Friday, April 28, 2006

Zzz...


It's a late night here in the House of Sin. R is out with one of his girltoys, and GH is passed out in his bedroom. Thursdays are usually party nights in the HoS, though tonight was different. OneEye wasn't available, R had plans, and I was drunk by 9:30. It's difficult to motivate yourself to go spend money to get drunk, when you have the ability to get intoxicated for free.

I thought about flyin' solo downtown, but I'm horrendous at striking up conversations (as previous posts will attest). So, going out by myself wasn't an option. I had left a message for TG, but surprise surprise... she didn't call back. I honestly don't know why I bother with that girl. All she does is frustrate me.

By the time I considered giving HD a call, it was way too late to be subtle about such things. Although This Bastard is six foot four, he does try to be subtle.

I suppose it's for the best, really. I didn't spend any money, and I was still able to get a good buzz on. GH tried to get me to go out, because I "need to get some play". Oh, the boy is brilliant on THAT point. I am planning on going out tomorrow and Saturday, so here's hoping I meet a pretty girl.

Or three.

It comes down to my need to create more options besides the unreliable TG and the needy HD. I know it's not polite to call women "options" but I'm not exactly in the right frame-of-mind for being polite, and all that.

(Plus, I'm a greedy and selfish bastard.)

Anyways. I'm off to view some horrid soft-core porn on Cinemax, and pass out into orgasmic oblivion.

G'night.

-- The Bastard.
Posted by The Bastard :: 1:35 AM :: 1 comments

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Thursday, April 27, 2006

SinWatch I: Gluttony & Pride

Gluttony

Jay and Silent Bob were introduced as characters in Kevin Smith's first film, Clerks. In the twelve years since Clerks hit the big screen, Jay (played by Smith's close friend, Jay Mewes) and Silent Bob (played by Smith himself) have played a part in almost every Kevin Smith film.

The two entertainers are close friends in real life. As such, Jay's antics are often fodder for Smith's college tours. Smith answers questions, tells stories of Hollywood, and find ways to embarass his friends. At a recent event, Smith shared a story about Jay and Jay's drug addictions. The story was ultimately misquoted in the print media. Frustrated, Kevin Smith chose to detail the entire history of his friendship with Mewes, and the history of Mewes' battle with drug addiction in his blog, My Boring Ass Life:

"I figured why not put the whole tale of Jason’s battle with drug addiction into print here, where folks can get a better idea of who Jason truly is and maybe why he fell victim to heroin abuse in the first place. I’m thinking it’s gonna be at least a four-parter, and I’m hoping to wrap it up by April 6th, the day Mewes celebrates his “Sober Birthday”, when Jay will mark his third straight year of living completely drug and alcohol free."

The "tale" became 9 entries long, and describes a multi-year period of gluttony, excess, friendship, love and redemption. Go here and read.

Jay Mewes found redemption. The second sinner in this entry is not so lucky.

Or as smart.

--



Pride

I'm not a huge fan of the current President. Polls and popular opinion seem to show that a majority of the country agrees with me. Nice of you to join me, people.

Since stupidity isn't one of the Seven Deadly Sins, I thought I'd take a moment to highlight an article that puts Lord Dubya's accomplishments into perspective.

Rolling Stone magazine published an article with the, um, open-minded title of "The Worst President Ever". The article ponders where George W. Bush ranks among his colleagues:

"From time to time, after hours, I kick back with my colleagues at Princeton to argue idly about which president really was the worst of them all. For years, these perennial debates have largely focused on the same handful of chief executives whom national polls of historians, from across the ideological and political spectrum, routinely cite as the bottom of the presidential barrel.James Buchanan... Andrew Johnson... Warren G. Harding... Herbert Hoover.... Richard Nixon..."

"...Now, though, George W. Bush is in serious contention for the title of worst ever. In early 2004, an informal survey of 415 historians conducted by the nonpartisan History News Network found that eighty-one percent considered the Bush administration a "failure."

