The Gods Are Laughing

Life is a tricky thing. You never know what will happen next. Women are much like life too, but I will get back to that in a bit. So I have glimpsed a ray of light. In front of me stands this great 100 foot high iron gate. It is studded with huge bolts and for the past year has kept me enclosed in the hell I currently reside. I see the walls looming high above, circling me from the gate to a distant place beyond which I can see. The sky is perpetually grey and the whole place is smothering and oppressive. I hate this place with a passion, I loathe to come here, and I have apathy for the entire organization. I do only what it takes to keep from being let go. I do find from time to time, that passion I used to have stirring, but quickly it fizzles. I am just too tired to maintain my zeal. I just don’t really care.

Today though, something great happened. Something grand, but I am cautious mind you. The huge bolts of that gate moved, and pulled back. I could hear the groan of the iron against iron as the bolt slid back, and fall out of lock. Then ever so slowly, the gates began to move, they cracked and opened then ceased moving, and there they sit. But I was able to see something grand and wonderful; a ray of blinding yellow light pouring through the opening of the gate and it shined upon me turning all that it shown upon new with bright colors. In the grayness, I saw a streak of deep blue in the sky, in the distance a streak of bright green grassiness, and where I stand; the pavement leading up to these gates went from a dull off-white to a blazing bright white. But it was only a streak of color, a ray of light… In my haze, I cannot be sure if what I am seeing is real or simply a cruel joke, a trick played by the gods, something that may just turn around to bite me like a rabid dog in late August.

To clear a room, you ideally want a team of three to four people. You want to use the high-low technique and you want to get in the room quickly to ensure you have no surprises. The first thing you do is station a person on each side of the door, one crouching and one standing, Behind the guy crouching you have your third guy standing in wait with a grenade, and your fourth guy kicks the door down. The door gets kicked in and the kicker falls or moves to the side, the grenade is cooked off and tossed in the room,. After the grenade goes off, the guy crouching turns into the room and opens fire while at the same time, the guy standing does the same but firing in the opposite direction. As each fires, they spray the room in fanning fire and then the other two members of the team enter the room and take up the far corners with the other two guys reloading their weapons and taking the inner corners and all examine the room to declare it clear.

Now why on earth do you want to know this? You probably don’t except for the fact, this method of clearing a room is used because you never know what is behind the next wall and when fighting an enemy, you have to always ensure you are covered. And no matter what you do to clear a room, you always have to be wary, because something that looks one way (such as being safe and empty), does not mean it is really that way.

So I sit here this morning, I want so badly to go into my manager’s office and have a discussion with him. But I feel like I am on the verge of something pretty great, but regardless of what I have been told or suspect at this point, I am still unsure of the situation. Now you wonder; what is this prattle he goes on about, what is this bullshit and this diatribe he is speaking. Well, it seems as if I might have a job offer. And it is possible I could have yet another offer, and it is definite that I have another major interview lined up. But… the gods frighten me. They have tricked me once over the weekend; they have fooled me many times since this odyssey began well over a year ago. They are my bane and I do not feign boldness with the trickery, I abhor it and cower before their trickery.

I have mentioned the show Dead Like Me (DLM), well there are these things called gravelings that make stupid fucked up shit happen, thus causing people to die. The gravelings make accidents. They are the ultimate conniving evil jokester. I believe they have a hierarchy and there are those who do not kill, but have a cruel insidious sense of humor and like fucking with us humans. But I agree with George, “… If your are hiding, your fears will come out looking for you…” So I say fuck them, and when I get out of here today, I have some calls to make, and by chance if they really are not fucking with me, those gates will swing open… but I will not go any further than that at the moment. I am walking in a mine field and need to be careful.
I wake up this afternoon, and am in a bit of a haze, Mimi is standing at the side of the bed with the phone in her hand and begins to tell me I need to call this guy back. She thinks I just got a job. She cannot recall which job it is, but knew there was this I ask her if it was Darren, she says yes, and I tell her, great. So Mimi proceeds to ask me if this is a direct hire or contract job. I tell her again, with a bit of exasperation (I have told her several times about this job, but seriously she always forgets about it, almost as if she is unconsciously blocking it) I tell her it is a contract position. She looks at me and huffs out of the room. I yell to her and tell her it is $XX thousand more per year… the door closes quickly, almost, but not quite slamming behind her.

