I have totally screwed up my kids. I'm the first to admit this. When we had our first, we got lots of free advice on how to raise them from family and "friends". As with all free advice, it was worth every penny. Eventually, over time, I realized that my kids were mine, and not anyone else's.
So wne other new parents would ask me for advice I would always tell them, "the best advice I can give you about raising your children, is to not listen to anyone's advice.
It's not that kids don't come with a manual, it's that there are too damn many manuals that have nothing to do with your particular model. You are on your own, because you have created something unique. At least that is how I justify my shitty parenting skills. I do everything wrong.
I am sure I tried to do everything right at one point, but either I really didn't have that skill, or I just decided at one point that everyone else was full of shit. Either or..it has the same effect.
I do lots of the opposite of what you might think is the right thing. For instance, when I drive around with my teenaged son. I crank the stereo with my CD that my kid calls "Death metal". I am a child of the 80's heavy metal, Metalica style psycho rock and roll. Then I drive like a maniac. Hard fast turns, and jumping off the start. His friends think it's awesome, but he is terrified. as a result, he drives like a grandmother.
Another example, is when I took him into a head shop. I picked out a few bongs and water pipes, then explained how they work, and how you can put crushed ice and creme de' minth in them to give your pot a menthol taste. I showed him some one hitters, and pointed out that "Zig-Zag" was the preferred wrapping paper. After that I explained how pot smelled and what it felt like, and how you appear when you are stoned. This was so that he would know that he could never get away with getting high around me. He did tell me later that the message he really got from that day was when I told him that drugs don't actually kill, like they say on the anti-drug commercials, I said, "look at Ozzy Osborne or Keith Richards, the truth is that you may actually live, and be a total veg."
I let him drink with me, on very rare occasions. But only Guinness extra Stout. I say, if you want to drink a beer, drink a fucking beer. He has since told me that I ruined him for Bud. He can't even stand the smell when his friends try to offer it to them. Also, I have had sushi and saki with him, and a few shots of Jameson.
These were rewards for losing weight. He had become a very big boy. He asked me to help him lose weight, so I put him on a low carb diet, and with every milestone of weight loss, he got to have a celebratory drink with his dad.
We homeschool. And by "we" I mean my wife has been home schooling. But now that he is High School age, I have had to get involved. It's quite a bonding experience. We are two guys, getting it done. he stays out of trouble and is a good kid.
My daughter? Well, I dote on her like she is a princess. My wife says that she is such a total pain in the ass now, that no man would ever want to even try to pull any load of crap on her, let alone ask her out on a date.
She is 11.
My work there is done.
I could go on and on with story after story of how I am screwing up my kids. But frankly, they are not over scheduled, they have good friends, they don't get into trouble, nobody is pregnant so far, and we are almost done... In a few years they will be out of my friggin' house! Woo, hoo!
Will they be a success? I don't know. Will they be over acheivers? I don't know. Will they have a good head on their shoulders with a good sense of right and wrong, and a bit of a sense of humor about the world and their place in it? That's what I'm shootin' for.
That's all any of us are shootin' for really..... plausible deniability, if their life goes to shit.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Take it or leave it.
I am a guy who knows some stuff. mainly, tools, chemistry, construction and plumbing...handy man stuff mostly. And when people ask for my advice, I give it to them based on my limited knowledge. The odd thing is, that I noticed that people ask for this sage advice, but almost never actually fallow it.
Like when my friend came to my house to drop my daughter off from a ball game. I was sitting on my porch in my rocking chair sipping a gin and tonic as I usually do. She asked how I could do this in the Arkansas summer without being eaten alive by mosquitos. I told her my method, the chemicals I used and the frequency that I treated my yard. She said "oh, I should try that". Another friend came over to my house and his kid loved the porch swing bed I had built for my daughter. It hung from the ceiling by chains like a porch swing but it was a bed. He asked me how I built it. I told him about the truss I made in the attic and all the hardware I used to create the illusion that it was actually attached to the house. Another friend came over once and we talked about talking. See, I read the bible verses at church. Many of my fellow church goers really like the way I read the bible. So much so that one of the other readers came over to ask me what my secrets were. I told her. There is a website that has the readings on it with an audio of someone else reading it so you don't get the pronunciations wrong. Then, you read it like you are preaching it, raising your voice and speeding up your diction until you get to that main point, then pause dramatically, before you continue. It's basic public reading.
But in all of these cases, none of those people took my advice, even though they asked for it.
I am sure many of you have experienced the same thing. And frankly, I don't know what the alternative is.
What do you do? Blow them off?
This brings me to a side point that may bring me to several other side points. All of these solutions required work, also, they required you to really care. And that is the interesting thing here. Giving a shit.
I am not Autistic, I do not have an Autistic kid. I do not know a damn thing about having an Autistic child.
But I read the stories, I read the trials and tribulations. And I actually find myself relating to the kid rather than the parent. These kids really care. They totally give a shit, way more than everyone else. Often way too much.
But that is the thing.
I once had a job sculpting rocket engines for NASA.... kinda'. It was an insane attention to detail.
But I loved the job.
It took a certain kind of insanity to actually do that job, and I was up to the task. I hope I wasn't offensive with that.
The awesome thing that happened today was my beautiful daughter. The light of my life... my princess.
