I consider myself young at heart.
I might be way off base, but I can still relate to those in their teens through those in their thirties as well as my own generation, 40's, which I elect to refer to as 'matured' ... like a banana. A bit browned, ripe and ready to enjoy. My banana skin is easy to peel and the fruit is ripe and tasty .... (Robin, imagine a clam... (( for my best lesbian friend)) ) Now, please direct your attentions away from my abnormally large manhood ... (Yeah, I had to elaborate). ...
I recently re-entered the workforce as a provider of vice. Although I'd like to say I am now a gigolo commanding top dollar for my services, I must fess up and admit that I am no more than a humble bartender ... liqouring up patrons for my own benefit through my superior service and wit .,.. yes, I'm a whore, prospering from the inebriated masses .... Got a prblem with that? No? Good... Yes? Then move on ... hypocrite.
Yet, I'm able to see myself in those I serve .... the weaknesses, the fears, the hurts. I am able to see the inner workings of my own psyche with every drink I pour. For example... the young woman who returns to the bar asking for wine... smiling broadly as she tries to cover her tears when she asks for another glass of wine... no one sees her inner beauty in her eyes...
The man in his sixties who drinks scotch in order to bring a reaction to his wife's face ... reclaiming a moment of uninhibited laughter as a song touches a memory ... she stares at her shoes.
The young man who believes that his uninhibited actions will bring him love and lust, despite his mismatched clothing and awkward gazes ...
Nothing escapes me. I'm sober now, sorta ... I'm on the un-lit end of the wick. Guess what.... I kinda like it. No, I don't necessarily enjoy seeing you making a fool of yourself on the dancefloor. Yeah, I do. Duh.
What I do enjoy is seeing you make a fool of yourself on the dancefloor. I love it. I live for it.
It's not the inebriated side of you that I admire, it's the side of you that the inebriation exposes. I once thought that I couldn't relate to 'normal' people unless I brought myself down a notch through substances ... I still have that belief, to an extent... hell, there are some dumb fuckin' people out there... but, I have grown a bit, learned some things and accepted some truths.
I imagine that my thoughts and beliefs are right in line for a good bartender. I don't know ... but, I'll tell you this ... if I can't remember what liquors make up your requested drink, I'll tell you. But, if you tell me your name, I'll remember. Every vice has a face and every face has a name ...
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
A short conversation...
Pssst....
Shhh...
Shut up, the dumb fucker is gonna hear you. .....
Ya know, no he won't... he's way to gone to understand what he's thinkin'
Uh, nope... he's maybe a bit slow but he's not dumb.
Lemme tell you what I know... your mind is really fucked
So you say
Yeah, I say
Here's the thing ...
Tell me...
Wait, let me tell you...
Not now, 'World's Dumbest' is on truTV ...
I'll make popcorn ...
I love my friends in my head ... you guys rock.
Shut up... dick.
Shhh...
Shut up, the dumb fucker is gonna hear you. .....
Ya know, no he won't... he's way to gone to understand what he's thinkin'
Uh, nope... he's maybe a bit slow but he's not dumb.
Lemme tell you what I know... your mind is really fucked
So you say
Yeah, I say
Here's the thing ...
Tell me...
Wait, let me tell you...
Not now, 'World's Dumbest' is on truTV ...
I'll make popcorn ...
I love my friends in my head ... you guys rock.
Shut up... dick.
I Have Bacon Bits In My Vanilla Ice Cream
Spank my stump and suck my toes, there are some mind-bending sexual fetishists running amok amongst us. It is fittingly appropriate to delve into the dark, furry underbelly of fetishes during the month of May, given that May is National Masturbation month. Let’s have a show of ‘hand’ from those who agree …
Most everyone with a praline or two in their plain vanilla sex lives has at least heard of bondage, tickling, golden showers and, thanks to Rex Ryan, coach of the New York Jets, foot worship. However, even those of us with a twisted mind and penchant for all things bizarre have never considered covering our nether regions with ants and crickets for a quick spurt of love. Neither have we entertained the thought of pumping the tailpipe of a 1987 Buick LeSabre. Yet, in all seriousness, there are those who entertain those thoughts and then act on those thoughts.
There is a sexual thrill to be derived from nearly anything imaginable. From amputees to vampires, from chicken suits to balloons, from feet to trees. Oh, lest we forget midgets. For many, if not most, there are no limits when it comes to boner enhancement and the elusive ‘O’.
