WARNING:  If you're under 18, you can't read this.  This isn't my choice, and I think it's fucking stupid I even have to put this warning on here.  It's just that what is written below, although 100% natural, normal (well, maybe not "normal") and honest, could be mistaken for *gasp* "pornography," and I don't feel like getting sued by some uptight parent or conservative religious organization.  Also, if you happen to be the mother, father and/or stepfather of the girl who came all the way from California to move in with me, please divert your attention elsewhere.  You have been warned. 

My journals of the girl who came all the way from California to move in with me
Written by: Alex Sandell

About a year and a half ago, a girl emailed me saying how much she liked The Juicy Cerebellum and that she wanted my opinion over a page that she was about to put online.  I went to the URL that she gave me and read through some stuff and gave some opinions and, from there on out, it was love.  Unfortunately, I was romantically involved with this other chick at the time.  This other chick (justifiably) didn't like me talking to the girl that emailed me a year and a half ago, and I had to prematurely end my relationship with the kind 20-year-old female who innocently asked for an opinion.   Fortunately, the other chick dumped my ass like yesterday's tampon a few months ago, and the girl who emailed me a year and a half ago and I were able to resume our telephone/Internet relationship. 

For over 2 months, we talked, chatted, went on long walks and stared into one another's eyes.   (Okay, so all we did was talk and chat, but we DID talk and chat about long walks and staring into one another's eyes.)  Finally, it all became too much, and we jokingly mentioned moving in together.  Through the power of my Yoda action figure, which I was holding in the palm of my hand for luck, the "joke" became a reality, and we decided to actually go for it.  She dropped out of college, packed up her stuff, and drove halfway across the country to Minnesota; all to move into my parent's house with me, until we found an apartment of our own. 

Like   all of the best romances (I.E. - Romeo & Juliet, Titanic), there were three obstacles standing in our way;  a mother, a father and a weight problem.  The mother was against it from the start, and unwilling to help, beyond letting her daughter take the car to drive up here.  The father pretended he was going to give his daughter $1300 (the tuition money he got back when she cancelled her fall quarter of college) but backed out THE DAY BEFORE SHE LEFT.  Father's dirty trick was a HUGE blow to both of us, and nearly cost us the opportunity to be together (which, I'm guessing, was the idea).  She was really counting on this money, and her image of the "kind daddy" went the way of fried Gizzards at Kentucky Fried Chicken.   Still, our love (and my parent's generosity) persevered, and she came up with a grand total of $300.00; less than half of what the DEPOSIT on an apartment costs. 

Then there was the weight thing.  Being that the last "fleshy organism" (calling her "female" would be far too gracious) I was in a relationship with was Porky Pig, eating non-stop, and gaining weight faster than Marlon Brando on a bad day, while at the same time wanting "company" whenever she ate (which was every waking moment), I ended up putting on some pounds myself (I went from a very SKINNY 153 to a rather CHUBBY 217, in the course of a year), and was feeling rather "down" about my appearance.  Something had to be done.  I couldn't be naked in front of some tanned Californian chick while in "Pillsbury  Dough Boy" mode.  So, rather than exercise, which is the 8th deadly sin in my book, I starved myself.  I ended up losing 33 pounds in five weeks (bringing me down to a fairly okay, but still kinda "chunky" 184), and was able to meet the girl who emailed me a year and a half ago without feeling like a complete blimp.  Maybe something more like a mini-blimp, or air-balloon.   Although I've given up the starvation thing; I still only eat one meal a day, and am still losing weight (179, as of this morning).   But, even if I do get down to my sexy, sensual 153, I doubt her parents will help us actually make this thing work; which could create a sad ending to a story with such a wonderful beginning. 

Anyway, being that this is the world's longest intro., I may as well tie it up and let you read the journals.  Ladies and gentlemen and freaks of all sizes; here are the long awaited journals of the girl who came all the way from California to move in with me.

