My Journal #220 - Holley part Deaux!

Before I get on my soap box about the idiot youths in America today . . . .

Happy Friday!

Martel – SOOOOO super happy about your new job. You honestly have the spirit, background, personality and looks to make that a perfect fit for you. Plus your office is on my way to the house . . . . DRINKS!

Banana Rama – Gee, I hope those frickin’ idiots at work treat you better. If not, call me and I’ll go kick some ass . . . . just clear it with Martel first. She has this deal about me fighting. (Luv ya Martel!)

HMPOA – Thanks for letting me share our story, and I didn’t mention Kemah . . . . Oops! Ok, now I did. But I didn't mention the dock . . . . oops! DAMMIT!

Moonlight – All I can say is ummmmm, I miss you. But you had better start saying YES!!!!

Ok, I recently mentioned an idiotic kid named Holley. He was arrested burglarizing a house and then claimed police brutality. The neighborhood came to his side and now 3 cops are still on trial. He was described as an honest and decent kid that just went astray.

Yeah, right?!?!?

Well, Holley was arrested Wednesday for . . . . guess what . . . . BURGLARY. Oh, and he had a gun on him. Well so much for the honest and decent kid routine. Hey, where are all those folks that stood beside him now???

Oh, did I mention that he was arrested one block from my house? Yup, stupid shit came to my neighborhood. I am told through the grapevine that the homeowner drove up during the burglary. He then positioned himself in front of the front door with his .45 drawn hoping that Holley came out before the cops showed up.

Damn the bad luck! The cops arrived too soon.

I’ve been doing some research, thinking, and soul searching lately. Ya know, sometimes life isn’t going the way you want it to. So I go to my cave and work shit out. And that’s where I’ve been.

My weekend? I’ve got another security gig Friday night. It sucks to work a Friday night but the pay is good . . . as long as I don’t get shot. I’m kidding; I’m too quick to be shot. Hell, people have missed me my whole life. I’ve got to do a damn inventory Saturday (FUCK!) Anyone want to join me in a minus 10 degree freezer for 5 hours on a Saturday? Didn’t think so. And of course Sunday is Father’s day, and yes I do have kids. So I have to sort of hang around and be the surprised dad.

But what I want is a good . . . . well . . . . oh crap, you know what I want.

Thanks to all of you who cared enough to check on me this week. Seriously, it meant a lot. I do love you!

Have a great weekend and thing about me once!

My Journal #219 - Foods that never should have been invented!

Sushi – NO ONE likes sushi. It’s just a darn status symbol. People eat it just so they can exclaim, “Yes, I eat sushi”. Seriously, it’s just for that reason or why would it be that no one ever exclaimed, “Yes, I eat hot dogs”?

Oysters – It’s a squishy, nasty mess. People say you should eat if to increase your libido. That doesn’t fly with me. I already have PWD (Perpetual Woody Disease). Geez, my in-laws even make Oyster Dressing at Thanksgiving!

Tortilla Chips – Relax, I love them. But Moonlight used to keep them at the office and I became addicted. Now I eat them all day long and I have to work out 6 days a week to keep from being as big as a barn.

Turkey – You disagree? When was the last time you ate Turkey and weren’t completely and miserably stuffed afterwards?

Anything Chocolate – Gack! I HATE chocolate.

Rice – Another one I genuinely like, but damn it’s a lot of work for such a little bit of food. And you’re hungry all over again 10 minutes later.

Tuna Salad – Ok, I can tolerate tuna. And I enjoy a good salad. But that is one smelly ass combination that makes me ill the moment I smell it. (I’m talking about tuna . . . get your mind out of the gutter . . . . . I love that other smell!)

[FYI, tuna tacos are my favorite. I can enjoy one all night!]

Squash – The name says it all, right?

Sugar Free Sugar Cookies – Huh? Is that possible? Is that like a beef free steak? Or would that just be a vanilla cookie?

Peanut Butter – My mom used to make me and my brother eat two or three peanut butter sandwiches BEFORE dinner, just so we wouldn’t make a pig out of ourselves during dinner. Ever sat down looking at a steaming pot roast and tired to eat three peanut butter sandwiches . . . . . . quickly?

Corn Flakes – It’s like eating a box of cardboard all cut up. But it make a great breading for my Chicken Fried Steaks.

Microwaveable Hot Pockets – I still have a permanent scar on the roof of my mouth.

Any other thoughts out there?

