Teaching Presence Hurts Too

What in the hell was that all about?

Okay, so in return for teaching Johnny how to be tougher, Johnny had to teach Joe Barclay about how to, you know, make people notice you and make people realize just how cool you are. Except it doesn’t really work that way with Barclay…

Right, so it was off to hit the bars with Barclay. Has there ever been a worse wingman? Other than sad, weepy, emo-nerds that is. Fucker looks like death-warmed over, won’t take off those sunglasses and knit-cap and socially is more like a rabid bull in a fine china shop. Johnny got banned, fucking banned from the Hurricane in H.B. because Barclay decided to pick a fight with the bartender *and* the bouncer. At the same time. All because of a girl or a drink. Or a girl and a drink. Johnny isn’t sure and Barclay wouldn’t say. Damn it.

Johnny even tried to teach Barclay the “Mystery” pick-artist shit in case maybe Barclay’s mind works that way. Told ‘im it was bullshit, which it ain’t, but if you ain’t got the hoodoo voodoo in your cock like Johnny does, it does work.

So anyway, the first night we head to Sharkeez. Hot hangout for college kids and those just out of college, working their first jobs. Great place to meet young impressionable chicks that are easily manipulated out of their panties with a few drinks and some flash of big cash. Dude, Barclay struck out harder than Casey at the bat. So Johnny shows him how it’s done. Cute little blonde with graduation present tits that she could rest her own chin on. A few giggles from her, some Bacardi mojitos for her, next thing you know, Johnny is banging her in the bathroom while some fuckwad frat boy is banging on the door. Might have been her boyfriend or something, maybe. Gave her the Kiss at the right moment and wow, she nearly killed herself, went stiff as Johnny’s cock then totally, totally limp. Very nearly cracked her skull open on the toilet.

Anyway, broke the boyfriend’s nose and convinced the bouncer it was all good in the hood and so the dude was kicked out, Johnny stayed. You’d think with that kind of big-boobed motivation Barclay might come out of his shell a bit. Nah. Kept spooking the coeds, so Johnny figured it was time to bail out before Johnny’s rep took too big a hit, you know?

Next night was the Yardhouse. Older crowd, drinking microbrews and cocktails ‘cause unlike the Sharkeez crowd, they actually have their own money from their real jobs. Set Barclay up good a few times. And nothing. He just didn’t get it. He was so stuck in his furry Gangrel mind he just didn’t get the idea of being The Man. Of just being able to attract someone with a confident aura, no cheap Mystery tricks like I.O.I.s or kenos or sets or anything, just pure raw sexuality. Or charisma. Or power.

It took a few more nights. A few more bar fights. Yeah, like the one that got us both banned from Hurricane’s. For at least the next year, that’s one bar Johnny isn’t allowed to go into, all because Barclay got into a fight and Johnny stepped into it. Well, actually, Johnny is pretty sure he could, you know, sweet talk his way into the joint, but there’s plenty of other places to go. It’s just aggravating, you know?

Finally at The Ship in Santa Ana he finally got it, just when Johnny was about to give up for a week or three. He went up to some cougar at the bar, some chick from England with enough money to buy off her wrinkles and starts talking to her. And somehow Barclay just seemed to exude raw animal sexuality, which makes sense given his clan. And she went from just tolerating this weird dude that looked like a mountain man survivalist strung out on heroin to taking him to the back parking lot and her SUV. Barclay said it was an SUV anyway when he came back. She looked tore up. The bartender asked if she was okay and she just smiled. You know that smile, the one you give when you just got your brains fucked out? Yeah, that one. The bartender just gave Barclay a look and shrugged.

So yeah, when Barclay sat back down at the table, he slid a pink Victoria’s Secret thong across the table. Number one, it was fuckin’ soaked. Number two, it had the chick’s phone number on it. He asked if he passed. Johnny just smiled and said “Oh yeah!”

Whoa...

Now, Johnny never normally comments on the babes on the blog...you should just accept them for who they are, beautiful decorations. See, that's part of the problem with most guys. They put these hot chicks on pedestals and worship them and shit. Nah, you gotta treat 'em like any other chick and then they'll see that you are different and react to that, you know?

Anyway, the first one is a nearly perfect woman...okay, so she's not asian...and those are fake, but still, this chick could probably rock the entire Song of the Southland and still want more...

