something interesting?

i think I actually gave myself a tummy ache eating candy.  How the fuck does that happen?  you know, I can remember a time when I could eat loads of sugary sweets and never even notice.  In fact, there was a point in my life where I used to scrounge change, go to the drug store and buy candy bars, 2 for 88 cents, and a soda.  I would get four candy bars, a soda, and then sit at the dis-used train track bridge and enjoy my snack before going home, or where ever.  I miss those days.

It's not enough that now a single candy bar most places costs at least a dollar and the cheapest coke is over a buck and a half, but now if I eat too much candy I get a tummy ache!  I must say that I am a bit displeased about this.

Adversely, I have found that I am able to drink a lot of booze in one evening and not feel as bad as a couple of handfuls of candy "bottle caps."

it's not funny!

So, there's a joke i like to tell: A young couple is getting married.  At the alter, the bride and groom are smiling from ear to ear.  You know why they are smiling?

That young man is marrying the woman who gives the best blow jobs he has ever had in his entire life...

The young bride is smiling because she knows she will never have to give her man another blowjob for the rest of her life.

Did you laugh or chuckle?  If you did, did you suddenly feel a pang in your chest with the realization that this is true?  I know I do every time I tell this joke...

lentils

Yup, at the grocery store the other day and there it was... Lentil soup pack.  Okay, really excited for a rainy day like this to give it a try.  so here it goes.  Cooking right now as I type.  Hopefully it does't suck... or end up on the floor... and why am I so excited about this soup?  Well, if you were laughing already, you probably already know.  For those who don't find such humor in the word, Lentil, I suggest watching a show from the BBC called "the Young Ones"  Seriously, you need to check it out...

And speaking of cooking... Big fucking news... coming soon.  Yeah, I totally teased you with that!  Now you have to wait until next week to find out what it is... but it'll be worth it!

And we're back...

I came back a couple of days ago from a vacation that started out great, but ended in some circle of hell I wish never to visit again.  Every year my family and I head down to Delaware (the state with no sales tax!) for a week to camp at this state park along the shore.  It's usually pretty nice aside from getting eaten alive by mosquitoes.  (I always have this issue.  I believe I taste delicious!)   This year, though, the weather had other intentions.  Due to a hurricane heading up the coast, our vacation was cut short.

Well, that sucked.  So we had to break camp and head home.  Before leaving, we hit up the candy shop and the shell shop, so we got our little trinkets.  And then we hit the road.  If you have never had to actually evacuate from somewhere, let me just explain that it sucks.  Especially since there really is only one main route out of Delaware to PA.  Our trip down took just over 3 hours.  Our trip back took nearly 7 hours just to get back into PA.  And that was where the true hell began.

My wife decided since we were still on vacation, we should head north to visit her mother... who lives in the Poconos.  So we drove an additional 3 hours to go there.  After 10 hours in the car, I was irritated.  Going to some lame park with a beach on a man made pond did not make me feel any better.  Nor did having to make breakfast for everyone that morning where by the time I finally got to eat my eggs that I made after giving my other ones away because everyone else decided they wanted what I was having after they asked for something else... so I ate their cold eggs, scrambled, instead of my warm delicious dippy eggs.

Then I had to make dinner of all the left over food for about ten people only to be left with the kids to clean up while my wife went shopping with her friend.  The next morning my wife went to church and I waited for her to come back in hopes of maybe hitting a diner for some breakfast... but she and her friend were really late because they went to a diner for breakfast.

In all, I drank a whole lot of beer and was plain miserable... but at least everyone else had a good time...

I've had only one other vacation that sticks in my mind as worse than this one... and that was the one that I went on after my wife and I split up that my now ex convinced me to go on since it was already paid for.  the only real difference was that I knew before hand how that one was going to go...

The strange collection of friends I have had...