My Journal #218 - HMPOA

Today at the office, I overheard a conversation.

Guy #1 – Hey, remember that Mexican woman that used to do the purchasing?
Guy #2 – Yeah, wasn’t she also fucking every guy in the office back then too?

I usually just ignore crap like that. But this was one conversation that drastically changed two people’s lives. And it was about someone that stuck up for me, and very few people had ever done that before. So I walked up and set the record straight . . . . firmly.

Let me tell you about my friend HMPOA. The nickname was picked by her, and I only share it with you so you can understand her personality. HMPOA stands for Hot Mexican Piece Of Ass. She picked that name with a laugh, because it was her reputation and honestly it was who she was.

I met her about 6 years ago at the office. Back then she had to work until 6 every night. I was the only guy with a key to the building so I had to wait for her shift to end before I could leave. Many nights we were both busy up to quitting time. But some nights we both had little to do, so we began talking to each other.

We would talk mostly about the office. But over time she opened up and we discussed her life, her past, and her dreams. We became friends, but only at the office. After about a year she came to me and told me she was attracted to me, but I was married so nothing came of it. We were able to maintain a platonic friendship. But rumors began to rise up anyway, and within a month the whole office was talking about our affair. We just ignored it.

She had two kids and a grandbaby, and she needed more money. So she was an escort / hooker in the evenings, an admitted sex addict, and a drug addict. We argued about her life choices, but she was desperate and said she would do what she needed to do. So she continued her life style even with my lack of approval. I liked her a lot, so when I left my wife we talked about dating. But I can’t cope with dating a woman that moonlights like she did. I asked her to change, and she couldn’t. I tried to accept it, but I just couldn’t. After about 10 days of trying to date, we both gave up. She understood.

When I was living in my car I told no one. But she cared enough to find out. So she let me use her washing machine to do my laundry, let me shower at her place on occasion, and on freezing nights she let me sleep on her couch. She brought me food to work because she knew I wasn’t eating, and she would write me stories to read while I was resting in my car at nights. She was a good friend.

She was fired from her job because of this attention. She was the only person that helped me. For this I owe her, and I will always be there for her.

Today she is employed again; supporting her daughter in law and three grandbabies, drug free, alcohol free, and no longer “moonlighting”. She told me she gave up her lifestyle because of my constant pressure, which made her see herself for what she was. And she told me she would always be here for me.

I know all about her life, what she went through and what her dreams are. She is a good person. Ok, she does lie about half the time. But never about anything pertaining to me and she always comes clean at some point on her own. So I don’t allow anyone to put her down.

We don’t talk as much anymore. We have something that we disagree about, one story she claims is true that I have doubted. She claims she is trying to protect me from a big mistake, and she swears to me her story is true. It keeps us from being close. But she gave me back my old line to her which is “Time will tell the truth”.

 

Now she waits patiently.

But she is definitely my friend.

My Journal #217 - Women & Whoopie

For the life of me, I cannot tell why women are “making whoopee” all day every day. I mean I consider myself a typical guy (well maybe a bit more forward than most) and if I had a willing partner I would be “schlumping” all day every day. But as a guy, we have to work for it. It takes considerable time, money and effort. And there is no guarantee of success.

Maybe it’s a “reputation” issue which I don’t understand as a guy. But if I were a female I’d be naked and busy a lot. I’ve already shared with you that I am looking for my perfect partner; and I already know what she will look like, how she will act, what her personality will be like, everything. I just haven’t put a name on her yet. But one thing I may not have mentioned is that she needs to be a lady in public and a slut in private. She had better be ready to be romanced and ravaged several times a day.
But most women aren’t like that, and that is what just blows me away (figuratively of course).
Women don’t have to worry about the time involved in getting someone with which to “make whoopee”. All they have to do is raise their darn hand and announce their intentions. I promise every able bodied man within earshot will volunteer. A friend of mine suggested that perhaps some women aren’t attractive enough to get laid. I call BS to that. Boobs are boobs, and soft skin is soft skin. Any women can be found attractive. And for a guy (or group of guys) that have to bust their ass to get some, ANY willing women is attractive instantly.
Women don’t have to worry about dropping a bundle of cash to get “whoopied” either. IT COSTS THEM NOTHING. They don’t have to buy dinner, drinks, tickets, or anything. They just show up. So when it is suggested that women can’t afford to be pleasured constantly they can’t be referring to money.
And women don’t have to put out any effort to find a “whoopee” partner. Furthermore, guys are usually so desperate to get some that the female could literally just kick back and let the guy do all the work. She could tell him exactly what she wants and the male would GLADLY be subservient. Now take a moment to think about what a woman would say if the guy did the same and wanted the woman to do all the work, or laid out a plan for his satisfaction.
NO FREAKIN’ WAY!
So I need a female to explain to me exactly why they are doing the “horizontal bop” all the time. I really just don’t get it.

