Monday, August 17, 2009

She's using me

I am sitting on the couch watching TV when she comes to find me. She presses against me, nuzzling my cheek then giving me "the look" that means she is looking for some amorous attention. I begin to caress her face and she closes her eyes, leaning her head back and making little sounds of pleasure. As I continue to touch her, she stretches herself out next to me, limbs extending, pressing herself closer into my fingers as I am touching her. She begins purring with pleasure as I touch her. In the time we have been together, I have learned how she likes to be touched, what it takes to please her. As I continue, she writhes in ecstasy and scratches me, but I know she doesn't mean to. As a tease, I stop and move my hand away. Her eyes fly open and her head whips around to look at me, to find out why I have stopped. I chuckle and go back to giving her what she wants. When I get to that spot on her lower back that really drives her wild, she loses control of herself. I continue until she rolls over, satiated, and curls up on the couch next to me. Sometimes I think all she wants me for is the things I do for her. You know, fresh water in her dish, food dish full, cat toys all over the house and the occasional left over cereal milk. I now know the origin of the phrase "pussy whipped."

Sunday, August 16, 2009

In another world...

I saw her again tonight. But still I said nothing. I am sure that I am making things more complicated than I have to, but over analyzing things is a specialty of mine. If she wasn't friends of friends it might be easier. If she wasn't a friend of someone my friends wanted me to meet, it might be easier. If I didn't think her friend might have an interest in me that I don't feel in return...Well, I am sure you get the picture by now.

I am always worried that she'll catch me staring at her, that I'll be giving off some creepy vibe that will only make her uncomfortable rather than reveal the thoughts I have of her. Does she know how her nose crinkles when she makes an “eww icky” face? Has anyone ever told her how her eyes light up when she smiles? And oh what a smile! I find myself telling dumber jokes than usual just to try to coax one out of her.

I've gotten a few “friend” kisses from her, mostly through precedence set by her friend, but I don't have the courage to instigate one upon meeting or parting, it is all left to her whim. But she has such soft lips and I can't help but wonder what they would feel like pressed to mine. Is her breath as sweet and warm as she is? Are her kisses as fiery and filled with passion as she is from the conversations we have had? As playful and unassuming as she is? God, I'm staring again.

But how can I not? She has such an amazing body, curvaceous and thick, like a woman should be. Not some emaciated stick figure of a woman. How would it feel to hold her, to feel her press against me in an embrace which is more than friendly? Is her skin as soft as it looks? Is she someone who would want to cuddle after sex? Snuggled up against me as I run my fingers over her. To slip my arms around her waist and nuzzle into the back of her neck and drift off to satisfied dreams.

I nibbled that neck tonight, but it was just in the pretense of games with everyone. But did she notice that hers was the only one I did that too? Hers was the only finger I was sucking on seductively, but I wasn't the only one playing with her. Did she even notice I was doing that. Could she see the heat in my eyes or tell the thoughts, far from innocent, going on behind them?

But still I made no move. Waiting for some sign from her. Something that would indicate an interest in return. We are a flirtatious group by nature, but I focus my attentions on her primarily. I don't want to make an ass of myself. I keep asking what the worst is that could happen, but it has been a while since I have been with anyone. I don't want to reek of desperation, even though I haven't had this kind of attraction to anyone in quite some time. So I do nothing to obvious and wish that she could read my mind.

Years have passed since that night, and after that initial attraction we've become good friends and nothing romantic or physical has ever transpired. Once or twice, there was a fleeting possibility of maybe something, but she had other romantic interests, or I did. As time passed we got to know each other too well to think that we might actually work out together as a serious relationship. We've had serious talks and there are some very compatible aspects as well as some that would cause one of us to kill the other. Her beauty and sexiness have never diminished, though, and there are moments that I wonder “What if?” and imagine her and me breathless and spent in a tangle of sheets, reaching for water and giggling in the glow of satisfied after play. We still flirt, but there is too much reality to let the fantasy happen.

Most of the time I am okay with that.

The Wedding of a Lifetime

This all really begins on February 27th, 1973, with the birth of my little brother. We started out as decent playmates and got along well. But as we got a little older, we fought a lot and caused our mom and dad some embarrassment, I am sure. I remember being in physical fights with him in public on more than one occasion. But there were also the fights I got into in his defense. Somewhere we got past the fights and became friends as well as brothers. We share a very similar sense of humor and have spent enough time watching the same movies over and over together that we can speak and riff in quotes from movies, comedians, TV shows and other sundry forms of entertainment. I have a good friend of mine who said watching us talk was like watching two people sharing one brain. My closest set of friends and I will often have the same thought at the same and will just acknowledge it by saying “The router is working.” My brother and I have that going in spades.

