Oops! You’re Preggers! Here’s Some Baby Names

Boys names;
*Felonious Mahatma
*Splints Woodcock
*Jeeves Flatulerian
*Verbil  Urethreus
*Gropinski Timberlake
*Jules Throbbingcock (it’s a classic)


Girls names;
*Philopia Opal
*Francis Moppenglo
*Buttertavia Suppleness
*Labiana Filibuster
*Mamariam Swashbuckle
*Ovoviviparous Mantangle
*Caesarea Criminia
*Vivien Hottenbox (Jules’s twin)

Squeeze

He meets her in the hallway. “Come with me.” He takes her by the hand and squeezes.

He leads her into the bedroom. As they walk through he grabs her under the arm and squeezes.

He spins her on to the bed where she lands with a giggle. Hand under her chin he wants to see her lips, so he squeezes.

Her smile disappears. He sneers as he looks at her. He kisses her lips as his hand moves to her throat and he squeezes.

She moans softly while her hand explores the bulge in his jeans and she squeezes.

His jeans unzip. She pulls his hips up towards her face. His hand goes in her hair and squeezes.

Underwear come down. She engulfs his length with her mouth as she squeezes.

He moans “good girl” while he grips the back of her neck and squeezes.

Her hands move to his ass and she pulls him in faurther while she squeezes.

“Here it comes,” he growls as everyone’s everything squeezes.

Odd Orders from Innocuous Things

“Suck me.”
 -the carpet
“After they lick you, come press against me.”
 -the envelope
“Blow me.”
 -the leaf
“Slather me.”
 -the bread
“Twist me in a knot and put a rubber band on me.”
 -the pony tail
“Gag me.”
 -the court order
“Choke me.”
 -the lawn mower engine
“Pin it on me.”
 -the cork board
“Let me hold your genitals”
 -the underwear
“Make it burn.”
 -the cast iron skillet
“Pee on me.”
 -home pregnancy test

The Skin You’re In

A little limerick today. I find myself reading it like a naughty leprechaun.

It began with a glance

Merely a happenstance

The first time I saw your skin

It caught my eye

The glimpse of your thigh

Now I want it to happen again

Watching you move

It looks incredibly smooth

Soft, supple, and taut

All that I wonder 

Is sliding my hand under

Fingers commence onslaught

Nose on your neck

Allows me to check

Utterly intoxicating whiff

Your skin’s scent 

Is heavenly sent

Think I’ll have another sniff

Sight, scent, and feel

Still uncertain it’s real

This skin you’re currently in 

In a moment of haste

I attempt to taste

Adrenaline surge begins

Lavishing your taste

Hands gripping your waist

Committing mortal sin 

Squeezing and gripping

Teeth tearing and ripping

Consuming this skin you’re in

Trips on Trips

  Back from NM backpack trip. Had a great time. I came back a couple of days early because I was tired of being cold and wet, but all in all had a terrific time.
  On Monday I did something...different. I got up early and hiked to a new spot. I got the hammock put up and got things settled about 12:45pm. Without anything to accomplish for the next few hours I decided to eat some magic mushrooms I had acquired. I didn't carry my phone with me, so I couldn't record the event. BUT...I did keep notes in the notepad I had in my bag. Allow me to share the experience with you;

As you can see, I started small. I ate half of a granola bar and chugged a couple of mouthfuls of water so I wouldn't feel sick. Now, half a gram of mushrooms isn't a big "dose." But, that doesn't mean it isn't a mouthful. It was. Doesn't taste like anything, but it requires some chewing to get down.
 I knew it would be thirty minutes or so before I felt anything. So, I milled around my camp spot, went through my pack, got out my tarp and paracord to put up some shade. As you'll see, the thirty minute window came and went. I began to wonder if anything was going to happen. I decided to go ahead and start tying up the cord between the trees that the hammock was attached to. Then...some wooziness. That was about 1:15p.
  A few minutes after that....the fun starts.

