As anyone who has shopped with me for underwear knows that my needs are pretty simple. I like briefs and I like boxer-briefs. No boxers for me because they tend to ride my ass like a Kentucky Derby jockey. Doesn’t help that I wear pants that fit. Other than that I haven’t really given much thought. But it would be a fallacy to assume that I am like other people. Some folks tend to take their undergarments much more seriously. So while I can understand the why, I don’t necessarily subscribe to the same values. So where do Manties fit in? I don’t really know. Perhaps it caters to the cross-dressing crowd or perhaps to those who like the feel of silk and lace. I’m at a loss. Maybe it’s the ruffles.

Eric is going to Vegas

I’m going to Vegas! A good friend and I paid for the travel package this afternoon and will going in January. All of this, while loosely discussed, was pretty much formalized while drinking whiskey sours at the Hotel Vancouver lounge last evening. Interestingly, the first person to know about this trip was The Neighbour as he phoned me on my cell while I was at the travel agent. We’ll be staying at the Imperial Palace Hotel for four days. There’s enough to do in the Imperial Palace alone that there’s almost no reason to leave. It even has an onsite wedding chapel as well as a Luau. I hope to be married during my four-day stay. I’m serious. At the last wedding I was at I caught the garter (actually it was a chocolate bar) fair and square so I’m next in line. I’m really only looking for two qualities in the future Mrs. Flashcube – Willing and Able. If you fit these two criteria I’ll forward on my travel plans so we can have a romantic rendezvous in Vegas. Here’s some more pictures taken shortly after The Good Friend and I bought the tickets.

Dancing with raccoons

Wow. Further proof that Japanese media is leaps and bounds ahead of Western media. This movie (Quicktime required) makes my brain hurt. Despite my Japanese lessons, I think I only caught one or two words of the song. Is there a Japanese phase for “what the fuck was that?”. I need a shower. Update: I’ve found more commercials! Apparently, they’re a construction company.Weird.

Christmas cards

Here are some examples of Christmas cards I’ve made over the past few years. Some people have received them, some have not. I’m cooking up a doozy this year in the hopes that I can alienate what little friends I have left by creeping them the fuck out. If you would like a Christmas card this year, let me know and I’ll send one out. I’m only printing 20 cards. I don’t have that many friends so there will be a surplus. So far only one person and their dog have responded. Click on the cards for a larger image.

Dial “O” for orgasm

When making the decision to purchase my cell phone, one of the things I considered were possible accessories to expand the capabilities of the phone. I considered things like the optional camera attachment, a desk charger, and a case to carry it around easier. Little did I know that someone had invented an accessory that may soon prove to be more popular than any of the others. Particularly amongst females. I’ll try to describe it as tactfully as possible without tainting the man-child guise I’ve inadvertently built around me.

This accessory channels the vibrations from the silent vibrating ring of a cell phone through a long, cylindrical extension covering the case of the phone. The vibrations from the accessory are used to bring about enjoyment to the “special area” of the fairer of the species. See for yourself.

Room with a view

I’ve been pretty busy this evening. I’ve caught up on any projects I have, figured out how to work the damn cell phone, responded to any pending emails that I have, and have been looking into possible Vegas vacation packages for the new year. I’m feeling great. Great enough to get a full body tan? Almost. Great enough to get a full body tan with no tan lines? Absolutely.

Having a fresh set of batteries for my cheap-ass digital camera, I decided to put them to good use by putting together a panoramic shot of my bedroom. Some 50 or 60 shots made up this composite and while some things don’t quite match up I did try my best.

Musique de mystère

A co-worker and I decided to exchange mix CD’s for each other with the pretense that we would be listening to them not knowing the artists and titles of each song and then comment on what we like and don’t like. He gave me his CD today which I mistakenly left at work and I am working on his this evening. Today’s lackluster weather has afforded me such a luxury despite the fact I somehow dragged my ass out of the house to jog for half an hour. Halfway through of which it began to rain. Good grief! Anyhow, here is the little cover I did up for his CD. Click on it to see a bigger image. Also, to give credit where credit is due, a friend of mine did a similar article on his website a few days ago. For those interested in what’s on this mystery CD, you can click here for a track listing.

Forgoing the Rorschach test, the psychologist decided to look at Eric’s artistic sensibility instead.

Nice guys finish last

According to R. Don Steele, being nice doesn’t mean jack shit and the only way to get any tail is to be an belligerent asshole. He has refined his technique and has marketed it under the name Steel Balls. Steel Balls is a surprisingly successful project aimed at middle-aged divorced males who want to tap some 24 year old ass. He tells you how to dress, what kind of haircut to get, and how to act. How successful is the Steel Ball Principle? Here’s some testimonials from the website.

At the end of the trip, we had a formal diner. I came in my dark blue business suit with a solid red tie accompanied by a perfect Windsor knot. Many young, beautiful women came up to me and start touching my suit. Saying things like, “Wow, this is a nice suit . . . it feels so good . . . you look so great”. Keep in mind that in half the cases, their hands were on me when they said these things. One lady even came up to my room to bring me diner and gave me a massage. My roommate told me that day that at least 16 young women came up to ask him how I was doing.

To which I say, “fuck that!”. Maybe I should apply the Steel Balls Principals to my life because it certainly can’t be a change for the worse. I can be an asshole. Hell, if I put my mind to it I could possibly be the biggest fucking asshole this town has seen. All I have to do is to start treating women like meat and be confrontational towards everyone. Yeah, that’s the fucking ticket!

This asshole gets more dates than me.

Ring my bell

On a lark, I got a cell phone today. Actually, that’s a bit misleading as it was an idea which I had been thinking about since about early yesterday afternoon and was finalized over breakfast with my neighbour who also coincidentally got a cell phone as well. The conversation went something like this:

Eric: People don’t phone me. Also when they do I am indisposed and miss their calls.
Neighbour: Me too. There must be something that can be done about this situation.
Eric: You’re right. These land lines sure are cramping my style.
Neighbour: But what can we do, Eric?
Eric: Let’s get cell phones. Then we can never miss calls, people will love us, and we will radiate an air on techno-chic.
Neighbour: And we can put stickers on them.

Not only does having a cell phone make Eric look cool but under harsh lighting it makes him looks fucking sexy.