open.
Lying on my couch, watching the Wolf Blitzer obsess over Dick Cheney, blasting the old man, I hear a car door slam. She jogs up to the front door. In the tail end of a disaster and would prefer to have no one know. She says it must be fast, as her kids think she’s making a quick trip to the store. No talk. Directly to my room. I rip her clothes off her. Her fake tits pop out one at a time. They feel strange. Maybe she had a “buy one get one free” deal. Unveils a landing strip. I have asked her to shave it clean. Bugs me.
I always struggle with kissing in these situations. That’s why hookers are better. They don’t want to kiss either. Just get paid and get out. She gives the worst blowjob I’ve ever had. Won’t let her do it. She gave me the fang last time. Better stick to the hole.
I get out of bed. Throw the used rubber into the corner of my room on the floor. Start to get dressed in a hurry. We don’t talk. She gets dressed. Runs to her car and drives off. No talk. Nothing to say. The emptiness of neon. Perfection.
I walk back to my room and hear a licking sound. Bridget has the condom.
Off to a funeral. My friend would have liked it best this way.
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dvandelmar
Rode in a car for nearly six hours with a guy who hasn’t had sex with his wife in over four years. He also wasn’t having sex with anyone else. I’m assuming just himself. It seems a circuit breaker blew in her pussy while going through menopause. Now, I may have an outstanding excuse to slog through a few more years prior to lock down. Prudent to hit 65 or so to make absolutely certain the breaker isn’t blown.
I grew a little desperate last night and called the twenty year old. I’ve never had a woman say what she said to me. She yelled for at least ten minutes. Told me she hates me. I’m a pig. Asshole. I use women. I was mean to her. All women need to be told how bad I am. She’s talked to people about me — I took the phone from my ear and held it out to see if it was the correct number. Then after who knows how long, I finally asked if she knew who she were talking to? She said, “Dean fucking Vandelmar. The sociopath!” She ended by tying her panties into 30 or 40 knots, told me again how much she hates me and hung up. For good.
I only slept with her a few times. Gave her incredible orgasms. I thought we had a deal. She said flat out. “If you find a 25 year old guy for me, set me up, I’ll let you fuck me in the mean time.” But I never called her after the last time which was in the fall. I never found the “boyfriend” because it’s a waste of time and stupid. I feel sorry for her. I feel sorry for myself.
It’s amazing how many women hate me now. It’s a nightmare. I can’t figure out how they know. I’m pouring a litre of scotch as we speak.
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rbiofuel
difference with amerikan ukrain cheerleader is most area of face body and dance. amerikan cheerleader lead life of Perkins face stuff with poorest liquor throat pour. stretch face with face doctor tool. stuff breast with fake water bag down hell stairway. ukrain lead life of glorius workout in gymnastic school or run beach near burney. ukrain make cheerlead life. amerikan mostly high school practice. not glorius dance or sexy pose or bedroom manuver come practice with soviet dedication. everywhere look of saddest amerikan depression. cindy mccain of non work drug addiction example of top amerikan cheerlead. legacy of shit.
ukrain cheerleader in glorius pose
amerikan cheerleader display face of not make believe ugliness
father not spend life on bride site because military dedication
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docliptz
Jesus H. Christ – You’re all a bunch of fucking Loons!
What the hell is the matter with you? I mean, my wife and I take a few days off and go to the City to get waxed. I got a massage from a little Japanese man whose hands were just delightful (another story for another time), went shopping with Margret and ate some excellent Thai food. It was just a great break.
Then I come back to this.
Where to fucking start?
Betsy:
Look, even I don’t know how to run this blog thing right, wasn’t sure what meatspin was and I know better than to put a map in a blog. Stupid. Also, I hope your “lawyer” ends up being an ex-con with spider tattoos on his elbows and a tear drop from each eye. Don’t know what those mean? Ask the Internet stupid.
Martin:
Yeah, getting a job would be a good start for you, you degenerate papa’s boy. Getting money off your gas farm or whatever sure is an easy way to live isn’t it? Oh, and how about honesty in therapy? If I’d known you were a child-loving freak I woulda paired you up with Biofuel for couple’s counseling. Yeah, get a new phone. I’ve been trying to reach you and all I get is some recording.
Dean:
Jesus Christ man, seriously? Where do I even begin. You emailed a video of a guy getting oral (let me guess – sex) from…a cow? What the Titty-fucking christ is wrong with you? Jesus. Where do I even begin?
Oral? Really? Can you forward it to me?
Biofuel:
That language is really not necessary. Please refrain from using it.
Muntz:
You are off your rocker. Have you been taking your meds? Really, start them again.
AND TO EVERYONE:
I don’t like politics, please stop talking about them.