The 1:22p statement was meant to be "what a difference 7 minutes makes."  You can see that it got twisted between my brain and my hand.  I felt a little dizzy and wobbled, but not sleepy like when you're drunk.  As I was writing, I remember thinking "I'm supposed to be seeing different colors," so the pink around the shadows may have been more of an interpretation of expectation rather than an actual occurrence.  The color and pattern experience comes later.
  I sat in the hammock and would gently swing...and giggle. The pressure in my ears and into my jaw was odd.  And that odd feeling would come in pulses. It wasn't painful, just new and different.
  Now, clearly eating mushrooms makes your pen heavier, as you can tell by my handwriting in the last sentence.  At this point it's probably gained a pound and has become harder to control.
  If I wrote that I'm talking a lot, then I'm sure it was A LOT. And, as you'll see in the next pic, it was about something I apparently invented.

Conical sway. Here's what I decided that was; the wind was blowing through the trees making the tops away back and forth. The higher the tree, the more more leeway it has to move at the top.  If the very center of the lowest point of the trunk is the beginning point of a cone, then the radius at the top of the tree creates a realatively wide circle that it can sway. Thus giving us "conical sway," like an ice cream cone.  I googled that phrase when I got back to my phone. It doesn't exist in those words, although I'm sure the idea does.
  During rocking in the hammock and imaging myself talking to Landry or Ripley (NOT a hallucination of them, they're just who I was imagining I was talking to), the pen continued to get heavier. It has to be up to two pounds now. I'm not sure how the pen knew I ate mushrooms, but it did.  Apparently, I was amused by this and noted how my handwriting had begun to drift and told myself to do better.
  I can remember closing my eyes and talking about the patterns and colors I was seeing. Know how you can close your eyes and rub your eyelids and see colorful patterns?  Well do that on shrooms and those patterns start moving in three directions and have textures like lizard skin.  I can remember doing that and describing (to nobody in particular), what the images looked like and I just needed to let it happen.  All of this out loud, by the way...which I noted. Again.
  I guess I started watching clouds at this point. "Predator cloud"...I have no idea what that means.  I assume it means that one cloud looked like Predator, but I can't be sure.
  At this point, I saw heads walking by on the trail below where I was posted up.  Who knows what they heard me talking about, but I just waved as they went by and they waved back and carried on.
  I also don't recollect writing the last sentence. It's apparently an hour in and the pen hasn't gotten any lighter. I think that says, "still talking a lot/not as much visual trip."

 

I remember another person walking by.  Clearly I was annoyed by this. I don't think I said "go away" 

out loud, but I can't be sure.  And I wrote a little ode to Scrubs to go with that..."go a-shmay."  I can rhyme anything.  I remember being impressed that I was aware enough to put the tarp up so if anyone else walked by they could see where I was and not be surprised by the guy talking to himself a lot.  I also found it funny that I could still call people "dummies." (Side bar; my half-hitch ties were on point when I took the tarp down.)

  Pen was still heavy and awkward. I'll take a backup pen next time.  That feeling in my ears/jaw lasted for a while, even after the trip was mostly done.  When I ate the shrooms I wrote, "YOURE NOT GOING TO DIE/YOURE OK" in the back of my notebook, just in case. Didn't even need it. All in all it was a good time and I would for sure do it again.

  I'm aware that my teenagers might read this, and I'm ok with that. I did this for my own entertainment, in a safe space, with a safe substance, without putting anyone else in harm's way. I'm not encouraging them to do this at all. HOWEVER, I would hope that IF they decide to try this WHEN THEY ARE ADULTS, I hope they would feel comfortable asking or telling me about it.

Fight Club Revisited

  So the weather is stormy right now, and it makes me uncomfortable. Not it the manner that most people are uncomfortable about it...fearing the wrath of what nature can do. I'm uncomfortable with it because it's NOT full blast. It's NOT turned up to eleven. It's not unleashing its fury. I find I have an odd urge for something catastrauphic to happen.
  Yeah, I get it. It would be awful. Terrible. Structures would be destroyed and people might be injured, or worse. It would be chaos. I'm an asshole...we've met.
  I think a healthy dose of chaos would do us all well. Blast away every unmeaningful, useless, pointless act we perform during the course of the day...no selfies on instagram, no mani/pedis, no need to shave. Boil everything down to a survive-and-protect reaction. Humans have spent tens of thousands of years doing just that; make it to the next day with your body and your family's bodies in tact. We need a refresher course every now and again.