September 22nd, 1999; day number one.
7:03 PM:  Earlier in the day I had decided that the best meeting place would be Burger King.   Nothing quite says "romance" like a whopper Jr., Fries and Medium Drink.   Nothing quite says "gut-rot" like that, either, but this occurs later on, and is currently irrelevant.  I arrive at our scheduled meeting place, right in front of the "King."  When I first notice her I get all scared and wonder if maybe I should turn around and run away as fast as I possibly can (which isn't that fast, being that I'm a big lard-ass, these days).  She has yet to see me; not even a photo.  She's probably expecting Tom Cruise, or at least a Jon Lovitz.   What she gets isn't either of them.  It's Alex Sandell; and he's feeling mighty insecure over those pounds he packed on, even if he did lose 33 of them.  

7:19 PM:  I finally approach her from behind (hehe) and tap her on the shoulder.   "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" She says.  I can tell by her enthusiastic smile that I'm no Jon Lovitz; and say a silent prayer of thankfulness over this happy revelation.  Still, I can also tell by the fact that she's not spread-eagle on the ground begging to carry my first born, that I'm no Tom Cruise.  Maybe I'm Seth Green when he wakes up in the morning, before all the makeup.   I guess I could handle that.  She suddenly gives me a huge hug.  Hmm . . . maybe it's Tom Cruise; after-all.  I get my first California-Girl inspired boner. 

7:19:02 PM:   I untuck my shirt to conceal certain . . . um . . . objects.

7:20 PM:  We eat Burger King and decide that, if we feel the need to fart, we'll just do it, right in front of each other.  Save the "holding" or "seeping it out" methods for the pussies.  Save the "I have to use the bathroom" tactic for the weak of mind and cold of heart.  "It's a natural biological function," she says.  Now this is my kind of girl!

7:37 PM:  We both rip gigantic farts, simultaneously.  Hers sounds kind of Juicy.  I don't know if this is such a good thing. 

7:40 PM:  We get back to my folk's house.  It's very awkward at first, bringing a new girl into your parent's home.  DAMN - do I wish I was financially independent, or at least some sort of drug lord with lots of power and guns!  She doesn't seem to feel very awkward in front of my parents.  My parents introduce themselves in that strange way that parents introduce themselves.  "Have you eaten?  Would you like to eat?  Are you sure you don't want something to eat?  We just finished supper.  We have leftovers.  We have other stuff in the cupboard, if you don't like Lasagna.  How was your trip?"  This goes on for nearly an hour.

8:39 PM:    I give her a grand tour of the house.  "This is the computer we met on," I say.  She seems impressed.  I then remember the computer we met on actually broke, and this is a new one.  I feel no need to mention this to  her.

8:57 PM:   The tour takes us into my bedroom where we sit on my bed and watch TV.  It seems tours always stop in front of the television, no matter what's on.  Even C-Span.  We watch politicians lying for about 20 minutes, when she ends the tedium by revealing that she's a virgin.

8:57:01 PM:   I ponder this for the next 5 minutes and ask her at least three-hundred times, "are you really a virgin?"     

9:02:17 PM:   After hearing "yes" three-hundred times, it finally sinks in, and she asks me to kiss her. 

9:17:17 PM:   She's a virgin no longer.

9:18 PM:  I finally realize how much "juice" is truly inside a "cherry."   It's a lot.  My pubic hair looks as though I dyed it red.  I sort of like the look, and debate over whether or not I should keep it.  Shave the sides, and spike the bright red middle up into a mohawk.  A punk rock penis.  That would be cool!  Maybe I could get it pierced, or something.

9:19 PM:   Although she likes the idea, she says she preferred my pubes as they were, and I decide to go wash up.  She's probably sore.  I'm sure we won't be trying sex again, tonight

9:32 PM:  I get back from the shower and she's lying naked, ready for me to try sex again, tonight.   "Ah, what the hell," I say, as I crawl back on top, hoping my incredible weight doesn't crush her. 

9:33 PM:   Right before going in, she sees my erection and gets NERVOUS.  "It's HUGE," she says.  "No wonder it felt so big, last time."  I have never felt so proud. 

9:33:33 PM:   I will never see my cock in the same light again.  Suddenly I feel all macho, like Charlie Sheen, or something. 