Thanks-
Dr. Liptsvitch
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dvandelmar
i don’t smoke dope unless i’m forced to. but this week put the hammer down. just buried my face in a seven foot graphics at the tree huggers. i might plow a few more handfulls this weekend. just a pile of bullet points because i can’t focus. then i’m headed to Charlie Brown’s to troll the patio.
forwaded this youporn video of some guy getting oral from cow to some friend’s wife by accident. huge mistake. she wrote this three word message back: “really. it’s ok.” jesus, it’s not. i responded:
Never in a million years would I try to tell you I don’t have issues. As long as I’m having fun, I don’t want them resolved. I feel absolutely compelled to write you. I did not send the cow giving oral to some naked guy. It was a mistake. Go back and check the email string.
1. I don’t like to have sex with sheep either
2. I don’t get excited by watching a guy receiving from a cow
3. I didn’t send it
4. It is completely disgusting but so outrageous I had to take action
5. I did show it to a couple guys in my office
6. They thought it was funny and asked me to forward it to them
7. At this point at least 100 other people have received it from them
8. Guys are PIGS and our humor is fundamentally different than a woman’s
9. Neither of the two guys who watched it were sexually aroused by the video clip
I realize my reputation is significantly below the gutter and can live with this. However, I cannot live with you thinking a cow giving a guy oral would turn me on. I do have some standards’. I draw the line at animals.thanking god biofuel dropped cunt on the blog. know we can move on. oh yeah, yesterday i got cunted by my ex-cunt. i called some disabled kid a “basket case” at an eight grade baseball game. you would have thought i masturbated in the vatican’s offering plate. flames of my personal hell were doused by her tidal wave of moral indignation. then i hit the yukon for a dewars.
lipvitch claimed he’s going to get some “eyeballs” to the blog and “monetize” it with some “banners.” i told that motherfucker if i as much as sniff a text ad here i’m pulling the plug. if you hadn’t noticed, his phd is in bullshit and ignorance.
i think i would fuck anderson cooper. as long as it wasn’t in the beltway or the village. and his hair stayed combed. plainly horrified by what would emanate from his mouth in the process. praying to god it wouldn’t involve wolf blitzer and john king early polling analysis in any way.
the mentor is having a tough go. he cannot deal with things anymore. he barely even talks to me. all is caving in. his partners are forcing him to sell. about 200k lower than he thought. the prussian shotgun stands in the corner of his bedroom. if he does it, i hope for his kids sake, he waits until a heavy thunderstorm and goes outside.
it’s constant. i’m with one gal and my phone rings with another gal’s number popping up. we both look at it in silence. i refuse to answer it. they must know. and the worst part is i don’t care. it would simply eliminate another problem if she get’s angry and leaves. but that won’t happen either.
i silver dollared some gray slacks in front of some old high school girls at wine party. they didn’t say a word.
tree huggers made me watch this video.
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rbiofuel
word from most burney political inside say volleyball up runner not use language of cunt. future president of saddest lost race say words with cunt to make most acceptable. saddest cunt. deepest cunt. glorius cunt. stanely cunt. i know red wing after glorius stanley cunt take me in saddest depression pitzzburg stands to say richard, richard, we win stanely cunt! i scream over and over to all pitzzburg fans with loudest burney voice NO ONE TAKES STANLEY CUNT. STANLEY CUNT IS PRECIOUS. STANLEY CUNT I TOUCH. DRINK FROM STANLEY CUNT! all pittzburg fan go back to row where come in deepest quiet depression. loud enormous disgusted moustache man say i can’t talk this way. i tell him i talk way i choose or we wrestle. i show him knife in pocket and watch him run like volleyball girl. all pitzzburg team dream of touching prettiest shinniest cunt but i say to players on way to dressing gown room volleyball players never not once touch cunt. cunt is red wing. cunt is mine
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dvandelmar
put this in your waterpipes and smoke it. might take you to heaven with 3,500 vestal virgins and bunch of guys with towels wrapped around their faces, toting AK47s, climbing monkey bars.
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docliptz
I Think You Are All Getting There.
I would like to thank all of you for your latest posts. It warms my heart to know that you are all getting so much out of your time blogging with me. It is my distinct pleasure to inform you that Richard has graduated from the rank of Tadpole to Froggy here on the Doctor Liptsvitch Interactive Patient Blog. Let’s all give him a big round of applause and a slap on the back for his hard work.
I decided that Richard was worthy of this reward because of his overcoming his hatred for Americans by providing us at least a little political insight. Good job comrade!
You are a hero today on our blog.
HERO
Oh, and Betsy, it’s probably not a good idea to give out your last name to anyone online, but it’s a little late now.
dumbass.
