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Don’t be showing your koochie in public.

There is a special bond between two people that grew up together.

Time doesn’t touch some friendships. They just endure and continue on as if nothing happened and no time has passed.

Here is what I am looking at.

Picture two girls, either late teens or early twenties.

Judging by their conversation, they grew up together, but have not been in touch for a number of years.

And life has led them down different paths.

They say you can’t judge someone based on their looks.

Bullshit.

I don’t need to walk a mile in your Nike’s just to figure out that they would never fit me.

I would much rather sit in morally superior tower and cast judgement on others.

Here is why.

The first girl, she is the good girl next door.

Clean cut, smelling of Ivory soap and with freshly brushed teeth that once had braces.

She is a law student by my guess. Innocently studying to lose her soul and become the embodiment of badness in the business law.

If you are a guy, your mother would have been thrilled if you brought her home from college for Thanksgiving dinner. (Or a girl for that matter. She is that wholesome.)

If you are a girl, (Straight girl), your mom would prefer that you hang out with her because she is a “Good influence”.

So do we all understand that she is the essence of “Sweetness and Light” in this little scenario?

Good.

Now we move on to her friend.

Ok.

So, go live the life you want to live, but if you look like, talk like, act like, behave like, and generally are, in fact a ho…

Then you’s a ho.

Opposite end of the spectrum time.

Let’s call her Babs.

Babs is a little chunky, got some pasty looking legs, but that is not stopping her from wearing a minidress that is high enough to shock her OB Gyn and tight enough to threaten circulation if she washes it just once.

There are some faded bruises on her thighs. And we are not speculating where they came from, just noting that they are there.

She is missing a tooth near the front that brings Meth into the equation.

There is some bags under those eyes that are there a decade or more ahead of schedule.

It would not shock me to find a tattoo on her lower back, right under the tramp stamp that you KNOW is there, that says “Property of Hell’s Angels”

You can google that one and still may not find out how you get that little tattoo. (I was told by a girl who had one right before I grabbed my clothes and backed slowly out of the room naked.)

So Babs has been road hard and put away wet, just to use some equestrian verbiage there.

Life has been tough and some bad decisions have been made.

But the good girl and the bad girl are now catching up on things.

School, jail, relatives, deaths, and what not.

And the good girl is managing to keep her flinching to a minimum.

And the bad girl is managing not to tweak too much.

And while they seem to be getting along, that is a long latte to get thru.

But they finished and parted ways after a little while.

Someone had to go study and someone else had to go handle some “Bidness”.

And life goes on.

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Posted by on December 4, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Hoping for that Snooky sucker punch.

There is something about being born in Southern California that keeps you from using the word “Cali” in a sentence.

That has always been the big three of identifying a tourist or worse, someone trying to pretend they were born here.

  1. Use of the word Cali. You were not raised here, stop faking this, its just sad.
  2. Mullet. Can’t get around the hairstyle as an instant identifier of someone raised “Elsewhere”. Its an ugly hairstyle indicative of trailer parks and trucks up on blocks in your front yard. See also inbreeding.
  3. Calling a soda “Pop”. May as well have a piece of hay sticking out of your teeth, Jethro.

Do I have a point here? Not sure.

What I do have is indigestion based on the conversation going on at the next table.

My muse this morning is a mid-30’s woman that is a walking cliche.

Jersey hair, too much perfume, too much jewelry, too much…

Just too much.

And she is on her cell phone, which has been bedazzled too much.

Volume of her voice? Too much.

“I have been in Cali for 5 years now. I’m practically a native.”

I just about shit myself when that little gem slipped out of her mouth, too much lipstick, with her thick Jersey accent.

Like a more mannish Snooky who may, or may not, have penis.

You would think I would be repulsed.

However, like a slow motion train wreck, I cannot look away.

But its a painful perspective.

One that is tough to endure and also tough to hide.

The person she is talking to is located somewhere called “Back in Dirty D”.

Not sure where that is, but it sounds like a pit.

(My apologies to pit inhabitants everywhere. I am sure your place is much nicer.)

Don’t get me wrong, I am fully in favor of migrating if you do not like your present surroundings.

But at least make the effort to blend in before you declare your native standing.

Its a lot like those that become Irish each and every St. Patrick’s day.

No, you are not. Green beer and wolfing down corned beef and cabbage by the metric ton does not make you Irish any more than having few years of rent paid west of the West of the 405 makes you a native. (Mostly just natives will get this. If you aren’t a native, but you do get it, you are still not a native)

So where does that leave us?
For me, it leaves me in a Starbucks sitting with an irritated nose next to the second coming of Snooky the terrible.

Eventually, she hung up the phone and began texting.

And if you have never had the pleasure of watching a woman with inch long fingernails texting, it is a case study in blissful frustration.