I had some plumbing to do. I was using her to hold the flashlight.. And as I was replacing the access valve because it had a leak, I explained exactly how plumbing worked and what tools she would need to do that job.
She soaked it up like a sponge. And even said that once she is in college and they have a plumbing problem, she will say "I got this!".\
That's a good feeling.
Like when my friend came to my house to drop my daughter off from a ball game. I was sitting on my porch in my rocking chair sipping a gin and tonic as I usually do. She asked how I could do this in the Arkansas summer without being eaten alive by mosquitos. I told her my method, the chemicals I used and the frequency that I treated my yard. She said "oh, I should try that". Another friend came over to my house and his kid loved the porch swing bed I had built for my daughter. It hung from the ceiling by chains like a porch swing but it was a bed. He asked me how I built it. I told him about the truss I made in the attic and all the hardware I used to create the illusion that it was actually attached to the house. Another friend came over once and we talked about talking. See, I read the bible verses at church. Many of my fellow church goers really like the way I read the bible. So much so that one of the other readers came over to ask me what my secrets were. I told her. There is a website that has the readings on it with an audio of someone else reading it so you don't get the pronunciations wrong. Then, you read it like you are preaching it, raising your voice and speeding up your diction until you get to that main point, then pause dramatically, before you continue. It's basic public reading.
But in all of these cases, none of those people took my advice, even though they asked for it.
I am sure many of you have experienced the same thing. And frankly, I don't know what the alternative is.
What do you do? Blow them off?
This brings me to a side point that may bring me to several other side points. All of these solutions required work, also, they required you to really care. And that is the interesting thing here. Giving a shit.
I am not Autistic, I do not have an Autistic kid. I do not know a damn thing about having an Autistic child.
But I read the stories, I read the trials and tribulations. And I actually find myself relating to the kid rather than the parent. These kids really care. They totally give a shit, way more than everyone else. Often way too much.
But that is the thing.
I once had a job sculpting rocket engines for NASA.... kinda'. It was an insane attention to detail.
But I loved the job.
It took a certain kind of insanity to actually do that job, and I was up to the task. I hope I wasn't offensive with that.
The awesome thing that happened today was my beautiful daughter. The light of my life... my princess.
I had some plumbing to do. I was using her to hold the flashlight.. And as I was replacing the access valve because it had a leak, I explained exactly how plumbing worked and what tools she would need to do that job.
She soaked it up like a sponge. And even said that once she is in college and they have a plumbing problem, she will say "I got this!".\
That's a good feeling.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
You Bitch!
This was true with me.
I had figured out that if you have a reasonable amount of charm, and are not too creepy, or full of yourself, you can be pretty successful at getting chicks. Especially if you act like you could care less.
But there is this one type of woman/girl that kept coming up. Apparently I am attracted to them and vice versa. You know them, they are the overly confident, controlling, sarcastic, red headed bitch. They run everything, make executive decisions like they were born to it, and have honed disdain to an art form to the point that they can cut you down with one look. They use phrases like "if you create a leadership void by your inaction, don't blame me when I fill it!" They are intimidating to men by being 10 times better, and smarter than anyone in the room.
My first of these was in High School. She picked me up with the line "who the hell are you?". I can't count the amount of times my friends asked me how I could date such a friggin' bitch. My answer was always "well, you just need to get to know her I guess".
We were hot and heavy for years, joined at the hip. Until she left to go into the military. The second was a spitfire from Boston.
The thing about these women is that they break up with you every other week. It's a thing they do. Once I took her word for it and went out with another girl. She found out, got drunk and almost broke down my door in the middle of the night yelling at me about that "whore" I took out that night.
Waking up my neighbors.
The third one, I finally married.
The thing is, that when I dated other types of women, they tended to put up with my shit. They would laugh at my stupid jokes, shrug off my back handed compliments, and ignore my obvious looser-ness. To me, this always seemed disingenuous. Maybe they thought I was cute, or something..I don't know, but it always ended badly.
The RHB (red headed bitches) women are extremely unimpressed with my charm. Are keenly aware of the amount of looser I am, but see me as worthy of their interest. For whatever reason.
That's o.k. because frankly, in a purely sexual and base, ego gratification way... it works for me. See, these women are beautiful inside, they take charge because they feel they have to. They are loyal and interesting to talk to, they are fun and adventurous, they have good hearts and when they love, they love all in.
And when I look at other men who are intimidated by them, and fear them, and are threatened by them. I like to think..."yeah, that intimidating woman? That woman you fear? I'm fucking her, you pencil dick"..
See, there are plenty of pony's in the corral, ready and domesticated to pick from. But I walked past those, grabbed a rope and went into the wild to get a horse that would give me the ride of my life.
Smart, independent, strong women are just hot. But it takes a special kind of cowboy to wrangle them.
That's just my opinion.
Also, it helps to have a Slavegirl.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Memorial Day Hero
On Memorial Day I always remember my Granpa' Joe.
He passed away a few years ago. He was 85. On his last day alive, he sat up in bed, looked at his wife, said "oh, Elizibeth" (that was his pet nane for my grandma' who's name was really Francis) then said "oh shit!" and fell over and died.
In his last years, his mind got a little feeble.
But, the good part of that is that, all the time I've known my grandfather, he never talked about WWII.... ever.