9:34 PM:   She stops me from daydreaming about Charlie and asks me to put it in.  I do.   She pants and moans and squirms and loves it.  I get all horny and cum.   This update is really dirty and personal.  I hope she approves of it going online.

9:35 PM:  My mom walks in the room and asks if we're SURE we don't want anything to eat.  "I could make nachos," she says.  This is really embarrassing.  We need to find an apartment . . . fast.

9:36 PM - 11:59 PM:  We talk about cheesy love things and hug and rub each other and act like total dorks.  "You're so beautiful."  "I'm so glad I moved up here."  "I don't know what I would have done if you didn't."   "We are the perfect couple."  We are both humiliated over our sappiness.  Still, we can't stop ourselves.  I think it's a chemical thing your brain does when you get intimate with someone. 

September 23rd, 1999; day number two.
12:00 AM: We decide we should stop talking about cheesy romance stuff and have sex again.  We promise each other that we won't get sappy afterward.

12:01 AM: We have foreplay.

12:43 AM: We have sex.

1:15 AM: We finish having sex.

1:16 AM: We get all sappy.

2:00 AM: We realize all we can do, after having sex, is be all sappy.  It's not such a bad thing, really, unless someone is recording us, or I do something stupid like write an update about it.  Doh!

2:01 AM: She gives me a massage.  Rubbing up and down my spine and relieving my tension.   She's REALLY good at it.  This is DEFINITELY my kind of girl.

2:07 AM: Unexpectedly, she runs her finger down my spine and directly into the top of my butt crack.  This makes me all horny, for some unknown reason, and I moan.  I pretend I'm getting gut-rot from Burger King, in fear that she'll think I'm homosexual; not that there's anything wrong with that.  (To those of you who haven't seen the TV show Seinfeld on a regular basis:  that was a good joke.  Sorry you missed it.  Start watching the show.  It's in syndication and beats the hell out of Home Improvement and other assorted junk you're wasting your time on.)

2:08 AM: I admit that I've really been getting into that Buffy:  The Vampire Slayer show that's on every Tuesday and wonder if the spin-off, Angel is gonna be any good.   She gives me this, "I gave up my virginity to you?!?" kind of look, and I decide not to talk about Buffy, anymore.

2:09 AM: We begin talking about anything and everything (outside of Buffy).  We also fart a lot, and laugh over the anal freedom we are displaying.  I start feeling gay again.

12:17 PM: We decide we should get some sleep.  She sleeps with me.  We cuddle the whole night.  I realize that hearing this is very gross to those of you without partners.   If I was me, two months ago, I would have been slapping myself up for this crummy cuddly crap.

7:07 PM: We wake up and realize it's too late to look for apartments.  We decide to go talk to my parents some, so they don't feel left out.  My mom asks if we'd like anything to eat.  

7:08 PM: I realize maintaining this diet with my mom around is gonna be  hard.

7:09 PM - 10:00 PM: I show her around the town, a bit, and take her to places they don't have in California.

10:01 PM: We get home.  My dad tells us there's a scheduled power outage at 11:00 PM.  Since we don't have any flashlights around, I try to find matches to light a candle.  My dad says he doesn't want "any damn candle" burning in his house.  We ask what we should do.  He says that he guesses we're out of luck.  The girl who came all the way from California to move in with me shows off the trademarked California ditziness for the first time when she says, "we could just have the TV on.  That gives off light." 

10:02 PM:   We all laugh at her.  She laughs at herself.  I love a girl who can laugh at herself.  It reminds me of me.  I actually laugh at myself and then put it on the Internet for everybody else to laugh at.  I'm not a girl, though. 

11:00 PM:   The power goes out.  We have sex in the dark.  "I can't believe how wet I am," she says.  "I'm SO wet!"  She really is.  This turns me on.  I cum.  The power comes back on as I do it.  I look at my cock, it's covered in blood.  "Oh, SHIT!" she says, "I'm having my period."