Wandering the Earth, Without Kung Fu

  Ugh...I got it in the worst way. I just need to be lost for a few days. Usually that feeling is kept in reasonable check because I can walk around at the deer lease and get my dose of "church" from being in the mesquite.  However, I decided back in May to take a year off from the lease. So, I haven't needed to put the prep work in for the fall. So, I haven't had a heaping helping of nature in a while. I'm two years removed from the last "guy trip" where we go to some far off western place and get primitive for a few days. I have a week's worth of vacation I can still use. I decided to use that in September and go to Gila Wilderness Area just outside of Silver City, NM.  That's still a few weeks away.
  I got so restless last weekend I was looking at Google Maps to see how long it would take to hike to Brownfield or Levelland. It's listed at a little more than 9 hours for each, if you're wondering. Now I could do that, but there are two issues;
  1). 9 hours there isn't a problem. 9 hours there and then 9 hours back is. And I'm not going to inconvenience anyone to come pick me up because I'm satisfying some mild mental breakdown.
  2). Each of those routes are along pretty busy stretches of highway, and I don't want to get squashed by someone not paying attention or people asking me if I need a ride.
  I found a new plan. I'm going to start from Wolfforth and get a little headstart west, and then take the back county roads to Smyer (about halfway to Levelland) and then turn around and come back. 4 and a half-ish hours each way. That's a good day's worth of work. Should keep me from climbing out of my skin until I can make it to GNF next month.

Government as Entertainment

  No such thing as bad press, right?  I'm fairly certain that there's a weekly meeting in the White House where governing and politics AREN'T discussed. And Trump isn't the ring leader. He's merely the vehicle for the circus act. What IS discussed is how to make sure that he and the administration are the most talked about news item. Let's not be naive; the president (not only Trump) is the figure head for whatever legislation the people with the most money want to enact. Want to deregulate some current business practices and really start putting the hammer down on free press? Then elect someone who's perfectly comfortable playing the role of the bad guy and have him orchestrate what he's actually good at...getting attention. Without any research of the subject, has there been a president elected whose first foray into holding political office is the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES?? Can't imagine so. But...lots of average Americans don't use their brains (or aren't capable of) and settle for voting for the most recognizable and entertaining candidate. And we get what we've had over the course of the last few months.
  So the meetings for the soap opera each week consist of, "ok this week so-and-so will be fired. We'll rearrange some duties and swap jobs. Oh, and so-and-so...make sure to say something completely outrageous. Like accuse so-and-so of trying to perform oral sex on himself...it'll be fantastic."
  Sports media personality Colin Cowherd has a mantra; you don't have to be good or right, just be entertaining." Clearly that's been adopted at the highest levels of American government now.

Dreams of Bones (and Guilt)

  I hardly ever remember dreams. It's so unusual, in fact, I've often wondered if there's something wrong with me. I've used the statement, "I don't dream," but I know that's not true. However, I had a dream this morning that seemed pretty real. I scribbled a note in my phone so I could write about it before the details vaporized in a haze of the morning's activities like dreams do.
  I remember walking through a winding hallway of a building, almost like a school. I find a door and walk outside to a driveway surrounded by tall chainlink fence. I sit in the driveway and a movie begins on a screen that's like a memorial of a handful of people's lives. I now realize these people are dead. I feel nothing since I didn't know them. While sitting in the driveway, a man from inside the building comes outside and places in front of me pieces of the dead people's jaw bones. The bones are fragmented and of varying sizes and colors, like some had been in the ground and some had been bleached by the sun. The man resembles someone I knew. He had wavy strawberry blonde hair, weathered skin, and not a tooth in his head. He tells me to recreate the dead people. I look at him and with a feeling of remorse I tell him I can't do that. He says please try it.  He goes back in the building and I sit in the driveway fondling pieces of jaws. The door has a window and the older man peeks through it to watch my progress. The movie continues to play and I pick up and inspect each piece of jawbone and wonder how to put the people back together. The bones are misshapen with sharp jagged edges that stick to the skin of my fingers. I hold pieces up and pretend to give a look as if to imply there's progress to be made, even though I know there's not. I know the man is watching me and I want him to have hope for the reanimation of those he's lost. The task is hopeless and I feel guilt for not being able to help.
  Then I wake up.

