god smack
The other night I dreamed I was wearing a SARS mask and when I woke up, I had herpe on my lip. I guess I’m psychic.
People like to call ‘em cold sores but I’m from the “let’s call a spade a spade” line of thinking and I call it herpes.
I don’t have it on my dick mind you, though sometimes I’d wish I’d just get it there and get it outta the way for good. You only catch it once right? One less thing to worry about while having sex.
I was talking to Walt about that the other day, with all the trips to the clinic for chlamydia and all the abortions, casual sex has lost it’s luster. I can’t help but think about not wanting a kid with the girl I’m about to fuck while putting on my condom and the fucking bummer it’ll be if something goes wrong.
Somehow through all my shitty decision making I’ve turned something as fun as fucking into a source of anxiety. That’s what you get for going raw in your twenties.
The herpes though, I didn’t even get from sexual contact or tonguing a girl. I got that from my family. The Angelini side, either my aunt or my nonnie gave it to me back when I was like 8. Thank you family. The Angelini’s were kind enough to bless me with herpes, hemorrhoids, a hairy back, and a slight case of depression.
But they also gave me my fire, so I call it a wash. Thank you family.
You ever walk around town with a big ass fucking blister on your lip? It’s like having a big ass hairy birthmark on your face. And people notice it but go out of their way to look you in the eyes and you know what they’re thinking, they’re not thinking about what the hell you’re talking about. They’re concentrating on avoiding the obvious.
With a birthmark their thinking, “Poor guy has a fucking hairy brown thing growing off his face, don’t look. It’s rude.’
But with the cold sore it’s more, “I hope this dirty mother fucker doesn’t touch me and contaminate my lip.”
I know this because that’s what I think. Even with other people with herpes and I got that shit. I’ve had waitresses roll up on my table with herpes on their face and I’ve lost my apatite, I’m all, “Nothing for me thanks.”
For you birthmark motherfuckers go hack that shit off your face, it makes people uncomfortable, either that or allow us to discuss it with you. It’s the pretending the meatball’s not on your cheek part that fucks me up.
Having cold sores, it’s like having Face AIDS. I got fucking FACE AIDS. I’m a leper. I don’t even shake hands with people when I have the shit. I feel fucked up drinking out of their glasses.
At least it’s not on my dick.
Few years back I fucked some Chinese broad off of Myspace. We had fun, shit was good. I’m bout to go on tour with Eminem and she hits me, talking bout I gave her herpes. When we smashed I ain’t had that shit on my face so I know I didn’t.
I get off the plane at NY Laguardia from Detroit to about 10 text messages from this chick. I’m in the taxi line when I call her back.
She’s all distraught, she’s like, “Jude we need to talk I went to the doctor and I have herpes on my vagina. You gave me herpes.”
I’m like, “No I didn’t.”
She’s all, “Yes you did and you need to come see my doctor for a check up.”
I’m like, “I got my own doctor, I’ll go see her thanks.”
She dogs me for another 5 minutes. She tells me she regrets ever meeting me and she thought I was gonna be like her Mr. Big from Sex in the City but I wasn’t shit. And this that and the third, and how she now has this disease forever and that I ruined her for life. And the whole time the business men in line are pretending not to listen.
Fuck them.
I get off the phone feeling all messed up, like maybe I did have that shit on my dick and I gave it to her and didn’t even know yet. So with a heavy heart I went and got tested and left for tour. The whole time I’m out there on the road, I’m feeling contaminated. I’m feeling dirty, like I got that shit.
I’m in Denver and I got this stripper buck naked in my hotel room, hog tied with extension cords and all I could do was finger bang her. Finger bang like a fucking lesbian. How pathetic is that? That herpes scare had reduced me to a fucking lesbian.
Why? Because I may be a slut but I’m not some piece of shit spreading diseases on purpose.
I get the test results back and it’s negative.
I call her up, she doesn’t answer. I leave a message. I try to be the bigger person about things, this bitch does have herpes on her crotch after all. I tell her, I don’t got that shit on my dick and she should call up her rock band ex-boyfriend, he probably gave her that shit because all they do is fuck groupies and I tell her good luck and many blessings and I hang up.
A year later I check on her Myspace to see how she was doing. She’s engaged to some white dude. They looked happy. I breath a sigh of relief.
I check back year after that and she had blocked me.
Such is life.