But in his last years, this is all he talked about. He even got out his old medals that had been socked away for so many years. One of his fellow soldiers had actually written a book about his experiences in the war and my grandfather was mentioned in it.
See, my grandfather, a life long Democrat, and devout Catholic, was a conscientious objector. But in WWII, that did not mean that he didn't serve. He insisted that he could not in good conscience raise arms against another human being. He refused to carry a weapon. So they made him a Medic.
If any of you have seen that movie "Saving Private Ryan", my grandpa' was that young medic in the field at the beginning of he movie trying to piece together fallen soldiers.
He had no medical experience and had to go by his wits. he told me about all the surgeries he had to do in the field, and even some dental work he had to just figure out from a book they gave him.
When I saw that movie, I cried. Thinking about my grandpa' dodging bullets and trying to save men in the field.
I started to realize why he didn't ever want to talk about it. War is a special kind of Hell.
Not every man is the hero that falls on a grenade, or kills lots of enemy soldiers, or shoots down enemy planes. Some men, were just running around scared out of their wits, trying to save the lives of the men they served with.
My grandpa' will always be my special war hero. Who never fired a shot, never took a hill, never shot down a plane and never dropped a bomb. But because of him, more men came home, more men lived, and more men survived the Hell of war.
God bless our men and women in service to our country.
He passed away a few years ago. He was 85. On his last day alive, he sat up in bed, looked at his wife, said "oh, Elizibeth" (that was his pet nane for my grandma' who's name was really Francis) then said "oh shit!" and fell over and died.
In his last years, his mind got a little feeble.
But, the good part of that is that, all the time I've known my grandfather, he never talked about WWII.... ever.
But in his last years, this is all he talked about. He even got out his old medals that had been socked away for so many years. One of his fellow soldiers had actually written a book about his experiences in the war and my grandfather was mentioned in it.
See, my grandfather, a life long Democrat, and devout Catholic, was a conscientious objector. But in WWII, that did not mean that he didn't serve. He insisted that he could not in good conscience raise arms against another human being. He refused to carry a weapon. So they made him a Medic.
If any of you have seen that movie "Saving Private Ryan", my grandpa' was that young medic in the field at the beginning of he movie trying to piece together fallen soldiers.
He had no medical experience and had to go by his wits. he told me about all the surgeries he had to do in the field, and even some dental work he had to just figure out from a book they gave him.
When I saw that movie, I cried. Thinking about my grandpa' dodging bullets and trying to save men in the field.
I started to realize why he didn't ever want to talk about it. War is a special kind of Hell.
Not every man is the hero that falls on a grenade, or kills lots of enemy soldiers, or shoots down enemy planes. Some men, were just running around scared out of their wits, trying to save the lives of the men they served with.
My grandpa' will always be my special war hero. Who never fired a shot, never took a hill, never shot down a plane and never dropped a bomb. But because of him, more men came home, more men lived, and more men survived the Hell of war.
God bless our men and women in service to our country.
Birth Story, from the other side.
Our first was a drunken accident. Well, kinda'. I wanted kids, and was rather lax about keeping us from getting pregnant. As a young couple, I figured that if we waited until we could actually afford a kid, we would be 40. However, I certainly didn't plan on having him as early as we did... but.. we were married, it's not like I was knocking up my girlfriend. When we found out it was a bot, she got teared up.. She so wanted a boy, but of course we always said we would love our child no mater what. We eventually had a girl 6 years later using a method she learned on ivillage.com on how to have a girl... seriously, it totally worked.
When my wife was pregnant with our first child, I had a pretty good job, and we were closing on our very first house, which we had built. It was our little dream house. Just before she had him, I was informed that I would be laid off. So, to recap, losing my job, closing on our house, new baby on the way... such is life.
She chose her doctor because he was the kind who really gave back to his community. He had a little clinic and helped poor women with their pregnancies. We had good insurance, so when she would show up for her check up, he would have her come straight to the front of the line. He told the other expectant mothers in the waiting room "This woman has real insurance that pays, and that helps me help you, and that's the way it is". None of the women ever said one word of complaint. And he was a very good doctor.
On the night it was "time", we got to the hospital with plenty of time. She got in a room, and we waited. She wouldn't dilate. So they tried to induce labor. Hours and hours went by, she was so ill and tired trying to have this baby. I was by her side the entire 42 hours of labor. At one point she vomited on me, now that's love.
It was our first, and I really didn't know enough to protest that length of labor. But when I asked that the doctor be called, one of the nurses said that we were in their "lucky" room and all of the women who stayed in that previously had been able to give birth naturally.
Ok, here is the thing. I am like the Hulk in certain respects. I don't turn green, or get really big, or actually any of the things the Hulk does except snap and go off on people. And once released, I am popping rhetorical caps in all y'all's asses! It's not a pretty sight. My wife calls me her frightening pit bull that no one really understands... LOL.
So, things were said, and the doctor was called. She had an emergency C section. He was meconium and because of the prolonged attempt to get him through the birth canal, his head was elongated, he was 4 shades of purple, and his finger had put a permanent skin fold scar just under his nose . He had to spend the next day in intensive care. I video taped most of it.
