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Thats nasty!

I am one sip into my morning coffee when I get that feeling.

Something is up.

I hate having my morning coffee interrupted, but I hate to miss something.

I begin to look the Starbucks over.

Not the front tables.

Not the line.

Barrista and cashier seem to be fine.

There.

Right outside the bathroom, a surfer in a Mexican poncho seems to be convulsing.

Better, he is laughing.

He looks up and sees me watching, immediately he waves me over and I believe he mouths the word “dude”.

I should find out whats up.

I walk over.

I raise my eyebrows in a “what the hell” move as I walk up.

The surfer begins trying to talk in a whisper, but I can’t make out what he is saying for a minute because he is laughing too hard.

“Dude!” I can make that out.

“There’s sex going on in the bathroom!”

I wave him quiet.

Sure enough, there is unmistakable sound of a man groaning in ecstasy.

I’ll be damned.

I begin racking my brain for who it can be.

I spend an inordinate amount of time in this Starbucks. If two patrons have decided to hook up in the bathroom, there is an excellent chance that I will be at least nodding acquaintances with them.

Plus, I love odd situations happening in my Starbucks.

And this is dirty too.

I am almost giddy.

So, we wait.

The surfer guy is alternating between keeping it together and losing it.

Thankfully, we don’t have to wait long.

A long groan of orgasm is totally audible.

Even the old lady at the cream and sugar kiosk is staring at the bathroom.

I snap my head to the door as the lock clicks.

The guy that walks out is a regular, I have talked with him a few times.

He turns bright red as he sees us standing there.

The convulsing surfer doesn’t help.

The guy just kind of hot foots it out, eager to be gone. I don’t think he expected a reception.

The surfer guy and I turn from him and look into the bathroom at the same time.

There is no one else.

Like a sudden migraine it hits me. How stupidly dense am I?

He was masturbating.

Ewwwwww.

The surfer beats me to it.

“Dude! Thats nasty!”

The surfer, who has been waiting to go, is reluctant to enter the bathroom now.

I went and sat down, somewhat dejected.

What had started out kind of cool and naughty had taken a creepy turn.

I can hear the surfer yelling from the bathroom. He is freaking out about having to have a BM on the “Pleasure toilet”.

I can’t blame him.

It finally occurs to me that the part of this that bothers me is that the guy was so loud.

Young boys discover masturbation at the beginning of puberty. It is a hobby that all men have thru out their whole life.

Silence during the act is instinctive.

And thats when it hits me.

He was trying to get caught.

Ewwwwww!

I am creeped out to the point that even my coffee tastes off.

And what the hell do I say the next time I see that freak?

 
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Posted by on October 6, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Its a dirty subject.

I have a friend who is recently divorced and said she was shocked at how guys are just a bunch of horny dicks now.

Now?

I am shocked to find out we were something else back when. Or maybe that was just me.

She was at a local watering hole and met a guy, made an innocent comment that he took in the worst way and proceeded to stalk her for the rest of the night.

And?

I had to take a long moment to understand, or at least try.

And in the end, I had to agree with her, even though it took me a little while longer to get there.

I’m sorry, throw anything resembling dirty or a go ahead at me in a bar when I have a drink in me, and I become a vicious combination of a drink-buying Daddy Warbucks and a horny dog that will follow your around and hump your leg all night.

Just saying.

I think it all breaks down to this.

Its the same sentence for both of us.

Women love sex.

Only to men, it looks like this
Women love SEX

Women, however, see it like this:
Women LOVE sex.

AND WE HAVE NO CLUE.

And its not like we take things out of context or wrong on purpose, we take it wrong because we have no choice.

Its a difference of perspective.

Lets call it the Penis Perspective.

Having a penis is like having a best friend that your parents hate. He gets you in trouble, leaves you hanging sometimes, but every now and then, he comes up with something really cool.

But we can talk about masturbation later.

When a guy is in an environment where he thinks he might have a shot at getting laid, which pretty much means that he is awake and in the vicinity of a woman, his penis begins filtering everything he hears and understands.

Its like being drunk on a liquor called horny.

Yes, its that sad and primitive.

So taking things the wrong way is not a choice, its the only option.