For anyone who's made a half-hearted attempt to follow the trials and tribulation of the Bush Administration, there aren't many surprises in the article. Seeing Dubya's achievements and failures put into historical perspective, though, provided a sense of self-assurance.

I'm NOT wrong. He IS an idiot.

Now, Rolling Stone magazine has never been a literary apologist for the Republican Party, and the author of the article admits that most historians are liberals. Take that into mind when you read the article.

Which, again, is here.

-- The Bastard.

Posted by The Bastard :: 12:00 AM :: 0 comments

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Sunday, April 23, 2006

I'm such an idiot.

And now, the Stunning Conclusion of last weekend's birthday drunkathon!

--

I left HD's abode, feeling quite a bit horny, and not-at-all guilty (Take that, conscience!). It was my birthday, and I had treated myself to a little play. Like all men, though, I was greedy and selfish. I wanted more.

I picked up a cigar, went home, and mixed a tall, Tall, TALL drink, and pondered my evening. After a little deliberation, and a little prodding by my roomie, GH, I came to two conclusions:
A: It was my birthday, and I needed to go out and get drunk, dammit and B: I wanted to find someone else to fool around with.

Enter TG. She's fun, she's flirty, and we have good chemisty. What we don't have, however, are compatible schedules. Also, she's unreliable, and parties far too much for this Bastard. Because I am trying to hold onto what positive, sensitive fragments of my personality still exist (or I'm a selfish, horny fucker), I have held onto hope that TG and I would be able to find time to hang out together.

Armed with the knowledge that TG would come find me (she knew I was probably going out), and a healthy amount of alcohol coursing through my system, I headed downtown with GH, GH's girl, R, and One-eye.

It didn't take too long for The Bastard to get well and truly sloshed at one of the truly wondrous bars in the downtown area. When TG showed up to say hi, I was pleased, and smiley. The smile disappeared when she left several minutes later. She was "going to finish drinking with her friends", and "would meet up with me [The Bastard] at a later point."

Hmm. TG's promises are not always well-kept. Indeed, fifteen minutes later I looked outside the bar, only to see her walking up the street, with her friends. Away from the bar. Away from, um... MOI.

Okay, I can be patient. She'll show up, 'cause that's what she said she'd do. Never mind that she gets drunk and forgets to call/show up/let me know where she is... eh. Low expectations just got lower.

So The Bastard and His Amazing Friends(tm) headed to a local dancerie that would fit in just perfectly, in the NYC Club Scene(tm). This Bastard, for several reasons, doesn't dance. Unless Said Bastard is drunk. And hoo boy, I was wrecked. So, I danced.

As my body shifted under the annoying strobe lights, I oogled the beauties around me. Oh, there were many women of all shapes and sizes. I was a kid in a candy store.

Well, not really.

Situated around the dance floor were several floor-to-ceiling poles of the stripper variety. Several females found their way around these poles in such an intimate fashion as to almost make me blush. Almost. But there was this one girl...

She had dark-brown hair. A pair of too-serious, but not too-mysterious brown eyes. And a very well-shaped rack. I was intrigued. Her fingers wrapped around the pole with confidence, as she turned my way, and looked right at me. Boom. Contact. So, given my lustful intentions for the evening, I did what every man does when he sees a pretty girl.

I took my cell-phone out of my pocket, and checked the time. I know, I know, I chickened out. But hey, BrownEyes wasn't going anywhere. She was by herself, and looking for someone to dance with. I could easily be that guy.

We made quick contact a few more times, but each time, the cell-phone came out. I admit, I was hoping to hear from TG, that she was going to track me down, but inside, I knew better. TG was gone, again.

Brown Eyes, though, was right there. All I had to do was take a deep breath, walk up to her and buy her a drink/dance with her/use my sense of humor... anything. When the chemistry's there, you take the chance, no matter what. And the way she was looking at me, there were sparks all over the place.