Once, a long time ago, I was a good person.  i used to care about people and i was genuinely interested in helping people.  I would sit on the phone for hours listening to people go on about how shitty things seemed for them and try to console them.  I would stay up for hours with people if they cam to me with problems and just wanted someone to be there for them.  I would lend money and offer things to people who were having a rough time if they needed it and I could afford it.  Hell, some times I couldn't afford it.  In a nutshell, I was a nice person.

And people walked all over me.  If I needed things, no one offered to do a damn thing for me.  No one listened when I needed someone to talk to.  No one offered to help me when I needed it.  In the end, I would always find myself along and chatting to a plastic spider as my only friend that I could really trust.

I learned a long time ago that I need to be in this for me.  I am no longer a nice person.  I feel no pity for anyone who falls.  I will not stop to help my fellow man.  I have become a self centered individual who will only do for others if I know it will have some personal gain for myself.

But I guess, in the end, isn't this how everyone is?  Aren't we all just looking out for our own.  How many people do you really know who do things just to be kind.  I mean, even many "good Samaritans" are just good to ensure their place in a fictitious heaven they believe is real.  So I guess I'm just like everyone else now.  Perhaps I always was an just didn't realize it.

Eh, who cares... Buy pigface!  They're fun!

Nearly 3 and a half decades...

I have spent my life going back and forth about birthdays.  When I was young, I had a pool, there was one year there was a pony, and another year a clown.  And still, I always envied my brother's parties since he had his birthday close enough to Halloween that he had theme parties.  It was awesome...

So the last parties when I was young for my birthday were a little less than fun.  one that sticks out in my mind is the year my mother wished to surprise me with a party.  I found out about it.  (to date, no one has ever actually surprised me with a party.)  I found out that my brother was in charge of inviting everyone for my party.  I told my brother to make sure he invited my 2 best friends who I always hung out with.  The day arrived for the party, and my friends weren't there.  In fact, they were all my brother's friends that I knew only by association.  I called my friends and found that they were never invited.  I left my own party before cake and ice cream to go hang out with my friends.  My mother was pissed, and I was more than angry.

The next year was better because I ditched the house and went to hang with my friends making it clear that I was having friends over at his place for my birthday.  It was my 16th, and my dad showed up.  he gave us money for chips and soda.

The year after, my mother was going to have a party again, but I made it perfectly clear that I did not wish for one.  So, she made plans to go out of town for the weekend and bought a whole shit load of junk food and soda just in case I wanted to have friends over.  I spent the weekend at my friend's house instead and actually got scolded for NOT having a party!

Since that year, I have avoided the whole birthday thing.  But then, last year as I was reading the Satanic Bible, I realized that I should really make it a big deal.  So for the first time since I was a little kid, I decided to celebrate openly the day of my birth since it was the most important event in my life!  So, I found out my wife was planning a party for me, I just didn't know when and where at first.  I figured she would have planned something on any other day other than my birthday because I needed to work 1st thing in the morning (6am), but I was wrong.  And it ended up being the most embarrassing event in the history of birthdays.  

My wife had evidently sent a message via Facebook to all of our mutual friends that she was planning something.  That was how I found out about her plans.  Then, on my birthday, she suggested we head out to the bar that I once had worked at and knew the employees and owner.  I figured she had the plans worked out for there on the night of my birthday.  Okay.  So we show up, and I figure we must be early since there is only one other person there at the time.  (that person being the ex-wife of a good friend, and I can't say that I could care less to be around her.)  There is a big ass Star Trek cake and the whole deck has been reserved for my party... that no one showed up for.

I was so embarrassed.  I cut the cake when we realized not a soul was coming out, and I spent most of the night listening to my wife and my friend's ex talk about Avon.  Bored, pissed, rejected, alone and other words would describe best how I felt about that night.  I was so angry that I posted a comment on my facebook berating all my friends for choosing not to show up.

The next morning I found several replies that basically said, "huh?  what party?"