The only one we have.

Guys are the epitome of what your mom use to say.

“If they didn’t care, they wouldn’t say anything.”

That’s true, but care means “Viewed as fuckable” (For the record, I wanted to leave Fuckable out. However, the friend in question loved it and declared it “Word of the Day” So it stays.)

Her other comment was that she was in a place right now that she only wanted some “Me attention”. But, all she seemed to be getting was the “Fuckable attention”.

Its about fifty-fifty in that half the men out there are capable of both types of attention. Unfortunately, the other half can only achieve the “Fuckable attention”.

And theres no way to tell ahead of time.

But, if you are hetero, it is the only game in town.

The only alternative would be to get a gay male friend for the “Me attention” and a high end marital aid with attachments in order to get your “Fuckable” on.

My advice usually sucks, so I normally keep it to myself, but I advised her to go out and play the game her way.

Because dangling the “Fuckable” carrot can get a lot of “Me attention.”

In the Texas Hold-Em game of sex, being a woman is like always having a pair of pocket aces.

For a man to have sex, he just needs to find a woman to say yes. A woman just needs to say yes.

I heard two women in Starbucks the other day, whispering.

Whispering means dirty, and I know this, so I do the discrete adjusting for better listening.

One of the women was complaining that, since her break up, she hadn’t had sex in months and missed it.

WTF?

That amazes me. All she has to do is walk up to a guy, pretty much any guy in a bar, and ask him to go home for some “No strings attached” play time.

And for those reading this that are saying “My man would never do that”. Yes he would and lets not lie to each other here.

I’m just trying to help.

A woman could walk up to 5 different men in a bar and ask them to go have sex and most likely 5 out of 5 would green light it.

However, a man could walk up to 5 different women and ask the same.

Mace is usually involved at this point.

Not that I have ever done this, but when one of the 5 does say yes?

Its like magic.

 
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Posted by on August 19, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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The sound…….of Silence.

There is a vicious, scorched-earth, fully bi-polar argument going in Starbucks right now. Shit is being thrown out there that you should never say to someone you are sleeping with, much less a loved one.

In total silence.

There is a guy at a corner table who is deaf. He has his Iphone propped up against his coffee cup, and if I casually lean over, there is a dark haired woman signing furiously and angrily into her webcam.

I have no clue whats being said other than the expressions, unlike Spanish, which I can sound out. I don’t even know how to sign what day it is.

He has been signing furiously for thirty seconds and now slowly licked several of his fingers and it has seriously pissed off the woman on the phone even more than before. Sign language seems to have newer options for going dirty.

This is absolutely fascinating.

And then its over, he gets up and leaves, in total silence.

He may be deaf, but he still has the same issues we all do. Some more than others.

I couldn’t be deaf, I would go insane. Anger demands noise, that is basic human nature.

But on the same note, being deaf would make me impossible to be around as well. Most deaf people accept it and grow to enjoy it.

Not me.

For me, it would be like having a permanent case of the shits. Always there, always annoying. I would exist in this permanent cloud of pissy that would make me even more unpleasant than I am.

And I can be pretty unpleasant.

But I started wondering why the deaf guy has an Iphone to begin with, its not like he can use it.

And then it hits me like a smack with the big “Hey dumbfuck!” stick.

He is using his phone.

Maybe not how I would, but now everyone can use a phone. The technology has now caught up with the needs of the deaf.

In other words, the people that don’t need phones? They now need phones. And not just any phone, but one of the most expensive, high end phones on the market, with one of the costliest rate plans.

Very clever, AT&T. Or shall I just call you Mr. Jobs?

I can see it all now.

This is world wide conspiracy shit. This is like an Internet grassy knoll, data plan goes back….and to the left, broadband-Da Vinci code type thing.

Chilling.

Should I suddenly meet with some sort of suspicious accident, be aware that “They” had a hand in it.
(And by “Accident” I don’t mean like a child fouling himself. I have only done that once and it involved a lot of grain alcohol.)

I have begun poring over my cell bill, looking for some sort of code. Unfortunately, I think I have a better chance to crack the Beale Cipher, (Google it), than I do of figuring out the AT&T/Apple master plan.

