30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 30

#30: Would you rather play with yourself in front of your best friend or have your best friend play WITH you?

Am I getting paid? Either really. I'll go with play with myself in front of my best friend.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 29

#29: Would you rather give up your computer or your pet?

I would give up my computer! I couldn't live without my dog. My computer cost me $1200 and my dog cost $100, but my computer doesn't give me loyalty and love.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 28

#28: Would you rather eat 30 pounds of cheese in one sitting or a bucket of peanut butter without water?

I don't know if it's possible to eat a pound of cheese but I will chose that! Yum!

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 27

#27: Would you rather marry a vain person or a person with poor image?

A vain person. I'm pretty vain and I can't stand people who are insecure with themselves.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 26

#26: Would you rather talk like Yoda or breath like Darth Vadar?

Talk like Yoda. He sounds awesome.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 25

#25: Would you rather be schizophrenic or have amnesia?

I'm going to go with amnesia cause I would never know!

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 24

#24: Would you rather eat a handful of hair or lick 3 public telephones?

Neither. It is impossible to choose! Those are two of the grossest things in the world! I refuse to choose!

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 23

#23: Would you rather be able to read everyone's mind all the time or always know the future?

Read people's minds. Mostly because the unknown of the future is my favorite part about living.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 22

#22: Would you rather be rich with an unhappy job or make less money with a job you like?

It depends on how rich. I've made the decision to make less money and be happy for a $2 pay cut. But if it was way more money I would do a job I hated.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 21

#21: Would you rather not be able to use your phone or your e-mail?

I think this is outdated. My phone is also my e-mail. But I could go without my e-mail. My phone is my life!

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 20

#20: Would you rather be forgotten or hatefully remembered?

Hatefully remembered. The thought of being forgotten scares me.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 19

#19: Would you rather have a mansion in the middle of nowhere or an apartment with 10 friends?

This seems like another stupid one. Definitely a mansion. I hate roommates.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 18

#18: Would you rather give bad advice or take bad advice?

Hmmmm... that's a good one. I guess I would rather take bad advice. I would hate giving someone bad advice.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 17

#17: Would you rather know it all or have it all?

Have it all. I love stuff!

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 16

#16: Would you rather fly when you fart or pee when you laugh?

That sounds stupid. Who would want to pee when they laughed. You can hold in a fart whenever you want, but when you did fart you would fly. That's pretty cool.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 15

#15: Would you rather always lose or never play?

Always lose I guess. I can be a gracious loser.... sometimes.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 14

#14: Would you rather end hunger or hatred?

Personally, I feel if hunger was ended it would end a lot of the hatred in the world. Certainly there would still be some but you could knock out one and a half birds with one stone.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 13

#13: Would you rather hear any conversation or be able to take back what you said?

Final answer: hear any conversation. I am the nosiest gossip ever! I would give anything to hear any conversation!

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 12

#12: Would you rather have pom poms for hands or glow sticks for finger?

That seems redundant. But I'm going with glow sticks. Don't you hate it when you get to a rave and then realize you forgot your glow sticks. No longer!

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 11

#11: Would you rather say what's on your mind or never speak again?

I already say what's on my mind for the most part. Not much would change. And I love talking so I would never be able to go without speaking.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 10

#10: Would you rather find true love or 10 million dollars?

Since I am a skeptic of true love and I know for a fact 10 million dollars is a real thing I'm going to go with 10 million dollars. For everyone who says money doesn't buy happiness, it's just because you've never had 10 million dollars.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 9

#9: Would you rather live in Antarctica or Death Valley?

Death Valley. I love the hot weather!

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 8

#8: Would you rather be blind or deaf?

I would rather be deaf. It would be the hardest thing to not be able to see all the beauty in the world. I often wish I could hear all the stupidity that I hear.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 7

#7: Would you rather have a beautiful house and an ugly car or an ugly house and a beautiful car?

I'm going to say a beautiful house and an ugly car. I always make fun of people who have pimped out Hummer but live in a trailer park. It just looks like you make poor monetary decisions.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 6

#6: Would you rather lose your legs or lose your arms?