In the video, you can see them take him out from behind the tarp, and me going up to my wife looking half dead and bringing her, her new boy. I cried, sniffed, and held her hand, and told her I loved her. Then off to the incubators.
When I looked at him, after his head snapped back to normal size, I could see myself in his face. I've never seen that before. It's really quite amazing. And since then, I can never, and will never be able to relate to anyone who doesn't love their children unconditionally.
When my wife was pregnant with our first child, I had a pretty good job, and we were closing on our very first house, which we had built. It was our little dream house. Just before she had him, I was informed that I would be laid off. So, to recap, losing my job, closing on our house, new baby on the way... such is life.
She chose her doctor because he was the kind who really gave back to his community. He had a little clinic and helped poor women with their pregnancies. We had good insurance, so when she would show up for her check up, he would have her come straight to the front of the line. He told the other expectant mothers in the waiting room "This woman has real insurance that pays, and that helps me help you, and that's the way it is". None of the women ever said one word of complaint. And he was a very good doctor.
On the night it was "time", we got to the hospital with plenty of time. She got in a room, and we waited. She wouldn't dilate. So they tried to induce labor. Hours and hours went by, she was so ill and tired trying to have this baby. I was by her side the entire 42 hours of labor. At one point she vomited on me, now that's love.
It was our first, and I really didn't know enough to protest that length of labor. But when I asked that the doctor be called, one of the nurses said that we were in their "lucky" room and all of the women who stayed in that previously had been able to give birth naturally.
Ok, here is the thing. I am like the Hulk in certain respects. I don't turn green, or get really big, or actually any of the things the Hulk does except snap and go off on people. And once released, I am popping rhetorical caps in all y'all's asses! It's not a pretty sight. My wife calls me her frightening pit bull that no one really understands... LOL.
So, things were said, and the doctor was called. She had an emergency C section. He was meconium and because of the prolonged attempt to get him through the birth canal, his head was elongated, he was 4 shades of purple, and his finger had put a permanent skin fold scar just under his nose . He had to spend the next day in intensive care. I video taped most of it.
In the video, you can see them take him out from behind the tarp, and me going up to my wife looking half dead and bringing her, her new boy. I cried, sniffed, and held her hand, and told her I loved her. Then off to the incubators.
When I looked at him, after his head snapped back to normal size, I could see myself in his face. I've never seen that before. It's really quite amazing. And since then, I can never, and will never be able to relate to anyone who doesn't love their children unconditionally.
Hot Moms in the Summer.
I drive around for a living basically.
So I'm not in one place for long. My mornings are spent in the industrial district, and I deal mostly with guys with beer guts and hard hats clanking around in tool belts and work boots.
Then it's off to another part of the city. I go through a few residential areas on the way and I see people going about their day.
Summer is especially nice for this.
Look, I'm at that age where the women who are supposed to be hot call me "Mr.". But seriously, I can't see them as adults anymore. 20-somethings with no life experience have that doe eye of clueless-ness. It's o.k., I don't expect them to have the wisdom of the ages, and I don't think they are too worried about my opinion.
In my travels, I see moms, outside with their kids, gardening, washing the car, getting groceries out of their trunks, watching their kids at the playground. And in the summer, they wear shorts.
And that is awesome. Forgive me, but these women are totally hot. And I mean that is the most base kind of objectifying way of course.
These are the real women, and I know that is cleche' and way over used. But the fact is that these are the women I can actually see having actual sex with. Not that I would of course, I am no stalker. I certainly don't slow down and stare that's just creepy.
It's just that this is the kind of ocean I swim in and these are the fish I like.
I am sure there are men who really only like super models, or those "wooo girls" in the bar with the cowboy hats showing their tits while holding up a pitcher. Then there are those little petite things, or the power executives who secretly want to be tied up and spanked... ok I will have to admit, I kinda' like those women too... but I digress.
I still like the roundy women, with lots of curves and happy faces. They come with an inner beauty, and have nothing to prove.
I don't know, that's kind of cool I guess. And sure, there are plenty of hot moms that are not so curvy, and some petite little moms. But hey, I have a preference and I'm not really hurting anyone.
So, while you are outside washing your car and some dude drives by looking as if he has not even noticed you, it's entirely possible that he is thinking to himself...DAMN THAT IS ONE HOT MOM!!
Also, MILF is not a phrase I use. I feel like those people are late and discovered something I knew first.
Slavegirl is a mix of all those women, and also likes to double as a footrest, which is an odd, but handy skill she has.
So I'm not in one place for long. My mornings are spent in the industrial district, and I deal mostly with guys with beer guts and hard hats clanking around in tool belts and work boots.
Then it's off to another part of the city. I go through a few residential areas on the way and I see people going about their day.
Summer is especially nice for this.
Look, I'm at that age where the women who are supposed to be hot call me "Mr.". But seriously, I can't see them as adults anymore. 20-somethings with no life experience have that doe eye of clueless-ness. It's o.k., I don't expect them to have the wisdom of the ages, and I don't think they are too worried about my opinion.
In my travels, I see moms, outside with their kids, gardening, washing the car, getting groceries out of their trunks, watching their kids at the playground. And in the summer, they wear shorts.
And that is awesome. Forgive me, but these women are totally hot. And I mean that is the most base kind of objectifying way of course.