I sit/lay there, still in a haze not understanding what the hell just happened. I mean I am thinking this is almost a 15% raise over what I have right now. I call the guy he tells me what is up (I won’t believe it till I have to go in sign papers and take a piss test), and I go downstairs and tell Mimi, this guy is telling me I have a job, I am hired. Finally she comes around and says, yes, it is a day job and yes it is more than we are making now, so it is an improvement. I also reminded her, this is a contract to hire position as well, should I do well. She apologizes and give me a hug and a kiss.

So the torrid unpredictability of my wife, like life, hit me like a ton of bricks. As quickly as she was wrathful and upset about the aspects of the new position, even with the improvements, she calmed down and was happy about the situation. Like a tornado vapidly eating the plains she started and then all was calm.

Well this short post has taken me all night, and I shall have more to tell tonight. I hope my night this evening is not as busy as this evening. I look forward to revealing all, opening the great gate, and letting the sun shine down upon me.

*First Encounter

NOTE: This is a second post... It is late for me, and so I have not proofed very well, ok at all.. but enjoy anyway.

Wow, Mimi did this list of 100 things about her. It’s pretty impressive. I actually learned a few things about her I did not already. Like the letter to the guy who called my home asking for my wife and wanted to fuck her after we had only been married a mere few months. It was actually a pretty funny episode as I look back upon it. What a moron this guy was. I swear I would have had to kick his ass if he showed up just want to say “hi” lemme show you “Hi” with a boot up your ass, dick cheese.

What was on her list was our first date which was pretty hot actually. I have mentioned before I that I can picture exactly what she looked like, what she was wearing and how shy she was on our first date, well that is until we got to the bookstore.

So Mimi and I met; she was waiting for me just inside this chain Italian restaurant and both recognized each other immediately. I think I sent her a pic, and she had described herself well, or she told me which dress she was wearing. But there we were and I knew with whom I had a date. She was pretty hot, with a tan, her shoes matched her off-white dress, as did her little panties she wore underneath. I am sure she was wearing a bra, these days I would encourage her not to wear one these days (hahaha).

We went inside, were seated and began our dinner with some wine and the such, dinner and maybe a desert, I honestly cannot recall. I do know that we talked a great deal, and at one point I reached out and took her hands, she was a bit nervous, and began gazing into her eyes. Thankfully I did not make her nervous in a creepy or stalker way, at least I hope I didn’t.

So we had a great dinner and conversation, and the evening was over way too quickly, at least in regards to dinner. So I knew from talking to Mimi she liked bookstores, and off we went to a B&N to look around. Now one thing I forgot to mention, when going into dinner I put my arm around the waist of my future wife and let my hand drop feeling for the line of panties as we went into the restaurant. Subtle as is was, that is where my groping started.

We arrived at the B&N and began to browse. I really cannot recall when or where it began, but as we got to know one another better and hoping I was not creeping her out, I became bolder and bolder with Mimi. The main thing I recall was at one point we stood in front of a bookshelf in an isle, she had a book in hand and my hands went around her one down her panties, one to her breasts, and she was breathing quite heavily. She very wet and my finger slid easily between her lips. I think at one point I brought my finger to my mouth, tasted her and dropped my hand back to her panties and inside her. This did not go on for a particularly long time, but it was pretty hot. I know there was some more petting to be had in the store, but it was getting on in time, and we left shortly thereafter.

We spoke about when we could get together the next time, and drove into the parking lot at the restraint where we met earlier. We began talking about this, that and the other, all the while positioning ourselves for some intense petting. As we got into it, if she had a bra on, I am pretty sure it came off quickly and then her panties and then her dress was raised at least to her waist. In short, had anyone wandered by the car, I am quite sure they would have gotten a nice show. Mimi has always kept a nicely coiffed pussy and she was quite wet during our time in the car.

