I am extremely displeased at the moment. Apparently, I, just like Courtney Love, never learn. And, unlike that crazy whore, I can't blame my poor decision making process on chemical dependency. No, I am just really fucking stupid. Whereas there are thousands of support groups for weak-willed people, whom make wrong headed choices, I haven't found one yet for those, i.e. me, who choose with the wrong head. One can argue that I am not unique in this manner, as many men live by the skin of their scrotum, but unlike most others, I am complete and utter bitch. Chalk it up to a domineering mother, lack of meaningful inter-gender interaction during my formative years or too much Mountain Dew, regardless the result is the same; I am a slave to the putang, minus the putang part.

Problem is I would rather cuddle with the objects of my affections then ravage their nubile bodies. Why? I am a stupid bitch. Somewhere along the line sex and love became synonymous in my book, which is totally acceptable if I am a fourteen year old girl living in the Bible belt. Sadly this not the case therefore it is necessary for me, Bob, to divorce the two concepts. Thus far I haven't really come up with a workable solution, hence the origin of today's post. However; I do have a rudimentary understanding of what differentiates love from sex. Sex is the appropriate term when dealing with dirty whores, while love is applicable for the woman you marry. Problem is, at least in the United States, I can only marry one woman. Based upon my theory, there is one virtuous Mrs. Bob out there, with the other one-hundred fifty million ladies being evil sluts sent here by Shaitan to humiliate torture and emotionally rape me.

Since, I am a stupid bitch, with a carrier load of issues, there is little I can do. Chemical castration is always an option. And, as an added bonus, the little girls down the street would be able to play outside. Of course I could always forego women altogether and devote my life to spiritual enlightenment. Buddha Bob does have a nice ring to it. Then again I might just stick to my earlier birthday resolution and hire a whore. Don’t worry I still plan on berating the bitch but would work in a couple minutes for her to suckonmyboner.

After reading this can any of you believe I am single?


Go to Hell

I have garnered a bit of publicity from the Wikepedia incident. Instead of the usual four to five people who read my posts, several hundred have stopped by. This influx of traffic is due, in large part, to direct links in several internet forums. As a service to these first time, and hopefully only time, visitors I am going to provide some background information so that they don't come away with the wrong impression of me.

I take this blog very seriously. Much of what is written here is, in fact, the whole truth. Well, except for the parts that relies on lies and clever uses of hyperbole. I know that you are used to accurate, mature and factual nature of the online forum community, so I hope you feel right at home here. This perfectly segues into another issue that needs to be explored. Is this site a self-effacing parody, one that exists only to entertain or is it the ranting of a bitter misanthrope who truly wishes the worst for each and everyone of you, and in fact hopes you spend your lives blessed with anal herpes that only breakout while in the throes of sexual passion and during the consumption of chocolate? The answer can be summed up in a simple but all encompassing answer: Yes.

One forum thread in particular caught my eye, as it dealt with the picture in the upper right hand corner. One of the esteemed members of El Saano felt that my hate filled rhetoric stemmed from my need for facial reconstructive surgery. Let me first assure you that is my picture in the upper right hand corner. Although I can understand why one would assume, based on that picture alone, that Bob spends his free time in a French Cathedral, the truth is that Bob is big sexy bitch. In fact Fiwer (the forum handle of the person in question) if given a chance I would most assuredly fuck your mother and most likely have your father eat out my ass shortly thereafter, due to my innate sexy bitchness.

Of course there is much more to I Hate you then what has been written here but I don't want to take up too much more of your precious time. I understand that those who follow the call of the forum troll have better things to do then read my blog. I wish you all the best, especially with your severe skin problems and predilection for Tentacle-related Hentai. And, I want to leave you, the internet forum community, with the following

Please do give your mothers a kiss for me, tell your fathers to wipe the shit off their faces and most importantly

Go to Hell

Bob has a job. It isn't a good job. In fact, it is a shitty a job. But, it is a job nonetheless. Assuming the Denison Islamic Student Association doesn't blow up downtown Newark, I start June 7th.

Last time I started a "real" job I lasted six weeks, which didn't help the resume so much, this time I plan on staying at least two months. By the age of thirty, I hope to have at least one year of work experience under my belt. Then again, I could simply let a company suck my soul dry, and strive for a career in corporate middle management.

What does this mean to you? Well, Bob having a job means really only one thing:

The terrorits have won.

Go to Hell

I am officially boycotting "The Free Encyclopedia". I entered my name into the database, which you can still find for the time being under Robert Kyle Wilson, as a lark. Apparently several people, who have way too much time on their hands, took exception with my work. The sanctity of "their" project is above reproach, so my self-effacing humor is not welcome

They need to get a life.


Go to Hell

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I turn twenty-four in little over a month. Odds are I will buy myself a whore. But, instead of engaging in sexual intercourse, I will spend an hour berating here because she is ,in fact, a dirty, dirty whore. I can't wait till June 28th.

Go to Hell

I am not really happy with the "new and improved" ihateyou.us but it will do for now. I have rather enjoyed working with Dreamweaver however; it does have its limits. Namely, how easy it is for the user to forego learning HTML, instead relying on the easy-to-use interface. But, I am far from a webmaster anyway so simplicity, at least in terms of web design, is a major plus.