These are the real women, and I know that is cleche' and way over used. But the fact is that these are the women I can actually see having actual sex with. Not that I would of course, I am no stalker. I certainly don't slow down and stare that's just creepy.
It's just that this is the kind of ocean I swim in and these are the fish I like.
I am sure there are men who really only like super models, or those "wooo girls" in the bar with the cowboy hats showing their tits while holding up a pitcher. Then there are those little petite things, or the power executives who secretly want to be tied up and spanked... ok I will have to admit, I kinda' like those women too... but I digress.
I still like the roundy women, with lots of curves and happy faces. They come with an inner beauty, and have nothing to prove.
I don't know, that's kind of cool I guess. And sure, there are plenty of hot moms that are not so curvy, and some petite little moms. But hey, I have a preference and I'm not really hurting anyone.
So, while you are outside washing your car and some dude drives by looking as if he has not even noticed you, it's entirely possible that he is thinking to himself...DAMN THAT IS ONE HOT MOM!!
Also, MILF is not a phrase I use. I feel like those people are late and discovered something I knew first.
Slavegirl is a mix of all those women, and also likes to double as a footrest, which is an odd, but handy skill she has.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Don't try this at home.
So, I was flipping through the channels on the "boob tube", and I came across Anthony Bourdain. (don't care if that is spelled right) For those of you who don't know, he travels the world, eating great food, drinking awesome wine and liquor, smoking unapologetically, swearing poetically, and having lots of rough gay sex. O.k, that last part is never depicted on his show..it's just something I know about Tony, also, he is a bit of a nudist... But I digress.
He was hanging out with the "Black Keys". About two weeks before they became famous. What was interesting was how they insisted that their method of rising to the top was not something they would suggest.
Spending several years living in poverty and selling CD's out of a mini-van is not the way to go as far as they are concerned. They suggested winning "American Idol" and getting a free ride to the top.
This reminded me of my brother in law. This man is the only one of my wife's family I can tolerate. He doesn't fit in at all. He is the quintessential "mountain man", he bought a large swath of land, had a pile of kids and a horse of a wife. (ok, look, his wife's name is Gerri, she is a very good, hearty woman who also, sings like a fucking opera star, but is also like 6'2"... so "horse" is a term of endearment). He is dyslexic. So he never went to college. But he got a job with an engineering firm, then proved himself smart enough to actually get an engineering position. He dug a hole in the middle of his property and lined it with cinder block, then made a place for his family to live. It was a basement for the house he would build them on top while they lived in this ... hole. He made everything by hand... The house was so precise, and perfect, that it was actually air tight.
So, maybe some of you are wondering. What the problem is with a perfectly precise house? Well, here is the problem. When you run the clothes dryer, you suck air out of the house. That creates a vacuum. Which, then sucks sewer gas out of the toilet.
And there you go. I bet you didn't know that. But now, they have to open a window, even in the dead of winter, so they can dry clothes. I was sitting on the porch with my favorite relative brother in law. It was his porch that he had built with his bare hands. Sitting in the rocking chair that he had built with his his bare hands. And drinking his home made wine...... ok, look. Home made wine from a Kentucky mountain man who has a horse barn is the absolutely WORST wine that you will ever drink.. I mean.....OMFG!!! Really, if you go to like, Wallgreens and pick out a $5 wine thinking..shit, it won't take me an hour to down this rot gut... it's 100 times better than mountain man wine.
But I digress. The fact is that he admitted that if he had it to all over again... he would have just bought a double wide and bricked it in. (those of you city dwellers might not know the phrase "double wide"..it's a trailer that is double)
And there you go.
I had my own business. I was a driver contractor for FedEx. It was hugely stressful. It just about drove me nuts. I would never suggest that to any one.
And that is the point.
No one who does anything hard suggests that you do that. it's way too hard.And there are so many easier ways to go through life. But actually, there is a reason people do things the hard way.
It's the Journey that makes your life so much more richer. It's the experience that gives you that look... that been there, done that... look. That feeling, that confidence that comes with trial by fire that really makes a life. Dive in. Learn to fly on your way down. Jump at the chance. You have 80 years to get it all in... that is not enough.
Tonight, slavegirl gets the leash... she is on top, she controls the night. She is the master of her own destination.
Don't try this at home....unless you really want to.
He was hanging out with the "Black Keys". About two weeks before they became famous. What was interesting was how they insisted that their method of rising to the top was not something they would suggest.
Spending several years living in poverty and selling CD's out of a mini-van is not the way to go as far as they are concerned. They suggested winning "American Idol" and getting a free ride to the top.
This reminded me of my brother in law. This man is the only one of my wife's family I can tolerate. He doesn't fit in at all. He is the quintessential "mountain man", he bought a large swath of land, had a pile of kids and a horse of a wife. (ok, look, his wife's name is Gerri, she is a very good, hearty woman who also, sings like a fucking opera star, but is also like 6'2"... so "horse" is a term of endearment). He is dyslexic. So he never went to college. But he got a job with an engineering firm, then proved himself smart enough to actually get an engineering position. He dug a hole in the middle of his property and lined it with cinder block, then made a place for his family to live. It was a basement for the house he would build them on top while they lived in this ... hole. He made everything by hand... The house was so precise, and perfect, that it was actually air tight.