Unfortunately the time together ended, but I was quite sure that we had hit it off, and I looked forward to our next date, which occurred only several days later. That is another story. But I must highly recommend the bookstore. It is always a place for all kinds of interesting fun. You never know when you might see a nice bare pussy staring at you discreetly while the owner is sitting in a chair at the bookstore turning up the sexual heat for her b/f or husband.

"Hello... I am sorry I cannot answer your question, I may have to do something"

I have returned from a weekend hiatus… I had intended upon making some additions this weekend to Mimi’s blog as well as my own. However, as my real life seemed to pre-occupy my time, I had little time for recreational PC usage this weekend. My primary goal was to post some of Mimi’s latest naughty pics. It did not happen. I have figured out how I will best make this happen which is a huge step forward since I will not be stuck in front of my screen trying to work through how I might expose my wife. Since I have already worked through the technical aspects, I need to buck up, and build what needs to be built, then do the formatting.

That is the real trick, the formatting, because I hate tedium. I like being artistic, and I like cool finished products and can make decent artistic presentations, I just hate doing the work as it is tedious. An example, I maintain web pages for several people, and I could do more if I wanted and I could maybe even make a living out of doing web pages for people. The problem comes in that I dislike programming/coding, I hate the tedium or making things just right and building pages out is time consuming and is a pain in my ass. That adds up to me being just lazy… when it comes to that shit. It’s not my cup of tea. I do one sites because I benefit through trading services and the others I do as a favor and a bit of self gratification. But the thought of sitting for hours in front of my PC screen doing this work is truly a grating thing. Holy shit I am bitching and complaining again! Damnit, that pisses me off.

Not gonna bitch about personal endeavors. So I had a busy weekend, working with my own clients so I did not really have a lot of family time on my days off. The positive side, is that the money I made over the weekend working will allow me to get a paid vacation day, and take a day off next week netting zero days off and receiving a day of holiday pay. This is good shit, plus I still have some more hours to work and bill to fix the client up. Mimi did not appreciate that I was off and still working but there will be some pay-off next week. But then maybe I should bank all the money and work anyway… I do not know, I must contemplate especially since this will be the last paid holiday I will get till September. Hmmmm, I am pretty sure I am taking the day off!

I have several times mentioned my disdain for Corporate America. I am a conservative, and I am a Republican, but that does not mean I am “for big business.” I am for business in general. I know the backbone of our economy is made up of small business, and lets face it, if you have a business most folks want to grow that business so they can give it to their kids, or the business grows so quickly or grow so large, the owner cannot handle it, and that company and its products or services get bought out by bigger companies who can better provide that product or service.

As an entrepreneur, I do have problems with the mindset of some businesses, be it large or small, but this problem I have generally occurs exclusively with big business. A general example is that of NASCAR.

I used to love watching NASCAR as a child. Any time a race was on TV on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon I would watch it. We had this black and white TV and a corded oval carpet. I had my Hot Wheels racetrack with the high banks, the charge up cars and all setup around that oval carpet with the carpet being the infield. I would race my cars and watch the guys on TV race. I remember the first time I went to see a race, I got to meet some of the drivers and it was like they were regular people and there was no bravado in accessing them. I recall as little as ten years ago, how if I told someone I was a NASCAR fan, I was a redneck. But I could still go to the track, get some decent seats and even get pit passes fairly easily. Today, the sport is difficult and incredibly expensive to access and next to impossible in gaining access to the drivers; this has even become the norm for Bush series races. So I have disavowed NASCAR. I refuse to watch it. The bottom line reason I have boycotted this sport is because I love the sport but the sport does not love me. They may say they do, but they don’t care about me, know who I am any more, and they only care about money and their sponsors. If you are an old time race fan, I still remember as a child David Pearson, and Richard Petty, Ned Jarret, A.J. Foyt, Buddy Baker and the likes swapping paint, bumping and dodging on the track, folks getting spun out, and holy shit, who ever heard of a caution for debris unless it was a radiator lying in the middle of the track. It is a sterile sport now. It is no longer the racing I grew up with and it was all ruined by the money, commercialism and the “appearance and impression” factor. The guys are clean cut poster boys now, and everything has to be just right! I understand that Larry the Cable Guy said “Git ‘er Dun” instead of Gentlemen Start your Engines. I bet that pissed off Bill France and his gang.

