fuck you im not lj cutting and to prove it im going to bed right now. so i wont hear your whining
For sometime now, i have toyed with the idea of killing off the swollenrod/rodswollen enterprise altogether as it is an alter ego built on a lifetime of misleading fabrications, painful memories, and well, grade school penis jokes. I just no longer feel that it’s a good pseudonym for the sort of persona I am trying to create here on Lj. Additionally, it may very well have offended Rod Stewart himself at one time, and that’s a pain I can do without. This means that I may be changing the name of my journal altogether. Don’t be surprised to see an Ingleburt Slapptyback or Bangdiwang Humptybut randomly appear on your friends list. Even though this is more than likely not going to be me, how can you disapprove of an Eddie Izzard fan magically appearing on your f-list? Seriously!
So as I suspect, many of you are wondering just why such a highly regarded, prominent figurehead of the Lj community would change his well established, celebrated journal name. For those of you who have laughed both with (and at) the man they call Rod Swollen, the terrible truth is that his heart breaking tale has never been revealed unto the public.
So sit down my friend; let me tell you a story.
Rod Swollen was conceived *in the back seat of a dilapidated mini van, heading down interstate 565, on the way to a shitty little open mic night bar, by a dead beat mother who had an abnormal penchant for microwave burritos and was reported to be a ranking member of the fraternal order of the illuminati, branch manager of the “third eye of enlightenment” chapter. It has been theorized that his rocky path started right from the get go, as the first sounds to hit his infant senses was that of the timeless love song "all fucked up on ketamine" performed by a lesser known singer/ songwriter, penning the name of one Nigel Willis Rothemyer - which was reported to be playing at near, eardrum shattering decibels on the radio during his conception, while the minivan appropriately floated in a haze of cigarette smoke.
Rod’s childhood was spent growing up in a rough part of h-town where his father took residence, working as a pharmacutical rep. for the black market. While other kids were interested in G.I. Joe and Transformers, Rod spent the better part of his day sifting through apartment dumpsters looking for thrown out nudie magazines and was prematurely drawn to the sin of pornographic reading material. By the age of 12, Mr. Swollen had already accomplished a number of things, including: being molested by a mentally retarded baby sitter, watching a neighborhood friend sexually abuse a dog with peanut butter, and sending a girl to the hospital for hurting her hoo hoo with an abnormally large penis. It didn’t take long for him to realize he wasn’t like the other boys.
Through his teenage years, he was verbally berated, slapped, and even choked by members of the opposite sex who had all inadvertently mistaken his obvious bulge dragging out the back of his pant leg, for the childish prank of a pervert. Even though he repeatedly tried to illuminate his friends with joyous laughter, someone always managed to accidentally trip over his bulging cock and inevitably his peers would bare down on him with horrible ridicule and mockery. Unfortunately, Mr. Swollen was never blessed with the novelty of comedic timing, but still he had a heart of gold and his penis was there too, and boy, oh boy was it ever there... so at least he had that going for him. He loved his penis so, and his penis loved him back in generous amounts.
As time would soon come to tell, there was no other definitive attribute which spoke more of his character than the obvious flattery that was his penis. Yes, sadly all of his penis's glory made reticent the many other wonders that was tightly packaged (no pun intended) in this humble, humble man. The qualities of kindness, thoughtfulness, and compassion which shined so big and bright, were no match for the pitch black eclipse of his swollen self. It was this stigma which made Mr. Swollen a confused and timid young man. Afraid to run in the normal circles, Rod found himself a loner, often isolating himself from society. Many lonely nights were spent comforting and consoling the rising angst of his penis.
Rod found his place amid the traveling circus at a mere 17 years of age. It was here his penis was allowed to gain a sense of identity and he soon realized the full potential of its special talents amongst the other freakish carnies. It was also the birth of a new era and the artist formally known as Jeff, would forever be immortalized by his newly attributed stage name. The circus was a time of boyish wonder and new found success, as women from around the country would line up in droves to get a look at (and often try out), "Rod Swollen - the amazing penis boy." The reputation spread far and wide, but Rod felt marginalized by the success of his significant other. The money generated from his sexual prowess was unbelievably lucrative, but it often left him drained and fatigued all day long and the circus was taking heavily of his shares. Swollen grew weary of being nothing more than an ornament to be publicly displayed, and he soon started to resent the very talents that the good lord had blessed him with. One day after an exasperating 10 hour multiple client session, Rod had enough, packed up his things, and headed back home.