So it turned out that my wife never got back to most of the people who said they would come if they had details, and she never actually went through my list of friends to invite people.  I can't really explain the feelings I had about the whole mess, and who I was pissed off at.  In fact, I still get angry about the whole incident.  But the worst part is that I am so embarrassed about the whole event that I have not gone back to that bar of my own volition since.

And so, as my next birthday approaches, I feel that i should do something to avoid this whole cluster-fuck once again as I did when I turned 16.  I've still got almost 2 months... so we'll just have to see.

In the mean time, buy some cure!

I Love Catch-22!

I love to read.  I read a lot.  But I don't read enough.  I think one of my favorite books of all time was Catch-22.  You know the best part about the book is that it was supposed to be catch-18.  But there was something about the number 18 being in something else that year, so they went with the second silliest number Heller could think of.

I've always loved reading books with sex in it.  I loved it in high school, because I would sit there in study hall and read all the steamy details and then think about the fact that everyone else around me wasn't even thinking about sex like I was reading.  Nothing like romance novels, but there seemed to always be a scene in most of the Koontz books that I was reading at the time.  Especially that one where the guy had all sorts of fetishes and a drug to hypnotize people.  Man did I want a drug to hypnotize people.

I have to admit that I spent a lot of time thinking about that.  Of course, had I planned ahead in my life, I would have saved all my money I spent on the recording equipment and instruments to invest in my future to buy kinky prostitutes and moved to LasVegas.  Oh well, hind sight 20/20.

But now I just have high speed internet and streaming porn!  But seriously, you should read Catch-22!

The dead guy who love manicotti

So when I used to deliver pizza, I was good at where I should take deliveries to and where to avoid on a busy Saturday.  The worst was the diaper house!  Holy stinky shitty diapers!  These people had an enclosed staircase to their apartment, and just outside their door were the trash cans.  I am positive that they would have been better off if the cans had lids, but they didn't.

These people wold let their young kids, (3-6 at any given time) answer the door.  Then I would have to stand there and wait until the kids got the attention of one of the parents.  Then, one child would come with money.  the father (or the male living there) would finally arrive and wait for exact change and take the food.  The whole time the putrid collection of diapers in the trash cans, not even in bags, filled me with a desire to vomit.  Of course, imagine that smell.  Hot pizza, purifying baby shit, and vomit all at once.  Finally, I could leave.  And what was my tip for having to deal with this shit?  Not one penny!  Oh how I hated those ass holes.

Here's the thing... people in the industry who work for tips remember shit like this.  Seriously, if someone told me to go to 96 south main street, I would cringe and the feeling of nausea would overcome me, and it's been over 15 years since I delivered pizza!  And let me tell you, when you are a shitty tipper, don't you think for a second that on a busy Friday/Saturday night that you will get your food in any timely manner!

The creepiest delivery was the woman who would make us go into her house and take the food to the dining room table while she collected the money from the man in the recliner.  Here's the thing about them.  I would have to come in, she would instruct me to wait, and I would listen to her inquire about how much to give me. Thing was, I never heard the guy reply.  I mean, her voice was loud and clear, but I never heard a word from him.  When I would walk by the room that he was seated, always exactly in the same position and forever watching Wheel of blah blah blah... never moving.  And I wasn't the only one.  The other drivers claimed to never hear or see him move either.  So we all devised a theory that he was dead and she was taking care of his corpse so as to never have to say goodbye.

It was another driver who did it first, but we all followed suit fast enough.  When she would tell us to come in, we flatly refused and explained that it was an insurance thing.  At first, she would say things like, "Oh, I trust you boys" and such, and I think I finally just stated that it didn't matter since we couldn't trust her.  Then, I knocked on the door about two weeks after we boycotted stepping foot in their house.  I about fell over when there before me was the man who we all thought was dead standing at the door.  He seemed pretty irritated about the fact that we would no longer go into his house, but we all stuck by our story.  Even Joe corroborated the story when she placed their order once.