Granted, some of these fetishes are repulsive, many are simply odd and a handful beyond comprehension. There is no doubt that some of the more bizarre fetishists amongst us are clearly worthy of psychological evaluation. Yet, who are we to judge? Hell, most all of us are poster-children for the benefits of electroshock therapy. But unless unprotected sex with a LeSabre creates a baby VW Bug and no crime is committed or person or animal harmed in the name of Splooge then why not go with the flow and allow everyone their diapered fun.
Yet, as one considers practicing one or more of these sexual thrillrides, keep this in mind ...
When it comes to sex, folks are bizarre.
Just ask the guy who’s humping his car.
But whatever you do, please don’t forget:
The video will end up on the Internet.
Now, excuse me, I must take my leave. May is now half over and I have a lot more celebrating to do.
Most everyone with a praline or two in their plain vanilla sex lives has at least heard of bondage, tickling, golden showers and, thanks to Rex Ryan, coach of the New York Jets, foot worship. However, even those of us with a twisted mind and penchant for all things bizarre have never considered covering our nether regions with ants and crickets for a quick spurt of love. Neither have we entertained the thought of pumping the tailpipe of a 1987 Buick LeSabre. Yet, in all seriousness, there are those who entertain those thoughts and then act on those thoughts.
There is a sexual thrill to be derived from nearly anything imaginable. From amputees to vampires, from chicken suits to balloons, from feet to trees. Oh, lest we forget midgets. For many, if not most, there are no limits when it comes to boner enhancement and the elusive ‘O’.
Granted, some of these fetishes are repulsive, many are simply odd and a handful beyond comprehension. There is no doubt that some of the more bizarre fetishists amongst us are clearly worthy of psychological evaluation. Yet, who are we to judge? Hell, most all of us are poster-children for the benefits of electroshock therapy. But unless unprotected sex with a LeSabre creates a baby VW Bug and no crime is committed or person or animal harmed in the name of Splooge then why not go with the flow and allow everyone their diapered fun.
Yet, as one considers practicing one or more of these sexual thrillrides, keep this in mind ...
When it comes to sex, folks are bizarre.
Just ask the guy who’s humping his car.
But whatever you do, please don’t forget:
The video will end up on the Internet.
Now, excuse me, I must take my leave. May is now half over and I have a lot more celebrating to do.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
A Friendly Note
Friends. That was a wonderful TV series. A plethora of wonderful fads were born as a result of those six beautiful people. Hell, I myself wore 'the Rachel' haircut for a week or so until it interfered with my ability to eat grilled cheese sandwiches.
Friends. A word we all relish. We all can hear our parents telling us at a very young age that 'you can never have too many' of them. Or in my case, 'you can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose'.... Love ya mom.
Yet, what is a friend, really? Let me inject my opinion....
Fuck if I know. Yeah, I don't know what a friend is.
You see, I grew up in a simple time... a time when friends stabbed you in the back then took a bullet for you later because they felt guilty for stabbing you in the back. A time when a friend would blame you for killing a neighbor's cat, even though you didn't do it because he knew that you'd be loyal as a friend, just like he was loyal when he fibbed about you feeling up his sister on the family camping trip.
Yeah, just like that... friendship.
No more, my friends. That type of friendship is non-existent. You want to be a friend now, you'd better be prepared to pay up later. Unconditional friendship is like sex between two midgets using king-sized condoms and latex.
No, I have no connection between the two, they just seemed fanciful to me. You get the idea. Friendship now is all take, take, take. Or, depending on which side you're on, it's give, give give. You get my point, there's not banter between give and take.
I'll be honest, I'm ne of those who readily spews without regard. Yet, I'm always available to collect a friends sputem with a Hefty bag, if necessary.
We all want friends... we all want someone who will listen to our inane rants, be there for us when we are hopeless, listen to us when we make no sense. The tricky part is being there for others who consider us a friend when they are as disturbed as we are. No one's problems are ever as fucky as yours when you need someone. Heh.... Yeah, right....
Want to be a firend? You don't have to hug and offer encouragement. Sure, a blowjob might help, but it isn't necessary... Wanna be a friend? Just say, "I'm here ... "...That's it. Two words. You don't necessarily wanna hear all of my daily shit any mkore than I wanna hear yours, but I'll tell you this, If you need me,. as a friend, I'll listen... I'm here.
Right after the replay of 'The young and The Restless' at 7:00... otherwise.....
Friends. A word we all relish. We all can hear our parents telling us at a very young age that 'you can never have too many' of them. Or in my case, 'you can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose'.... Love ya mom.
Yet, what is a friend, really? Let me inject my opinion....
Fuck if I know. Yeah, I don't know what a friend is.