The sudden move was devastating to his penis, and soon there after it took to drinking heavily and hanging out with the wrong crowd. Meanwhile, Rod took to more positive interests and started keeping a journal... and it was there he found a knack for creative writing.
Then one day the land of live journal came knocking. "This is it!” He thought. “This is a chance for the world to finally see my many other talents!" The jubilation and redemption waiting in the wind because of this fantastic new outlet was something of a second chance to prove to the world that there was more to him than the merits of his member. Unfortunately, this was not to be. Once his penis got word of this new threat, its head grew 3 full sizes and due to the disproportionate nature, now tipping new scales altogether, the penis somehow managed to take control of Rod Swollen's body and imprisoned him somewhere deep in the recesses of his own mind. It was by far the darkest time of his life.
Little did anyone know but Mr. swollen’s penis was quite the competent writer as well, except for the fact that his writing style was extremely vulgar and often offensive to others. Of course, he didn’t care because ultimately Rod Swollen was to blame. He cursed like a sailor, chased internet tail all day long, and would go out and get Mr. Swollen on alcoholic benders that often lasted for weeks on end. All of which made for lewd, provocative journal entries to follow shortly after. It was as debaucherous as it was unholy, and best you believe that there are pictures which prove this to be true, time and time again. The depths of his penis's depraved conduct knew no limit.
Recently, thanks to the loving support of a family imposed intervention, Mr. swollen was checked into the Betty Ford clinic’s penis manipulation wing where he underwent extensive electro-cock therapy. With the support of his friend’s, family, and counselors, Rod was released just several weeks ago and has been doing very well ever since.
So now you know, or at least you think you know because I just lied to you, but that is the truth from this point of view. So lets take this under consideration. All those things I said over the past three years… you know, the funny things, the dirty things, the sweet, soft, cuddly things… all the things that made you love me. Well, it wasn’t me you fell in love with. IT WAS MY COCK YOU LOVE. SAY IT BITCH, YOU LOVE MY COCK! SAY IT!
* [Point of interest: this was the original line in the song "lord i was born a rambling man" but of course the Alman brothers were a bunch of uppity self righteous hippies and they said there was no continuity or flow to the original line... fucking whatever, non talented jam band hacks...)
So as I suspect, many of you are wondering just why such a highly regarded, prominent figurehead of the Lj community would change his well established, celebrated journal name. For those of you who have laughed both with (and at) the man they call Rod Swollen, the terrible truth is that his heart breaking tale has never been revealed unto the public.
So sit down my friend; let me tell you a story.
Rod Swollen was conceived *in the back seat of a dilapidated mini van, heading down interstate 565, on the way to a shitty little open mic night bar, by a dead beat mother who had an abnormal penchant for microwave burritos and was reported to be a ranking member of the fraternal order of the illuminati, branch manager of the “third eye of enlightenment” chapter. It has been theorized that his rocky path started right from the get go, as the first sounds to hit his infant senses was that of the timeless love song "all fucked up on ketamine" performed by a lesser known singer/ songwriter, penning the name of one Nigel Willis Rothemyer - which was reported to be playing at near, eardrum shattering decibels on the radio during his conception, while the minivan appropriately floated in a haze of cigarette smoke.
Rod’s childhood was spent growing up in a rough part of h-town where his father took residence, working as a pharmacutical rep. for the black market. While other kids were interested in G.I. Joe and Transformers, Rod spent the better part of his day sifting through apartment dumpsters looking for thrown out nudie magazines and was prematurely drawn to the sin of pornographic reading material. By the age of 12, Mr. Swollen had already accomplished a number of things, including: being molested by a mentally retarded baby sitter, watching a neighborhood friend sexually abuse a dog with peanut butter, and sending a girl to the hospital for hurting her hoo hoo with an abnormally large penis. It didn’t take long for him to realize he wasn’t like the other boys.