This is how much I love you

  Do you know how much I love you? I'll try to put it into words.

  I love you so much I would only shoot you once, right in the heart.

  I love you so much if your head fell off I would keep it, and brush the hair out of your face as I put flowers in your eye sockets.

  I love you so much if they hung you from a bridge I would hit you with a wooden stick instead of a metal pipe.

  I love you so much I would stab you in church only when we said "Amen."

  I love you so much I'll dress you in the nicest dress when you're being a scarecrow.

  I love you so much I'll only hate you instead of being indifferent.

Second floor -Adult content

Adult content/trigger warnings: depiction of being held captive




There is a room. It is on the second floor. The floor and walls are plywood. There is no finished ceiling. There are exposed 2x4s above with one work lamp attached in the corner. Sound carries and echoes. It is hollow and void of feeling. 

 You find yourself in the center of the room with your hands attached above your head to a beam. You have no clothes. The only thing touching your skin is the rope around your wrists and feet. The panties you used to have on are now stuffed in your mouth and duct taped over. You've been here for what seems like forever. Your shoulders are tired from being above your head. Your legs ache from standing in one spot.

  You hear a door close on the floor below your room. Then you hear the sound of heavy footsteps ascending the wooden stairs...

Thump...thump...thump

Closer and louder...

Thump...thump...thump 

You begin to squirm and worry...

Thump...thump...thump

Figit against your restraints...

Thump...thump...thump

Tears well in your eyes...

And the foot steps stop. The shadow steps through the doorway and drops a bag with a loud thud. He slowly walks to you with a sneer on his face. He stops as close as he can to you without touching you. You feel his breath on your neck. You feel the heat from his skin. He leans in and his whiskers drag across your ear...

"I'm sorry I have to do this, but I can't help myself."

41 vs 21

  I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. As we age, sometimes you forget that you aren't the finely tuned physical machine you once were. I have a hard time shutting the switch of my 21 year old self's line of thinking off. In fact, 21 year old me routinely argues with, and tells terrible lies to, 41 year old me. This is how some of those arguments go;

  21 Me: Hey, its lunch time. We should eat.

  41 Me: It's only 11:15 a.m. We can wait a while.

  21 Me: C'mon! We're hungry!

  41 Me: Fine, we'll get a burrito.

  21 Me: A burrito?? That's it? How about two and a taco?

  41 Me: Good lord, no! 

  21 Me: Just sayin'...we'll be hungry again soon.

  41 Me: Shutup

  Walks into Taco Villa and orders two burritos.

  21 Me: We're gonna play in that softball tournament, right?

  41 Me: Tournament?! Hells no! They play 5-6 games, some don't start until midnight. That's way past our 9:30 bedtime.

  21 Me: C'mon! We used to do that every weekend! I bet we're still better than plenty of those younger dudes.

  41 Me: Shutup.

Plays in tournament, legs and back hurt for a week.

  21 Me: Hey, let's get some new shoes!

  41 Me: Yeah, I saw some Toms that I like.

  21 Me: Toms?! You can't run fast in Toms.

  41 Me: We're not running anywhere. We're 41 years old.

  21 Me: Just sayin'...you never know. Remember that time at the bar? That guy challenged us to a race in the parking lot...think we would have won if we wore Toms??

  41 Me: Shutup

Walks into Cardinal's and picks out Nikes.

A Rant

  150 years ago...which is a split second on the Cosmic Calendar...you were doing well if you lived to 60. Life was hard. HARD hard. If you weren't born into privilege you usually had to build your house out of the materials around you. You defended it with your life from native groups (whose territory you were encroaching on to begin with), thieves, wolves and grizzlies and a number of other animals most Europeans had never laid eyes on, and wild funnels that dropped from the clouds that made the wind blow unlike anything you'd ever seen. You grew and harvested your food. Shoes were a luxury. You had children to increase your labor pool. Medicine wasn't an option. If you got sick, you either got over it...or you didn't. If you got hurt, you either got over it...or you didn't. You didn't strive for luxury, you strived for sustainability.

