I was once known by lovers trust, For my prowess and animal lust. The fligs all stalked me and demanded much, A kiss, embrace, the sensual touch.
I gave and gave, and left them panted, But for love, I was taken for granted. There’s more to me than just my snoggle, I need love, more than your quackal.
To lay and use me, in the act of gueling, Then you peak and snork, your pleasure fulfilling. I’m left lustless, with a frizzled snoggle, And you content, and no longer needful.
Across the room, you stand defluxs, Allowing me to admire your ample jumbucks. I’m tortured by your beauty and lovely meshed quackal, Please come to me, and allow me to give yodel.
But you turn and leave, just showing me your dumper, No words left, but the pound of my heart thumper. For the ache of love, I’ve endured abuse, From now on, I’ll just dejuice.
Many of you have wondered, I am sure, what it’s like to be a sex symbol at my age. Well, it’s damn stressful and at times a curse! Anytime I go out in public I’m inundated with covert stares and lascivious innuendos! Imagine, if you can…..going to the grocery store and while I’m leaning over the rhubarb display, there will be discreet eyes watching my every twist and strain. Female raptors drooling while I squeeze and inhale the pungent aroma of firm Peruvian tomatoes.
As I shop down the ‘adult diaper’ aisle I know there are those behind me admiring my ample buttocks and praying I might initiate a precision “wedgy” adjustment. But, I know they are there, watching with panting breaths and I deny them the event.
I put in an order for sliced salami with the deli clerk and she coolly checks me over and then asks if I would like my salami soft or hard. I tell her to make it hard salami and she swoons and drops the loaf into the cream cheese and lox.
Later in the meat department I’m surrounded by raspy voiced whispers about prime choice and comments like “I’d love to grill that!” Degrading.
Finally, I finish my shopping and check out with my few items. The cashier asks if I want paper or plastic and I say I don’t care and then she advises the use of plastic for protection. The young college girl doing the bagging asks if I want her to take it out for me and that she would be happy to. I’m indignant and tell her if anybody’s going to take it out it’ll be me! She then replies by saying, if you’re worried about the tip, don’t….the manager won’t allow us to touch them.
I quickly grab my few groceries and leave the store. Outside, as I’m standing on the curb, a “Goth” girl with a skull tattoo on her forehead asks if I need any help with my bag. I hasten to my car and quickly dump my groceries in the backseat. I am emotionally depleted. On the ride home, I pull into a Burger King drive thru and before I can order, the young lady on the other side of the speaker asks, “A Whooper in a fresh bun would be nice today.”
I lay motionless on my stomach in six inches of filthy water, full of silt, animal waste and mosquito larva plus indescribable snot like slime. It’s the middle of the night and it’s been raining for hours, and the water is rising. Our squad has returned to these rice patties every night for a week with two other squads to set up a linear ambush , but with no success. But tonight, there were sounds. Faint metallic sounds in the bush. We all lay there, frozen, scared and in total misery.
The rain keeps the skeeters away….but, there are other abhorrence creatures that it doesn’t. The water now covers all of me except for my back and head. That’s when I start to feel them crawl. Slow, slug like as they reach my back. I don’t feel the parasite’s bite as the medic tells us they secrete a toxin that numbs it. I lay there in unmoving anguish and wonder how many are feeding.
Teaching your kids about sex is an emotional quagmire. When I first discussed it with my son, he was 10, and he was so used to me making up bedtime stories that he simply assumed it was another one of my horror tales. The other obstacle to my dissertation was having the poor kid visualize me doing these weird contorted acts with his Mom! On occasion, I have felt the same way myself. When I assured him that what I was saying was in earnest, I could feel a weakening in our established bond. It was almost as if he wanted to run to his Mom to see if she was okay or needed protecting. Fortunately, she was at the mall checking out the plus sizes at Frederick’s of Hollywood.
I know a lot of folks believe that sex education would be better taught at school, but considering my son’s math and reading grades, he’ll end up making wine in a monastery in Oregon and remain celibate. You cannot have sex education without saying sex is natural and that most people find it pleasurable. Problem is…..conservative Christianity has enriched this erotic meal with the appetizer being curiosity and spoiled it with a heavy dessert of remorse. Sex and hypocrisy, they go together like coffee and cream and always have. So, I tried to avoid the politics and religious scrutiny and just gave him the basics to work with in the hope he’ll pick up the tutorials from his friends as he hits his hormonal peak during his teens.
There is just no way to properly explain the absurdities of lovemaking to a child and that sex is not as neat as the HBO movies make it. Real sex is messy. Good sex is even messier. Like I said, lovemaking or ’sex’ is just too absurd to describe. In their adulthood, they will find that anyone who says that sex is overrated just hasn’t done it properly or they were alone when they did. Sex education is not an easy responsibility for a parent, but it is a parent’s duty and not the school system or state‘s…..seems their job comes later when they attempt to confuse our children on their sexual orientations.