You see, I grew up in a simple time... a time when friends stabbed you in the back then took a bullet for you later because they felt guilty for stabbing you in the back. A time when a friend would blame you for killing a neighbor's cat, even though you didn't do it because he knew that you'd be loyal as a friend, just like he was loyal when he fibbed about you feeling up his sister on the family camping trip.
Yeah, just like that... friendship.
No more, my friends. That type of friendship is non-existent. You want to be a friend now, you'd better be prepared to pay up later. Unconditional friendship is like sex between two midgets using king-sized condoms and latex.
No, I have no connection between the two, they just seemed fanciful to me. You get the idea. Friendship now is all take, take, take. Or, depending on which side you're on, it's give, give give. You get my point, there's not banter between give and take.
I'll be honest, I'm ne of those who readily spews without regard. Yet, I'm always available to collect a friends sputem with a Hefty bag, if necessary.
We all want friends... we all want someone who will listen to our inane rants, be there for us when we are hopeless, listen to us when we make no sense. The tricky part is being there for others who consider us a friend when they are as disturbed as we are. No one's problems are ever as fucky as yours when you need someone. Heh.... Yeah, right....
Want to be a firend? You don't have to hug and offer encouragement. Sure, a blowjob might help, but it isn't necessary... Wanna be a friend? Just say, "I'm here ... "...That's it. Two words. You don't necessarily wanna hear all of my daily shit any mkore than I wanna hear yours, but I'll tell you this, If you need me,. as a friend, I'll listen... I'm here.
Right after the replay of 'The young and The Restless' at 7:00... otherwise.....
Allow Me to Piss You Off....
"A horse is a horse, of course of course, and no one can talk to a horse of course, that is of course, unless the horse, Is the famous Mister Ed!
Go right to the source and ask the horse. He'll give you the answer that you'll endorse. He's always on a steady course. Talk to Mister Ed......"
These are, most likely (at least in my mind), the last english-spoken words heard in the bin Laden home before the theme to "S.W.A.T" richocheted throughout the sand-filled living room in the Bud Abbottsbad townhome of the most reviled man in the world. So yeah, I live vicariously through music...
You see, there was no cable TV... no internet... no hi-def connection to the latest Hollywood,secular devil fare available to the most-wanted. hate and devious being ever to walk the planet.. aside from Mel Gibson, of course. This is Pakistan, after all. In Pakistan, high speed internet is heard with audible screeches resembling frogs in heat on a warm spring evening ... dial-up modems in a tandem chorus.
Bada Boom, Bada Bing, Blam Blam Deep Six Ya Sam ... Drop the popcorn and count the virgins, Mr. Ed isn't the only big-lipped mouthpiecs that was silenced by network censors...
I ramble about the bin Laden killing because, well, it means nothing to me. Nada. I'll even venture to say that to most of those with a brain able to reach beyond the surface, the killing was inconsequential.
Here's how I see it ... Obie is sitting at home with his wives, tub of unbuttered popcorn on his lap, about to watch the third season of Mr. Ed on VHS. Obie's men have sent smoke signals, luckily intercepted by our CIA experts, claiming that his NetFlix shipment of 'American Pie' videos are en route ...
Obie loosens his turban, hits the play button on the VHS when suddenly, *knock knock", a rap at the door.
"Yes?"
"NetFlix" ... is the reply.. "Delivery for Fred Phelps Jr."...
As shuffle here, a scuttle there ... "ka blam, ka boom"... instant peace and retribution for a country scorned.
Read between my lines and you get a tongue in cheek rehash of the bin Laden killing. As you might surmise, I'm not impressed. Why, you ask? Let me elaborate...
Bin Laden brought fear to most through a network of extermists who touched the lives of few. Face it, al Queda is a pussy organization on the scale of Fred Phelps hate-mongering. We can either choose to listen and fear or ignore and live. Suuure, this man orchestrated a horrendous crime which not only killed thousands of Americans but also instilled fear into the hearts of those who believed in the safety and security of being residents of America.
Gut check.
Osama bin Laden is not our terrorist enemy. Yeah, he was a bad guy... we all need a bad guy to focus on... a face to equate with evil... I often put my ex-wife in a turban and white beard ... but hey, does that make it any more real? Maybe, at least for me ... but for America? Nah...
If you want to eliminate terrorism in America, storm the homes of the big bankers and oil men... I want to see the SEALS bringing justice to the real terrorists who are bringing America to it's knees. Storm the homes of Bank of America execs... big oil chairmen, Wall Street financiers...