So, maybe some of you are wondering. What the problem is with a perfectly precise house? Well, here is the problem. When you run the clothes dryer, you suck air out of the house. That creates a vacuum. Which, then sucks sewer gas out of the toilet.
And there you go. I bet you didn't know that. But now, they have to open a window, even in the dead of winter, so they can dry clothes. I was sitting on the porch with my favorite relative brother in law. It was his porch that he had built with his bare hands. Sitting in the rocking chair that he had built with his his bare hands. And drinking his home made wine...... ok, look. Home made wine from a Kentucky mountain man who has a horse barn is the absolutely WORST wine that you will ever drink.. I mean.....OMFG!!! Really, if you go to like, Wallgreens and pick out a $5 wine thinking..shit, it won't take me an hour to down this rot gut... it's 100 times better than mountain man wine.
But I digress. The fact is that he admitted that if he had it to all over again... he would have just bought a double wide and bricked it in. (those of you city dwellers might not know the phrase "double wide"..it's a trailer that is double)
And there you go.
I had my own business. I was a driver contractor for FedEx. It was hugely stressful. It just about drove me nuts. I would never suggest that to any one.
And that is the point.
No one who does anything hard suggests that you do that. it's way too hard.And there are so many easier ways to go through life. But actually, there is a reason people do things the hard way.
It's the Journey that makes your life so much more richer. It's the experience that gives you that look... that been there, done that... look. That feeling, that confidence that comes with trial by fire that really makes a life. Dive in. Learn to fly on your way down. Jump at the chance. You have 80 years to get it all in... that is not enough.
Tonight, slavegirl gets the leash... she is on top, she controls the night. She is the master of her own destination.
Don't try this at home....unless you really want to.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
The Power of Jillsmo Compells me.
I was not going to ever deal with political issues on this blog, for obvious reasons. I have no real expertise, I am barely paying attention, and I have a slavegirl on a leash slurping beer from a dog bowl... I have no high horse to sit upon to judge others...from.
But just as Joe Biden forced the hand of the head POTUS in charge. Jillsmo, my mentor, just spoke about an issue on her blog that I thought I would add to.
O.K. it's not really forcing my hand. But she had an interesting story. The reason she got married was to make it more convenient to buy property. And that's why she is in favor of gay marriage.
See the connection there? She would have rather just lived with her main squeeze IN SIN than marry him. But, paperwork in buying property together is easier when you are married. that's it.
What many gay people march in the streets to get, she easily got but didn't even want.
I get that. I don't have one of those cool stories though. Well, not one about me. Or what was my big epiphany. Frankly, I actually thought it had always been legal. Shows you how much I know.
But when I think of gays who want to marry, I don't ever think about those over the top queens in drag.
I always think about David and Philip.
David was an interior designer at a furniture store I worked at. I was in purchasing and receiving. He did side jobs, and asked me to work for him as his assistant on those. The reason was, that I came to work in jeans and a dress shirt, but had the odd ability to empty an entire truck load of furniture while remaining clean... everyone else got filthy. This was the kind of skill that impressed gay interior designers. Also, he thought I was the only one who could tell he was gay. (ok, I love that about gay people...LMAO)
He lived with Philip. I met Philip once when they paid me $100.00 to fish a dead opossum out of their air conditioning duct. Apparently handling dead animals is just too icky for gays. Phillip was a good guy, and clearly the more masculine side of the couple. Sitting there on their deck sipping wine, they talked like an old married couple. I can't imagine one without the other. This was in the 80's. All their friends were dying of AIDS. And when we talked about that, they did this thing. They looked at each other, and held hands as if they were holding on for dear life. And I guess they were. Monogamy was saving them, as far as we knew at that time. But still, it really struck me how matter of fact their love was for each other. It wasn't corny, or silly, or sexual or creepy.... which describes most of the relationships I was having. It seemed legitimately obvious, and obviously legitimate.
So truth be told, I'm not really "for gay marriage". I just think those guys should be allowed to get married. But if that means that all gays should be allowed to get married then so be it... But really, if it was just called the "Only David and Philip can get married law", I would be cool with that.
Also, I am envious of all the lesbians at Dinah Pride. I want to be invited as a token straight...I'll bring slavegirl.
But just as Joe Biden forced the hand of the head POTUS in charge. Jillsmo, my mentor, just spoke about an issue on her blog that I thought I would add to.
O.K. it's not really forcing my hand. But she had an interesting story. The reason she got married was to make it more convenient to buy property. And that's why she is in favor of gay marriage.
See the connection there? She would have rather just lived with her main squeeze IN SIN than marry him. But, paperwork in buying property together is easier when you are married. that's it.
What many gay people march in the streets to get, she easily got but didn't even want.
I get that. I don't have one of those cool stories though. Well, not one about me. Or what was my big epiphany. Frankly, I actually thought it had always been legal. Shows you how much I know.
But when I think of gays who want to marry, I don't ever think about those over the top queens in drag.
I always think about David and Philip.
