Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.February 9, 1992: A Diary Entry
Posted on September 26, 20119:47pm
Henry was supposed to come over today but he was too tired ’cause he did acid last night. So we talked seriously some more. Wow. I’m actually telling him stuff that I’ve been thinking about for a long time. Like the fact that I blush and get flustered around him. And that I could see myself taking care of him, that I think he’s high on my priority list, that I just want to tell him how to feel and what to want – but only because I’m so frustrated. He said he’s never told anyone any mushy stuff. He thinks he’s the only one who feels the way he does and that he’s very inexperienced for someone his age. He thinks that I’m doing all the relationship things right. We’re both the same – both waiting for the other one to make the first move and neither one very worldly when it comes to relationships. I wanted to tell him that I could love him and I want him to love me. We’re talking so much and he keeps saying that we have a lot more talking to do. But I’m getting scared. We’re talking about feelings and getting vulnerable, opening ourselves up to be hurt. He asked me what he could do to show me that he cares. And he said he wanted me. It’s raining very hard. I hope it’s raining tomorrow night when Henry’s here ’cause I like to have sex while it’s raining. And it’s so loud, how exciting. I want to have sex outside in the rain sometime when it’s warm. He said that if he commits, he’s afraid he’s going to miss something. How do I get myself in these messes? But I think I can get him to see things my way – I hope I’m just so afraid I’m going to tell him everything and he won’t care. Part of me wants to run and hide. Just get the hell out before it’s too late. But I don’t want to be alone forever so I have to take a chance.
February 2, 1992: A Diary Entry
Posted on September 04, 20117:54P.M.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t want to be with or talk to anyone else but Henry. I miss him. I want to feel his warmth and stare into those brown eyes. Laura’s mad at me for something I did at work but I haven’t called her back yet. My mom came by my house and left a note but I don’t want to talk to her either. I just think about him all the time. He called me this morning and I asked if he had a good time and he said, “Well, I didn’t have a bad time.” How annoying. I also asked if things were changed and he said yes, for the better.
I’m sick as hell and I don’t like it one bit.
January 29, 1992: A Diary Entry (1)
Posted on August 20, 201110:55 A.M.
I can’t sleep well anymore and I don’t know if Henry wants me. He didn’t call me earlier but probably because he didn’t have time ’cause he slept in. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I told Henry that he needed to make a decision but haven’t talked to him about it since then. Should I put everything out on the line? He said he might be able to come over Thursday but I’m not holding my breath. Besides, I have to go register for school and I’ll probably still be in line well into the evening. But then I don’t know ’cause it’s the first day of walk-in registration so there shouldn’t be any people from previous days – I hope.
I can’t see should I turn a light on no that’d be too ez
Ok talking to Henry on the phone really! And I said something about providing stimulating conversation like I usually do and he said yes, can’t you tell and oh god I could hear his breath and the skin hitting the skin and I still don’t know if I imagined all of it or if it was live cause I got so turned on and then he asked why I was breathing heavy but I don’t know if he did it or if it was just me I want him to want me so bad maybe not I can only hallucinate. But then he’s so damn single-minded only thinks about himself and how things will affect him as a person. How can he not think of me. I think about him too much I want to stop does he even care him him him come see me did you like us (me) I me I me
he doesn’t know that you’ve made yourself so fucking crazy over him
maybe I should cut myself off from him w/o telling him so I can hope this has been going on for so damn long Do I know him any better now? Do I know anything? I can’t even think about anything else but him. He thinks he’s so great ’cause I think he’s so great. Ego boost Suzanne – she feels like shit about herself let how she should feel about herself go to you w/o you asking for it. Now he’s sleeping his wet masturbatory fantasies and I’m awake and I will be all fucking night because I’m not the smartest girl in the world.
Why isn’t my house ever clean when I do acid? Do I do it to deal w/things I normally wouldn’t have to
it’s going to be a long night NIRVANA is _______ fill in the blank w/whatever’s appropriate I have big ugly hands this black nail polish isn’t helping at all then those gothics did they do acid ’cause they were supposed to be so deep they wouldn’t have been able to handle it and there’s be more loonies than there are now. What if this goes on forever it wont’ it’ll go away.
in the battle that is this world I find myself alone
i’m not ready to go “out there” so I stay by not getting or even looking for another job. not having a car I really could do whatever I want not be tied down to this place making things come to me complain because they don’t
maybe I will get a scooter but then I think how dumb. I want a car but do I really could I handle driving I probably only think I can’t because I haven’t had any practice
why does my little home always have so much damn garbage
Anorak Dude Misdialed
Posted on February 02, 2011[Here are a couple of true stories from a guest writer. You, too, can see your smutty stories on Random Rim Jobs. Just email me at ShazamChi@yahoo.com.]