My Mind Is Like A Disposal…(nothing but leftovers)
Last night, as I lay in my bed looking up at the bright stars in the sky, I pondered about my long life and the wisdom I had gleamed along the way, and then I thought to myself, where the shit’s my roof??
The only reason people get lost in thought is because it’s unfamiliar territory.
You are entitled to your own opinion. It’s just that yours is stupid.
There are no stupid questions, just stupid people.
Flying is learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.
The road to success is always under construction.
When I die, I want to go peacefully like my Grandad did, in his sleep….not screaming, like the passengers in his car.
If you’re going to die in an elevator, be sure to push the Up button.
Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings.
Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its pupils.
What you call dog with no legs Larry? Don’t matter what you call him, he ain’t gonna come.
Duct tape is like the force. It has a light side, a dark side, and it holds the world together.
A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kick boxing.
Women are like phones. They love to be held, talked to, but if you press the wrong button you’ll be disconnected!
Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died.
Everybody wants to go to heaven; but nobody wants to die.
Everyone has photographic memory; some just don’t have the film.
I told Wifey that a husband is like a fine wine; he gets better with age. The next day, she locked me in the cellar.
If Barbie is so popular, why the hell do you have to buy her friends?
I told the doctor I broke my leg in two places. He told me to quit going to those places.
Always remember you’re unique, just like everyone else.
How many roads must a man walk down before he admits his ass is lost?
Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.
**You know….I could’ve eaten Alphabits cereal and crapped out a better blog!!
This Has Nothing To Do With Good Sense…..(don’t know that much about it.)
The human body is unique beyond words. The ability to hunt woolly mammoths and make fire to cook em and then go to the moon all in 10,000 years….incredible! We have been, and still are, able to do so much because of some incredible and mysterious factors……our SENSES! Those wondrous gifts that we spend an entire life taking for granted, until by accident or illness, we lose the use of one or more.
SMELL…..attracts us to people, food, a different seat on the bus, and the joys of holiday aromas. It also serves as an alarm as it alerts you to the reason why the old lady next door has not been out to get her mail for two weeks. Smell enhances our experiences with new cars, babies in the morning, crowded elevators and petting zoos…..so much of our world goes up our nose.
TASTE……the list of things we have put into our mouths since birth is staggering and in many cases horrifying! Wonderful restaurants, greasy drive-thrus, your aunt’s pork fat pudding, every form of alcoholic drink and concoction, dirt from your childhood, dirt from the front yard of your frat house, a garlic French kiss…..and on and on. The things we have allowed to go pass our teeth. (Do not confuse with “good taste”, as that died during the 1960’s.)
TOUCH……the purest form of communication. Your mama’s caress, the friendly guy at the school bus stop, the feel of comfort, handshake of gratitude, holding hands, getting to first base…(not to be confused with a touchdown), the sting of a slap, reaching ecstasy with or without company. Hugs that give us our sense of being and belonging. It is this wonderful sense that has made it possible for humanity to mate and produce children faster than a crop harvester.
SIGHT……the sense to the mind. The visual understanding of our world. The sadness, the horror, the shame, the ridiculous, the very ugly, the very beautiful, colors, a baby’s smile, your Mama’s face, the Super Bowl, Lady GaGa. Sight can stand on it’s own to help the mind to interpret or entertain us. But, the sight of a molting Nightingale means nothing without the sound of it’s celestial singing. Seeing Britney Spears fall off a stage before she sings is a plus though.
HEARING……the necessary mechanism to total understanding and construction of thought. In conjunction with SIGHT, it aids in comprehension and conclusions. Alone, it gives the mind the joy of music, story, debate, American Idol, sounds of children, squalling babies and non stop rhetoric from spouses. With hearing alone, there’s the ability to create music and answer the front door bell.
COMMON SENSE……This is only a superficial sense, in that,humanity commonly loses that sense during national election time.
OK…….Here’s the question: If you had to have budget brain surgery under the new Health Care system and were allowed to only save one of your senses, which one would you select for the remainder of your life?
I wrote about Heaven not long ago and now I feel the necessity to flip the coin and relate my views about Hell…..“God’s outhouse.” Naturally, I don’t want to commit my observations solely to just Heaven or Hell, as I have friends in both places, so I will simply offer my restrictive opinion to both, with Hell taking it‘s turn at bat.
To start with, more people believe in a celestial Heaven, than they do in the noxious pits of Hades. The “Old Testament” mentions the word over 31 times, but the word or words were often translated from Hebrew words meaning pit, grave, abode of the dead and dark crevasse. In the “New Testament,” of the King James Version, Hell is translated from the Greek word “Hades” in 10 different places. The King James Version also uses the word “Hell” or “Hellfire” 12 times from the translated Greek word “Gehenna” which refers to a desolate pit where children were once sacrificed in the kingdom of eon. Seems no one could make up their minds about the logistics of the place, so the scribing monks pretty much tagged it as Hell and went to the next chapters.
