Letter to My New Favorite Hot Hispanic Chick

Dear Hot Spanish Chick at Work,

You can't even read this. It's perfectly fine though, because love is universal. You speak not a lick of English (well, I mean, you seem to know, like, ten words total), and yet, I am in love.

You see, it's always been a fantasy of mine to marry a Spanish chick. The idea of an angry Spanish chick yelling at me in Spanish while I haven't a single idea of what she's saying turns me on something serious. The idea of making sweet, sweet love to a hot Spanish chick while she talks dirty to me in Spanish (or clean, but clearly I wouldn't know the difference) blows my mind and drives me insane. I could go on, but I won't.

And it doesn't help that you are, in fact, really pretty. You have such lovely eyes, such a sweet, sweet smile, and ho, exotic looking skin. And your work clothes leave sooooo much to the imagination. Your black pants are tight enough to demonstrate slender legs, but kinda hide the true definition of their shape. The cook shirt is worn much too high up top and just too low down low and just too loose to see what you're really working with. And fuck that gotdamn apron, too.

It's funny, because everything about the situation is an easy target for disrespectful jokes of all kinds, but I ain't even trying to joke here. You provide a fantasy, and the complete situation merely enhances it. If only I were crazy enough to try make it happen.

All well... a man can still dream... and I'm still working on someone else, anyway... but still, I will remain your secret admirer that's hiding from you in plain sight simply because we speak two different languages.

You're truly,
Mark Wins

Ten Books?

Ten Books.

You probably don't know this, but over the course of my lifetime, the "official" number of books that were supposed to be in the Marko Man series has changed so many times that I lost count.

First, the number of books was over 100. I thought I was going to be on some R.L. Stine type of stuff, who got, like, millions of Goosebumps books. Then I brought it down to 100. Then I brought it back up to 105. Then back down to 100.

I'm sure that between then and the next memory, the number varied as much as it could have possibly done, but then I remember saying, okay. 50. Then 60... Then 50 again, and then 52, and maybe 55...? and then back to 50.

And it had actually been 50 for a really long time... until, maybe yesterday.

When I brought it down to 10, I knew that I had definitely brought it down to 10 before, but obviously went back up.

But this 10... this 10 feels right. And as right as it feels, it might not even be official... I mean, nothing I ever say should be considered "official" until it actually happens.

In any event, these 10 books... having these 10 books, there's gonna be a lot of shit cut out. Heroes might not make the cut. Villains might not make the cut. Characters that used to be "main" might not be "main" anymore. Stories might just make cameo appearances in bigger stories as subplots.

But this... these ten books... it feels right.

So yeah. Ten books.

Oh yeah.... Sparring Sessions coming in about 20-ish days.

Wanna Race?

Navigating the straightaways are easy.
It's how you navigate the turns that determine whether you'll win the race.

The a metaphor, by the way. But it definitely applies to every racing game ever as well. ^_^

Paper Kryptonite

I dropped the chocolate and I dropped the happiness. These are the sacrifices made for the green paper. You need the paper to live, but is it living if you aren't happy? Let's live a long, torourous life, being attacked by artificially implanted emotions. Don't live the short, fast, fulfilling life of bursts of fun and temporary consequences. Don't be what they call a loser by strategically being happy off the money someone else made, regardless of what company or what government does it all the time. Be a winner and make your own money so that it can be stolen and replaced with pain. Make your move. Make your money. Suffer and make your own green paper. Enable yourself, destory yourself with the green, the strength, the weakness, the unique type of kryptonite.

Touching Souls

Two brothers, a father, a mother.
Cousins, aunts uncles, and those from another.
A blessed giver, a complete leecher.
A failing student, a dedicated teacher.
A known unknown, a friend that's a foe.
A great man hat never knew which way to go.
A pretty face, a face that was mangled.
A bootyful queen, a beautiful angel.
A vicious assassin of vicious nature.
A complete hottie and the bitches that hate her.
A nerd, a geek, an insane freak.
A man that smoked weed everyday of the week.
A man that knows truth, the best unknown rapper.
Another chick with booty, a consistent clapper.
The tits, the legs, the smiles, the eyes.
The people misjudged because of the size.

