Sunday, January 9, 2011
someday, maybe...today, it's not happening.
someday, maybe....
...i'll have the dedication needed to write a worthwhile story. a story to grab all who read it by the throats, twisting, turning, pulling and knocking the living shit out of all...
...from this assault, each person will tell others to be alert and to be on the look out. but the naive fools who have been warned will search, read my stories and they themselves, will be the idiots lying lifeless on floors, gasping for air, as their dogs scamper out the back doors of their suburban homes to piss on the rose bushes...
...but, wouldn't you know i just ain't ready yet. when i finally , it'll bust outta me without warning, without fear and without hesitation because it was ready for me to put it on paper, but...
today, it's not happening.
...i'll have the dedication needed to write a worthwhile story. a story to grab all who read it by the throats, twisting, turning, pulling and knocking the living shit out of all...
...from this assault, each person will tell others to be alert and to be on the look out. but the naive fools who have been warned will search, read my stories and they themselves, will be the idiots lying lifeless on floors, gasping for air, as their dogs scamper out the back doors of their suburban homes to piss on the rose bushes...
...but, wouldn't you know i just ain't ready yet. when i finally , it'll bust outta me without warning, without fear and without hesitation because it was ready for me to put it on paper, but...
today, it's not happening.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Randoms of the day
A collection of random thoughts and ideas.
Cinderella, she seems so easy. "It takes one to know one," she smiles. And puts her hands in her back pockets, Bette Davis style.
The Sicilian Belly dancer.
If a tree falls in the woods and nobody is around to hear it, does a person still get naked to stand on their head?
Only your imagination.
babble, babble...bitch, bitch...rebel, rebel...party, party...and do not forget the violence.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Top 10 Big Lembowski Ideas on Life
Football. Check. Baseball. Check. Hockey. Check. Bowling. Uh.......check.
Years ago, when I wasn't too busy ruining the credibility of a sports blog I used to write for, I wanted to be a bowler. As a kid, I was decent at killin' the pins. As a teen, I was a lil' better. And now as an adult, the only thing I worry about while bowling is where I parked my car and who it is that's with my ex a couple two-tree lanes down from me. But if I were "The Dude", I wouldn't have a care in the World, now would I? To have everything in my life so understandable, with people always there to help me up when I fall and point me in the right direction wouldn't be too bad of a thing either. Perhaps this film is more than a funny movie about a Dude and his rug? Maybe the point of the film was how to live a life? And for those of you who can't, won't or don't accept the fact that bowling is a sport, well, I'll let Walter deal with you later.
These are My Top Ten moments of The Big Lebowski.
10. Every Dude
Dude, could you only imagine how, like, easy it would be, dude, to call everybody that you knew, dude? Dude, you would never have a problem remembering any dudes, or dudettes, names, dude. It would be awesome, dude.
9. The scary guy everybody wonders about.
We've all seen him. The one cat who everybody is scared to talk to because he appears to be a little different. Or a lot different. And then it's a good thing you didn't talk to him.
8.The friends who are always there for you.
We've all got these guys in our lives. The ones who'll bust your ass every chance they get, but when it really comes down to it, they'll be the guy who is standing next to you before, during and after a fight breaks out.
7. The guy who thinks he's better than you.
Come on, no matter how good we were, or still are, at anything, there will always be the one douche bag who feels he is better than you on his worst day. Cock suckers.
6. Everybody has those weird feelings
The weird feeling that somebody is watching you, or following you through the store or some other crazy shit like that.
5. The hot girl
We've all seen her. The smoking hot beauty waiting in line in front of us at the store. Or in the car next to us at the red light. And we've all wished the girl would say something along the lines of what Bunny says in the movie. But, all we get is "Are you looking at my tits, asshole?" Making us learn we should always wear sunglasses.
4. The old smart guy
And all of us have, or have had, this guy in our lives. Could have been your dad, you uncle, a buddies dad or the weird guy who lived behind your house growing up. These old cats always know what's best for us, so shut up and listen.
3. Challenges
We'll face many throughout our lives, some harder than others to deal with. Whatever the case, don't back down from a thing, especially guys like Jesus.
2. Remember the rules
Always, in life and in sport, play by the rules. Cheating ain't worth it because 20 years down the road, when you look at the pictures of you getting the state championship medal placed around your neck, you'll remember that you should have lost that championship match, but ya' didn't 'cause you're a cheating shit bag.