There is so much I want to bitch about right now but there is one thing that stands out. A young lady actually came looking for Bob but low and behold he was no where to be found. I actually had a decent chance to hang out with a woman but somehow managed to fuck it up. The details don't really matter, sufficed to say I chose an afternoon nap over a lunchtime date.

Fuck me with a rusty spatula.

Go to Hell

I picked up a Dreamweaver and Adobe Photoshop over the weekend and am attempting to use them. I am not terribly happy with the website however; it is best I could come up with at one in the morning. Btw if you know how to use an image, i.e. a photoshop mock up, as the background without the loading issue please do tell.

Go to Hell

I am back. I know you missed me but was it really necessary to bombard my inbox with thousands of emails. This post is dedicated to my loyal fan base. You can't imagine the feeling when one opens up their email client, sees hundreds of new messages, and is greeted by a semi-constant Virus Alert pop-up. However; I did find it odd that most of you were interested in commenting on my penis, in particular its length, and my desire for larger breasts. How did you know?

I am going to do something unprecedented and actually post the names of those who messaged me during my hiatus.

I Hate You Email Honorarium

Blanca Madrid, Cool Stuff, Erin Bain, Jeremy O., intimate assistants, Tadams49, group fun, Vipers_Pit, Mfine109, pure fun, ladies of pleasure, Bradsmith, Valdezja, Christopher37, Leona Fortune, Angela Smith, Willhillwv, Coachslowslow, Vger, backdoor entry, vibekws, 3 at a Time, Tcny420, Asian Hotties, Topcast342, Wannabe Starlets, VickC, Sticky Girls, Emanuel Ellis, Nannie Hampton, Carolyn Espinoza, Otto Mackey, Etta Roth, Marco Parks, Bobmen1000001238, Bobmen10000821, bobmen8131, and last but not definitely not least, Stupid Sluts.


Thanks again for keeping in touch guys, especially Bradsmith, who sent me links to movies involving trannie back-door entries and barn yard “fun”.

Go to Hell

I am alive and, for the most part, whole. The wisdom teeth extraction went well however; the process leading up to the surgery was a little problematic.

The procedure was schedule to take place at 10:30am. I showed up at approximately 10:15am. After forking over $1898.00 I noticed that there only one chair open in the entire waiting room. I let dad take the seat since he was my designated post-op driver. After a half hour dad remarked that one oral surgeon would not be enough to take care of this many patients. Twenty minutes later he left to get some coffee and check his email since it appeared I wasn't getting in anytime soon. After thirty more minutes I was the only one left in the room and was becoming quite agitated. Apparently the receptionist noticed my reaction and deemed fit to tell me that I would have to wait two more hours due to "complications" with the earlier patients.

I begin to wonder what sort of complications could justify making Bob wait nearly four hours. Then it hit me, the stupid bitch had a brain complication and decided to schedule four people at the same goddamn time. At least my growing ire masked the equally growing fear of being unconscious.

At approximately 2:00pm I was lead back to the room where the procedure would take place. The surgical aide took my blood pressure and hooked me into a various pieces of monitoring equipment. She then attempted to put in an IV. Sadly, I lack veins, or at least ones that a seasoned professional can find, and was poked no less then four times unsuccessfully. She left in order to find someone who could find a viable vein.

While she was gone I overheard three young ladies, who based upon their appearance and age, were new at this job. They were discussing several cases where a patient went in for a routine dental procedure, such as a root canal or wisdom teeth extraction and ended up suffering a heart attack, stroke and in one case notable case died. Honestly that wasn't something I needed to hear at the time, and so my pulse increased fairly rapidly and caused the monitor make a loud BEEPPPPPPPPPP noise. Several attendants ran in and asked if there was problem, I shook my head no and mouthed a silent prayer to God.

Soon after another aide arrived in the room, attempted to alleviate my fears with some benign humor and actually managed to successfully insert the IV. It only took her two tries. After this point everything is hazy, I do remember speaking to the surgeon. Subsequently he barked out several medical sounding terms and then I drifted off to la la land. While dreaming I was certain that this entire event was in fact a game of Warcraft III (a very successful computer strategy game) and that it was my duty to build several legions of orcish warriors to repeal the undead hordes.

When I came through everything seemed normal. I didn't see a lake of fire or a celestial stairway so death seemed out of the question. An elderly nurse took my hand, asked if I was ok, took my blood pressure and lead Bob out into the hallway. She was trying to prop me up but as we all know from physics a frail old woman is not going to support the massiveness that is Bob. I was aware enough to guide myself along the wall until I reached dad. He proceeded to help me outside, where upon I claimed to be fine and managed to reach the van unassisted. Years of waddling, or as RD once said "walking like I had a stick up my ass" came in handy as it turned out to be a fairly good facsimile to walking while under the effects of anesthesia.

I looked into the mirror and discovered that my normally luscious lips now appeared Bubba-like. I looked like Meg Ryan after a recent botox treatment. Dad only had to stop once on the way home. I needed to spit out a mouthful of blood. On the way into the house I vomited up quite a bit more blood and realized that I still had use of my taste bloods. You see blood, especially the regurgitated variety, tastes really bad. Anyway that is my story of the wisdom teeth.

One day later I feel almost normal except for the blood oozing out of my nose at regular intervals. Was it worth it? Yes because those fuckers had been hurting for almost two years and since I didn't lose my ability to taste or more importantly die, I am able to deal with the minor inconveniences.

Go to Hell