Now it’s not NASCAR that I intend to go on about, that can be debated, and I do understand there is a new breed of driver and fan, and blah, blah, blah. I only have one last argument to make… When you can show me a Japanese bootlegger I might be convinced the roots of NASCAR have not been lost, so until then fuck off Bill France!
So my base example of what I am to embark upon has been set, ultimately, the big company just does not give a fuck about their patrons. It’s all about the money. Companies and organizations can say how much they care about you all the fucking day long, but when it comes down to it the only thing that anyone cares about is the executive who lines his pockets. Now I honestly could give a shit about executives lining their pockets, I mean they built the company or weaseled themselves into a position to make themselves some cash and isn’t that what this country is all about, Capitalism? No I do not begrudge them so very much for wanting to make money, but what I do have an issue with is those executives adopting Marie Antoinette’s attitude, “let them eat cake!” Well now I am fucking pissed. There is one main industry that pisses me off, but very large fortune businesses are guilty as well with the way they pitch their people aside like canon fodder. But mainly I fucking hate the insurance industry.

Over the last few months, but most recently it seems I have had to deal with insurance companies a whole lot more than I want. One nice thing about being directly employed is that when it comes to your health insurance you have a benefits department to deal with all of your bullshit problems. On top of that, if a member of your benefits department calls, the insurance company doesn’t fuck around; the two organizations get together and work things out. If there is a billing problem or a payment issue, there is lots of money already tied up where over time things get worked out and people get paid.

On the contrary, the insurance companies want money from you right now regardless of whether it is truly owed or not, and they will just as quickly cancel your insurance than fuck around with a couple of hundred dollars. Now none of my insurance has gotten cancelled because we intervened to ensure it would or did not. But there has been much time spent on the phone with the company to resolve a stupid fucking issue which if someone had done their job the first time, our time on the phone would have been limited to a single call. But they fucking care… right. The fucking insurance company cares about you and your health and life. Bullshit I say. That bullshit commercial is so full of shit I want to puke every time I hear it and they try to tell me how much they care about me and my family and our life. I pay an ass of money to them each month just so they can come the fuck back to tell me they paid $26 dollars for a $140 visit where I already have paid a co-pay o $40 and there was not a fucking thing wrong with my daughter that could be treated. The tests were negative showing she had a virus of some sorts. She was better several days later, but if the Doc had not performed these tests, then there could have been a mis-diagnosis and now another insurance company would be worried about paying out for a doctors fuck up, driving my costs up at the doctor and my insurance company more than they will already go up since the fucking insurance companies think they are cable companies and can get away with increasing their rates each year because they need more fucking money. I mean its just a few dollars, right… The consumer won’t notice that extra $30 dollars here and $5 there, and $20 over; wait that is another $55 a month… they have us by the short hairs folks! I bet if you add up all the services that increase each year, and compare them against your bullshit 3 – 4% annual increase you may get; my hunch is your raise is outstripped many, many times for the bullshit increases you pay. Just a hunch, you may want to follow up on that.

Ok, so that is not even my bitch today, that just got me started on my real bitch today. So we have determined I have shit for concern when it comes to insurance companies. They are out there to make money. I accept that as a given fact in our society. But they could be like a fucking whore; you pay them and they give something back and act like they care. Oh, but not a fucking way. The insurance companies are like your local dominatrix down the street (we all have a dominatrix down the street, don’t we?), you go and pay them, they tell you what they want and what you will do, they fuck you and you are supposed to like it. And many of the times, they refuse to tell you the “safe word” so you have no idea to get them to give you a break in the fucking, they just keep ramming you and you keep paying. Fucking bitch ass insurance companies. I mean, please… just a reach around while you are fucking me Ole Great Insurance Company… something, anything, not much am I asking for, just act like you care cause I know they do not.