11:53 PM:   I'm kind of grossed out  I use like four-million wet-ones to wash off my penis   Stupid periods  I didn't even use any in this 11:53 PM segment to protest how much I hate them 

September 24th, 1999; day number three.
12:01 AM:  We talk all night, again, and keep promising we'll go to sleep by 4 AM so we can be up by noon to look at apartments and get jobs. 

2:00 PM:  We finally stop talking and go to bed.  This is only two hours after we planned on getting up.  Not TOO shabby, for a young couple in love.

8:01 PM:  We wake up and realize it's too late to look at apartments. 

8:02 PM:   Nothing much happens the rest of the evening.  We're both depressed we slept through the entire day.  I think one of my dogs bites the other dog because the other dog snapped at the dog that's friends with the dog that did the biting.  If that makes no sense to you, I don't care.  I'm not going to retype it.

September 25th, 1999; day number four.
12:01 AM:  Once again, we spend the whole night talking, and touching each other.  She wants to give me a blowjob, but I get scared, cuz she's never given one before, and her teeth are sharp.   Instead, she beats me off a few times.  It feels good.  Like masturbation, with none of the effort.  She asks me to suck her nipples, cuz it's her "favorite thing ever."  I gladly comply.  We both start wishing we could have sex.  "Stupid period," she says.  I laugh and then we start french-kissing.  Only good thing those French ever taught us to do.  Moronic French people.

3:00 PM:  We beat our own ridiculous record and go to sleep later than ever.

9:17 PM:  We wake up and feel miserable we slept through the entire day.  My mom bitches us out, cuz she says it might be "the last nice day of the summer" and that my dad wanted to take us out in the boat.  She goes on to ask if we've eaten. 

9:23 PM:  I find out my brother and my other brother are here.  I'm jealous, cuz I think they're better looking than me.  She tells me what she thinks.  I won't repeat it, cuz it would be cruel and evil to whichever brother she likes the least.

9:30 PM:  My friend Heather calls me up and asks if I want to do anything.  I think she's drunk, but she denies it. 

10:04 PM:   Heather comes over.  I still think she's drunk.  I introduce everyone to everyone else.  I always have to introduce people.  It's my lot in life.

10:05 PM:   We all watch the movie "Go".  My dad hates it, and leaves the room.   My mom says she likes it, but it's "too X-rated."  I look at the box.  "It's only an 'R'," I say.  Everyone laughs.  "Well, it is!"  My mom asks if anyone would like popcorn. 

September 26th, 1999; day number five.
12:15 AM:   Heather, California Girl, and myself go to Perkins, since they don't have them in California, and the girl who came all the way from California to move in with me wants to see what they're like.  She's not too impressed.  Neither are we.   I hate  Perkins and hope it goes to hell.  Ours had to close down cuz of a Salmonella scare, and each person that worked there had to give a stool sample before coming back to work.  Somehow, nothing there is as appetizing, anymore.   Especially this meatloaf sandwich thing that looks like poop between toast.   It's called "Granny's Loaf."  I'd just as soon eat a Wookie.   (I'm paraphrasing something from The Empire Strikes Back.)

2:00 AM:   Heather goes back to her house and California Girl and I see that I received the Nightmare On Elm Street boxset.  It's the coolest thing ever.  We both drool over it, and watch parts of each movie.  I'll have reviews up within the next couple of weeks, once I get a chance to watch them all thoroughly.  We also watch the Titanic DVD and decide that it's "our" movie.  Hey, it coulda been Garbage Pail Kids.

6:00 AM:  We go to bed.  Weird things happen throughout the night.  Cali-girl keeps kicking me, in her sleep.  Yet, we fall deeper in love than ever before and hold hands continually.  It's pathetic. 

5:05 PM:  We get up and I remind the girl who came all the way from California to move in with me that The Simpsons season premiere is on.  She is all elated.  It's her favorite show.  Another good sign.  I think we both fart, to show our rebelliousness against a modest society. 

7:00 PM:  We watch The Simpsons season premiere.  It has a few good jokes, but sucks more than any Simpsons has sucked before.  People really should quit while they're ahead.  Which brings me to this:






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