David was an interior designer at a furniture store I worked at. I was in purchasing and receiving. He did side jobs, and asked me to work for him as his assistant on those. The reason was, that I came to work in jeans and a dress shirt, but had the odd ability to empty an entire truck load of furniture while remaining clean... everyone else got filthy. This was the kind of skill that impressed gay interior designers. Also, he thought I was the only one who could tell he was gay. (ok, I love that about gay people...LMAO)
He lived with Philip. I met Philip once when they paid me $100.00 to fish a dead opossum out of their air conditioning duct. Apparently handling dead animals is just too icky for gays. Phillip was a good guy, and clearly the more masculine side of the couple. Sitting there on their deck sipping wine, they talked like an old married couple. I can't imagine one without the other. This was in the 80's. All their friends were dying of AIDS. And when we talked about that, they did this thing. They looked at each other, and held hands as if they were holding on for dear life. And I guess they were. Monogamy was saving them, as far as we knew at that time. But still, it really struck me how matter of fact their love was for each other. It wasn't corny, or silly, or sexual or creepy.... which describes most of the relationships I was having. It seemed legitimately obvious, and obviously legitimate.
So truth be told, I'm not really "for gay marriage". I just think those guys should be allowed to get married. But if that means that all gays should be allowed to get married then so be it... But really, if it was just called the "Only David and Philip can get married law", I would be cool with that.
Also, I am envious of all the lesbians at Dinah Pride. I want to be invited as a token straight...I'll bring slavegirl.
50 shades of probably not.
You know, when this book first came out I thought of a few things. One was, that slavegirl kinda' grows on you, I mean, sure she is underfoot a lot of the time, but she helps clean up and will stay in the spare room when company comes over. Another is that it seems to me that women who normally read the run of the mill raunchy romance novels in where the main female character get's gang raped by page 3.....and likes it, will probably see this book as rather ..soft. Kinda' like the difference between hard core, multi-species orgies and the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.
Also, I figured that men all over the world were seeing the excitement over this book and getting a little paranoid.
See, the thing is, that if your wife, girlfriend, stranger you found on Craigslist, is reading this book, there might be a problem. If she is fantasizing about getting tied up, and spanked until she begs for a good harsh pounding, whatever you are currently doing is rather boring comparatively.
So you really need to know. And based on the popularity of this book, it's a good chance that she is counting ceiling tiles while you are doing your best moves.
I imagine that all across the country, many men are trying to bring this book up in casual conversation. It's a fishing expedition. This can be some pretty scary stuff. I mean it's a new generation of under 50 and over [none of your damn business] bunch of women out there. The last popular "racy" book was what? "The Joy of Sex"? Those were drawings. And frankly, when it came out, I was a kid... I mean, I was of "boner age" but still a kid. I couldn't believe this was a book. But as I flipped through the pages (yes my mom bought it and it was on her book shelf plain as day) I couldn't imagine ever being able to get a girl to do any of that shit.
Now the new acceptable racy book has a little spanking in it. As far as I know, I mean I didn't read it because I'm a guy and ..... well, I'm a guy.
This is either awesome or disappointing. Depending on your perspective. If you are a guy who would really get off tying your wife of 20 years to a bed post and pulling her hair while you give her the rough ride of her life..well, good for you..nut ball.
But if you are a normal man, you are thinking.."shit, I might hurt my hand, and who has to put away the stripper pole when we are done?"... "What if I laugh when she says "give it to me master!"... I mean it's a good chance that not more than an hour before she was bitching about putting your laundry in the hamper.
Still, you make an attempt to find out. It's important to know where you stand. So you bring it up. Now, if your woman has read this book, and she is able to go through every detail, but then ends up saying something like "It's really not about the sex, it's really about his ability to face his past and deal with that emotionally and take responsibility for his mistakes"... you are not going to be spanking her ass tonight....or ever for that matter.
And that's not really a bad thing. Frankly, even if she has this fantasy, in it, she is built like a porn star, and the man she is doing it with, has washboard abs and a dangerous reputation.... in other words...not you.
You get normal sex, sometimes, when it's convenient, and the kids are asleep, and the door is locked, and she doesn't have to get up early the next day.
You are the comfort zone guy. No hand cuffs, no ceiling hooks, no latex, no dog leashes, no hair pulling, and no spanking.
Life is just normal. Sex is just normal. Bills paid, kids off to school, house cleaned, lawn mowed, dinner cooked, wife fucked.
Don't ask for more.
In this blog I am trying to cover everything I said it was. Life, love, kids, drinking, and kinky sex no one really get's to have. I hope I covered that last one.
Slavegirl wants a name. I'm considering "Kitten".
Also, I figured that men all over the world were seeing the excitement over this book and getting a little paranoid.
See, the thing is, that if your wife, girlfriend, stranger you found on Craigslist, is reading this book, there might be a problem. If she is fantasizing about getting tied up, and spanked until she begs for a good harsh pounding, whatever you are currently doing is rather boring comparatively.
So you really need to know. And based on the popularity of this book, it's a good chance that she is counting ceiling tiles while you are doing your best moves.
I imagine that all across the country, many men are trying to bring this book up in casual conversation. It's a fishing expedition. This can be some pretty scary stuff. I mean it's a new generation of under 50 and over [none of your damn business] bunch of women out there. The last popular "racy" book was what? "The Joy of Sex"? Those were drawings. And frankly, when it came out, I was a kid... I mean, I was of "boner age" but still a kid. I couldn't believe this was a book. But as I flipped through the pages (yes my mom bought it and it was on her book shelf plain as day) I couldn't imagine ever being able to get a girl to do any of that shit.