Well, so much for the lesson in linguistic anthropology. The fact is…..there is still a lot of head scratching about this all inclusive resort. We know it’s a bad place for your complexion and was created for all the evil people and educated atheist. There is, of course, a long list of qualified applicants, from unreformed dick-headed socialist to serial killing crack-hoes. Politicians and lawyers occupy most of the best real estate there, located by scenic lava flows and pus fountains. Dignitaries abound, such as Enron’s Kenneth Lay serving as grand marshal in the annual “Das Führer Day” parade. There are also long lines of ‘ordained’ pedophiles awaiting their turn at the sacred alter of the Castratum Vegematicum, and currently a mosquito filled sauna is being prepared for the arrival of Craig Gilbert, the creator of the first TV reality show. Yes, there are many more purged souls in it’s confines and I imagine there’ll be crowd control issues once the last of the old hippies take that final toke as they trip into mellow oblivion.
The devil…..Many have a strange visualization of what the Godfather of Hell looks like. Some see him as a sweltering giant of crimson sludge with blazing coals for eyes and with massive horns spearing meters into the air. His fiery breath flambéing the flesh off your bones as he bellows at you. I think, in true reality, that the devil looks more like Richard Simmons on steroids. Jumping from one outcrop to another, rocking with the oldies like Splish Splash or Flying Purple People Eaters. His little short horns, flaming afro and bouncing man-breast. Scary.
One misconception, I hear too often, is that marriage is really Hell and, of course, in some rare occasions even Heaven. Through my many years of observing married friends, reality shows and acquaintances, I have found that marriage is more often a purgatory for many with Hell being a welcomed recess.
There are three Pinnacle events in a man’s life that tops all others. The first is when he jettisons his virginity. The second is his first prostate examination and the third evolves rigor mortis. I wish to discuss the second and most grueling event, which involves the sacred prostrate.
The gland known as the prostate….(from the Greek prohistani….guardian of the bladder), is located within the nether regions of the male anatomy. In a male’s lifetime, this is usually the last functioning organ he ever has to worry about, because the warranty usually doesn’t run out until he’s in his fifties. The function of this obscure organ is to produce a secretion which provides nutrition for sperm, and therefore preventing the male from firing blanks. It is adequate enough to say that a male in this fifties could care less about the starvation of the little squiggles, but, there is a side effect! When it comes time to answer nature’s call to the privy….the plumbing tends to fail ya! Your once great and marvelous mahatma, is nothing more than a leaking faucet!
You now come to terms with the fact that there’s a problem and therefore you need to tell your doctor that your aqueduct is failing. In his office, he listens and shakes his wise old head with concerning thought. Then he says those dreaded words…..“Drop your pants, turn around and bend over.” Your natural reaction is to say “why?” but, it’s obvious why. There is only one accessible point of entry to exam the prostate and it involves violating one of your spinsters! As you obediently turn around and drop-trou, you can’t help but pity all those young men sent to prison for the first time. You hear the sobering sound of a latex glove being snapped on and you pray he’s removed that huge ring with the horse head on it. “Bend over and breath deep,” he says, much like the executioner said to Mary Queen of Scotts. Then I’m examined. It would have been beneficial for me if I had the forethought and had invited my Optometrist to be there. He could have examined my eyes, as they were bugging out of my friggin head, as the proctologist started mining my colon!
The examination is quickly concluded and within moments, my voice has descended several octaves to normal again. He tells me that I have an enlarged prostate and that it is normal for a man my age, and also he found a pair of old thongs I had lost two years ago. He prescribes medication and as I’m leaving, I make sure to shake his hand and verify that his ring is not missing.
I know this is just part of life and the ordeal of it does not compare to that of going to a gynecologist for the first time……but…….do women ever worry about their GYN losing their jewelry too?
Did I just miss the normal folks bus and end up on the special needs shuttle?? What gives with the current mentality of today’s society? Here we have an ageing, second tier fashion model groping to launch her sagging career with this 15 minutes of fame at the expense of her son’s understanding of common sense. Here she turns an intimate, (almost sacred) ritual between mother and child, into a media sideshow. Well folks, this just yanks my buds.
Here we have Jamie Grumet, a 26 year old mother/model on the descending slope of a half launched career who figured, ‘what the hell, all I’ve got to lose is to turn my son into bully bait on the playground and possibly warp his libido for the rest of his life.’ The cost of fame.
The media’s is so hooked on snorting the dope of sensationalism, that Lindsay Lohan and Kim Kardashian are no longer enough to jack them up anymore. Kids and their ‘Fruit Loop’ parents are now fair game.
Is Ms. Grumet responding to the real and healthy needs of her son’s psyche, or is he responding to her need to be happy as the center of attention and hopefully on the cover of the Spring Fashion edition of the BEALLs catalog? Who, we can legitimately ask, is feeding whom?
It’s obvious she loves to be photographed and most likely TIME magazine paid her well and likely treated her son to an afternoon at Chuck E Cheese’s. Of course, all this will pass and be forgotten by most, but the visual memory of it will always be a part of her son’s life, many years from now, as he milks cows in some remote monastery in Oregon.
Recent Comments