It appears to be 3-4 times the effort of normal texting, but all done with a smile and the low humming of a tune.

No brains, no headaches, everything is streamlined and simple.

Its a little like watching Winnie the Pooh, if he had Jersey hair and a push up bra, but that same innocent ignorance.

Except that I have never despised Winnie the Pooh.

But maybe thats just me.

 
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Posted by on July 31, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Silence of the naughty fruit.

Got your freak flags out? Let em fly.

What is it with cheap motels and squeaky floors?

Just like there is an art to making a squeak free floor, there must be a polar opposing art to making one that squeaks that badly.

Maybe the squeeking flooring masters, much like the Persian rug weavers of old feel that perfection is the sole realm of the Almighty and insert a squeaky flaw as a sign of respect.

Either way, I cannot take a step anywhere inside the bathroom without announcing to the other residents in neighboring rooms that I intend to flip trout.

I even tried to limit my time doing anything in the bathroom, toilet related or not, just so they wouldn’t think I had picked up a sudden case of Montezuma’s Revenge. (No need to Google that. Monty’s revenge is a wicked case of the shits.)

Although, I question the repairs that are obvious throughout the room.

The door jam is a darkly stained wood. But someone kicked in the door at one time or another and tore out the completely ineffective door chain. The replacement wood is white and unstained.

And when someone scratches graffiti into the surface of a mirror, you have to replace the mirror. You cannot sand that section of the mirror  or IT STOPS BEING A MIRROR. But thats just me, I can be picky.

And while I have never heard of using spackle to repair the side of a tv, I applaude the ingenuity. However, if that method of repair is why only 3 channels are available, perhaps they should have used a different type of filler compound.

I had originally decided not to mention the tenants in the room next door, but I kind of feel like I have to now.

I try not to judge, (We all know I do, but I am on my soap box) and I am a firm believer in the rights of people to do whatever vile thing you want, as long as it doesn’t involve me. (Unless I am invited, then I am MUCH more understanding.)

But the lady next door has the ugliest sounding orgasm I have ever heard.

I think if your orgasm has a high end fugly factor, it is perfectly acceptable to fake it at that point.

How the guy did not suffer spontaneous ED is beyond me.

At first I was hoping that she was alone and the only thing being abused was a vibrator or innocent piece of fruit. (Not that I would wish that on anyone, but inanimate objects accept pain so much better than we do. Or maybe they just can’t speak, so we don’t know. But Pfizer doesn’t make Viagra for fruit, so I think I am in the right here. And while we are here, I have never heard of a cucumber screaming or crying.)

Anyway, as I type this, the unpleasant freak show next door is on round three. I may have ED for the rest of my life.

When I first heard and realized what was going on, I smiled, thinking that something naughty and fun was in the offing.

And then, much like getting a strong whiff of sour milk, I suddenly lost my appetite.

And that is tough to do, I have a libido like a runaway freight train, destructive and single minded in purpose.

But the train is currently off of the tracks. Let Freud make of that what he will.

The way I figured out that she had a partner is when I heard him groan.

It sounded like a groan of pain, or maybe a sob.

I wonder if that kills her unpleasant orgasm when her partner sobs uncontrollably?

Or does she even notice?

When a jackal tears the throat out of a water buffalo, does it wonder how the water buffalo feels about all of that?

Probably not.

In the end, I went looking for a cheap motel and that is exactly what I got.

At least I didn’t get crabs from the bed.

So thats a bonus.

 
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Posted by on June 12, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Castration is a bitch.

For the record, Bruce Jenner is dyslexic.

I am not saying that this had anything to do with his gender reassignment.

But what if he went in for a vasectomy, and there was simply a misunderstanding.

Shit happens.

Does he miss his balls? Do they wonder what they did wrong?

Where they donated in some sort of “Testicular rescue” program?

Have they found a “Forever home”?

Will we see them on a Facebook post?

An infomercial plea for cash to save his balls with sorrowful Sarah McLaughlan music playing in the background.

That seems a little heavy handed for a set of nuts.

But I wouldn’t put it past Sarah.

Even with the airbrushing, Bruce has some pretty grim cheekbones.

But, go to any bar at last call and you will see guys pumping drinks into way fuglier women than Bruce will ever be. Or Caitlyn.

Whatever.

Honestly, I think the dividing line is the basic equipment.

You can’t just decide you are a woman and demand everyone change gears if you are still sporting a penis.

Take hormones all you like, but a dick is a dude and the ladies have lady bits.

At least Braitlyn chose the right time to do this.

The gender reassignment surgeries have hit their high point.

Google it and you will see some pretty gruesome pics of what they viewed as a “Success” 10-15 years ago in turning a man into a woman.

From an uneducated civilian point of view, it was a horror show of oddities that had more in common with an old school freak show than any sort of corrective surgery.