But at least we know there is one.

 
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Posted by on August 18, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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When you least expect it…Evil Couple.

There are days that life decides to surprise you in a way that is so totally shocking, you almost don’t believe it.

I park about a quarter mile from my office, with Starbucks halfway in between. Its Manhattan Beach, parking sucks 24 7.

I was sending a text and not paying attention, just standing right in front of the escalator when a woman shoved past me. We never touched, but I still felt bad because I was blocking the way.

“Oh, sorry.” I muttered and stepped onto the escalator, right behind the woman I had blocked.

She turned and glared at me, saying nothing. My eyes widened a bit in recognition.

Mrs. Evil Couple.

“Excuse me.” A friendly voice sounded from behind me. I stepped to the side and an older man in surgical scrubs stepped politely past me.

Mr. Evil Couple.

Oh shit!

I am in the scene today. Its like winning a small prize unexpectedly.

“You didn’t need to run off like that.” He stands next to her, looking straight ahead.

“This sounds like your problem, not mine.”

For a second, I am confused by her statement, but then I realize that she is talking on her phone. She ignores his comment.

“Your car smells like shit, I don’t like to ride in it.” As she inclines her head to indicate him, it becomes apparent that she is arguing on the phone with someone, and with her husband, in person.

Multitask arguing. This woman is a dynamo.

I have to remind myself that they don’t realize that I consider their life to be my entertainment.

It is evil, all by itself, But I’m good with it.

I try to act casual and just meander towards Starbucks, and still stay close enough to hear them. I am aided in this by several other people all going in the same direction.

Based on his comments, he was about to pull into a parking spot when she bolted from the car. I am not sure why they rode together, as I had the impression that they rode separately and just met up at Starbucks. I am floored by what he says next.

“The dealership with have your car by tonight, they had to send to San Diego for one the right color.” He sounds apologetic.

“Whatever.” She shits on his attempt at nice.

He bought this bitch a new car?

I know how bad that sounds. Don’t judge me, you weren’t there.

Last I heard her car was being fixed because she hit it with a pole. Her anger then was directed at her husband because he allowed the insurance company to raise her premium, which they do when you hit a pole.

She ignores him and begins arguing with the person on the phone.

“She is old and I have no patience with her.” That little tidbit comes drifting back as we enter Starbucks. Drawing once again on my total lack of manners and listening in during previous conversations, I come to the conclusion that she is arguing with her sister about thier mother. She has stated before to her sister that their mother would have to go live either in a home or with the sister. Her classic comment during that little exchange was that the home can’t be so close to her house that “I feel guilty that I don’t see her every week.”

Lotta love going on there.

If I could have planned this morning, I don’t know that I could have thought of something more delightful. I am almost giddy.

She leaves him to order and walks over to the bathroom while still arguing with her sister. I hear the F word echoing back out of the little alcove with the bathroom door.

She tries the door and finds it locked.

She begins to knock, slowly, loudly and deliberately. And she doesn’t stop.

Awesome.

I use that word a lot when I describe Mrs. Evil’s antics. I am so in awe of the arrogant disdain she views the world around her and her total lack of caring what anyone, including her husband, thinks.

I counted the number of knocks. At 75, the door opened and a thoroughly embarrassed woman came out. The woman tried to glare at her, but it bounced off of Mrs. Evil as she steps briskly past and shuts the door.

The woman, red faced and pissed, finally just stomps off. She can’t win this and she knows it.

It makes me wonder why her husband hasn’t stomped off, years ago. What power does she have over him? Pictures of him having sex with animals? Drugs? Did her family finance medical school for him?

Maybe its a sex thing. A close friend of mine made the comment about this very subject that she, and I am quoting her, “must suck great cock.” Its a crude statement, but I have seen marriages based on weirder shit.

And who knows, maybe she does.

In the end, that is all I get from them today. A few minutes later, Mrs. Evil walks out of the bathroom and sails past her husband, who happened to be getting their coffee creations from the barrista.

He looked around like a little kid who realized mom has left him in the store alone. He took off, trying to catch up.

Good luck, pal.

She has been several steps ahead of you for years.

Sic semper tyrannis

 
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Posted by on August 10, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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