  Jump ahead to today. We gladly pay the equivalent of $14/gal for soda in 20oz bottles. We buy pre-cut firewood. Know what sodium acid pyrophosphate is? Me neither, but it's in a frozen waffle. Anymore, you can't stand in reasonable quiet at the gas pump as something called "Gas Station TV" now makes sure you're marketed to in the 3-4 minutes you stand and fill the tank. 

  Now I'll be the first to recognize the irony of me using my cell phone and wifi connection to post this babble. But I'm conscious of it. Many aren't. They think this is how it's SUPPOSED to be. Starbucks and Facebook and Netflix and car loans and taxes. 

  I guess it's not SUPPOSED to be anything. It just is. It developed into this. And I can either like it...or not. I can merely hope that in my grandchildren's lifetime they can still get their hands on a book, with pages made of paper,and read about how we got here...once it's delivered to them by a drone from Amazon.

  

The Banquet

The Banquet

I had a hard time deciding where to post this. It's too long for just a status post, not really group oriented, so it landed here.

  I actually heard this on a sports radio program a few minutes ago and thought it was too fun NOT to spread.

  Imagine there is a banquet being held and you're the guest of honor. You're being asked to stand up and give a 15 minute speech. The guests, however, are only people you've had a sex with. Hypotheticals....

-what do you talk about? (if you haven't done it, 15 min is an eternity to stand up and talk in front of people)

-how many people attend?

-do you avoid eye contact with some?

-is there a Q&A?

-do you get nervous when you see people talking to each other?

-is there someone there you don't know?

-is there a toast or applause at the end? (Or silence??)

In the Sack (ADULT CONTENT)

Ok...the first of a few ADULTS ONLY postings. Therefore;
CAUTION; TRIGGER WARNING - depictions of bondage, holding captive, and suffocation. Do not read if you might be sensitive to these topics!

  He ripped long strips of the tshirt apart...

"You said you wanted to "get me in the sack"...I thought we were finished being mean!"

Hogtied...anxiety clearly taking over...

One tshirt strip is tied around her head, covering her eyes tightly.

"Please, just tell me! I apologized! Tell me what you want!"

Her panties stuffed in her mouth, another strip tied around her face to hold them in.

Muffled pleas going ignored...

"The sack..." he muttered to himself.

He slipped the clear plastic bag over her head and gathered the excess in his hand behind her head. 

She shook and wiggled violently.

He sat across her arm and straddled her body as she flapped about. Holding her jaw with his other hand he waited until she inhaled all of the available air left in the bag...and then placed his mouth over her panty-filled lips...

The Process

Process

Step 1:

Destroy. Demolish. Fracture. Dismantle. Burn. Torch. Melt. Annihilate. Exsanguish. Disembowel. Cleanse. Purge.

Step 2:

Sort. Examine. Study. Ponder. Question. Wonder. Reflect. Pontificate. Hypothesize. Learn.

Step 3:

Construct. Build. Carve. Polish. Refine. Practice. Assemble. Engineer. 

Repeat as needed.

Haikoos (I invented it)

  No, it's not misspelled. Haikus are 5-7-5. Haikoos are 5-7-7...it's a thing. An accidentally awesome thing.

-Tongues entwined in space

  Engaged in pursuit of depth

  Churning and probing for truth

-If I grab your waist

  Like a snare with bad intent

  Would you resist? Or give in?

-Sadism isn't bad

  It's all in your perspective

  Now shut up and bend over

-Will you taste my gun?

  Weapon of mass destruction

  Tastes like an apocalypse 

  

  

Naked

What is naked?

We've all been the obvious form of naked.  Without clothing.  Everyone can see you.  Skin exposed.

That's naked.  But is that all there is to it?

Everyone has skin.  Some skin is nicer than other skin, but for the most part, skin is skin.  What's deeper?  Is there naked under skin?

Muscle is under skin. Everyone has that, too.  What's deeper?  Is there naked under muscle?

Everyone has bones.  Everyone.  Is there naked under that?  What's deeper?

Naked can be ideas and thoughts.  Unguarded creativity.