So I get what I think is some good news this weekend. I get some mail for an open enrollment and it appears I am now eligible for some group insurance through the contracting company with whom I work. At first glance I am thinking this is some good shit. So normally when you get paid, you get say $60 or so taken from your check a couple of times a month for insurance, then you know there is also the cash for dental vision, blah, blah, blah. Well, at first glance I am seeing this and the low prices and I am thinking holy shit, I could save as much as $500 a month going to this group plan from a private insurance plan. We have to look at this, no doubt!

Today Mimi and I start looking, and after examining it, the amounts I was looking at were not twice monthly, but every week. And not just every week pre-tax… Oh no, it is post tax. So we went from that nice silicone based lube to the water base lube to some hand lotion (never mind the slight burning sensation). So already I am feeling a slight fucking, but it’s not too terribly bad. We do the math and there is a couple hundred dollars still there in savings by going to this plan. So we look deeper, and then there is a whole fucking page of exclusions. Now I know they cannot really exclude you moving form a group to group policy (I maintain my group policy from my last employer through COBRA, but everyone else on a private policy.) but there are some things you have to do.

Knowing my friendly caring insurance industry, I know I have to call these fuckers and find out what’s up with transferring between group policies. So I call, and get a nice friendly sounding lady and start asking my questions about known conditions and exclusions. And she kept telling me I needed to look at my policy information. I told her I had, but I need to get some specifics, so I can decide if I want to switch. She tells me she cannot help me with that, as switching is a decision I must make. So I tell her that I have this precondition and need to know if the exclusions would apply. She says yes, but only if I switch plan (OK baby, no fucking shit… I understand that if I switch these questions are valid). I ask her to look at my other group policy since they hold that policy as well. She tells me that I am covered there (yeah, no shit, thus will I be covered in the new one, you moron) but I need to read about the exclusions in the new policy. I now repeat that I had, and I KNOW there is a way to transfer between group policies to avoid exclusions. I want you all to know this is a major, super fucking large insurance company I am dealing with. The lady comes out and says, “well, then you could ask for a voucher from your current group holder showing you have current insurance and then there would be no lapse in your conversion.” Then I ask quite specifically, “then, if I get that I can switch to this policy and my pre-existing condition would not be excluded, right?” She tells me, that she cannot help me make that decision, that switching policies is my own choice.

I am sorry folks. If you are customer service and you hear you have someone on the edge, do not tempt him over the edge, please. It is a wholly wrong practice and I swear she did this shit on purpose. Without calling her a moron, I said, “look, I am not asking you to make a choice for me. I know you want to cover your ass, and not get into some legal trouble and blah, blah, blah (this is sort of like the time I called my insurance company when I needed to take my little girl to the emergency room, and they refused to tell me which hospital to take my girl to even though I was a member – fuckers, so I ended up paying out the ass because I went to the wrong fucking hospital). Just tell me, if I have this document will I be under exclusions, I am looking for simply a yes or no.” She tells me no, I will not be under any exclusions. I had a 15 minute moronic conversation to get to this answer because she is trained to give no information and to let people fuck themselves.

So there ended up being some other things that made this whole deal unattractive and we did not end transfer to the new plan. My point to all of this is that it pisses me off companies like these are not there to help you, they are there to cover their asses and if you do not play twenty questions they will tell you nothing. They want to save money, and want you to pay more money. They will fuck you as much as you want, but when it comes to post coital comforting, there is none of that shit. Nope, it’s all the fucking you want and when you are done they move on to the next customer. If you have no money you can kiss their ass. And when they only want to pay $2 dollars for a $10 million dollar bill, be ready to pay for the rest of your life cause that measly third of your paycheck they take from you is a drop in the bucket and means more or less nothing to them. It is more of a punishment that you endure so you do not endure some horrible 5th mortgage expense from a hospital stay.

I have written way too much and it’s not even what I meant to talk about. Just sort of worked up about my insurance issue. I hope soon I will no longer have to deal with this thorn in my side. We shall see!