1. Always remember who you are
No matter how good you get at anything, remember that you didn't go it alone. There have always been people who pushed you when you stopped (Mom and Dad), those who laughed when you lost and made you so pissed you worked much harder and got much better just to beat their ass (Egglund) and convinced you to do whatever it was you loved. (You know who you are.)
Years ago, when I wasn't too busy ruining the credibility of a sports blog I used to write for, I wanted to be a bowler. As a kid, I was decent at killin' the pins. As a teen, I was a lil' better. And now as an adult, the only thing I worry about while bowling is where I parked my car and who it is that's with my ex a couple two-tree lanes down from me. But if I were "The Dude", I wouldn't have a care in the World, now would I? To have everything in my life so understandable, with people always there to help me up when I fall and point me in the right direction wouldn't be too bad of a thing either. Perhaps this film is more than a funny movie about a Dude and his rug? Maybe the point of the film was how to live a life? And for those of you who can't, won't or don't accept the fact that bowling is a sport, well, I'll let Walter deal with you later.
These are My Top Ten moments of The Big Lebowski.
10. Every Dude
Dude, could you only imagine how, like, easy it would be, dude, to call everybody that you knew, dude? Dude, you would never have a problem remembering any dudes, or dudettes, names, dude. It would be awesome, dude.
9. The scary guy everybody wonders about.
We've all seen him. The one cat who everybody is scared to talk to because he appears to be a little different. Or a lot different. And then it's a good thing you didn't talk to him.
8.The friends who are always there for you.
We've all got these guys in our lives. The ones who'll bust your ass every chance they get, but when it really comes down to it, they'll be the guy who is standing next to you before, during and after a fight breaks out.
7. The guy who thinks he's better than you.
Come on, no matter how good we were, or still are, at anything, there will always be the one douche bag who feels he is better than you on his worst day. Cock suckers.
6. Everybody has those weird feelings
The weird feeling that somebody is watching you, or following you through the store or some other crazy shit like that.
5. The hot girl
We've all seen her. The smoking hot beauty waiting in line in front of us at the store. Or in the car next to us at the red light. And we've all wished the girl would say something along the lines of what Bunny says in the movie. But, all we get is "Are you looking at my tits, asshole?" Making us learn we should always wear sunglasses.
4. The old smart guy
And all of us have, or have had, this guy in our lives. Could have been your dad, you uncle, a buddies dad or the weird guy who lived behind your house growing up. These old cats always know what's best for us, so shut up and listen.
3. Challenges
We'll face many throughout our lives, some harder than others to deal with. Whatever the case, don't back down from a thing, especially guys like Jesus.
2. Remember the rules
Always, in life and in sport, play by the rules. Cheating ain't worth it because 20 years down the road, when you look at the pictures of you getting the state championship medal placed around your neck, you'll remember that you should have lost that championship match, but ya' didn't 'cause you're a cheating shit bag.
1. Always remember who you are
No matter how good you get at anything, remember that you didn't go it alone. There have always been people who pushed you when you stopped (Mom and Dad), those who laughed when you lost and made you so pissed you worked much harder and got much better just to beat their ass (Egglund) and convinced you to do whatever it was you loved. (You know who you are.)
Monday, December 27, 2010
My Greatest Teacher: Version 1
The battered shell of a beauty stood to the right of the oak before me, asking what it was that I wanted. I stood in awe, silence and fear trying to conjure up the courage to tell her it was her that I wanted.
In May of 1999, just after turning 21-years old and trying to recover from a broken heart, I worked a construction job which I loved doing. With construction, as some of you may know, there tends to be a little alcohol involved with those who work in the trade. The beauty was a 31-year old divorced mother of two who worked as the middle school secretary by day and as the sexiest bartender in the tri-county area by night at the bar we'd frequent after the long days of work.
As I sat with the guys I worked with back then, around the old wooden table next to the fireplace, playing cards and shooting pool, I'd glance over at her behind the bar from time to time and see her looking back at me with a smile. I watched her shoot down the attempts of others to buy her drinks and shots and the offers to take her to breakfast.