Now the new acceptable racy book has a little spanking in it. As far as I know, I mean I didn't read it because I'm a guy and ..... well, I'm a guy.
This is either awesome or disappointing. Depending on your perspective. If you are a guy who would really get off tying your wife of 20 years to a bed post and pulling her hair while you give her the rough ride of her life..well, good for you..nut ball.
But if you are a normal man, you are thinking.."shit, I might hurt my hand, and who has to put away the stripper pole when we are done?"... "What if I laugh when she says "give it to me master!"... I mean it's a good chance that not more than an hour before she was bitching about putting your laundry in the hamper.
Still, you make an attempt to find out. It's important to know where you stand. So you bring it up. Now, if your woman has read this book, and she is able to go through every detail, but then ends up saying something like "It's really not about the sex, it's really about his ability to face his past and deal with that emotionally and take responsibility for his mistakes"... you are not going to be spanking her ass tonight....or ever for that matter.
And that's not really a bad thing. Frankly, even if she has this fantasy, in it, she is built like a porn star, and the man she is doing it with, has washboard abs and a dangerous reputation.... in other words...not you.
You get normal sex, sometimes, when it's convenient, and the kids are asleep, and the door is locked, and she doesn't have to get up early the next day.
You are the comfort zone guy. No hand cuffs, no ceiling hooks, no latex, no dog leashes, no hair pulling, and no spanking.
Life is just normal. Sex is just normal. Bills paid, kids off to school, house cleaned, lawn mowed, dinner cooked, wife fucked.
Don't ask for more.
In this blog I am trying to cover everything I said it was. Life, love, kids, drinking, and kinky sex no one really get's to have. I hope I covered that last one.
Slavegirl wants a name. I'm considering "Kitten".
Saturday, May 19, 2012
In The Beginning
So, I'm sitting there with my BDSM slave on a leash. She came with the apartment, so... I should have read the fine print. They are very high maintenance. And after my third vodka-gin martini I started to think.. those martini glasses are very nice looking and all...but seriously, they are just not big enough!
But what I said out loud was ... "is this all there is?". I was contemplating how that even though my life is just fine and all... What else is there? So slavegirl says "permission to speak"..And I'm all... "Seriously?!!" These people should come with some kind of user manual. But she had a good point. She said that I should do what I wanted to do before I started doing what I settled on doing since it was the easiest path to follow. I once thought I would be a good writer. But I've lost all those skills. It's true, writing is a muscle you lose if you don't use it. Of course, I don't even have the basic skills. Like spelling and grammar or sentence structure... or ability to tell a good story in an amusing manner. Who blogs without those skills?
Well, slavegirl showed me several. Apparently, the blogosphere is littered with crappy ass blogs written by talentless hacks.
So I was all whoohoo! And poured a beer into her dog bowl in celebration! I will try this!
It's not like I can suck more than those people.
All I need is something to blog about. I could "daddy blog"... But my parenting style is much like my paper airplane flying style. You know, point and toss.
I could write about politics. But from what angle? I'm a hippie, gay pride,right wing deficit hawk, legalize pot, torture terrorists if they need torturing, lower my taxes and get out of my bedroom, Christian,church going, agnostic Jew .
I would have to get drunk just to make a point. And then piss off half the people I know.
I could write bout life, but I don't actually have one of those.
I could write about sex, but ....same reason.
I suppose I will eventually find my niche, or path, or just give up entirely.
I am hoping my friends will have good suggestions.
No, actually I am hoping that you hate this and I can throw up my hands and say "well I tried! So that's that!".
Honesty is a hard thing to write.
I don't really have a slavegirl. :(
But what I said out loud was ... "is this all there is?". I was contemplating how that even though my life is just fine and all... What else is there? So slavegirl says "permission to speak"..And I'm all... "Seriously?!!" These people should come with some kind of user manual. But she had a good point. She said that I should do what I wanted to do before I started doing what I settled on doing since it was the easiest path to follow. I once thought I would be a good writer. But I've lost all those skills. It's true, writing is a muscle you lose if you don't use it. Of course, I don't even have the basic skills. Like spelling and grammar or sentence structure... or ability to tell a good story in an amusing manner. Who blogs without those skills?
Well, slavegirl showed me several. Apparently, the blogosphere is littered with crappy ass blogs written by talentless hacks.
So I was all whoohoo! And poured a beer into her dog bowl in celebration! I will try this!
It's not like I can suck more than those people.
All I need is something to blog about. I could "daddy blog"... But my parenting style is much like my paper airplane flying style. You know, point and toss.
I could write about politics. But from what angle? I'm a hippie, gay pride,right wing deficit hawk, legalize pot, torture terrorists if they need torturing, lower my taxes and get out of my bedroom, Christian,church going, agnostic Jew .
I would have to get drunk just to make a point. And then piss off half the people I know.
I could write bout life, but I don't actually have one of those.
I could write about sex, but ....same reason.
I suppose I will eventually find my niche, or path, or just give up entirely.
I am hoping my friends will have good suggestions.
No, actually I am hoping that you hate this and I can throw up my hands and say "well I tried! So that's that!".
Honesty is a hard thing to write.
I don't really have a slavegirl. :(
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