Gushing Over A New Blog

Its time for me to gush over another blogger. So you know my favorite blogger is my favorite porn star, Mimi, but I had, until now developed only one blog crush and that was THL, but I have found a new one.

I have suspected she could be a new crush, but could never get to her site, which I tried to get to from Chris's blog, Retuirn to Happiness. This is the blog of Jules, who is married to Bubbah.

As I was/am in a fog, I cannot recall how I stumbled on to it, but I have now found her blog:

Cheaper Than Meat

And so now I have found yet another blog crush. But I swear Mimi, since you are my only beautiful, sexy hot wife, you will understand... It is not because of her red hair, its cause she has a great blog, so thanks for stopping by Jules.

Apathy... Customer Service At Its Best!

Tonight has been busy. Not so busy that you feel as if the world is swirling around like one were in the middle of a tornadic funnel being whisked off to somewhere past fucking Kansas, but it has been busy, or maybe the word is steady. However, something scary happened to me tonight, something I loathe something I cannot fucking stand and something that pisses me off more than you know.

Let me back up… I lived on this tiny island in the Pacific once upon a time. Unfortunately it was not with Mimi because she would have loved it and we could have fucked (I should probably say, made love or at least said, have sex, but I like the shock value of fuck! Ok?!) in all sorts of cool places and setting. Unfortunately this wonderful paradise was wasted on the ice queen with whom I hade previously wed. At any rate, upon arrival, I was warned about this thing called “island time.”

You see… things in the tropics and most especially on islands go at a much different pace than here in the states. If you have been to Jamaica or the Bahamas you have most certainly experienced this, and if not previously warned, you would take this pace as people being stupid or just not really giving a damn. But island time is part of the natural order of these places because everything just moves slowly and why should you be in a rush anyway… you are on a fucking island!

So I learned to adapt to my clients being late to meetings and as I took most of my meetings at beach clubs or terrace restaurants, who am I to complain. I mean I have no problem waiting to meet clients while looking over a beach filled with beautiful scantily clad women. I cannot think of any other place I would rather be except with my wife when she is lying there scantily or completely un-clad (oh yes, what a sight) on the beach, right!?

One thing I did not know prior to coming to this paradise, one thing I never got used to, and something that pissed me off more than anything in the world was customer service, something which was not necessarily linked with island time, but is directly linked to laziness. It was not unusual to go to a store, ask for help with the location of a product and be told that item did not exist within the confines of the store or even worse, they were out of something. Now realize it is an island and that everything that one buys on any island except coconuts, papaya, plantains, breadfruit, thatch hats and baskets, have to be brought in by ship. So a store being out of something, like say, a specific car with specific options, or a 2 billion carat diamond or even a model of a brand new phone, computer or video that just premiered is feasibly possible and in some cases probable. But when one goes into a store and asks, “where are your bars of soap?” and you are told “we are out…” Well that is fucked up customer service. Especially when you go hunting for said item because you are pissed at the fact they just gave you a proverbial “fuck you I don’t wanna help you,” and out of the sheer satisfaction you find it and look them down while purchasing said item and they know you are telling the sales person (without saying it of course) to “fuck off,” themselves!

Well that customer service or as some call it, “customer-no-service” is a pet peeve of mine. But tonight I cannot believe what happened to me. Or maybe not so much what happened to me, more like what I did and almost did not do. I almost pulled a customer-no-service trick on someone. And that pisses me off because I am better than that, but that is what this apathy has brought me to at this place. I have told my people not to go down the rabbit hole. Do not learn too much, if you do, we will have to fix the problem. I say that because many times when we discover the problem, the question comes back as to why we did not find it sooner, or possibly that something we did caused the problem or any number of very nasty things, because it seems there always must be a fall guy and if something has been sitting around for a long time waiting to be discovered, it is not so much, “hey thanks for a good job in identifying the problem and fucking fixing it!” No its more like, why the fuck didn’t you find it sooner, we should fucking fire you!