I can't say I blame them for trying to become the lucky one for the night. I say lucky one for the night because she was kinda slutty. But she was a dead sexy kinda slutty with natural blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, a 36 D chest, a size 2 waist and carried all kinds of sexuality.
I knew I wouldn't have the same level of sexual skill as she, but when she asked me, I didn't let my lack of knowledge, or experience for that matter, hamper my choice to accompany her home after the bar closed.
When we finally got to her house, it took a total of 30 seconds before she started taking her clothes off and ordering me to do the same.
She told me to lie on the bed.
She was the second partner I'd ever had, so I really didn't know too much yet. I knew where things went, but that was seriously the most of it. She taught me how to watch a woman while the act was happening and how to feel, how to touch and how to taste, too. All while not feeling, touching or tasting anything.
She covered it all.
Each time we had finished, we'd lie together in bed and talk. She told me how her ex used to beat her. And why she never went to college. The dreams she held for her little girl and boy. How she still held hope that somebody would come find her and she'd fall in love again.
The tryst's continued until February of 2000 and only stopped because of a wreck I was in. She gave up on me as I lie dying in a hospital bed. She thought I was as good as dead. She moved on. Can't say I blame her.
So now, ten years after the classes I was in with the sexiest teacher I've ever had have ended, I wish I could go back and thank her. Thank her for teaching me that hope, and love, and compassion are in our lives each and everyday. And to thank her for teaching me more about life, than she ever took credit for
In May of 1999, just after turning 21-years old and trying to recover from a broken heart, I worked a construction job which I loved doing. With construction, as some of you may know, there tends to be a little alcohol involved with those who work in the trade. The beauty was a 31-year old divorced mother of two who worked as the middle school secretary by day and as the sexiest bartender in the tri-county area by night at the bar we'd frequent after the long days of work.
As I sat with the guys I worked with back then, around the old wooden table next to the fireplace, playing cards and shooting pool, I'd glance over at her behind the bar from time to time and see her looking back at me with a smile. I watched her shoot down the attempts of others to buy her drinks and shots and the offers to take her to breakfast.
I can't say I blame them for trying to become the lucky one for the night. I say lucky one for the night because she was kinda slutty. But she was a dead sexy kinda slutty with natural blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, a 36 D chest, a size 2 waist and carried all kinds of sexuality.
I knew I wouldn't have the same level of sexual skill as she, but when she asked me, I didn't let my lack of knowledge, or experience for that matter, hamper my choice to accompany her home after the bar closed.
When we finally got to her house, it took a total of 30 seconds before she started taking her clothes off and ordering me to do the same.
She told me to lie on the bed.
She was the second partner I'd ever had, so I really didn't know too much yet. I knew where things went, but that was seriously the most of it. She taught me how to watch a woman while the act was happening and how to feel, how to touch and how to taste, too. All while not feeling, touching or tasting anything.
She covered it all.
Each time we had finished, we'd lie together in bed and talk. She told me how her ex used to beat her. And why she never went to college. The dreams she held for her little girl and boy. How she still held hope that somebody would come find her and she'd fall in love again.
The tryst's continued until February of 2000 and only stopped because of a wreck I was in. She gave up on me as I lie dying in a hospital bed. She thought I was as good as dead. She moved on. Can't say I blame her.
So now, ten years after the classes I was in with the sexiest teacher I've ever had have ended, I wish I could go back and thank her. Thank her for teaching me that hope, and love, and compassion are in our lives each and everyday. And to thank her for teaching me more about life, than she ever took credit for
My Greatest Teacher: Version 2
The battered shell of a beauty stood to the right of the oak before me, asking what it was that I wanted. I stood in awe, silence and fear trying to conjure up the courage to tell her it was her that I wanted.
In May of 1999, just after turning 21-years old and trying to recover from a broken heart, I worked a construction job which I loved doing. With construction, as some of you may know, there tends to be a little alcohol involved with those who work in the trades. The beauty was a 31-year old divorced mother of two who worked as the middle school secretary by day and as the sexiest bartender in the tri-county area by night.
I knew I wouldn't have the same level of sexual skill as she, but when she asked me, I didn't let my lack of knowledge, or experience for that matter, hamper my choice to accompany her home after the bar closed.