Let the bullets fly without fear of reprisal. After all, these are the fuckers who are killing our people. Not some bearded man who is a figurehead for an ideal. Religious ideals will never be eradicated. Nor will greed. Yet, greed will always triumph.
Jeezus, Jeff, you sound like you're preachin'...
Me? Never. I just call 'em as I see 'em. And, as I see 'em, I'm a red-blooded American who sees a reason for those not financially fortunate to understand the hatred of others towards people just like me.
I'm not afraid of al Queda or any other extremist group... not in the least.
I fear the majority. And that majority sits under a dome in our nation's capitol. That majority is the terrorist group who holds me, and you hostage. I'm not un-American, I'm just realistic. Bin Laden could never withhold my healthcare benefits ... just sayin'...
'A horse is a horse, of course of course,
and no one can talk to a horse of course,
that is of course, unless the horse,
Is the famous Mister Ed! ........"
Go right to the source and ask the horse. He'll give you the answer that you'll endorse. He's always on a steady course. Talk to Mister Ed......"
These are, most likely (at least in my mind), the last english-spoken words heard in the bin Laden home before the theme to "S.W.A.T" richocheted throughout the sand-filled living room in the Bud Abbottsbad townhome of the most reviled man in the world. So yeah, I live vicariously through music...
You see, there was no cable TV... no internet... no hi-def connection to the latest Hollywood,secular devil fare available to the most-wanted. hate and devious being ever to walk the planet.. aside from Mel Gibson, of course. This is Pakistan, after all. In Pakistan, high speed internet is heard with audible screeches resembling frogs in heat on a warm spring evening ... dial-up modems in a tandem chorus.
Bada Boom, Bada Bing, Blam Blam Deep Six Ya Sam ... Drop the popcorn and count the virgins, Mr. Ed isn't the only big-lipped mouthpiecs that was silenced by network censors...
I ramble about the bin Laden killing because, well, it means nothing to me. Nada. I'll even venture to say that to most of those with a brain able to reach beyond the surface, the killing was inconsequential.
Here's how I see it ... Obie is sitting at home with his wives, tub of unbuttered popcorn on his lap, about to watch the third season of Mr. Ed on VHS. Obie's men have sent smoke signals, luckily intercepted by our CIA experts, claiming that his NetFlix shipment of 'American Pie' videos are en route ...
Obie loosens his turban, hits the play button on the VHS when suddenly, *knock knock", a rap at the door.
"Yes?"
"NetFlix" ... is the reply.. "Delivery for Fred Phelps Jr."...
As shuffle here, a scuttle there ... "ka blam, ka boom"... instant peace and retribution for a country scorned.
Read between my lines and you get a tongue in cheek rehash of the bin Laden killing. As you might surmise, I'm not impressed. Why, you ask? Let me elaborate...
Bin Laden brought fear to most through a network of extermists who touched the lives of few. Face it, al Queda is a pussy organization on the scale of Fred Phelps hate-mongering. We can either choose to listen and fear or ignore and live. Suuure, this man orchestrated a horrendous crime which not only killed thousands of Americans but also instilled fear into the hearts of those who believed in the safety and security of being residents of America.
Gut check.
Osama bin Laden is not our terrorist enemy. Yeah, he was a bad guy... we all need a bad guy to focus on... a face to equate with evil... I often put my ex-wife in a turban and white beard ... but hey, does that make it any more real? Maybe, at least for me ... but for America? Nah...
If you want to eliminate terrorism in America, storm the homes of the big bankers and oil men... I want to see the SEALS bringing justice to the real terrorists who are bringing America to it's knees. Storm the homes of Bank of America execs... big oil chairmen, Wall Street financiers...
Let the bullets fly without fear of reprisal. After all, these are the fuckers who are killing our people. Not some bearded man who is a figurehead for an ideal. Religious ideals will never be eradicated. Nor will greed. Yet, greed will always triumph.
Jeezus, Jeff, you sound like you're preachin'...
Me? Never. I just call 'em as I see 'em. And, as I see 'em, I'm a red-blooded American who sees a reason for those not financially fortunate to understand the hatred of others towards people just like me.
I'm not afraid of al Queda or any other extremist group... not in the least.
I fear the majority. And that majority sits under a dome in our nation's capitol. That majority is the terrorist group who holds me, and you hostage. I'm not un-American, I'm just realistic. Bin Laden could never withhold my healthcare benefits ... just sayin'...
'A horse is a horse, of course of course,
and no one can talk to a horse of course,
that is of course, unless the horse,
Is the famous Mister Ed! ........"
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