In today's world of equal rights where women can do everything a man can do (and sometimes better), there remains an arena where women can't compete with us....

HANDJOBS!

It's such an easy thing to do. Most men do it on a regular basis. Fuck most men, I do it everyday without fail! I might not scrape my fangs, brush my wig, put on deodorant, or change my underwear, but you can believe me when I tell you this: I beat my shit everyday! Hell, most mornings I don't even get to open my eyes before I've had some 'personal time'. (I call that the Wake and Shake.)

I've got it all set up. I've got a face cloth on my pillow (presumably because I drool). I like to keep that close to insure that I don't have to open my eyes. All I have to do is reach, and there it is.

Excuse me, I didn't mean to share that much...

Why don't women get it. This shit ain't rocket science. All we need is friction. Up, down, repeat. Simple. Ask a girl to do that and she gets it all fucked up. The up stroke is too long and she loses her grip. The down stroke is too long and she ends up smashing your balls. WTF?

I've only me two girls in life that can give a proper handjob. One is named Palmala, the other is Handgela. They're better known as my right and left hands. They don't complain about me wanting it all the time. They don't mind when in a fit of exuberance they get a little on them. No problem. Wash, rinse, dry, lotion. All good.

That's all for now. Next up... Steak and a blowjob day!

New Jersey sucks! It smells funny. And for whatever reason, everytime I pass through it one or two cars have to flip over. Can you say 2 hours to move 1 mile?

Deodorant is not an option on a road trip. It is a necessity!

NightBug is very elusive. 'Nuf said.

The Golden Corral is the shit! If you get a chance to visit one, don't pass it up. There's more choices for breakfast than there are pedophiles in the archdiocese!

There are now crips and bloods in North Carolina. West Coast idiocy has finally invaded the East Coast. Half the damned state wears blue! Do Duke or the Tarheels have any significance here? Maybe the Crips need to rethink their color of choice.

Baltimore isn't as scary as The HBO series The Corner or The Wire may lead you to believe. Then again, I didn't venture far from the highway, and I was only there for food and gas, not drugs.

Do not pass through New York on the weekend of the Puerto Rican Day Parade! It's just not worth it. The parade itself is worth it, but trying to park isn't.

Might makes right. If you can't get along, get it on.

Fisk: OUT!

It's 5:30. I'll be leaving within an hour or two. 600+ miles to my destination. I hope to see NightBug. I've left her my number in a PM. If anyone sees her lurking about, please ask her to check her messages so she can drop me a line.

Hook, I'll be ringing you up. Adam, you're on the short list to receive a phone call too. Actually, it's a very short list. I only intend to call you and Hook! LOL

Short post. I'm gone.

Fisk: OUT!

Eat healthy, exercise, die anyway!

Fisk: OUT!

No. Fire shoots out my dick!

I used to think that was so funny when I first heard Eddie Murphy say that. Of course I was too young to know what a urinary tract infection was back then. I also wasn't afraid of that monster sized q-tip that exists in every doctor's office. Now I know the power of the q-tip and speak of it only in hushed tones amongst others that know of it's power.

Thankfully, this post isn't about me. It's about Wilson Jr. Keep in mind that I haven't been able to see him for about a month. His mother is on that shit again. When she walked in the door without knocking and told me that Jr. needed to see me, I knew it was bad. I assumed it was about school or something, but it wasn't. She didn't even know what it was about. It was something that he HAD to talk to daddy about. Daddy, and only Daddy.

Fearing the worst, I took him outside with me and sat him down on the porch. I asked him what he needed to tell me, and he in typical Wilson Fisk style, came right out with it.

"My penis hurts when I go to the bathroom."

Just as seriously as he told me his situation, I asked him a question.

"Have you been having sexual relations with dirty women?"

"No."

Not 'No Daddy, don't be stupid.' No rolling of the eyes. No embarrassed looks in the other direction. Just an honest answer to an honest question. After a few more questions I ascertained that he had probably just gotten a urinary infection from either swimming in the pool with dirty hood-rat children, or urinating outside with dirty hands. No problem.

"Drink loads of cranberry juice and iced tea and you'll be fine."

"Okay Daddy."

Why can't everything be that easy? Granted, my son and I have excellent communication between each other. I just hope that continues when he's a bit older. Hell, I didn't even think about how much he's maturing. It seems like just a few weeks ago he would've asked his mom to help him out. When I asked him why he didn't, he stated simply,

"Mommy doesn't have a penis."

"Sure she does. He's sitting next to her."

"He's not a penis. He's a this." Points to his penis.

"A dick?"

"Yeah, that's a bad word. I can't say that."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean yes."

"Good boy!"

Fisk: OUT!