I would rather lose my legs. Either would suck a lot but I need my arms for a lot of stuff. Legs are used for walking and they make wheelchairs that make that a lot easier.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 4

#4: Would you rather be called a racist or a traitor to your country?

I would rather be called a traitor to my country. Any country does lots of things to disagree with so I may have had good reason to be a traitor. There's never a good reason to be prejudice.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 3

#3: Would you rather hold your pee forever or have an uncontrollable bladder?

I would rather hold my pee forever. When I was little for some reason I hated going to the bathroom and now as an adult I refuse to use public restrooms so I have gotten very good at holding my pee for very long amounts of time.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 2

#2: Would you rather eat a bar of soap or drink a bottle of dish washing liquid?

I'm going to go with drink a bottle of dish washing liquid. I drink a lot of alcohol that's pretty hard to get down so I'm pretty good at chugging without tasting.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 1

#1: Would you rather live without music or without TV?

Live without TV. I love music. I went 18 years of my life without TV.

30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge: Day 0

This is the start of my 30 day challenge. I really enjoy these and thought I would do one here. Most of them are really deep. I thought instead I would do a funny one. This is the start of my 30 Day "Would You Rather" Challenge. Enjoy!

The One Where Leo Shows His Groinstalk

It has been my experience that there are 4 types of people who gravitate towards employment in adult entertainment (porn).

1. People who just genuinely love sex. Everyone gets a certain amount of enjoyment out of doing the horizontal tango, but there are people who are just insatiable

2. People with very low self esteem who need affirmation of their worth even if it's coming from overweight, sweaty man who couldn't lose his V-card to a $4 hooker.

3. Foreigners who I can just never shake the feeling don't have a firm understanding of the nature of what they're doing

4. People who are desperately in need of money

Unfortunately I fall into the last category which doesn't make for the best job fit. But I have few inhibitions, and showing my deep-veined, purple-helmed spartan of love to people is not one of them. It just made sense to try to capitalize on it. I first began by sending naked pictures willy-nilly (sounds like another euphemism) around the internet to entertainment studios. Even asked one of my friends who has dabbled in the 'arts' but was turned down by all because I lacked a certain girth (I'm talking about my biceps, get your mind out of the gutter). Since I'm not a juiced up beefcake studios seemed to have little desire for someone of my stature (if my porn lingo is up-to-date, I believe I'd be called a twink). I know what you're thinking ("I'd still have sex with you"), a profession like that seems like they would take anyone who'd be willing to do the job. How many people really want to do that? Well, apparently one too many.

Just because I couldn't find a second job didn't mean my need for money somehow vanished. So I began searching for other venues of profiting off showing Prince Everhard of the Netherlands. Up came webcam jobs boasting about top models making $2,000 a week. Even to make 10% of that a week would have been satisfactory.

I filled out the paperwork, e-mailed everything to them and within two days everything was up to begin jerkin my Gherkin over the interweb.

A trait I have learned about myself over years of half-hearted relationships and one night stands is that I am terrible at expressing, and even more-so, faking emotions. I knew from the beginning that at least the first time I did this I was going to have to be drunk (crunk). After three shots of SoCo and while nursing a bottle of Stella Artios I logged into my account.

Up my face popped on the screen. You are now logged in.

I sat there, staring at myself for a few moments, unsure of what to do. No one, it appeared, seemed to want to watch me. I took a long drag on my beer. A few more minutes went by with nothing happening. My enthusiasm was dwindling.

Guest53456 has signed in!

Oh joy, my first customer!

Leo_Pearce: Hello
Guest53456: hi
Guest53456: how are you?
Leo_Pearce: Good! How are you?
Guest53456: good

Well this is easy! Everyone should do this.

Meteor has signed in!

Another one!

Brian85 has signed in!
Guest23451 has signed in!
Man.Muffin77 has signed in!

This was now just getting overwhelming.

Brian85: You're hot!

I've never been good at taking compliments, so I smiled.

Meteor: You have a nice smile.
Guest23451: I like your eyes
Man.Muffin77: You are cute.

If you ever look in the mirror and think, I am the ugliest fuck ever! just signed up to do webcam porn and you will find all the affirmation you could ever dream of. I've never thought I had great eyes, or a nice smile, but it is nice to hear that sometimes.