I mean, really, if all I'm getting is one dollar, I see no reason to go all the way to delivering your food to your damned dinning room table!

Thinking about titties...

I don't know how many of you are in a relationship with someone, but let me tell you that it sucks after a while no matter how good it is to start with.  The problem is, when it's all new it's like a shiny new car.  New face, new body, new things to diddle with... but it eventually just becomes the same after a while.  I mean, there's things you can do to add some fun to it now and again, but even that can draw out to just being another routine.  After a while, you just roll over and fuck because you just want to have sex.  If and when you climax, you feel good about it, but it's nothing like the original conquest.

Don't get me wrong, i'm not saying that you find your partner any less attractive.  It doesn't matter how sexy you find your partner, they are still the same person time and time again.  Of course, this can be good in some ways.  It's like a baseball glove you've had for years that just fits so well and feels good to put around your flesh... um, you get what I mean.

The biggest downfall of getting familiar with your partner is that there is less desire to fuck like rabbits any time you get.  I mean, I remember a time when me and mine would have sex any chance we could, day or night.  Hell, four in the morning was fun, too!   Now if I tried to wake her up at 4 am, I get yelled at because sleep has become much more important than orgasms.

I want more scrapple!

In recent times, I have been in contact with a friend of mine that I've not spoken to in ages.  At one point in time, we played shows together, but I have given up the music years ago for a chance to become a nationally published author.  But now I am nationally published... and in our recent conversations he has voiced that he would love to see me get back into a band.

I must admit that this is a pleasing thought...

But it can never be the same like years before.  When I was in my music days, I was also in my club phase.  I was going to at least 2 clubs a week.  I have to admit that I loved the clubs.  The kids were fun, and the fashion was ridiculous but sexy.  I really miss the girls who were still looking good in their skin tight torn skirts and fishnet apparel.  There was a girl who used to where a fishnet top with electrical tape over her nipples.  There was cleavage and black lips.  Eyes like cats and legs that you just wanted to lick the salty sweat from...

um... yeah, I miss those days.   The best part of it all was the after club experience.  This was the trip to some overnight diner to get some food and relax after a night of dancing like goobers.  Only, after a long night of moving and sweating, the white foundation and black eyeliner has run and worn leaving us all looking like black and white clowns.  the sexiness became a desperate realization that it was all a facade and we were all going home with only who we came with... ourselves.

But there was no regret or fear since there was always going to be another week.  Until one week, there wasn't another week.

But I'll never forget... 

My spider plant has flowers...

Who knew?  I didn't.

As I look back on my life, as I sometimes do, I usually start with the things I wish I had done. Often this is more like a collection of people I wish I had done.  I think now and again about this one girl in particular that I turned down for the simple reason of her openness with her sexual conquests.  But then again, most of the girls at the time that I knew were of the similar philosophy.

There was a night when I offered to take her home... I seem to recall another night a week or two before that night, when she offered to give me a blow job since the only girl I had been with up to that point wasn't into that. I declined.  But it was the first thing on my mind when she got into my car after a night at the club.  The plan changed from driving her home that night to waiting for the following day to take her to her mother's work.  So she was going to stay with me that night.

I lived in the basement at my mother's house at this time, and there was this long outdoor couch in my room then.  She tried to entice me into a bit of the ol' in-n-out... but I was not really wanting to because I was terrified what I may get having sex with her.  Instead, we fell asleep on each other on the sofa.  I think we kissed a couple of times, and I remember really wanting to... but....

Well, years later, I happened upon her on the Facebook, and though we did not become friends, she joined the group in support of my first nationally published book.  I clicked to check out her profile, and wow!  There were a couple of pics of her in some rather erotic clothes, and I suddenly regretted deeply that I passed up the opportunity to have some fun with her back in the day.  Damn is she still sexy!  Oh, well.

Well, life happens and passes... enjoy it while your there!