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Hopefully, beauty has no sense of smell.

Odd how some things hit you out of the blue and you suddenly remember something you had forgotten.

Here is the chain of events.

I bicycle commute, mainly because I am lazy.

Because if I don’t have a 45 minute bike ride in the morning and again in the afternoon, I would find myself compelled to “Go to the gym” and I am too lazy to go to the gym.

So I ride a 100 miles a week in order to properly be a lazy shit.

The logic is twisted but even Manson would agree with it, so I am good with it.

So, it follows that after work, I would ride to Starbucks to write.

I like my bike, so I lock it up like armed gangs are lurking to swoop in should I forget.

Two young ladies are walking away from Starbucks, drinking their chilled overpriced creations.

And talking shit.

“Sorry to tell her, she is not that hot.”

“Yeah” (Evidently, the second girl is the straight man, the first girl is the color commentator.

“I mean, it looks so phony. An Asian girl with blond hair. Seriously?”

“I didn’t want to sit there anymore.”

And off they went.

She’s still there?

I am always looking for the oddities in life, especially if they are getting their caffeine on at Starbucks.

Nothing more fun than reporting a freak show in the Temple of Legal Speed.

I walked into Starbucks with a bounce in my step.

And there she was.

Whoa.

I have the age range of women I am attracted to. Older women, not girls, who have seen the world a bit.

But there is an age women hit that is just out of the teens and just shy of what you would call “Older” that is breathtaking in its beauty.

Stunning is a word you would use.

It is effortless in it simplicity and loveliness.

To correct the young lady outside, yes, she is that hot.

For that brief moment, even the most jaded perverted men among us can only stop and admire what nature decided would peak at this moment, this critical apogee in time.

Well done nature.

Even I hesitate to besmirch that memory with shitty words and childish smacking.

Trust me, even that lazy bastard Karma would get off of his ass and give me an Ike Turner style tune up for daring to open my cake hole.

Nuff said.

 

On a side note, there is an old man in Starbucks who is not allowed to poo.

That sounds weird, but it appears to be true.

When I came in, he came in the opposite door.

While I was getting settled at a table, he made a beeline for the bathroom.

The somewhat tippy toe way he was walking gave you the impression that he was clenching his asscheeks together to avoid shitting himself.

And then he encountered the door lock.

It is a number pad, punch in the number, and the door will open.

Unless you don’t know the code.

Like him.

But that is not stopping him from stabbing his finger at random numbers then pounding on the doorknob.

And then he goes to the cashier. I would have gone their immediately, but thats me.

And the cashier really can’t wait to give it to him.

She announces the number when he gets 10 feet away.

So he marches back, asscheeks clenched to the point that he is walking stiff legged.

And can’t remember the code.

So he heads back to the cashier.

He is angry, not at the cashier, but maybe at the metamucil he takes 3 times a day that makes double parking a deuce in the lower intestine an impossible act.

But the cashier will bare the brunt of this.

“What’s the damn number?” He snaps.

The cashier smiles and gives it to him.

The training program at Starbucks rivals the Stepford Wives for automatic responses.

The stiff legged walk is a tad more pronounced this time.

This is getting ugly here.

There is a real possibility that the old guy may end up twisting out a growler in public.

Ewww.

Just as his 3rd attempt at the door code fails and you can see visible trembling in his hips, the bathroom door opens and a homeless guy comes out.

And just like that, the day is saved.

Except that now the old timer is sitting in a poorly ventilated room taking a backed up retirement shit while being smothered in some world class BO.

I bet he is wishing he had shit himself out here.

At least it would smell better.

Oh well, you can’t have it all.

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Posted by on October 2, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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There is no link between healthcare and hot lesbians. Maybe.

Health insurance is now like a financial herpes.

Its worse than you ever thought it would be, the person that gave it to you lied about how bad it was, and you will never get rid of it.

Lucky us, we all made the same poor choice of who we took home from the dance.

Like your father said when you got the sex talk, make sure you wear a condom.

Damn.

The reason for my disenchantment with comprehensive healthcare is that I started a new job and got my healthcare.

And a small get-by policy that I had 3 years ago has gotten worse and more than doubled in cost. ( Before you try to go down the “It’s better” road, don’t. I went over the premiums and coverage, its not.

Lots of people are in the same boat.

However, if you voice your concern about the financial prison rape that goes on, depending on what state you are in, your state senator will call you a liar.

And nobody seems to give a shit.

Oh well, this would not be the first time that the government has lied thru their teeth and screwed us in the process.

The above sentences have now placed me on a No-fly list and for the next few years, I will be under a sort of “House arrest” in the state of California, without the indignity of an ankle bracelet.

Lucky me.

That being said, this pissy little rant was brought on by 2 different things.

The first is the healthcare discussion going on at the next table.

There are two early twenty somethings not really discussing, but rather whining incessantly about the fact that, despite the fact that they voted for and were in favor of the Affordable Blah Blah Blah they are now shocked that they both have to buy it, and it is not cheaper as promised.

I remember the early twenties, its a period marked by its hapless stupidity.

Regardless of what party you belong to, we can all agree that we’re just fucked in this together.

After 300+ words of soapbox type pontificating, lets move on to something more fun.

There are two hot ladies making out at one of the tables.

I know, I know, its a juvenile thing, objectifies women, but its still cool.

Besides, if you are going to make out in a Starbucks on the cheap cushions of the bench seat, then you obviously, on some level, want people to watch.

And some of us will. Shamelessly.

There is a basic male fantasy that most men have, even the guys who claim they don’t.

Its the whole sexy lesbians thing. Its not a mature thing, its dumb and bigoted, and anyone with a set of testicles is drawn to it like a moth to a bug light.