The cross-looks crescendoed, until I was up on the dance floor, and she was down by the bar. Our eyes locked for one second... two... three...four(?)...five(the hell?) and then... I checked my cell-phone one more time.

Yes, because that's important. Sigh.

I'm an idiot.

--

At the beginning of this three-part epic, I talked about my First True Love, and how the after-effect of my parents' mocking has been a complete and utter lack of confidence, when it comes to making that first move with women. Yes, I know I'm not the only one to get insecure around members of the opposite sex, but shit...

I'm old enough to know better.

--

I never talked to her. I don't know her name. I don't know if she gave everyone that look she gave me... fuck. No, she didn't. That look was for me.

I do know that she could be a local college student, a townie, or ever from out-of-town. And I know that I blew it. I ended up leaving, alone, going back to the House of Sin, to recuperate.

But I haven't forgotten BrownEyes, oh no. I went out a week later, hitting all the clubs, looking for her. No luck, but I won't give up. And next time I think I have a chance with a woman, I'm going to forget about the insecurities, and all that. I'm just going to go talk to her.

... I'm such an idiot.

--

That was my birthday weekend. I spent Easter regretting my idiocy, and sobering up. I watched one of my favorite movies, and bonded with GH. We get along pretty well.

BrownEyes, though, is still in the back of mind.

I won't make that mistake again.

-- The Bastard.

Posted by The Bastard :: 9:02 PM :: 0 comments

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Friday, April 21, 2006

Why now..?

... because blogging while intoxicated is fun for me, and for you!

(AKA Oh, True Love (you fickle bitch) part le deux)

Where was I, anyways? Ah yes. Last Saturday.

I worked, I came home, and did, um... well, not a fucking thing until around 8pm. That's when I realized that it was my birthday, goddamnit. What to do, what to do, what to do...

Ah, yes. I know what (who) to do! HD.

HD and I have experienced what those "in the know" call sexual tension for the last three or four years. I run into her about once a month, and we have one of those "I know we could fuck like bunnies, YOU know we could fuck like bunnies, but it's best we DON'T fuck like bunnies"... moments.

I know better. She knows better.

Back in January, I had the pleasant experience of DearJohn'g the EX. Well, It was pleasant for me. A day or two after that wonderful moment, I stopped at HD's house. I was horny, she was horny (we're always horny), and we fooled around. She moans often (I like 'em loud) and she was very satisfied. I showed up at her house a week later, repeat, rinse, wash. But on that occasion, after getting absolutely drenched, I was the unfortunate victim of her attempt to cajole me into a relationship.

That's where the STOP sign went up. The woman was relentless, and crafty, I'll give her that. She begged, whined, cried, guilted and rode me, in an attempt to get me to say just one word:

"Us."

HAHAHA... ahhh..

Nice. Try.

I should make it clear (if I haven't already, (and my apologies dear reader if I haven't!) ) This Bastard is very much Not Interested In Relationships. Or Committment. Or any word coming close to those two terms.

I like being single. And I'm rebounding left and right. And that's the way I want it. Anything else is drama, or work. And This Bastard wants none of that.

... Where was I. Ah, yes. Saturday.

Being that it was my birthday weekend, and that I'm working on my confidence (see previous post), I decided to make a house-call. I had run into HD the week before, and made out with her for about 5 minutes. It was fun.

The Bastard likes the fun. Oh yes.

So, I called, saying I was "in the area" (lie) and that I had a "poker game later" (big lie), and that I "wanted to talk" (HAHAHA... oh, how I make me laugh). I showed up, chatted with her, and "apologized" for "taking advantage of her" the previous week.

In the back of my head, there was only one thing This Bastard was looking for. See here(NSFW!), for those lacking in subtlety.

So we fooled around, again. And it was fun, again. It was my birthday weekend, damnit. I should be allowed to have fun.