Leo_Pearce: Thank you!
Man.Muffin77: Leo, I want to bend you over and **** the **** outta your *** (*expletives have been replaced with asterisks)  

When you see something like that you cannot help but looked shocked. And then laugh. All of which I now know kill the mood when someone is planning on paying money for you to fulfill their fantasies.

Man.Muffin77 has logged off.
Guest23451 has logged off.
Brian85 has logged off.
Guest53456 has logged off.
Meteor has logged off.


Damnit! I logged off. I wasn't mentally prepared for that. I just needed to psych myself up and then I can get in the mood. I took another shot of SoCo, drained my Stella, and stripped to my Spiderman undies and started again.

I'm a sexy boy! I'm a dirty boy! I'm ready to degrade myself on the internet in front of all sorts of men!

I logged back on. It took a lot less time to get for customers to sign in this time. Soon I had four people chatting away and I was doing good this time. Inside I couldn't stop laughing, but on the outside I was making sexy faces and rubbing my body seductively (sarcasm).

Leo_Pearce: Big boy, I'm so lonely. I need you here to **** me.

I first had a sniffle. I ignored it. I couldn't let a runny nose ruin my moment. Then I glanced up at myself pouting sensually into the camera and noticed what had started out as a runny nose quickly escalated into a bloody nose. There was blood pouring over my face.

The only thing that can kill the mood faster than laughing at someone talking dirty is getting a bloody nose while trying to be sexy.

I quickly logged off, sprinted to the bathroom and spent the next half-hour stoppering the flood of fluid issuing from my nostril.

I took that as a sign to put my porn aspirations on a hiatus and tried another approach to making a little extra cash... blogging about the horrible (hilarious) things that happen in my life.

#94: Grow A Mustache A.K.A. The Evolution Of The 'Stache

A mustache, as I have come to learn, is a far more complex attribution than just hair on your upper lip. To many it is a way of life, a way to communicate to each other just the type of person you are. Growing the sacred 'stache is not an endeavor to be taken lightly. You may make a statement about yourself that is entirely unaware (as I was).

The word 'mustache' has a pervasive history. The English word comes from the French word 'moustache', which comes from the Italian word 'mostaccio', which comes from the Latin word 'mustacium', which comes from the Medieval Greek word 'moustakion', which ultimately comes from the Greek work 'mustax'.

The first thing to consider when thinking about growing a mustache is the type. Yes, you may be thinking (stop doing that) to yourself, How many ways can there be to put hair above your lip? The correct answer is over 15 (we also would have accepted 'a bushel'. Though not actually a correct measurement, we give points for pizazz). Each one says something distinct about the type of person who would wear that on their face.

We have the Fu Manchu. A mustache stereotypically common in the Orient with mustache hair that grows long down the side of the mouth, typically past the chin.

There is the Dictator which rose to fame with the infamous Adolf Hitler and the famous Charlie Chaplin.

(Seen often on Nazi Sympathizer Babies)

Others include The Zappa, Pancho Villa, Imperial, Horseshoe, Handlebar, Pencil, English, and the list continues on. For more vital information on furthering your education on mustache issues visit the facetious website American Mustache Institute.

I decided on whatever would actually grow above my lip. A bold choice as I had no say in what my mustache was going to say about. I fear that my decision has changed me into the dreaded 'h' word. Yes, my friends, I'm talking about a 'hippie'. A tree hugger, dirt worshiper, flower child, greenie, dead head.

Since the growth of The 'Stache it seems as though my hair has taken on a new life choice (no, I do not mean it's started shacking up with it's 'good friend' Anton). It loves to catch the light and glisten in an greasy, unwashed way. It always looks like I just rolled out of bed, but not in the I-just-took-two-hours-completing-this-look sort of way. Even my clothes look hippie now. The plaid shirts that used to look ironic now look like I'm the sort of person who wears plaid seriously. Even my $100 T-shirts appear cheap and second hand-ish.

(hippies are only seen in their natural habitat, nature)

But I blaze ahead. Columbus didn't discover America by giving up when the salt water wrecked havoc on his hair. Lewis and Clark didn't stop exploring once they realized they wouldn't be able to shower. And it didn't stop Ke$ha from becoming an international phenomenon (if you listen to the lyrics carefully, after washing her mouth with Jack, she doesn't stop to condition her hair. She just straight, hits that city).