And someone (Actually several thousand) are living with that today.

Wonder what their sex life is like?

Wonder what Braitlyn’s sex life is like?

After all, he was married to the Unholy One, Kris Kardashian. (It has yet to be proven that she brokered Kim’s sex tape, but I have seen Hollywood premieres that did not roll out as smoothly and had less advanced notice in the press.)

Also never proven is how big a penis Kris has. But we all KNOW she has one.

Is that where Braitlyn decided being a man was no longer an option?

Chilling. Mean and funny to those with a twisted sense of humor, but chilling.

Which begs the question, when is Braitlyn’s sex tape coming out? That seems to be their MO.

Will we be able to actually see Kris’s face? Or will it be blurred out? Will Kim be in it? Probably, she is every bit the attention whore (Emphasis) that her unholy mommy is.

I never cared for oddity porn, just not my thing. If it’s yours, God bless, it’s your journey. Just wear a condom, for God’s sake.

What I can’t understand is that everyone is making such a big deal out of Braitlyn changing from man into woman, and no one has even mentioned Kris’s transformation from woman into “Babylon the Great, the Mother of Prostitutes and Abominations of the Earth.” (Revelations M-Fer!)

Just saying.

 
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Posted by on June 5, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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The End is Near, maybe.

I am the harbinger of doom, you’ve been warned.

To judge by the results, I have been breaking mirrors as I hit black cats to make them cross my path so that they can knock over the salt as we walk under a ladder.

The bad luck/shit karma storm seems to be endless.

Not for me mind you, but for everyone around me.

I exist in the eye of the shit storm.

And I feel bad mainly because Karma has been my bitch for a few weeks now.

But that is not what I am hear to talk about.

You all seem to hate the positive shit, you’ve proven that over and over.

The positive or uplifting post are among the least read.

The one’s that detail people held down by Fate and fisted by Karma?

Shit, you can’t get enough.

It boggles the mind and makes me feel bad.

Not to complain, but you do treat me like a whore.

No eye contact, just do your business and leave the page.

Leave the money on the dresser as you go.

So be it.

Why so cheerful today?

Ok, you asked for it, here is the roll call of crap.

This has all been related to me since I wrote last weeks blog:

  • I have had a half dozen people tell me about a close relative with a shitty prognosis involving cancer.
  • 3, count them 3, acquaintances have told me they are getting divorced.
  • 5 car accidents.
  • 1 cat rape involving an out of control horny bulldog. (Sorry, I laughed so hard at this one, I almost shit myself. The dog/cat owner has unfriended me on FB and will not return texts. Still funny.)
  • 2 people related having ED for the first time. (We are getting older, fellas. Its called Viagra, look into it.)
  • An old acquaintance’s child was sentenced to 20 years in prison. (Isn’t meth wonderful?)
  • I got a flat tire on my bike. (Really not much compared to the rest, but I SUCK at changing tubes. All about me.)
  • A married couple I know decided to spice up their bedroom activities and try some new things. They ended up in the ER later trying to get a string of beads out of her butt. (Pissing off people left and right today.)

It seems to be a time for keeping your head down.

Survival instinct kicks in and you learn to adapt and keep the shit stink from finding you.

So you don’t necessarily avoid people, but you are seeking out people either.

I know, that sounds mean, kind of because it is.

But I mean it in the nicest narcissistic way.

In the end, I look on the activities and things that have gone on in the last week as a cautionary tale of sorts.

But the moral of the story is this:

Be bold but be careful and if the bulldog of life looks your way?

Cover your ass.

 
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Posted by on May 15, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Hating a stranger.

Its not often, but sometimes, when I least expect it, I instinctively hate people.

Case in point, I am in Starbucks, its not my favorite one, but its still a Starbucks.

For those of you that pay attention, its the “Icebox”, so named because the temperature is always at 60 degrees, Winter or Summer.

I used to think this was a bad idea, then I realized that on those days that I am there for an hour or more, I buy more coffee to keep me warm.

Maybe the manager is a genius.

And in she walks.

Something about her screams “Bitch”, loud and clear.

Of course she is on her cell phone, what else would she be doing?

And maybe it is just because I didn’t like her from the beginning, but I swear that the people around her moved just a touch more away from her than you would normally.

Maybe its an unconscious thing, just some sort of evil presence, like a low level fart in an elevator that you don’t know who did it, but you know it wasn’t you.

Anyway, she gets thru the line, gets a spinach quiche. (Red flag – Spinach quiche is the food of choice of pedophiles, serial killers and overly monied coffee hoes.)

Her drink, when it came, had a lot of foam, another red flag but I’m gonna let that go.

As luck would NOT have it, she sat at the seat next to me.

Conversation still going on.

Here are the highlight quotes.