Please note, the above statement was an unconscious response to The Bastard's conscience, who (contrary to popular belief ) does exist, and does occasionally rear its' ugly head, no matter how much it gets beat down. Bad, Bad Bastard.

I have no conscience. Lies, all of it.

Aaaaaaanyways. Towards the end of our little encounter, she wrapped her arms around me, and... um... cuddled. Uhhh. I shudder at the thought. But, she's fun to fool around with. I'll probably call and offer to "apologize" again. Heh.

BAD BASTARD.

I'm not listening.

--

And then I went home.

That was the beginning of last Saturday night. Unfortunately, it was also the climax.

(con't)

-- The Bastard
music: Asshole, Denis Leary, No Cure For Cancer.

Posted by The Bastard :: 1:08 AM :: 0 comments

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Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Oh, True Love (You fickle bitch)

Saturday night was spent in celebration of that Most Holy Day. The day in which we thank God for the Birth of Someone Important.

That person would be moi, of course. 'Twas my day of birth this weekend (That's right, I'm Aries. You gotta problem wit dat?) and I witnessed that most holy of rituals: A Brief Foray into Binge Drinking. God, do I love the Captain Morgan.

The night itself had it's ups and downs, but I smoked a cigar, danced like a fiend, met some pretty ladies, and had a good time. There's a story in there, of course, but that post is a day or two away. In order to understand they why's and how's of last weekend, I need to delve into my past. Back to my First True Love.

We all remember our First True Love. The way our heart first skipped a beat when we saw him/her, the way we dreamed of a long-life, full of happiness and joy, the way we wanted to grab out, and not let go... Ah. My FTL had long blond hair, the prettiest of eyes, the best of brains, and a laugh that captured my heart from the moment I met her, way back when... in pre-school.

I was 5.

--

I moved twice within the first 8 years of my life. My family stayed in the same general area, but switched towns twice. The first move was when I was only 2 or 3. I don't recall why, but I'm fairly certain it had to do with the birth of my brother, M2. Not enough space in our small house, I thnk. The second move to AlmostRichMansLand was because the birth of my third brother, M3. Not enough space, agan.

(Only years of counseling will determine for sure, but I've long believed that the second move to ARML helped destroy the marriage of my parents, and consequently, my relationship with my immediate family.)

For 5 years, my family lived in bliss in a small little community in downstate NY. (Side-note: It's generally accepted by those individuals who live in Long Island or NYC believe everything north of The City is considered "upstate", while those of us who actually live above NYC, view everything south of the Rochester/Syracuse/Albany line as "downstate." I'm in the latter category.) I have fond memories of Christmas, and a nice backyard, and parents getting along, and that sort-of thing.

Life was good. As a matter of fact, it was quite simply the happiest time of my life.

When I hit pre-school, I fell in love. Little CD was a cutie, although I confess I don't remember too much about her. I remember where she lived, I remember flirting with her, and I remember spending 3 or 4 years trying to chase her around the playground, in a madcap race to kiss her.

I don't think I ever caught her. Looking back, I think I was afraid to. (Hmm. Funny how things haven't changed that much. I'll revisit that statement soon. Anyways.)

I can only imagine what my parents thought, when they first found out. Look at our little boy, trying to chase that darling little blonde-haired girl around the playground! How Sweet! How Cute! How Funny!...

Actually, I know that's what they thought about the situation. How do I know? Oh, just because everyone they knew seemed to find out. And I mean Fucking. Everyone. Family, friends, neighbors, EVERYONE. I've got 50-60 extended family members that I used to see on a regular basis, and it was pure hell. My parents (mom, especially) didn't quite understand the concept of discretion.

Okay, so I was six, but how is it noone notice how much it bugged me? I might've been "in love", but I remember being obviously uncomfortable around people when it was brought up. What, noone knows how to pay attenton to that kinda thing? Christ, I'm bitter.