As time has passed, I don't see my brother as often as I did when we were living in the same state. I am the only member of my immediate family still living in Arizona, my mom, dad and brother having bounced around for the last ten plus years. We still get together for Christmas and sometimes Easter and we trade phone calls from time to time. As technology has advanced we trade text messages or instant messages as our main form of communication. Two men leading full lives, resorting to what we can in order to keep in touch.

And yet, whenever we are in the same room, it is like nothing has changed. Sure we both shave our heads in defiance of the receding hairlines - Or protruding foreheads, if you prefer - and bald patches we now have. Many people who have seen pictures of us say that they can see the resemblance between us. I'm not sure I completely agree, we both have shaved heads, Van Dykes and the average number of eyes, ears, limbs and what not. Past that, he has a very athletic build, which I don't, and I have him on height. Maybe I am too close to see the physical similarities, but so be it.

In the words of one of our favorite comedians, “I told you that story to tell you this one.”

About 2 years ago, my brother met a wonderful young woman. They began dating and fell in love. I didn't have the chance to meet her until Christmas of 2008, by which time they had been dating for about a year and a half. I really liked her from the time I got to know her, she was sweet, smart and loving. She challenged him and didn't put up with his crap without giving a little back herself. She was good for him and he seemed very happy. He found a woman with the qualities I know I would need to find in order to build a lasting relationship with a personality like mine. Well, and his as well.

A few months later I get a Yahoo IM window pop up with one of the many lines that we quote to greet each other. After a few preliminary “How's it going?” types of posts he asks me what I think about marrying my little brother. Of course the first response was “I don't think that's legal in most states, plus what will your girlfriend say?” It turns out that he had asked her to marry him and she had agreed. (I know, you already got that. Nothing gets by you, does it?)

Beneath the knee jerk, smart-alec reaction, I was floored. My brother has always been the more together of the two of us, careers rather than jobs, no financial/credit issues, he travels and takes good care of himself. Now, I've never felt anything than loved unconditionally by my family, but I have always felt like a bit of a screw up when compared to him. Our lives follow very different paths and while I am happy with the majority of mine, I always feel a little less the grown-up than he is. I'll be forty this September, but that concept boggles my mind. Surely I can't be FORTY! Forty is kind of old. It would take a bit of convincing for me to date a forty year old woman. Those are cougars, aren't they? I don't look my age, I don't feel my age, and I certainly don't act my age! I'd say I am closer to thirty than forty. Denial is a lovely place, I'll send you a postcard.

So when my brother asked me to perform his wedding ceremony, I was deeply moved in the faith that he was putting in me to pull this off. Almost immediately I asked him if our parents knew that he was asking me to do this. I love my parents very much, but we have very different ideas about religion. I could imagine my parents asking my brother if he really wanted to have me do it, wouldn't he rather have a “real” ceremony, or something along those lines. His response was just another shot that really got my heartstrings thrumming, while the verbatim escapes me, it was along the lines of, “This is our wedding and we want you to be the one to do it.” Sure, no pressure. He didn't ever say, “Look, don't screw this up, okay?” but I most definitely wasn't going to give anyone a chance to go back to him afterward to give him the “Well, you picked him, you could have gotten a professional.”

Over the next couple of months, I wrote out some ideas for the ceremony. I looked at the first ceremony I had written, a very simple one for a friend of mine, and expanded on a couple of thoughts I had from that as well. I talked to a friend of mine who does weddings for a living and is highly regarded in the field, being chosen “Best Female Officiate for 2008,” in order to get additional information, ideas and tips. (Thanks Crystal!) My brother and his fiancee had also used “The Google Machine” to find some things they liked as well. In the course of exchanged e-mails, re works and revisions we came up with, in my opinion, a very nice ceremony. They had chosen a pair of readings, one for the best man and one for the matron of honor to read. They had found vows that they liked and words for the ring exchange as well. Beyond that, the bulk of the ceremony was all mine.

The ceremony went just about flawlessly. My brother and his fiancee were very obviously taken with the emotions of the moment and it was a joy to see the two of them together like that. It was, for the most part, a serious ceremony, but there were the whispered one liners and quips that have defined the majority of our relationship. I like to think that my voice didn't crack with emotion and that I was a magnificent speaker, but I haven't seen the tape. I sure know I felt the moment very deeply. There were many compliments about the”beautiful ceremony,” including the most important critics; my brother and his fiancee. Sorry, his wife now.

To my brother and his new bride, thank you very much for the honor you gave me in asking me to perform your ceremony. Thank you for your trust, your hospitality and your help in its creation. Thank you for inviting me to spend this very special and important day with you, it has meant more to me than you might know.