The minds that were younger, the hearts that were older.
All of the sissies and those that were bolder.
The goons that marched on three by three.
The teachers that teach without a degree.
Gamers, dancers, riders of bike.
Former partners and enemies alike.
That one guy who is now a girl.
And those who were met in the digital world.
Whomever kept me away from drugs.
Whomever gave me a dap or a hug.
Whomever held their nose when their life was rotten.
Whomever is gone, but never forgotten.
And anyone I might have missed,
I send you all a love drawn kiss.
Without you my world would be so cold.
Thank you all for letting me touch your soul.

Reflecions on my Birthday

So today is my birthday.
I'm 24 years old.
What have I done thus far with my life?

FUCKING ENJOYED IT!!! >>>:)

I mean, let's be real here. I could bitch about a lot of things. I could bitch about bad decisions I've made, places I should've went, things I should've done, girls I should've fucked, changes I should've made, questions I should've asked, and so on and so forth.

But why?

Why when I can talk about the great decisions I've made, the places I've been, the things I've done, the girls I fucked, the changes I made, the answers to the questions I did ask, and so on and such and etc. and shit.

Like I have two self made music albums. That's two more than most people. WIN.
I have one self made eBook. That's one more than most people. WIN.

Every little thing that I've done has made me who I am today.

And I fucking love who I am today. I have great friends. I write great stories. I have great adventures...

All in all, on a smaller scale, I'm fucking great.

So, with that said, I am simply going to continue to be great. Not much reflection here... to know where you've going, you gotta know where you've been, but at the same time, you can't dwell on the past, especially the bad parts. Live, learn, love.

Onward to the future!

Song of the Day

For today's Song of the Day, we Have...

Casino Jazz Club.

Remix of the Multiplayer version of Casino Night from Sonic 2.

Maaaaan... I love this song... that flute solo is amazing.

Runner ups:

Songs that randomly ended up in my head for no reason......

Rose's Theme and Akuma's Theme.

My mind is weird sometimes....

Random Sex Poem

She knows all the moves that keep me on the edge.
She knows all the tricks to make me tell her she's the best.
She knows the kind of kiss that makes a bad day well.
She knows just what to press to make small lumps swell.
So I have to reciprocate with my own dose of tease.
A gentle passionate touch as I take my time to please.
A nasty little lick, a perverted little squeeze,
Drawing up the anticipation for true ecstasy.

Dear Hottie From High School,

I remember we had that class, and while you were pretty, you weren't nearly as hot as you are now. I mean, you've definitely kept that pretty face, but that body of yours definitely came out of nowhere.

So like, you post these pictures on FaceBook and whatnot, and my jaw drops. Every. Time. And it makes me think what I would do if I had a time machine, you know? If I knew then what I know now...

Alternatively, it makes me wonder what I would do if I randomly saw you in the street and wondered what kind of lengths I would go to just to get you for at least one night. I'm pretty much over the whole "one night stand" era of my life, but I mean... I wouldn't just pass one up if offered, especially with a body like that.

Of course, this letter totally neglects to address what kind of sweetheart you really are. And I apologize for that. But I'm just going to go on ahead and blame your booty. It just looks so lovely on you in the pics. I can only imagine the things I'd do to it...

Long story short, you are definitely a dirty little secret fantasy that I keep in the middle of my mind somewhere... I hope you don't mind.

Yours Truly,
Mark

P.S.: I love how you look in that blue dress. And I love how you look in that Catwoman costume with the whip. Dominate me, Mistress.

Dear Future Lover,

I just wanted to let you know that I haven't give up. I'm just taking a break from this.

You see, I've been focusing on you for the past few months now, and while we've clearly gotten "somewhere," I suppose, we haven't exactly gotten where I think we should be. And I don't personally think it has anything to do with "fear" on any of our parts. Fate's just trolling us. If it isn't one thing, it's another, and if not that, the next.

That's perfectly fine... well, no it's not, but I'm kinda sorta willing to accept it for now.

You see, I'm a pretty patient guy, so I am willing to wait if need be. My issue with waiting is that whole "it might be too late" thing that could come up, you know? On the other hand, I don't want to drive too fast, because then I look desperate or some shit. And it's not that I'm desperate, not at all. You're just so damn fine. You're a highly sought after young lady, for reasons more than one.

But for now, I'm going to focus on something else. I've got other things on the table that I need to take care of, but don't worry. You're still on the table as well, and I will definitely get back to you, hopefully soon than later, but not too soon... gotta find that balance. And maybe fate will cooperate as well.

So for now, I just want to say see you later. You should definitely look forward to my return, my darling. ;)

Yours Truly,
Mark