Don’t think this is about sex. Or human reproductive systems. Or their sexual interactions. This blog site will be no more exciting than the title. 😦
This is just an introduction—with em dashes—because you’ll be seeing lots of them as you discover, stalk and read on my future blogs, you disgusting shit.
Caveat emptor! I will be posting boring, gross and useless shittery here so I hope you like it!
The title “Poolterest” came from the Greek words, “poolis” (big) and “terestous” (dick). Hence, Big Dick.
Kidding (only on the title part). It’s a portmanteau of the words “pool” and “interest”, or a “Pool of Interest”. Which means…nothing!
I also have a blog of the same Title (on WordPress, too—I will also regret this blog, more on regrets down below) which was, in my master plan, a tech review blog. Sadly, I can’t afford smartphones and gadgets every time new ones come out. *Insert sad face and fucking poor face here*
UPDATE: I’ve changed the blog title because I found the previous corny. Now my blog title is even more sad. Perfectly sums up my life.
In the afternoon of July 15, 2015 at exactly 2:21 pm, one of my human companions Harold Francis Ibarrientos [shoutout! Facebook here, Twitter here (sorry he’s private but if he knows you he might let you follow him)] suggested that I blog about my “anxiety” (more on that on the next blogs). I took it as an advice. A very bad one.
Back in circa 2012, I think, and I rue greatly that, I had a blog (on Tumblr) which didn’t go pretty well. For starters, it was Tumblr! Second, you just intrinsically post anything at the present and regret it the next few years (which will happen in this blog too, obviously).
That Tumblr blog, if I could remember correctly, included posts about The Script, about my annoyance with my previous course, architecture (fuck ya’ll), and other stuff that the average human would love to ignore at a daily basis.
Because of these mortifying posts about my life, I hated my own existence and promised never to blog again…ever.
Kidding. I just deleted the blog and felt (like most of us do) better. Nothing like scratching an itch when deleting an embarrassing part of your life from the memories of the virtual world. *Breathes fresh memory space*
Now that I am older, I think I’ll handle this well with less regrets and more what-the-fucks. I hope I do.
Thank you Mr. Harold, for suggesting that I blog my feelings. You ruined the world. And, if you’re reading this future Patrick, I hope I did not let you down.
P.S.: Future Patrick—I hope you now own that dream fleshlight of yours.
Thanks for skimming!