another Florida hotel bar

bar womanAnother hotel and another hotel bar in Florida.

An older lady, mildly attractive wearing a beige pant suit ordered a beer and burger from the bistro.  Her perfume was too strong.  It reminded me of opening a Cosmopolitan magazine when I was a kid.  The fragrance ads were always out of control, but I kept looking because the models were sexy.

The 20-something girl working the counter politely told her it would be ready soon.  She appeared older than she was; hair somewhat disheveled and wrinkles were already creeping in around the lower part of her eyes. Continue reading “another Florida hotel bar”

nearly being raped (wash your vegetables)

farm(This post is 100% true and based on 100% true events.  I am not making any of this up, nor am I embellishing anything.  That being said……………….)

For work, I used to have to spend a great deal of time performing safety inspections for clients who were farmers and harvesters in Florida.  During the scope of my work one day, I thought I was going to be raped.

I had to go see a client in Labelle, Fl who harvests watermelons.  (Harvest is a more polite word for “pickers”.)

In Florida, we have tons of migrant workers who pick fruit and vegetables for mere pennies.

Anyway, I called the client and he arranged to meet me inside the front gate of the farm.  Typically, a land owner will have several crews harvesting multiple food items on their vast property.

I pulled into the front gate and my client was waiting for me in a large, extended white van.

I walked towards the van and I could see a driver and another man sitting directly behind the passenger seat.  The driver reached over, rolled down the window and told me to get in.

I got in and the smell of sweat, beer and body odor smacked me directly in the face.  It was about 90 degrees out and these two men had both been picking in the fields for several hours already. Continue reading “nearly being raped (wash your vegetables)”

An ode to Mountain Dew

dewAccording to Wikipedia, in 1940 two Tennessee beverage bottlers named Barney and Ally Hartman invented the formula for Mountain Dew. 

Below is my tribute to those two fine men:

I walked into the 7-11 and quickly made my way to the back of the store where the drink coolers are located.  Immediately, I could see it staring back at me.

The 12-ounce, green canned goddess looking into my eyes.

It was screaming, “Touch me, open me, drink me down you dirty boy.  I won’t quench your thirst, but I taste so good, so slippery and so sugary.  Everyone is drinking me, just take me, take me now.”

I couldn’t resist, I grabbed it and jumped to the cashier and butted in front of an old lady with blue hair and a walker.  I couldn’t wait.

Beads of sweat began trickling down my forehead towards my nose.  The cashier looked at me like I was a crack or meth head looking for my next hit.  Well, she wasn’t that far off.

Much like meth addiction, if I continue my assault on these green canned goddesses, my teeth are sure to start dropping out of my mouth indiscriminately.

She scanned the bar-code,  “that will be $1.06 please,” she said as she annoyingly chewed her gum and twirled her  poorly bleached blond hair. Continue reading “An ode to Mountain Dew”

destroying a toilet

(I have some deep-seeded public restroom issues.)

The Scene: My wife and I at a tapas restaurant sitting at the bar.

The Event: I felt a pain in my stomach that almost knocked me off my bar stool.  Although loud music playing in the bar area, I think everyone in the place could hear the rumble inside my belly.  I told my wife I had to pee and found the bathroom.

It was like a mini-gastric-earthquake ripping through my body.  I dropped my pants and the second my pasty, white cheeks touched the porcelain seat, EXPLOSION!!!  It was like a giant cow patty.  Final, relief was mine…….. for the moment.

The Problem: I cleaned myself and reached to flush.  HOLY, FUCKING, SHIT………… the toilet would not flush. MAYDAY, MAYDAY………the toilet would not flush.

I pulled the back lid off and started tinkering with the mechanical innards, but nothing worked.  My cow patty was not going anywhere.

Decision time: I washed my hands quickly and carefully cracked the door to see if anyone was waiting in the hallway.  The coast was clear so I walked briskly back to the bar and stood next to my wife at the bat.

“Wow, that sure was a long pee.  Aren’t you going to sit down,” she said.

“Nope, it’s time to go.  We have to leave now,” I said as I put down plenty of cash next to our plates.

As we were walking out the door, I looked back over my shoulder and noticed a few employees gathering in the bathroom where I left my destruction.

Relief, it was a close call.

I like glue in my coffee

coffee(This was from a writing prompt on the old blog site Xanga, called “I like glue in my coffee”.  I’m still not sure why I did this.)

I like glue in my coffee because I’m a white, gangster, mutherfucking bitch.  Fuck the cream and sugar, I rip tags off mattresses bitches.