My Journal #216 - This Way or That

I heard on the news that a man from Shiner, TX beat a man to death with his bare hands when he found him attempting to rape his 4 year old daughter. I do believe my own words, so I do not judge until I know the REAL facts. But thus far I’ve heard that there is no evidence to prove the man’s story is false.

What I heard was that he was at a family BBQ and was looking for his daughter, who he hadn’t seen for about three minutes. He heard a scream come from a barn, ran to the barn, and barged in on a partially naked “ranch-hand” on top of his daughter. He pushed the man away, grabbed his daughter to move her behind him, then he swung a big roundhouse swing striking the man in the temple. The man fell dead.
Assuming the information is true, then hooray for him!
I have dealt with death, and in war I have killed men. I struggle with these memories. But in this case, assuming again that it is true, I have no feelings of remorse for the SOB that died. I just wished the man had used a little less force so he could have tortured the man for a while before killing him. Or worse, let him live and go to prison for raping a 4 year old girl.
[Yes, I’ve been to jail too and I know how those guys just LOVE rapists!]
This story sort of affected me another way too. It made me think I did the wrong thing this weekend. I know, I already said I wouldn’t tell you about my weekend. But since this story sort of spoke to me I’ll share it with limited details.
About a year ago some idiot threatened me. I don’t deal well with threats. So my only reaction was to go to the guy and see how courageous he is in person, face to face with me. But I had a friend that was “connected” to the idiot, and she told me not to mess up anything she had going on. And apparently sending the idiot to the hospital would qualify as a mess for her. So I acquiesced and did nothing.
Since then the idiot had done some more idiotic stuff, and I think that my friend isn’t as connected as she was before. And since I was experiencing EXTREME frustration in my world today and needed to vent a bit; I drove to his town to find him. When he had done the additional idiotic stuff, I asked an old acquaintance to keep an eye on him to protect a friend. So I already knew where he lived, where he worked, and where he hung out.
And I found him!
So I’m watching this future victim, noting his moves and planning mine. Then I thought about my great friend Martel, and how I had promised her I wouldn’t fight anymore. Suddenly I had a dilemma. I was right here; ready to blow up all over this guy’s world, claiming revenge for my friend and teaching a life lesson about threatening people. But I had promised Martel I wouldn’t fight anyone again.
The guy wasn’t going anywhere soon, so I left for a temporary mental analysis. This was when things changed for me. I was sitting in a bar alone, nursing a cold beer when I was approached by a young female. We struck up a conversation and suddenly I had a new game to play. I had no intention of picking up a girl; I am saving my cash for my trip. But since I had been made to feel inferior by a specific woman, I decided to see if I could still pick up a young hot blonde.
So I focused all my energy into this babe. I used my intelligence, my charm, and apparently my “dashing good looks” because an hour later I was told I am the nicest and sexiest man she ever met. When she suggested that we go back to her place I knew I still had it. GAME OVER!
NO, I didn’t go with her!
But by the time all this transpired I had completely lost the urge to “whup” the idiot’s ass. So I returned to my home town feeling proud that I had kept my promise to Martel, having proven to myself that I still got “it” and that the person that is causing my frustration is the one “missing out”, and of course having cherry lipstick on me.
[Hey, I said I didn’t go home with her. I never said I wasn’t amorous a bit!]
Anyway, after hearing the news story I am now thinking I should have visited the idiot after all. I mean what he did to me was “galactically” stupid, but what he did recently was violent and abusive (assuming the story I heard is true). So maybe if I had gone to him after he threatened me, then he wouldn’t have had the balls to do what he did next. And if I had faced him this weekend then perhaps I would be saving some future victim of his idiocy from a beating.
Oh well, I trust Martel and I can still tell her I kept my promise to her.

My Journal #215 - Am I Wasting my Time?

Another one of my quirks is that I ask myself that question all the time.