Anyways.

Everyone thought it was hilarious, but when you're six, and getting picked on, because you met a cute girl, well, it's not so funny then. Like, it could possibly, maybe, scar you for a long time, maybe? Well, that's pretty much what happened.

Over the years since, I've had more missed opportunities with women, than I can or want to recall. Time and time again, I've had a "sure thing" (in one form or another) staring me in the face. On each of those occasions, I'd subconsciously flush, maybe remembering my mother telling her friends about my "little crush" at some dinner she hosted for her friends. I'm old enough to know better (and to know a "sure thing" when I see it) but that memory is tattoed on my soul, and I can't seem to make peace with this particular insecurity, and move on. I wish I could blame it on a general lack of confidence, but I tried to chase a girl around the playground in kindergarten, for fuck's sake. Does that SOUND like a lack of confidence?

(bitterbitterbitter)

I brought it up to my mother once, and she brushed it off. I mentioned the little girl's name, and she laughed at me. She thought it was funny, but in the years since, I don't think it ever occurred to her (or my father) that they never knew who I was dating, or when. Ever. Out of all the girls I've ever had a relationship with, they've met or heard about 3. And that's out of 15-20.

I don't which is worse: my self-confidence when it comes to women (and yes, some of you may find that hi-LAR-ious) or my lack of faith and trust when it comes to my parents. (Hi, Mom!)

I'll add that thought to the list of "Things To Talk About When I Can Afford Counseling".

--

In the years since I moved away from Little CD, I've always wondered what happened to her, and some of my other classmates from that era of my life. I've always dreamed of tracking them down, and writing a book about it, but I never found the hook for such a story. Besides me, who would care?

After we moved to AlmostRichMansLand, I lost touch with My First True Love, only seeing her once or twice years later. I heard from my mother, a few years ago, that her father passed away, but I didn't feel comfortable contacting her to pass on my regards.

I'm still kicking myself for that.

--

So, the secret origin of This Horny Bastard is now revealed. From the beginning, I chased the women, but because of that incident, I've lost the confidence to make the first move...

...which leads into the story of last weekend quite nicely.

(con't)

-- The Bastard
music: Just Be, Kirsty Hawkshaw, Nip/Tuck.

Posted by The Bastard :: 10:54 PM :: 1 comments

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Sunday, April 16, 2006

The peeps

The House of Sin is quite the comfortable establishment. Two floors, with several bedrooms, bathrooms, and communal living area upstairs. Downstairs, is The Party Area, plus an unfinished basement.

GH has taken very good care of the HoS, and my brief statement doesn't do it justice. We had a well-bosomed lady stop by over the weekend who called it a "frat house", but "cleaner". I don't think that does it justice, either, but it'll do.

Given my need for privacy, I enjoy having the House to myself, which doesn't happen too often. But late at night, when it's just me wandering around, sipping on a cool beverage (hmmm.. Captain), I'm reminded of my fourth year in college, when I lived with a couple friends. Strange that I think of those times, when I have the house to myself. Odd contradiction. I was good friends with those boys, way back when. Now, I'm still getting to know R and GH. Different times.

As promised, here's a description of some of the characters you'll be reading about.

--

THE ROOMMATES

R - The most, um, "social" of the three residents of the House of Sin, R is a the ultimate post-collegiate party boy. He works during the week, and parties like an 80's hair metal god on the weekends. Well, he finds time for that during the week, too. He is, at his best, a good man. Unfortunately, he's not at his best very often. At his worst, he's stubborn, bordering on obstinate, and too often finds himself lured by unnatural temptations. If it wasn't for the positive influence of GH, R would have found himself in some serious shit by now.

He's always two steps away from disaster, but too high to notice.