To my brother, I am very happy for you. I am also very proud of you. I always have been, but it has been a while since I had such a vivid reminder. You have made a very nice life for yourself. You are an amazing human being and I feel, as I always have been, honored and lucky to know you. I wish you the very happiest of lives, you deserve it. I love you very much. Now go put on the helmet.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

A Personal Opinion

On Tuesday, September 18th, 2007 a tragedy occurred. Phoenix Police Officer Nick Erfle was fatally shot during a routine encounter with a trio of people jaywalking. As I read the article in Wednesday’s Arizona Republic, I was struck again by the utter uselessness of this violence. What possible rationale could someone have for taking another human life over something so trivial? As details continued, however, it came to light that the shooter, Erik Jovani Martinez, had a long history of gang involvement and criminal behavior. He had been arrested in the past and had been deported in March of 2006, only to be arrested again in Arizona in May of 2006.

So, in light of the events that happened in the killing of Officer Erfle, I began to wait for this to become an issue of illegal immigrants. I was not disappointed. Or rather, I was disappointed to not be wrong. In less than 24 hours, According to the Arizona Republic, Phoenix Mayor Phil Gordon

“called on Washington officials to ‘secure the border and secure it now’ before another officer pays the ultimate price. ‘This individual that took our officer's life is a perfect example, a poster child, of our failed Washington policy for securing our borders,’ Gordon said.” (The complete article is here.)

Amazingly, Sheriff Joe Arpaio said something logical in response. According to the same article,

"It's a big, complex issue," said Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio, who has been in the national forefront when it comes to pursuing undocumented immigrants. Still, Arpaio admitted, "You can't catch 'em all. We have a lot of violence out there, whether you're legal or illegal."

And therein lies the truth. It is merely coincidence that the last two officers slain in the line of duty in Arizona have, been done so by illegal aliens. But you can’t say that to the average reactionary. I have had three separate conversations in as many days with people who are outraged about the problems that illegals cause. I have many thoughts on that subject, which I will not go into here. My main reason for writing this is to examine how we ignore the logic of emotionally charged situations and make rash decisions in doing so.

Whenever a member or a few members of any particular group do something that we disagree with, or do not understand, we tend to attribute that behavior to the entire group and nut to just the individuals doing that thing. Not all illegal immigrants are shooting and killing people. Not all police officers are tasing people speaking out in public. Not all Catholic priests are molesting their congregation’s youth. Not every person with a Southern accent has appeared on Jerry Springer.

Those are just a few examples, but I feel they make my point. Step back from the tragedies and look at things for a moment. Hold the person guilty of the behavior responsible, not whatever group he belongs to.

It seems to me that when something terrible happens like this we, as humans, should be doing more to alleviate the suffering and help each other through it, not making matter worse and adding to the strife through our reactions. Granted, it is difficult in any situation of such high emotion, to be able to examine things in such a manner. But there are always people who should be rational enough to be able to help remind those most intimately affected of the truth. I am just surprised that, in the case of Officer Erfle, it was Joe Arpaio.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

"I think I shall now be sick."

I am horribly mentally and emotionally scarred after a recent trip to the convenience store. After the wonderful discovery that are Funyuns with wasabi (Read more here.) I was shocked and appalled to see an affront to nature and all that I hold dear.

I am not trying to be overly dramatic here; I am trying to prepare you for the horror you are about to be told of. So that you won’t be caught by surprise, as I was. So that you, dear reader, can go on about your day with a minimum of mental anguish. My brain is still boggled.

Let us begin with some groundwork and build up. Bud Light. Comes out darker than it goes in. As my friend Clay says, it’s like sex in a canoe; f**king close to water. Then there is Clamato. In the words of the late, great Richard Jeni, “Tomato juice and clam juiced mixed together and you drink it. Notice that I say, YOU drink it!” So, inspired by, perhaps, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and, perhaps, repeated blows to the head, someone came up with Chelada. Two bad tastes, that, when mixed together, would make Satan gag.

Here’s the kicker; you can’t even find this stuff on the Anheuser Busch website search. Even THEY. know this is evil in a can!

I sit, rocking and shuddering just knowing this stuff is out there.


(Not so) Random Fact: Richard Jeni’s specials, previously only available on VHS, will be released on DVD sometime this month.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Bibles and cell phones

I received the following in an e-mail. Normally when I get this kind of religious, touchy feely kind of thing, I have already seen it and I just delete or ignore it. This one got me to thinking, however. Here is the e-mail as I received it:

Wonder what would happen if we treated our Bible like we treat our cell phones?

What if we carried it around in our purses or pockets?

What if we turned back to go get it if we forgot it?

What if we flipped through it several times a day?

What if we used it to retrieve messages from the text?