1. I love Henry Rollins. I love him. LOVE. My best friend agreed to accompany me to the Metro on Clark St. to see the Rollins Band. This was late 90′s. I don’t really like the Rollins Band, but I liked him and his books. But I thought why not, he’s half naked and screaming and sweaty and it could be fun. We stood up in the balcony. I had a pretty good view, so no complaints. But, this dude behind me kept bumping into me and I kept moving away. He did it quite a few times, so in an effort to gain some personal space I put my left hand and on my hip, so my elbow was stuck out and wrist was resting on my hip and my hand was cupped at my side. (that boring detail is kinda relevant). This dude continued to push at me, I turned around and all I saw was a baseball cap and a GAP anorak. No face, it was too dark. I turned around and ignored him and focused on the reason for being there, watching my future husband scream his lungs out on stage. A few minutes later I felt something in my hand. It took me a good 2, 3 seconds to realize that it was also moving. Anorak Dude, as he is now known, had put his penis in my hand. At this point is was still soft and I could feel some denim and I also realized he was now directly behind me but off to the side. At first I was like you fucking pervert, and then something in my brain was clicked and I thought jacking off a stranger while watching Henry Rollins half naked and sweaty while extremely loud metal was playing was super hot. So I stood there, looked straight ahead while Anorak Dude got hard and finished in my hand. Then I walked over to my friend and said “Let’s go”. The concert wasn’t over and she was a bit confused. As soon as we got in the cab. I told her. We went to meet out friends at a bar and told them the story. If my best friend hadn’t have been there and kinda noticed the Anorak Dude, I’m not sure anyone would have believed me. The more likely scenario would have been me yelling at him to step the fuck back. But I guess it was the perfect storm for Anorak Dude, his lucky night. And I get to say I jacked off a stranger at the Metro during a Rollins band concert. This is my friend Mark’s favorite story about me, because at that time I was a really good girl. It just might have been the crack in my good girl foundation.
2. Last summer I was IMing with a boy, Brett, and he had a particular interest. He wanted to dirty chat and edge. When he was ready he wanted you to call him and either demand him to come or beg him to come depending on his mood. He was a super sweet and a little nutty and I had no problem obliging him. On our first encounter doing this, he wanted me to call him and beg him to come on my tits. He IMed his number and I called and I got a voicemail, which I thought was weird, but I left a message anyway. My message, went something like “Are you ready to come now? I want you to come on my tits now” or something like that. He was still on IM, so I typed “I just called you” and he replied “Funny my phone didn’t ring”. I was like “What? I just left a voice mail” and then I looked at his number and what I dialed. I had transposed two numbers. I was mortified. I IMed him, “Well, someone in Boston just got a very dirty voicemail”. When I did dial the right number, we laughed about what an idiot I was and we got down to business. The whole sexual dyslexia really worked to my advantage because he had a deep sexy voice and I could hear everything, which I enjoyed. He really just wanted me to hear him come. I didn’t have to say a word, I just listened to him moaning and his breathing change as he got closer. Listening made me really wet and I ended up coming for him as well, and no role playing at all. We did this several times over the summer. Ahh, Brett, I really remember him fondly.
I would also like to say that person I called did call me back at 3:30 AM, despite my pleading please don’t call back, please don’t call back while I fell asleep. I just let it go to voicemail and they never called back, thankfully.
September 9, 1991: A Diary Entry
Posted on January 26, 20117:29P.M.
Abel called and wanted me to go over there for hanging out and smoking pot. But then his practice got moved up so he had to cancel. Another lonely day. Maybe it’s for the better – we probably would’ve had sex and then who knows about the guilt factor.
Abel just called again. I guess maybe he might come over after all. Hmm. “Things that make you go hmm.”
Last night at 1970 it was a wee bit more fun – I was on acid. I always think it’s gonna be no big deal and then it gets me. I’m so amazed at what my brain is capable of.
I got paranoid – but not in a bad way ’cause I know it’s the acid – got to thinking that there were terrorists there who were placing bombs around the
8:36 P.M.
Henry called, had to go, and said he’d call back in five minutes. Has he called? Nope, of course not, he never does anything he says he’s going to. And Abel called to tell me that he’s tired and has no money. He asked if he could sleep here but I don’t want a snoring, sweating boy next to me all night, so I get none tonight. Masturbation – yippee. Of course even if Henry was here, I’d be doing the same thing.