Through his teenage years, he was verbally berated, slapped, and even choked by members of the opposite sex who had all inadvertently mistaken his obvious bulge dragging out the back of his pant leg, for the childish prank of a pervert. Even though he repeatedly tried to illuminate his friends with joyous laughter, someone always managed to accidentally trip over his bulging cock and inevitably his peers would bare down on him with horrible ridicule and mockery. Unfortunately, Mr. Swollen was never blessed with the novelty of comedic timing, but still he had a heart of gold and his penis was there too, and boy, oh boy was it ever there... so at least he had that going for him. He loved his penis so, and his penis loved him back in generous amounts.
As time would soon come to tell, there was no other definitive attribute which spoke more of his character than the obvious flattery that was his penis. Yes, sadly all of his penis's glory made reticent the many other wonders that was tightly packaged (no pun intended) in this humble, humble man. The qualities of kindness, thoughtfulness, and compassion which shined so big and bright, were no match for the pitch black eclipse of his swollen self. It was this stigma which made Mr. Swollen a confused and timid young man. Afraid to run in the normal circles, Rod found himself a loner, often isolating himself from society. Many lonely nights were spent comforting and consoling the rising angst of his penis.
Rod found his place amid the traveling circus at a mere 17 years of age. It was here his penis was allowed to gain a sense of identity and he soon realized the full potential of its special talents amongst the other freakish carnies. It was also the birth of a new era and the artist formally known as Jeff, would forever be immortalized by his newly attributed stage name. The circus was a time of boyish wonder and new found success, as women from around the country would line up in droves to get a look at (and often try out), "Rod Swollen - the amazing penis boy." The reputation spread far and wide, but Rod felt marginalized by the success of his significant other. The money generated from his sexual prowess was unbelievably lucrative, but it often left him drained and fatigued all day long and the circus was taking heavily of his shares. Swollen grew weary of being nothing more than an ornament to be publicly displayed, and he soon started to resent the very talents that the good lord had blessed him with. One day after an exasperating 10 hour multiple client session, Rod had enough, packed up his things, and headed back home.
The sudden move was devastating to his penis, and soon there after it took to drinking heavily and hanging out with the wrong crowd. Meanwhile, Rod took to more positive interests and started keeping a journal... and it was there he found a knack for creative writing.
Then one day the land of live journal came knocking. "This is it!” He thought. “This is a chance for the world to finally see my many other talents!" The jubilation and redemption waiting in the wind because of this fantastic new outlet was something of a second chance to prove to the world that there was more to him than the merits of his member. Unfortunately, this was not to be. Once his penis got word of this new threat, its head grew 3 full sizes and due to the disproportionate nature, now tipping new scales altogether, the penis somehow managed to take control of Rod Swollen's body and imprisoned him somewhere deep in the recesses of his own mind. It was by far the darkest time of his life.
Little did anyone know but Mr. swollen’s penis was quite the competent writer as well, except for the fact that his writing style was extremely vulgar and often offensive to others. Of course, he didn’t care because ultimately Rod Swollen was to blame. He cursed like a sailor, chased internet tail all day long, and would go out and get Mr. Swollen on alcoholic benders that often lasted for weeks on end. All of which made for lewd, provocative journal entries to follow shortly after. It was as debaucherous as it was unholy, and best you believe that there are pictures which prove this to be true, time and time again. The depths of his penis's depraved conduct knew no limit.
Recently, thanks to the loving support of a family imposed intervention, Mr. swollen was checked into the Betty Ford clinic’s penis manipulation wing where he underwent extensive electro-cock therapy. With the support of his friend’s, family, and counselors, Rod was released just several weeks ago and has been doing very well ever since.
So now you know, or at least you think you know because I just lied to you, but that is the truth from this point of view. So lets take this under consideration. All those things I said over the past three years… you know, the funny things, the dirty things, the sweet, soft, cuddly things… all the things that made you love me. Well, it wasn’t me you fell in love with. IT WAS MY COCK YOU LOVE. SAY IT BITCH, YOU LOVE MY COCK! SAY IT!
* [Point of interest: this was the original line in the song "lord i was born a rambling man" but of course the Alman brothers were a bunch of uppity self righteous hippies and they said there was no continuity or flow to the original line... fucking whatever, non talented jam band hacks...)