At the bar, she continuously slid pints at me for no charge. Perhaps she was trying to build me up to lengthen my endurance level in bed, which would be put to the test later in the evening. Perhaps she knew she'd be taking on the role of instructor, I, her student. I never asked why she kept giving me the free pints, and she never brought it up.
As I sat with the guys I worked with back then, around the old wooden table next to the fireplace, playing cards and shooting pool, I'd glance over at her behind the bar from time to time and see her looking back at me with a smile. I watched her shoot down the attempts of others to buy her drinks and shots and the offers to take her to breakfast.
I can't say I blame them for trying to become the lucky one for the night. She was a slut. But she was a dead sexy slut with natural blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, a 36 D chest, a size 1 waist and carried more than enough sexuality.
When we finally got to her house, it took a total of 30 seconds before she started taking her clothes off and ordering me to do the same.
She told me to lie on the bed.
She was the second partner I'd ever had, so I really didn't know too much yet. I knew where things went, but that was seriously the most of it. She taught me how to watch a woman while the act was happening and how to feel, how to touch and how to taste, too. All while not feeling, touching or tasting anything.
"Go slower. Now faster. Down a half inch. Over a bit. Pull my hair. Smack my ass! Twists my nipples! Lick my pussy! FUCK ME!"
She covered it all.
Each time we had finished, we'd lie together in bed and talk. She told me how her ex used to beat her. And why she never went to college. The dreams she held for her little girl and boy. How she still held hope that somebody would come find her and she'd fall in love again.
Those tryst's continued until February of 2000 and only stopped because of a wreck I was in. She gave up on me as I lie dying in a hospital bed. She thought I was as good as dead. She moved on. Can't say I blame her.
So now, ten years after the classes I was in with the sexiest teacher I've ever had have ended, I wish I could go back and thank her. Thank her for teaching me that hope, and love, and compassion are in our lives each and everyday. And to thank her for teaching me more about life, than she ever took credit for.
In May of 1999, just after turning 21-years old and trying to recover from a broken heart, I worked a construction job which I loved doing. With construction, as some of you may know, there tends to be a little alcohol involved with those who work in the trades. The beauty was a 31-year old divorced mother of two who worked as the middle school secretary by day and as the sexiest bartender in the tri-county area by night.
I knew I wouldn't have the same level of sexual skill as she, but when she asked me, I didn't let my lack of knowledge, or experience for that matter, hamper my choice to accompany her home after the bar closed.
At the bar, she continuously slid pints at me for no charge. Perhaps she was trying to build me up to lengthen my endurance level in bed, which would be put to the test later in the evening. Perhaps she knew she'd be taking on the role of instructor, I, her student. I never asked why she kept giving me the free pints, and she never brought it up.
As I sat with the guys I worked with back then, around the old wooden table next to the fireplace, playing cards and shooting pool, I'd glance over at her behind the bar from time to time and see her looking back at me with a smile. I watched her shoot down the attempts of others to buy her drinks and shots and the offers to take her to breakfast.
I can't say I blame them for trying to become the lucky one for the night. She was a slut. But she was a dead sexy slut with natural blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, a 36 D chest, a size 1 waist and carried more than enough sexuality.
When we finally got to her house, it took a total of 30 seconds before she started taking her clothes off and ordering me to do the same.
She told me to lie on the bed.
She was the second partner I'd ever had, so I really didn't know too much yet. I knew where things went, but that was seriously the most of it. She taught me how to watch a woman while the act was happening and how to feel, how to touch and how to taste, too. All while not feeling, touching or tasting anything.
"Go slower. Now faster. Down a half inch. Over a bit. Pull my hair. Smack my ass! Twists my nipples! Lick my pussy! FUCK ME!"
She covered it all.
Each time we had finished, we'd lie together in bed and talk. She told me how her ex used to beat her. And why she never went to college. The dreams she held for her little girl and boy. How she still held hope that somebody would come find her and she'd fall in love again.
Those tryst's continued until February of 2000 and only stopped because of a wreck I was in. She gave up on me as I lie dying in a hospital bed. She thought I was as good as dead. She moved on. Can't say I blame her.
So now, ten years after the classes I was in with the sexiest teacher I've ever had have ended, I wish I could go back and thank her. Thank her for teaching me that hope, and love, and compassion are in our lives each and everyday. And to thank her for teaching me more about life, than she ever took credit for.
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