I want someone to fuck my brains out while I’m on acid. I want really loud music playing with a strong beat. Last night I was kissing Sean and the music just made me feel with it. And I got so excited kissing him (more so than usual) that I just wanted to fuck and fuck and fuck. Of course the night before added to that.
Saturday – Sean called and then came over. I didn’t even give him a chance to settle in. He threw his backpack on the floor and by the time he got his jacket off, we had been “making out” for some time. He gets me very hot. Well, he did me from behind. Lordy. I like it – a lot. I knew I would but I liked it really a lot. I like having my face stuffed into the bed and my arms tightened into right angles. And he reached around with his hand to rub my clit. I still haven’t come while he’s inside me but either he doesn’t last long enough or I take too long. I figure eventually we’ll get it right if we keep trying.
I want to call Abel ’cause he’s my only chance at immediate action. But I don’t have to have any action. I just want it. Shit, answering machine came on. None, I get none. That’s what I get for getting his with temporary morality. Morals are for asexual anti-socials. That’s it – I’m not going to be shy around any boys anymore (Saturday day I got embarrassed when Abel wanted to “get naked.”) ’cause it’s just not worth it. I just need a little something to loosen me up. A drink?! No ’cause eventually I’ll be drinking so much I’ll have to go to the bathroom every two seconds. I also think that I’m drinking too much any way. Pot. But sometimes I get mellow and tired. Acid. Half a hit and I’m great. But my immunity or whatever builds up to that and I can’t get ahold of that too often. I don’t really like coke and I wouldn’t know where to get it anyway. Or maybe I should just let myself go. Be uninhibited. Like I am with Sean. He makes me feel so beautiful and desirable and sexy. If I just [sic] myself into the right state of mind. Am I sex addicted? Maybe. Should I go to a psychologist? Shit, who cares? My phone is not ringing.
My tattoo still has not gone down. I don’t want it to stay like this but I might not have a choice. Oh shit. Oh well.
11:13 P.M.
I want someone to sneak acid to me and then watch me and fuck me. Am I obsessed? Sex and drugs. Not so bad. Too many fantasies, not enough time.
Last night at Laura’s house, I stayed in Deanna’s room and listened to Pink Floyd “Animals” and shut my eyes. I felt like I was on a journey because the first and last songs sound the same. I love how the gituir (Fuck, I’m just to [sic] to remember how to spell that one.) sounded like it was singing and crying.
I only had one problem last night – the first “bad” thing that’s happened to me on acid. I was dancing with Laura when two guys came around us and started dancing real close with us gals in the middle. I was getting squished and couldn’t move. They wouldn’t let me go so I panicked. I went down and started crying on the floor until Laura picked me up and took me away from the people. Then I went off by myself again.
Augutst 24, 1991: A Diary Entry
Posted on November 28, 20101:02 A.M.
The phone rang at 12:44 A.M. 2x but it was in the bathroom. It was probably Henry ’cause he’s gotten int the habit of not leaving messages and I usually answer after one ring. But poo, I feel like talking to him to tell him that for someone who doesn’t know how to give a hickey, he sure did make a strange mark on my neck.
My neighbors are/were having a fight rather loudly. The cops just came to my door ’cause whoever called them said it was a domestic squabble in apartment C. I was sort of entertained by the thing. Why did they have to break it up?
Tomorrow morning Laura and I are going to go to the beach. Well, Sean’s more appropriately and he wants us to go to breakfast at some place he frequents. Hopefully I can get someone to work for me Sunday at Nautilus so we can stay longer. But I don’t know. Maybe I just won’t show up.
Just saw my neighbor – she’s not looking so hot. I think boyfriend was taken away by the peace officers, ol Michelle tried to go somewhere in her car but I don’t think she can concentrate enough.
July 19, 1991: A Diary Entry
Posted on November 14, 20109:40 A.M.
I called him this morning – earlier – and he was till asleep so his mother went to get him but he apparently wanted to sleep some more so he’s supposed to call back “in a little bit.” How long is a little bit? Is it over an hour? It must be ’cause that’s how long it’s been and now I’ve lost the nerve to tell him the poop. How many times have I lost the nerve? Too many. Only one time has he told me how he feels. Why can’t he be more open? Why? Why? Why? And I have to go to work soon. And I’m getting my shower fixed tomorrow – I hope. I want to tell him that he’s the reason I’ve gone on the Pill. When he asked me if I was sexually active, was he trying to get me to tell him about Nathan? I want a “normal” boyfriend. I want to spend a day at my house just having sex and talking and having sex some more and laughing and having sex and crying and having sex and sharing feelings. God, sometimes I think I might be asking too much but then I know I’m not. He is capable – I think.