But first, I actually wrote down my weekend adventures . . . and then deleted it. I wanted to see a special person, but she wasn’t interested. Then I wanted to vent on a specific person, but I had promised Martel not to do that again. So the story is actually boring.

So back to that question.

Every time I do anything I ask myself that question. Usually it’s with mundane things. For example, if I need something from the store and it’s 6 in the evening I decide if it would be better to go in the morning when there is less traffic and fewer people. Then I would spend less time getting what I need, and waste less time. But I also have to determine if what I need is something I had to have that night. Anyway, you see how it goes.

But if it’s not a mundane task then the thought process extrapolates. That is where I am today. Pertaining to one specific task, I question the amount of time I have invested. I also ask how much more time if any I should invest. I ask what else I could do or what I could have done differently and would that have been less waste of time. I even wonder if the time I’ve invested has put me very close to the result, meaning it wasn’t a waste of time.

[Aren’t you glad that you are not me?]

Well believe it or not, the mis-managed weekend I had helped me solve this riddle. I was thinking about that question when I began wondering if I was even wasting my time wondering if I was wasting my time. It sort of came to me in that moment that if you have to wonder then it’s probably true.

My best friend Banana Rama once told me that you will know if something is right. If you don’t know it then it probably isn’t. This logic applies to this particular question as well. So based on that logic, and having no clue about the thing I’ve been wasting my time on, then I have in fact been wasting my time.

THAT was a very sad revelation. And when I thought about my weekend, everything I had wanted to do and everything that didn’t happen for one reason or another I was sadder. But sadness passes, and I have the ability to bounce back quickly.

So by tomorrow you will get a more thorough insight into my mind.

Goodnight all!

My Journal #214 - Wanna be my Girlfriend?

I’ve gone out many times, and for many different reasons. I’ve gone out to get wild and rowdy. I’ve gone out to have a great meal. I’ve gone out to celebrate. I’ve gone out to get drunk and forget shit. I’ve gone out to have fun. I’ve gone out to get to know someone new. I’ve gone out to impress someone enough to consider having a romantic relationship with me. And I’ve gone out just to get laid. But for the first time I can recall, I want to go out tonight to be with a “Girlfriend”.

I want to show up at her home, and see her smile when I walk in.

I want to tell her I missed her, and for her to tell me the same, and mean it with all her heart.

I want her to kiss me like I’m the most important person in her world.

I want her to be late getting ready, as usual, and for it to be what I expected.

I want her to come out of her room and ask me how she looks, and for her to really care.

I want to tell her how beautiful she is, how amazing her long tanned legs are, how sexy wild blonde hair is . . . and for her to know I mean it.

I want her to take my hand as we walk to the car.

I want her to sit sideways in her seat the whole way, looking and talking to me while smiling that incredible smile she has at me.

I want her to know when we arrive at our destination that she can wait in her seat and I will open the door for her.

I want to go to a place we’ve been before, with great memories.

I want to walk in with her at my side, and have every guy look at her and wonder how a guy like me landed a babe like her.

I want to go to our table, or our booth, or our couch, or our place in the bar.

I want the waitress to see us and wave, and then show up with the drinks we always order.

I want to look at her and know that she already knows everything about me, that she likes me as I really am, and that I can be myself.

I want to talk about her, me, us, our day, our week, our past, and our future. I want to talk about politics, sports, current events, history or even physics with her, and we’re both enthusiastic about the topic.

I want to kiss her for no reason and hear her gasp.

I want her to lean over to me when she talks, to touch my arm or my hand when she’s talking, and for her to secretly rub her foot against my leg under the table.

I want everyone in the place, male or female, to wish they were us.

I want to rub her thigh softly, massage her foot, caress her arm, and gently brush that one strand of hair out of her amazing blue eyes.

I want to reach a point where we both can’t wait to leave because we want to be alone.

I want to “make out” at the car like teenagers before we leave, because we just can’t wait, and maybe “cop a feel”

I want to drive back to her place touching and kissing like we desperately want each other.

I want to walk her straight back to her bed, slowly undress her while admiring the beauty of her body.

I want to give her all the pleasure she can handle, exactly the way she likes it, over and over again until she pulls me on top of her.

I want to make love, not just have sex, over and over again all night.

I want to watch her sleep afterwards, gazing at her heavenly body moving so slightly with every breath she takes.

BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY

I want to be there the next morning when her eyes open, see her smile at me, and tell her good morning.

Yup, it may sound silly, but tonight I want a girlfriend. Anyone on board with me?