Look, there are so many theories on what causes Autism out there that have absolutely no basis in fact or any real research to support them that I have decided, that it's an open field. I mean seriously, anyone can just come up with the dumbest thing that they "believe" causes Autism. It's all ad hoc ergo propter hoc. Or for those of you who do not speak the dead language of Lawyers and Doctors, it means "after this, therefore because of this". Like, I feed my kids broccoli, the neighbor feeds her kids carrots, the neighbor has an Autistic kid,,,, therefore, carrots cause Autism.... it insane.
But hey, here is the thing. No one ever seems to say.."loving parents who care deeply for their kids cause Autism. Or intelligent parents who are involved with their children's lives cause Autism. Notice that? It's never a positive thing.
And that is because the people who make these stupid claims, think they are the "good" parents. So, nothing that is good....could possibly cause Autism.
I am more inclined to believe Montesano causes Autism than any thing parents do, I mean look at the growing numbers...seriously, it's like epidemic proportions. They all can't be the fault of parents.
And that brings me to my dumb theory.
I am careful to call it dumb, because frankly, I don't want any one to comment and say.."Sorry CP, but the science doesn't support your theory".. When did actual science ever get in the way of idiot theories?
The reason I decided to believe this theory is because it makes me think all this makes sense.
The huge numbers of Autistic kids, and no real answer as to what really causes it.
My theory answers all of that.
I came to this after watching this "60 Minutes" story on this kid.
http://www.whydontyoutrythis.com/2013/05/jacob-barnett-14-year-old-with-asperger-syndrome-may-be-smarter-than-einstein.html#sthash.K4Hx0658.u4FYhi5b.dpbs
Jake.
Sure, I completely understand that Jake is an anomaly. He is not the usual. I get that, Autistic kids are not all secretly geniuses.
But many have that savant thing, there are plenty of stories about this.
And one thing in the story caught my ear. They explained that Jake, has a type of Autism that has just a tiny difference in his genetic makeup that sets aside the stuff that makes Autism difficult for most kids dormant, and allows the genius parts flourish.
Jake is convinced...and so am I... I mean who am I to argue with a genius?.. that his Autism is exactly why he can do math at such an extremely high level at his age.
So there is is, thousands of kids with Autism, many with a savant in specific areas...and no real explanation.
I have it.
Autism is caused by evolution.
Hear me out.
Look, we as a species went from knuckle dragging cave men, to inventing Algebra in ancient Egypt...it a relatively short time. From there, architecture, farming, navigation, science, technology... in a short time from blazing the trail in wagon trains to dune buggy riding on the moon.
We have been evolving. And here, we are at an impasse. We have reached the level of evolution that has become stagnant.
Seriously, how many ways can we really reinvent the iPad, or cell phone? We have that super collider. We are learning all the secrets of the universe, we have successfully mapped DNA...and for what?
Where do we go from here?
Think about the first cave kids who started to stand upright. Do you suppose they were considered freaks? I mean, do you think that the other cave moms, were thinking that those upright kids, who constantly stumbled, tripped over their own feet, hit their heads on low hanging branches and really couldn't relate to all those kids on all fours were a little odd?
Do you suppose those cave moms, wondered what caused upright walking?
Then, once in a while... a kid totally got it, stood right up at 2 and became the leader of the hunting party because he could see farther than the others. Maybe, he picked up a rock and killed a deer with it, or came up with a bow and arrow, a spit for cooking it over fire, developed strategies for surrounding the kill and cutting it off at the pass....suddenly, everyone was walking upright...and we moved on as a species.
It's time. It's time that we move on. This Autism thing, may very well, be the awkward growing pains of our evolution into a new era of kids who can understand quantum physics before they reach puberty.
Our evolution in to actually using most of our brains.
I mean, it's been said time and time again that we as humans only use a fraction of our brains as it is.
(ok, here is where I get a little spiritual....do not be alarmed...I will not pull a "Jesus freak" on you)
Maybe this is by design. When we are ready as a species, we were destined to reach the point, that we can finally be mature enough to be really, really smart.
Inventing the future, moving into a new human experience, where we get through the known in a split second, so that we can explore the unknown.... moving in to a higher plane of existence.
Maybe...just maybe... Autism is our evolving brains attempting to access that higher thought process it knows it has, but fails, as nature so often does, time and time again, until it gets it right... and in higher and higher numbers... as time moves on. Evolution is a very slow process while you are living through it, spanning generations. But I think that in the future, people will consider it a short time taken it to the context of human evolution through the ages.
Hence forth, I will always look upon Autistic kids as the ones who have to deal, with the fact that they are the upright walkers, stumbling, tripping, and awkwardly moving the human race in to the next level.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Bad Parenting: 101
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.
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.
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.
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