This second chick is what Johnny wishes every lick chick was like...Johnny might even do fanged pussy if they looked like this...

Thorns Sucks Ass

Johnny just doesn't get it. Why would any self-respecting Anarch claim the Treaty of Thorns?

Okay, so maybe if they are, like, the sole Anarch in the entire domain, but if that's the case, are even really an Anarch? Or are they just an agitator? But otherwise, why would an Anarch ever claim to be essentially Camarilla in leather clothing?

It doesn't make much sense. Johnny figures they want to have their cake and eat it too, you know? They can run with the cool kids, but if trouble comes, they can always go running to Mommy and claim they were under our bad influence. That almost makes them traitors, you know? It's not like they are really devoted to the Movement, 'cause if they were, they'd be claiming Status Perfectus.

What really gets Johnny are the assclowns that claim neither. Total fuckwits those are. Totally selfish too. They want all the "rights" that Status Perfectus declares, but don't want any of the responsibility. No, only taking care of number one and fuck the rest. Individuality is cool and all, but your gotta see beyond yourself and do something for the Movement and not just for you.

Someon has gotta step up and lead the Anarchs like Big J once did. God help us all if it's Johnny...

It's that time of year

It's getting to be that time of year. When you can go to a party, or even a bar, and be a "vampire" in public and not have to worry about the Masquerade. Well, unless of course you are pulling stupid shit like picking up cars or running alongside them on the freeway.

Never cared that much for Halloween as a mortal. It was for the kids, you know? Trick or treating, bobbing for apples, stupid homemade costumes, you know, yeah? Totally different that last few years though. Now it seems like it's a total grown-up, adult holiday and kids are just an afterthought.

Johnny does really like the costumes though. Fuck yeah, it's a chance for any chick to let out their inner slut in public and just dress like total skanks and whores and have the "legitimate" excuse that it's just a Halloween costume. And then Johnny gets to put on a cheesy cape, slick back his hair, and be Dracula (like that fucker ever actually lived, yeah?) and they "let" Johnny seduce them. Ha!

Not to mention going to places like Knott's Scary Farm or shit like that makes it so goddamn easy to feed. Manage to get some teenage girl (not too young though) broken off from her friends, use the powers of persuasion to get her to start sucking face, stick a hand up her skirt, and bam! you get a pint and she never knows what hit her aside from a killer orgasm. Even if she figures out enough shit to say a vampire drank her blood, her friends are just gonna think she was making out with some dude in vampire costume in one of the mazes or something.

Gotta be careful and all. Johnny don't get careless this time of year; shit, it pays to be even more paranoid that normal. But it can be a fun time of year.

Journal #11, October 16, 2007

Joe Barclay is a closet sadist.

That's almost all Johnny needs to say. Goddamn that hurt. And not really how Johnny expected it to hurt.

So Barlcay said he’d teach Johnny Fortitude. So out into the woods goes Johnny to meet with’im. There’s a couple of trucks and Barclay. So he says to Johnny, I got an obstacle course in the woods. Okay, maybe not so much obstacle course, but it wasn’t exactly an Olympic sprinting track. So, Johnny’s like, okay, whatever, let’s show Barclay what a little Celerity can do. So Johnny burns some blood and fuckin’ blazes around the course that Barclay set up.

That’s when two dudes got out of one of the trucks packing tire knockers. Joe said Johnny had better just take it like a man, or he might have to get involved and that would really fucking hurt. Goddamn it took everything in Johnny not to just summon more power of the blood and just rip their fucking heads off. Then Barclay says to run the track again. Well, after offering Johnny a chick in the back of the other truck, but Johnny wanted to impress Barlcay, so Johnny said no. The first time around anyway.

Well, okay. So partway through the second lap, Johnny figures he’s gonna get sneaky, yeah? Us a bit more blood to heal up some of the beatin’ and then power up the Celerity again. That’ll impress Barclay, right?

Um. No. And it fucking hurt. Turns out there were some fucking pit bulls in one of the trucks. And Barclay let’em loose on Johnny for trying to use the blood to heal. Killed ‘em both, but not before one of them took a big bite out of Johnny’s leg.