What if I tell you my ideas and thoughts?  Am I naked then?

What if I tell you my feelings?  How I feel about me...how I feel about you...aren't I naked then?  Exposed.  Everyone can see.  YOU can see....

What if you laugh?  What if you don't understand?  What if you think less of me?

How naked do I choose to be?

Have you ever been truly naked?

Do you remove clothes to prevent being naked?

Gensis of an Idea

Oh hello.  Nice to meet you.

Do you have a moment?  Wont take long...

That space there...inside your mind...may I occupy it?

Its a small space, you'll never notice it.

Just for a few moments...that tiny, dark space...the one between 

the memory of what you ate for lunch and the naughty pic you just

looked at.

So inconsequential...may I? 

Truthfully, it may be longer than a few moments.  I might reside there.

You wont mind though, will you?  You wont even know I'm there.  

It's a small spot there...dark and cozy.  Right behind your eyes.

Honestly though, I might need some more space.  To crawl around...

explore a little.

You don't mind, do you?

What if I took this bigger space?  Would you notice?

The one between graduation and work today?  Thanks for that.

Oh don't mind me...I'll make myself at home.

I might take this space in addition.  You know, to make sure it's comfortable.

You're such a good host.  Always aiming to please...

Admittedly, I'm going to live here now...this place is mine.

I'll use it as I see fit.  It belongs to me now.  You won't mind.

It will bother you on occasion, but you'll get over it.  Or you won't.

This space is mine, and you can't have it back.

April Drivel

  I've thought about this for a couple of days now and couldn't think of anywhere else to write it down, so here we are.  

  You'd be 39 today. I don't think about me being old, but you being almost 40 makes me feel that way. And your kids! They're supposed to be little, like nieces and nephews should be. Your oldest is going to be in middle school next year! THAT makes me feel old! You'd be proud of both of them. They've adjusted really well and seem to be really happy with the new crew. It's loud at their house. Really loud. All the time. But not because anyone is starting a familial revolution. Just them being them. The step mom is pretty awesome. I think you'd like her. She changes hair color all the time, so you might be kindred spirits. 

  Grandad shot himself last week. You probably know that already, but just in case...

Seemed selfish. I cussed him for a few minutes. Then had to explain to my kids that I very well may have made the same decision given the circumstances. I didn't cry, like usual. Instead I cried a week later. Like usual. At least it wasn't the Miranda Lambert song. Stupid Modern Family did it. Mitch and Claire were telling their parents about good times growing up. There's another line in an earlier episode when they "miss being on the same team." I do, too. 

  Everybody has their own shit. Mine is certainly not any worse or different. Just needed to tell you that you're missed. Write back in the notebook of our famous quotes if you have a chance.

Learning from Bad Guys

  Let me begin by stating that this is the list of characters who influenced ME and my path to finding my inner boogey man. Not everyone's list will be the same, as well it shouldn't be. Honestly, not everyone has an inner bad guy. And while I accept that, I don't envy it. Those poor people will be the ones who collapse into the fetal position and weep when the world goes to shit. Anywho, here are the ones who helped me arrive at mine. 

  Tyler Durden --- Tyler taught me 1). The world is a giant pile of fake shit. To get to something real you have to take some lumps and quit worrying what others think.   2). The version of yourself you show the world isn't a particularly truthful one. 3). You determine your own level of involvement. Don't wait around and take the spoon fed memo version of what's happening.  4). Things evolve. Situations evolve. You better be willing to do the same.  

 

  Anton Chigurh --- 1). Sometimes saying little or nothing is most effective. 2). Be willing to do what the other guy won't. 3). You can't escape your fate. Accept it.  

  Dr. Hannibal Lecter --- 1). You can be charming and smart and still be completely terrifying. 2). Some people aren't worthy of your company. Don't waste your gifts on them.  3). God made us what we are

  Dexter --- 1). You can be a bad guy AND a good guy simultaneously. 2). How to try to fit in, regardless of what you're really thinking. 3). Guard your family. 

  Now in addition to all of them being psychopaths/sociopaths, they were all true to themselves and executed their beliefs wholeheartedly, no matter how disturbing. We should all strive to do the same. Practice makes perfect.