GH - The very definition of even-keeled, GH has his shit together, and is coming off a 5-10 year party scene. He's slowly coming to grips with the end of his 20's, and while he likes to have a good time, the days where the House of Sin had people crashing on the couch every night are long gone. He keeps R in line, but doesn't interfere in his life. He walks the fine line between friend and enabler, sometimes veering in the wrong direction.

I'm curious to see where GH ends up in 5 years.

(I wrote the first draft of this post weeks ago, and now can't remember why I'm calling him GH. Huh.)

The Bastard - Yes, that would be me. On occasion, I wonder if the self-applied moniker really fits. Then I remember how I planned on dumping TG, but only after I screwed her. I am like most other men: Selfish, greedy and readily self-destructive. I have a heart, it's true. But there are times I forget it's there, and go on a 3-month binge of despair and pain. My friends are safe from the shit I spew, but my family and any women I'm dating usually get the crap kicked out of them. It's easier for me to take it out on them, sad to say.

I'm a good person, fighting dual influences on different levels. And when I close my eyes, I so very, very often wish I was not just somewhere else, but someone else. There's been less of that lately, thankfully. A sign my life really IS getting better?

--

THE WOMEN (some of them)

TG - A very nice, very horny, and very confused young lady I've been (barely) spending time with. She's working through some of her own baggage and is probably too young for me. I'm a little fearful of breaking her heart. Not because I'll feel bad, but because we travel in the same group of friends.

I don't think we'll be walking off into the sunset like Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly. Our time together won't end well, but it never does with me. Should anyone be surprised?

The EX - We've all got an ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend who's left their mark on our lives, correct? Well, this girl has certainly left a mark or three. She gets a post of her own, at some point down the road. Suffice to say, she's one of the only three women I've ever loved. And she has a superb rack.

HD - Oh, HD.
You're too old for me.
That doesn't stop us from making out,
but I think I'm taking of advantage of thee.
(And your feelings for me.)

--

There's a few others who may or may not get added to the Official HoS Cast List: the 'other roommate' who has made an appearance only once since I moved in, Irish Fucker, and GH's new girl, whom I adore. I'm sure there will be others, and I'll make sure to keep you fine readers updated.

--

I'm still working on fixing up my room. I hope to have it completed by the end of the month, although the art prints I've chosen from www.art.com won't be ordered until the end of this week. Still have boxes of books to sort and shelve, but I'm positively giddy at unboxing some books which I haven't seen in 5+ years. This Bastard loves The Books, y'see.

Life is good, here in the House of Sin. Almost lost myself in a pair of soulful brown eyes on Saturday night, but more about that later.

That girl had a nice rack, too.

Hm.

-- The Bastard.

Posted by The Bastard :: 12:09 AM :: 0 comments

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Saturday, April 15, 2006

Smoke 'em if ya got 'em.

I'm watching the shadows grow over the backyard, while smoking a cigar, drinking a tall, tall drink, and typing on my wireless laptop. Yep, life is good again.

My name's The Bastard and I live in the House of Sin.

--

'Twas around the beginning of March that I realized I missed writing. My last foray into blogging had been fun, but draining. I found that I had boxed myself in, by writing only fiction, and keeping my personal life off-limits. I mean, my personal life is a fucking disaster. Why share? Then again, my personal life is a fucking disaster, so why not?

In the half year since I shut down UKB, I've made some changes in my life. Some good and some great. Generally, life is better. But the one change I've made that still has me scratching my head in a "holy shit, I hope I didn't fuck this one up" kinda-way is my entrance into the House of Sin.

See, I received an interesting offer from a couple guys I know; they needed a roommate. I've lived on my own for years, but the idea appealed to me. I've been a bit of a hermit, and in this area, living by yourself can be financially draining. Quite frankly, I've been broke as a result. So, I decided it was time for a change. I moved into this house, The House of Sin.

I've been living here in the HoS for two weeks, and it's been surprisingly peaceful. I've slept better, felt healthier, and been more relaxed than in a long, Long time. At least a year.