But if anyone tries to get me to go to "Love Your Mother Earth" or asks me if there's a good sale on organic asparagus I'm shaving it off.

P.S. I do have to admit that by the AMI criteria the little mustache that has come in is not considered a mustache at all owing to my goatee. All my facial hair gets lumped under the label 'beard.'

Sur Les Ailes D'amour

In most facets of my life I have been extremely fortunate. I grew up in a firmly upper-middle class family. My parents are still happily married. Everything in my life has been intrinsically easy. I'm sorry (no, I'm not) if it sounds like I'm bragging, though (if it makes you feel better) I have so far had a less that ideal love life. Growing up in Butt Fuck Egypt (this is an expression, so I've heard) full of rednecks, opportunities for romantic relationships (a little man-on-man) did not arise often in my adolescence.

Part of my 18th birthday present my father took me on a tour of London and Paris. We participated in a tour group that seemed to consist mainly of middle aged couples trying to rekindle the fire that was snuffed out years ago (around the time they became comfortable shitting without the door closed). Not the most romantic bunch in the world, but in the City of Love and Lights it does not take much to get a blue balled high school male in the mood (bow chica bow bow!).

Our second day in Paris we made a trip to the Eiffel Tower. After we had made our ascent and descent of the famous piece of architecture, my dad, who like to think of himself as an amateur Ezra Stoller, took leave of my company to take photographs. I was left to wander, taking a few pictures, but mostly people watching (one of my favorite pastimes).

"Excuse me," my guard instantly went up (like the windows when you're about to get stuck at a red light right beside a homeless bum). We had been educated extensively on the ways that Parisian Gypsies attempted to pick pocket you. The most prevalent method was to get your attention (commonly using an "excuse me") and in almost flawless English ask you if you spoke English. The less informed tourist would answer yes and the Gypsy would then begin to ask if you knew directions to somewhere they would show you on a map. All the while your altruistic behavior is being repaid with thievery. Having already been solicited multiple times in the hour we'd been there I was on guard for another bout of unintelligible gibberish (I sounded like a retarded R2-D2) to get them to back off.

But what I saw instead as I turned around was not a gutter rat in hand-me-down hippie clothes (you would think with all their stealing they could afford a douche), but a towering hunk of a man dressed in his pilot's uniform. Tall, dark, and handsome is the perfect cliche. And any man in uniform is guaranteed to get me wet (I know not entirely accurate) This is where the music would swell, our eyes had met. Suddenly all of Paris would be empty and it would be only me and Mr. Pilot.

I have always been cynical of love at first sight. Truly I'm just cynical of love, period. But put me in the most romantic city in the world, under the Eiffel Tower, with a sexy man and these are the things that corny (and horny) romance movies are made of. It would have been a perfect addition to Paris, Je T'Aime. Two Americans from different coasts who find each other in Paris at the Eiffel Tower (ka-ching! And Craig Horner play my costar).

"Do you speak English?"

I was flustered. What did he mean? Did I speak English? Yes, yes I did. Answer, god damnit! "Yeah, yes. Yes, I do."

"I was wondering if you could take my picture?"

"Sure." (that's not the only thing I would do to you)

He handed me his camera and stepped back. "This should be good."

I held up the camera. 1... 2... 3... CLICK!


"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, it's a good one." Like someone with a face like his ever had a bad picture.

He came back over and looked at it. "Thanks, I'm Daniel." (Daniel, I just want to motorboat your pecs)

"Leo." We shook hands. His hands were big (you know what they say about big hands) and his grip was firm.

We chatted for a little bit about where we were from. He was from Chicago, on a layover in Paris (this script practically writes itself). We were working the conversation closer to a possible one night rendezvous, when my dad came up behind him. Of all the timing in all the world, his is the worst (or from a parental perspective, the best). Completely clueless he had interrupted a beautiful moment between me and the man I should have married he introduced himself and effectively drove him off within 30 seconds (CUT! Let's try this again. Everything was perfect except when you came up and killed the moment).