When my teacher told me not to eat the glue, I stood up at my desk and said, “I don’t need to eat the glue bitch, I like glue in my coffee mutherfucker.”  She sent me to the office and the principal asked me what my problem was.

I told him, “Fuck you honkey, cracker bitch, you wouldn’t understand what it’s like to be a middle-class white kid trying to make a dollar and pass the sixth grade.  Shit is real in my neighborhood, the HOA is cracking down on people parking on the streets and making my parents keep the landscaping presentable.  That’s why I like glue in my coffee bitch, because it eases the stress.” 

He told me if I had one more outburst that he was going to expel me.

So I replied, “That’s why I like glue in my coffee mutherfucker, because I want to get expelled, go to an alternative school where I will fit in better nigga’.  I’m tired of all these trick ass ho’s trying to make me do math and read and shit.  That’s why I like glue in my coffee.”

douche bag gym

gym(I occasionally work out a my local gym.  I can’t seem to go more than twice a week because I’m a mediocre man.  A better man works out 4-5 times a week, but that’s not me.)

Hey 20 year-old bench press guy… thanks so much for grunting so loud that everyone in the place thought you were passing several golf ball sized kidney stones.

We were all wondering if you would get that last rep.  And by the way, when you are laying on the bench, make sure you put your dick to the side instead of it standing straight up like a mini-sprinkler.  Unless of course that’s your best pick up move.

Hey “I’m a Cougar Hear Me Roar” Mom… doing lunges across the middle of the gym.

I know, your husband is most likely fucking his much younger, much hotter than you secretary and it’s time for you tone that ass up.

And what’s the deal with the fully done “it must be ladies night” makeup and perfume you are wearing.  Continue reading “douche bag gym”

Face in the pillow (hipster sex)

bearded-hipster-guy-and-girl-footage-048384726_iconl(This is from my hipster blog: www.hipsterstories.wordpress.com It’s a hipster/emo love story)

After the protest, Clemmy found herself sexually attracted to Jude like never before. Watching him stand up to Billy Emo without a shed of fear absolutely toasted her hairy loins.

His new-found manliness reminded her of a quote in Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer; “I have found God, but he is insufficient.”  Jude was her God now.

“Tonight’s the night. Take me to your apartment and put my face in the pillows,” she whispered into his ear.

She wanted to be ravaged by her man. She wanted her stud to relieve all those weeks of built-up tension and anxiety. She wanted her man to provide that cathartic release she had been missing for so long.

Hand in hand, they both rushed to Jude’s apartment; his mustache blowing in the wind and her female scent escaping into the night air. They barely made it inside the door before Jude’s tongue was licking the side of her face. His greasy mustache brushed up and down her cheek, turning her skin red.

She let out a strangled moan of sheer, hipster ecstasy. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh.”

In one motion, he pushed her through the doorway, spun her around almost violently onto his couch. He pushed her face into the couch pillows, pulling her butt into the air as her back arched. Continue reading “Face in the pillow (hipster sex)”

red, white and boo

I see your Katie Perry

And I raise you Beyonce.

What ever happened to real art, like the Fat Boys?

Now, just splendid drivel cascading from the youthful mouth

Texting, sexting, pursed lips and Jersey Shore dreams.

Find China on a map? Fuck You, I’m getting my nails done at 3.

Be careful young ones, the noodles and puppy nuggets are coming to a store near you.

I see your E Hollywood News

And raise you Dancing With the Stars.

Posting every mundane bit of your daily shit for all to see

Facebook, Twitter, Insta, Snapchatting your fucking life away

My eyes; dried and burnt from your “Do you like me?” poll.

Keep your pom poms clean and your cell phone charged.

I see your De-evolution

And go all in with your soul

Shouldn’t be difficult to call my bet

You are another failed demographic, another vapid target market.

big day off (mediocre man style)

Wednesday, the day after Xmas I was off from work. (I like to use “Xmas” instead of Christmas, it feels more daring to me.)  I really didn’t have anything planned and thought a couple times about doing something productive.

I woke up and had a Mountain Dew, because I’m addicted to sugar and caffeine.  Then I ate a cashew Lara bar.  It tasted pretty good.  I like cashews.  Apparently Lara bars are Paleo friendly.  I’m not on the Paleo diet, but I like cashews and think maybe it’s somewhat good for me.  And I think cashews pair well with Mountain Dew.

I turned on a documentary on Netflix and chilled, by myself.  I was wondering how I should handle that situation.  If I “Netflix and Chill” by myself, do I have to jerk off?  Or can I just watch the documentary and leave my dick alone?

 

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started