What if we treated it like we couldn't live without it?

What if we gave it to kids as gifts?

What if we used it I case of emergency?

This is something to make you go, hmm.where is my Bible?

Oh, and one more thing. Unlike our cell phone, we don't have to worry about our Bible being disconnected. Because Jesus already paid the bill!

And no dropped calls!

Now mind you, I don’t consider myself to be a very religious person. I do consider myself spiritual, though. I was raised Catholic and some of the habits of that are still stuck in my brain. The above e-mail got me to thinking and led to the following:

Wonder what would happen if we treated our cell phones like we treat our bibles?

What if we interpreted the other person’s side of the conversation as it would best fit our needs?

What if we used the excuse of having different service providers as a reason to start wars because our provider was the one true provider?

What if we heard different conversations depending on what version of phone we were using?

What if we used contradicting features to fuel hatred and division and alienate others who don’t use their phone the same way?

What if we condemned people who choose to use other forms of communication as “Heathens” or “Uneducated” or “Uncivilized?”

What if we only used certain features of our phones when it was beneficial to us, or when others were around to see what loyal phone users we were?

What if we built extravagant buildings to use our cell phones in, but berated people who felt they could use their cell phones outside these buildings?

What if the people who were supposed to teach us to use our cell phones, were granted special privileges by the government and used people’s desire for the phones as a way to bilk them of their money.

Oh, and one more thing. Unlike our Bibles, we don’t have to worry about our cells phones working if we believe in them enough. They work because of scientific fact.

The truth is that a cell phone and a Bible (Or a Torah, or a Koran, etc.) are very similar. They are excellent tools. They can do a lot of good, or they can do harm, it all depends on who uses the tool and how. All cell phones do essentially the same thing; they provide a convenient way to communicate with others. All holy books and writings are the same, too. They give excellent examples of how to live a good life and interact with others. They teach us about how we came to be the people we are. Most holy books teach essentially the same things, live a good life and treat your fellow human beings with the dignity and respect that you would like to be treated with. But like cell phones, holy books are imperfect by the virtue of the fact that they have been fiddled with by mankind. The important thing to remember, it seems to me, is to use either object with respect for the potential results of our actions.

“I like your Christ; I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”
Mohandas Gandhi

Wednesday, January 10, 2007


I read a random bit of information somewhere; and when I say “somewhere,” I mean some random place on the internet. If I had read it in Playboy, I’d just come out and say so. Shy I am not. But let me not keep you in suspense. What I read was that an ear of corn has, on average, 800 kernels wrapped in its silky husk.

First of all; how do you get the job of kernel counter? Then, who pays this person to sit around counting bits of corn and averaging it out? I am sure there is a government grant out there somewhere that is funding this. And why are they doing this counting?

Did we really need to know this kernel (Ha ha! Get it? Kernel!) of useless information? Unless it is winning me a car in some kind of contest in Iowa, I’d rather be guessing the number of M&Ms in a pickle jar. This random bit of fluff has dislodged some other bit of information in my brain, I am sure. Hopefully it wasn’t something important. I already can’t remember phone numbers to save my life. Well, except for my friend Katy’s number, cause it is kinda awesome. As is she. (No, I won’t give you the number, she’s happily married.) (By the way, Katy, you realize this means you are the first person I am calling if I need bail money. Just saying.)

But back to the subject, because I know you are all ears (Get it? “Ears,” like corn! I crack me up.) (And no, this is most likely not the last of the corny puns.) (See there was another one!)

Have we really run out of important things to discover? Isn’t cancer and AIDS still a concern somewhere in this world? Don’t we have a plethora of things that we could have been having Colonel Counter working on? Or is this the level of his ability to participate? Is this someone who had been counting sheep but kept falling asleep? Or was this some really annoying guy who kept getting in everyone’s way while they were working on real science? “Hey, will someone find something for Dwayne to do? He keeps trying to play “Pong” on the particle accelerator.” “Okay Dwayne, go down to the farmer’s market, buy all the corn you can, then count the kernels in each ear, and find he average. Off you go!” “Okay, Steve, you make a tape of random numbers to play while he is counting, to make him lose his place and start over and over.”

And another thing; How do we know this is even accurate? Is someone going to do a follow up to check the numbers? I know I’m not going to do it. I have books to read, movies and TV to watch and music to listen to. Although I guess you could listen to music while counting. Just not anything like 99 Luftbalons or anything from the Schoolhouse Rock math series.

Now that we have spent the last five hundred or so words discussing useless information, I feel like I have just contributed to the problem. But thanks for letting me bend your ear. (All right, I’m done with the puns now.)


Random fact: The average foot has 4.89 toes on it. Don’t believe me? Just start counting.