We made our au revoirs and I missed out on the perfect movie love scene in Paris, France. How many chances like that come around in a lifetime? (don't answer that)

Post-Eucharist Watersports

It seems as though most of my earliest memories involve church. Not a surprising consequence due to the amount of my formative years that was spent within a church. It was there that I can remember so vividly my first encounter with an activity I would learn much later in life is defined by Urban Dictionary as 'watersports'.

It was a Sunday in early spring. Exact day is a little fuzzy as other events, naturally, take precedence in my mind. It was nearing the end of communion, a ritual (for those readers who have been fortunate enough not to have been subjected to organized religion) that involves eating stale, unleavened wafers and drinking a thimbleful of grape juice. To every child who attends church this magical moment is the epitome of adulthood.

As a 6 year old my bladder instinctively knew the moment that would be the least convenient to have the urge to pee. Trying to avoid the wrath of God, I held it. And held it. And held it. But it was soon going to become a choice between God's eternal displeasure or a leaky bladder in old age (I still pride myself on having a pristine bladder). And once I chose long term urinary stability, so did my friend Eric and we would hold it no longer. So with the urgency that only two 6 year olds can express, we were allowed to get up and go to the bathroom.

We B lined it straight for the facilities. I, being the responsible child I was, relieved myself and was urging Eric to hurry because we were missing vital hell-damning information. As I have never asked Eric what divine inspiration he had for doing what he did next, I'm going to apply Occam's Razor here and deduce that God probably did not inhabit him or speak to him through the urinal, but in fact there was no inspiration and he was just being an immature bastard.

He looked at me with a mischievous grin on his face and turned his 'disco-stick' in my direction and proceeded to empty the contents of his bladder on me. As an adult, unless it was consensual (as it so often is these days in public restrooms), if that ever happened to me I would probably shove his head into the urinal (given he didn't surpass me in weight) so we at least would both being leaving that bathroom covered in his piss. At 6 the reaction is a little different. In all honesty there really wasn't much of a reaction. I stood there unsure of what etiquette would dictate I do in this situation (always the stickler for manners). Do we genially shake hands and leave? Should I have held mine longer to reciprocate? Would he forever think of me as the boy who didn't know how to respond to being peed on?

(This moment got framed and sits prominently on the mantel)

Thankfully I was saved from having to make that crucial decision (heaven forbid it wasn't the right one!) by someone else's excretory system (or more likely, he was just sick of listening to Pastor Dan ramble on). When he saw Eric standing there with his dick pointed in my direction and me drenched, he knew exactly what to do (probably had a run-in like this himself. Learn from your mistakes, that's what I always say).

"Stay right there, I'm going to get your dad." (Thank God I know now the correct response to watersports is to get some paternal involvement)


A few minutes later my dad came in carry a towel that was normally used for drying off Christians after being baptized (God must really hate me). He wrapped me up, stuck me in the car, drove me home, and I had a bath.

Needless to say, we didn't invite Eric back to church. (That'll show him! While he's burning in Hell he'll rue the day he peed on me)

#68: Write a successful blog

My reaper list is full of wild, crazy, or impractical things that I hope to achieve-certainly before I die-but even more ambitious, before I turn 30 (I'm 21). Technically, I know this makes it not a reaper list and more of a pre-middle-age list, but it sounds better. One of the less insane, but possibly just as impossible, is #68: Write a successful blog. Voila (like it's a magic trick! Alakazam, you find this interesting), here I am explaining to you the origins of the desire to begin this blog. But it's not just writing a blog; I want it to be a SUCCESSFUL blog. Dear reader (hopefully plural), it's only due to your fascination with hearing about other people's lives that I have a prayer at crossing one thing off my reaper list.

Personally, I have never found my life all that fascinating, but while brainstorming what I could write about, it dawned on me that my life has had some exceedingly interesting moments. The possibility of posts are limitless (or up until the point that I die, which hopefully would have been post-worthy).

(This is my obligatory taken-with-a-cell-phone-in-the-bathroom-mirror photo)

To come are completely true stories told through the completely fictional life of Leo Pearce (you think he's attractive, you should see me). I sincerely hope that someone finds this blog entertaining (abracadabra!).

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