Every fucking lap ended with the two fuckwits beating the crap out of Johnny. And it wasn’t like there were an endless harem of girls to drink from. So it wasn’t like Johnny could just continue to burn celerity or heal up. At one point, Johnny tried to chomp on one of the goons, but Barclay smacked Johnny right in the jaw and well, that was the end of that. Off to races again. Run a lap, get the crap beaten out of you. Run a lap, get the crap beaten out of you. What the fuck is this sadistic shit?

So it's starting to lighten up, you know, dawn is coming, so obviously it's time to bug out. Goddamn it. That means gotta come back tomorrow night and do it all again. Barclay tells me to make sure Johnny is ready to go. Fuck.

So the next night it's more of the same. Run that goddamn lap, get the crap beaten out of Johnny. Run the lap, get the crap beaten out of Johnny. Run the lap, get the crap beaten out of Johnny. It just wasn't getting any better.

But then somewhere around 4 in the morning, it finally happened. Johnny had been in so much pain for so long, it just finally stopped hurting. No, that’s not right. It finally stopped bothering Johnny. The pain was there, it just didn’t get into Johnny’s head anymore. It was there, like a warning that something was wrong with the body, you know? But there weren’t fucking loud fire alarms and klaxons and flashing lights and shit going off in Johnny’s head anymore. The pain was just there and that was all.

When the lap was finished, Barclay almost seemed disappointed. He told the two goombas to get in their truck and just nodded at Johnny, then got in his own. Johnny just stood there a minute watching them drive off. Then got into the BMW and went home…

The worst part about it though? To learn more means more of this sick sadistic shit.

Journal #10, October 7, 2007

Well, that was a waste. A creepy waste.

So Rabbit calls a rant. People come to the usual gathering, but licks are also coming for the rant. But what does Rabbit do? He bails on us all, his Anarch brothers and his Brujah brothers, just to go to a goddamn hockey game! So some mortal sport is more important than his brothers? WTF?

Bear thinks it was about Rabbit getting his van getting blown up by Tom Jennings. Rabbit went to Mr. Black, Tom’s baron, but Black told him to fuck off, it’s just a van. So it looks like Rabbit went over Black’s head (which is his right, Johnny figures) to go to us all. And then doesn’t bother to show.

So Owl took over and we decided that Jennings shouldn’t have blown up the van, but that Rabbit was being a bitch. So we decided that both of them are deserving of a boot party.

‘Course, we found out later that Rabbit has been telling the Cam that he’s our Anarch representative to them and the Song’s rep too. Nobody knew that. So that’s earned him another boot party. Dumbfuck.

It got creepy too; Owl and Crimson started seeing ghosts, saying that some girl got murdered in the area not long before. So Bear, Sharky, Lauren and I follow those two to the other end of the park, into the children’s playground. And what do you know, but there’s a dead girl underneath the swings. Cut in half, sliced up, her face cut up like the Joker’s. Okay, really more like the Black Dahlia, but Johnny didn’t see that movie. That’s creepy enough.

But Johnny also hears that weird shit is going down in Irvine. Some presence, some thing is sucking our powers and even memories if you are down there too long. So isn’t it wonderful that the Gangrel let us go feed there now? Goddamn furries.

Rabbit calls a rant?

So why is Rabbit calling a Rant? WTF could he possibly want? It seems more than a little weird, that if anyone from the Song of the Southland would be calling a rant, it sure as shit wouldn't be Rabbit. After all, he's gayer than any Toreador, organized the donkey show, and loves to penis-punch Sharky and I. Or at least, he tries to punch us; doesn't happen any more.

So what does he want? Is it a brujah matter, a Song issue, an anarch thing, what?

Camarilla are morons

Damn dude!

Okay, so, like, Johnny found this national connection for Brujah across the country. Pretty fuckin' cool, right?

No.

'Cause most of them are cocksucking cammunists whose only pastime and passion is to give crap to anyone new to the list. They claim to be Brujah, they claim to be "rebels" (or at least a few of them do), but they are just sucking from the same Camarilla teat as the rest of the clans.

And oh so tired they are of dealing with stupid rebellious teenagers like Johnny. Won't we just make it easier and just accept that they are right, we are wrong, and just be good little cammunists?

Wow, the whole Ivory Tower business is real and alive and well today. These bastards are so totally out of touch with the real world today, so totally out of touch with Los Angeles and Orange County, they couldn't find their way out of a paper bag.

It's just sickening that some of these arrogant self-centered bastards call themselves Brujah when it's clear that some of them are more Toreador or Ventrue than Brujah.