I confess I was concerned that moving into this swanky abode was a mistake. I am a complicated man, living what should not be a complicated life. I'm intensely private (ooh, and blogging about it! Irony-hounds, BEWARE!) to the point of occasional paranoia. This need for privacy goes hand-in-hand with my need to control anyone, everyone and ev-ery-THING around me. If it were simple enough for me to take over the world, a la Big Brother, you would all be bowing to me, as we speak.

My ego aside, I'm desperately searching for some peace-of-mind. For numerous reasons, I've been lacking in personal happiness and fulfillment over the last few years. After a particularly wretched year (thanks, 2005!), I decided that I wanted a better life, and that I wanted to be a "better man" (Thanks, Jack!) This change is part of that internal pact.

--

The House of Sin is currently occupied by several gentleman of an energetic and social nature. By "energetic", I refer to rampant screwing of anonymous women, and by "social", I refer to recreational substance use.

Me, I like the screwing. Oh yes, This Bastard very much enjoys the screwing. But the substance use, I confess, I'm not a fan. But sacrifices need to be made. I have to focus on the long term: Debts to pay, a life to put back into order, and all that. I have to look at this as an opportunity to make positive change. (It's funny, I almost feel like Hurley from last week's episode.)

The substance use has been both less, and more than I originally assumed. I find myself starting to catch a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes in this town, and amongst some of my friends. What I've heard and seen has only made me sad. But it's their life, not mine. I'll just keep my distance and work on fixing myself.

--

So why blog now? Well, I blogged for about a year, dabbling in the erotic fiction genre. Towards the end, I found myself writing stories for the wrong reasons. So, I stopped cold turkey. Following the end of my previous endeavour, the metaphorical winter of discontent struck. I didn't write a damn thing for six months, nothing, nada.

For those six months, I lacked the energy to entertain the beast that is my imagination. Was it burn-out? Was it the ebb and flow of blogging? I honestly don't know.

Late one night in early March, my new residential situation and my lack-of-writing situation collided; Why not write again? Why not take the chance to be dirty once more, but to describe what it's like for this kinky bastard to be surrounded by so much sin, that for once I'm the straight man?

The idea appealed to me. This is an opportunity of the creative kind. The revolving door on this Sinful House will give me the inspiration needed to get "back on the wagon". The faces, the names, the characters...

And oh yes. The sex. The wondrous, wondrous sex.

So, yeah. I'm back. Smirk and all.

This time, don't expect much in the way of fiction. It's all true, this time around. Names and details have been modified to protect the rarely-innocent, etc, etc. Along the way, I'll be using my time here In This Very House (and On This Very Blog) to detail the life and lives of those who dwell in the HoS, and maybe even answer some questions that have been torturing my psyche.

I might even, y'know, open up. Share my feelings, and all that.

That's something I need to work on.

--

There are 7 Deadly Sins. In This House (and On This Blog), the most popular of sins will be documented in all it's (very full, and occasionally ugly) glory. That Sin, of course is Lust.

I'll be your host, The Bastard. I have no idea how long I'm going to last here. I have no idea how I'm going to get my life back in order, while surrounded by all the temptations that will be offered. I do know that it'll be entertaining, if nothing else.

When all is said and done, will my biggest mistake be moving into the House of Sin, or writing about it? Either way, this is all a bad idea. And that thought, well, it makes me laugh.

Ah, well. Let the madness begin.

--

NEXT TIME, ON THE HOUSE OF SIN:

Meet the cast! Who lives here? Who doesn't? What's the deal with the "other" roommate? How long until I "christen" my bedroom? Who stops by, just because they can? How much alcohol CAN one person drink, and still go to work at 7 am the next day? How thin are the walls, anyways? And am I really a bastard, or is it all play? Stay tuned, sinful readers, as we get into the nitty gritty.

-The Bastard.

Posted by The Bastard :: 3:10 PM :: 1 comments

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