Ok so that may be a bit extreme, but not so much a stretch in general. My point is, we do what we are supposed to do and I have learned it does not really pay to excel too very much, otherwise you are liable to get burnt because the name of the game at this organization is CYA. I refuse to CYA because that is a nutless way to go about things, I have just become apathetic to the entire situation. So what prompted this whole diatribe when I really ought to be talking about the one time Mimi and I fucked on the balcony of the condo we stayed in a few summers ago where I know the entire world heard us (ok it was really her, she is a screamer, one of the many things that I love so much about that woman) and where I have a good idea some people saw us. Why? Because I am pissed at myself.

So this may not sound like a big deal to you, but I will refer back to an earlier post and the fact my wife recently commented how it has become very apparent that I do not treat this job with the same zeal I would normally have when working. It, however, is true and last night is a prime example. So one of my folks comes to me and tells me there is a small problem. Our information indicates the issue is minor, but another one of my folks is finding some different information. So this guy asks me how I want to proceed. At first I told him that if, in general, the issue was of no consequence, then we do not really need to disturb someone in the middle of the night. However, I was curious to see if there were any client specific instructions. What I found was that basically if the issue was not a big deal, don’t bother the client.

Now I start thinking, it may be a big issue, but what we are reacting to points to something rather insignificant, and if we do nothing no one will know the better and someone else can deal with it and the client really does not need too know at the moment. So I can let the other fucker who discovers this is a real issue deal with the problem. That is what I wanted to do, I even began moving my folks in that direction and then my guy started asking “what if” and then I had to rethink and remember that I was here for the customer. In the end, we did what was right for the customer, we had to contact him, and we did what was right and fixed the problem.

My point to all of this is I almost became that which I despise and hate. And that just pisses me off. It makes me realize how badly I must find something else. It makes me realize how jaded Corporate America has made me. It just pisses me off! So I will go home, get a few hours sleep, wake up and enjoy this evening and tomorrow. Monday morning I will be hitting the job search again, as I do most Mondays looking and calling and making my contacts. I must find something soon.

As I close I will impart upon you again, and since you spent your time trudging through all my bullshit… I took some pics of Mimi, and I think I may even set some things up to post other pics, but I will try to post some very naughty pics of Mimi on her blog and on this one. She wants me to post her wet tee pics, so that will be one of my goals this weekend.

Sleep, Dreams, Visions & Harmony...

Like all married couples, we (Mimi & I) get angry with one another form time to time. Today was/is one of those times. You can read all about it on her blog, but not on this one.

I am tired, I did not get enough sleep, the sleep I got was completely drug ridden, and I am still feeling a bit rummy eyed even now. Coffee is my friend and that really is not a good thing. I may have to pop a couple of pills this morning to get to sleep again. The two pill combo worked nicely actually. I have been trying to avoid that but getting home late today, which is early afternoon, entering into a tift in continuance with Mimi, screaming babies all about, and a screaming babbling bird, plus a son who lost his mind and decided to wake me just as I was on the very verge of blissful sleep tend to fuck up the whole luxury of sleep. Oh and let me tell you that this whole sleep thing… is a luxury.

It is quiet all about the office at the moment. I like it this way, especially on nights when I feel exhausted in the way I do. I like the quiet, it is comforting. No one is talking to you, or even around you. The silence is good. I miss the silence. On Saturday night I will lie in my bed, and just before I turn over to sleep I will listen to the gentle whirring of a fan in another room but outside of that I will hear silence. The quiet. I might hear my puppy’s breath as she breaths, and if Mimi drifts off before I, I will hear her soft sounds of breathing, but that is all. I like that too, when the room is dark and there is total silence.

During the day, I sleep in this half haze of light, I cannot get our room completely dark. I should set it up that way, but that costs money and Mimi would not like what would have to be done to make the room like that. But darkness, and how wonderful to have pitch black darkness when I sleep, is something I only experience a few days out of the week. I would hate to live in Alaska during the summer, only to experience that hazy of light twenty-four hours a day when it is not really night but not really day. I miss the night, and I long for it four days a week, and luxuriate in the stillness and quiet of that time.