It may make you a dick and politically incorrect, but it doesn’t make you a bad person.

I once dated a girl who liked to make out in public. She was into the passion, but she needed the people around her involved to be a part of it.

So, looked at that way, they are sharing it all with us.

Its always nice to be included.

 
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Posted by on April 14, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Age of unreason.

I am about to rub one out at my little table in Starbucks.

There is a hotter version of a young Sophia Loren, with jet black hair down to her ass, describing the art of erotic massage over the phone, all the while playing with her hair with her free hand.

As far as masturbatory fantasies go, this one is pretty solid.

And I am not the only one. The two old guys that were having a solid conversation on the other side of her have gone silent and are just sitting there and avoiding eye contact.

I feel no shame sitting in a Starbucks sporting a painfully rigid erection at my age.

I like to think its a sign of good health.

Its when you find yourself in these situations and you are sporting a “Limp biscuit” that you should worry.

Lust makes the world go round.

If I had to put an age on her, I would say 31 at the most.

Old enough to no longer be a child, young enough to know how to play properly.

I may be in love.

My heart (See also hard on) falls so easily sometimes.

Ok, so I have ruled out committing an obscene public act, but it was close.

On to other things.

They have just reopened this Starbucks after closing it for a week.

I have been sitting at the Coffee Bean for the last week, which I have grown to enjoy, even with its pretentious imported coffees.

The porno situation next to me has left and now it is just the two old guys next to me.

And these are some dirty old men.

They are having an animated discussion.

Given what I know of their generation and standards of morality, I am fairly certain that their discussion has gone obscene.

Heads huddled together, hushed whispers, furtive glances around, its all there.

I believe I just heard to word “Blumpkin”. (Google it, its filthy)

These are some filthy old men.

Good to see.

You might think that is an odd statement.

But in this overly politically correct society, it is refreshing to see some perfectly harmless dirty behavior.

Honestly, I hope thats me in 30 years.

Old enough to know better, to old to care.

Although I get the feeling my later years will be unpleasant at best, and a horror show at worst.

I will probably end up sitting there, day in and day out, no clue who I am, with that “Permanently terrified look on my face.

An interesting thing just happened.

Everyone that reads this that has family that has gone this route is now evenly split, half are pissed at my callousness, and the other half spit their coffee laughing.

Life is like that.

Being inappropriate is a trait in my family.

Some of the funniest jokes I have ever heard has been told to me at funerals.

There are times that the difference between laughing and crying is intent.

That being said, if I was only 10 years older, I would have given serious thought to rubbing one out when the porn goddess was here.

 
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Posted by on November 11, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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What will you do when it stares you in the face?

There are some stories that we all have in our past that we have had for so long, that the vile parts of the story lose their vile-ness.

Conversation overheard at Starbucks between two suited business guys. Mid forties, seemingly bored. Just killing time until they have to go.

“You remember the girl you dated senior year of high school?”

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Dated for 3 weeks, hot and heavy, had to break up with her. No saving it.” Sips his coffee.

“Why’s that?”

“Her dad had this monster dick.” This is said deadpan, no emotion.

“Come again?”

Finally, the prospect of telling the story gets some emotion. The guy folds his hands in front of him, leans in. Time for the story.

I find myself leaning in.

“Her dad was this rugby player on the weekends, beast of a guy, huge.” He talks with his hands as the story unfolds.

This is an old story that he is used to telling.

“During the week, he was, like, an insurance guy. Weekend? Like cage-fighter beast.” His buddy is nodding his head enthusiastically.

“Anyway, the first time I go over to her house, its a Sunday. Dad had a game, and was evidently in the hot tub. You know, after game tubbing.”

“So we come in the front room, and see him thru the kitchen in the hot tub. She turns to me and says, ‘you have to meet my dad first, thats the rule.’”

The guy leans back. “And that fine, gotta follow the rules. So she yells out to the hot tub ‘hey dad! Come here!’ and this dude, gets out of the hot tube, throws his towel over his shoulder, and walks into the house.” He thumps the table and points a finger at his buddy in emphasis.

“Totally naked!”

His partner is sympathetic.

“Oh man, thats creepy.”

“Thats not the creepy part, dude.”

“Oh?”

“The guy’s dick hung below his knee!”

Both guys are laughing.

The rest of Starbucks has quieted as the story got louder. With the last statement, a hush has fallen over the room.

These guys have not noticed.

“So what did you do?”

“Dad walks in and goes, “Who’s this?” He starts laughing. “Dick swinging.”

“And I wanted to say, Captain of the little dick team, sir.” He throws a quick salute.

Finally, he winds down, sits back and sips his coffee.

“Broke up with her the next day.”

“Why?”

“Because dude, if that is what she sees around the house every day, what can she do but look at mine and be like, Aw, like a little puppy.”

“Yeah, nothing else you could do.”

They both begin shaking their heads.

I am stunned. This is one of those obviously traumatic things that this guy has agonized over for years.

What happens next needs some explanation.

There is a business woman that comes into Starbucks every morning. Mid thirties, and one of the most stunning women you will ever see.

Always dressed to the nines, with a body that makes grown men feel under aged.

Thats a line from a song I can’t remember but it fits here perfectly.

Anyway, she is standing 5 feet away from the business guys, with one hand on her hip, the other holding up her coffee cup. She does not look pleased.

She clears her throat.

“Gentlemen?”

They both look, then look again.

She is that hot.

She gives them a long look in total silence.

“You pussies are pathetic!” She almost mutters as she walks out.

And now the boys look sheepish.

Some of the stuff that happens to you in life is not half as traumatic as what you do to yourself for the rest of your life afterwards.

And that sucks.

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Posted by on November 22, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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