  • “Marshal is having problems at school, he failed a test and the teacher is being a bitch about it. I told him he could stay home this week and calm down.” (My comment is to fucking long to put here, so its below.)
  • “Jack is still arguing about the alimony, I mean, I gave that asshole my life, and thats going to cost him.” (Lesson learned boys, some people, not all, just some people, when they are flat on their backs the meter is running. Talk amongst yourselves.)
  • The car is still not running right. Every time I put it in gear, I have to let off on the gas COMPLETELY. (You mean revving it and dumping it into gear is NOT good for the tranny?)

It was the Polish astronomer Copernicus who first offered the model of the universe that had the Sun at its core and not the Earth.

And it was the shithead sucking down a frappuccino sitting next to me that first offered the model of the universe that had Marshal at its core.

That means the center of the universe was somewhere local, still in his pj’s during mid morning and crying like a pussy.

For a long moment I was outraged.

We are currently raising a generation of kids that are being taught that, God forbid they ever encounter a problem, the only proper response is to freeze in place and over analyze it until someone comes along and either solves it for them, or it goes away on its own.

That was a shitty long moment.

The highlight was when I made her leave.

Its called the creep move.

It is a beautiful study in low level emotional intimidation.

I began to furiously scratch my armpit, the one closer to her.

I grunted slightly.

Once I could see her staring, I stopped scratching and smelled my fingers.

Wait for it……..

I scooted a half an inch towards her.

Then I turned my head, locked eyes, and smiled.

If you have ever seen someone fleeing a burning building, that is a lot like how she left.

Hung up her phone, stood and stomped her little feet out of Starbucks.

Even left her coffee creation behind.

I would feel bad, but, after all…

I didn’t like her to begin with.

 
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Posted by on April 24, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Keep it in your pants.

Ok, so things are going to get a little awkward here.

Too many trigger warnings to list here. (If you understand that statement, fuck off and get over it.)

And I don’t mean like – Running into your ex in a restaurant with their new partner awkward.

I mean like – trapped in an elevator with the uncle/priest that touched you at age 12 kind of awkward.

Here is the story as we know it.

A 19 year old man walked into a walmart, took a stuffed horse from the shelf, headed on over to the comforter aisle in the Housewares department and proceeded to masturbate using the stuffed horse, came all over it, and then put it back on the shelf.

Lets break that down.

A 19 year old man walked into a walmart, was greeted by a senior citizen, headed over to a clearance section near the Gardening department. All of this is perfectly legal and not out of the ordinary. No blood no foul at this point.

He picks up a stuffed horse from the clearance rack and heads to Housewares. Minor red flags, but nothing serious. He’s a little old for stuffed animals, but maybe its his niece/nephew’s birthday and he needs a gift.

He hunkers down in the comforter aisle and whips out his junk. WARNING WILL ROBINSON, WARNING! I hate to say it because of the place it puts me here but if you do make the call to get your freak on in a walmart, the comforter aisle is where you want to be. Some people may say the bathroom, but that can only be because they have never seen a Walmart bathroom. An underlying odor of aged urine and shit permeates the air. There is ALWAYS piss on the floor and usually shit on the walls. Its like the monkey hut at the zoo.

Out of 5 news agencies that reported on this, not one says exactly how he screwed the horse. Did he cut an anus into the horse and sodomize it? Cut a hole in the mouth? Was it pliable enough to wrap it around his dick? Don’t shake your head at me, these are legitimate questions!

Anyway, SOMEHOW, he finished and came all over the stuffed horse. Like a plush toy bukkaki scene from a Japanese porno. In fact, I am willing to bet there is a Japanese website dedicated to plush toy bukkaki. They have websites for everything else under the freak sun, why not this?

And, for me, this is where it gets weird. How could it not be weird up till now, you ask? Nothing shocks me when it comes to guys and masturbation. As a species, men are masturbatory freaks. You don’t know the half of it.

But this is why it is weird. HE PUTS IT BACK. He didn’t drop it like Michael Corleone dropping the gun after he shot Sollozzo and walks out, he puts it back on the clearance rack.  That means he wanted it on display for others to see. This hits a new freak high water mark that is tough to match. I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.

And, he did this at 3pm. Right when the kids are getting out of school.

Where are the over zealous cops that get caught on camera beating the shit out of someone when you need them? (They are a minority, but they do exist. I want to use them for good.)

I think the world would be a better place if this guy lost a few teeth and “accidentally” fell down a few flights of steps. Just saying.

The only thing I can think of is that the last time I was at a Walmart, I was stunned by the sheer numbers of unaccompanied kids running wild without a parent in site.

Think twice, you never know when the freaks might decide that the plush toys are just not doing it for them anymore, and decide to take your kid for a spin.

You can ignore this warning if you like, but the writing is on the wall.

Or at least smeared all over the stuffed horse.

 
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Posted by on March 27, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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