The other days during the week, I hear a droning noise, all day long as I sleep. Well I know when I fall asleep I probably do not truly “hear” it, but it is there in the background; another noise. It is white sound. I use it to cancel out the other noise, but the drawback to white sound I am beginning to find, is that it does drone. It permeates my environment, it echoes through my head and its soft “shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” sound can some times grow louder and louder even though the volume has never been touched. And as the outside noises of dogs, children, and assholes driving cars with 1,000,000,000 Watt subwoofer that are built to rattle houses to the ground drive past my windows, the roar of the white noise continues to grow. At night when I wake up I sometimes wake up with a headache and until this machine is turned off my head pounds.

That is what it is like to sleep in my house on any given day as I come off this bullshit shift. I have another co-worker with whom I discuss this issue with, and at first before he came on my shift, I thought I was acting the whiney ass bitch, but as my buddy came on the shift I began hearing the exact same laments from him. So I know I am not so much a whiney ass bitch. Now I know I could be trying to catch some zzzzzzz’s on the hard desert ground in 110+ degree heat, while worrying if I am going to have some ass-wipe insurgent try to pick me off. So in the scheme of things, this complaint of mine does not go very far, but in my immediate macrocosm this pisses me off and makes my life flat out suck. For now, I will simply try to enjoy the sleep I get and look towards the sleep I know I will get in the near future.

With my somewhat restful periods of sleep, I sometimes dream and other times do not. But in my state tonight, I have had a waking dream. My dream is a dream of hope and future happiness. My dream entails harmony within my family. My dream includes the exclusion of bad elements which have invaded my home. The elements I might add were brought into our lives voluntarily for the most part, but that does not mean I cannot despise what I have done in hindsight. But I have had a vision.

In that vision I see two planets, and a sun reflecting bright light off both of them. And their orbits about this sun, are lazy elliptical paths, that cross one another from time to time, but both planets maintain a separate path, neither interfering with the other. Then one day a giant chunk of clear glass like ice crashes into one of the planets breaking into millions of shards. The planet wobbles, but seems to stay in place. But, over time as each passing orbit is completes, the harmony between the two planets seems to change. The planets seem to cross paths more, and the planets seem to cross paths at closer intervals than previously known. One day, these two planets, one mightier in natural resources than the other, one mightier in planetary moral strength gently touch and collide. Both planets seem to still be in balance and the natural order of the two still seemed to be intact, but something is going wrong.

During all of this, the inhabitants of the planet have everyday problems, but those inhabitants seem to be happy. And regardless of the planet, there are always storms and showers, and natural occurrences. But for the most part things are happy. One day, however, the inhabitants of the planet of mighty strength discover they have now have a limited number of natural resources, and must do what it takes to save them and their planet. This is a tough spot they are in, as they have never had such an issue before. They have enjoyed the life on their planet with abandon. They do not enjoy the excesses of those on other planets, but they do enjoy themselves and now find that even these small excesses must be reduced in order to maintain the life of the planet. They must learn to grow and discover new resources to further their life on the planet. They realize this may take some time but it is necessary and the pay-off will be good for them and their planet alike. As at anytime when the fun must end, and things done differently and there is less, a lull of harmony can occur. And to the planet and its inhabitants, a lull in the general state of happiness did occur.

The planet of resources slowly and imperceptibly continues to wobble and stray ever so slightly off its natural orbit. No once can see this, not even the planet of great resources understands what is happening. Soon, the two planets collide for real. Both planets’ natural balances are thrown once again, but the mighty planet of strength seems to have been lightly phased, but phased none the less. The other planet has a huge gash and now the planet’s molten core is spewing for all to see. This is all the result of the huge comet like piece of ice striking the planet and throwing it off its natural sense of order. It does not take long before the planet starts spinning erratically, and off kilter, and the orbit becomes less defined. The gravity of the planet starts flinging the atmosphere away as the planet continues to spew its molten self up from the center polluting its atmosphere and blackening its surface. The planet becomes uninhabitable and all is flung away from the planet and the planet one day simply implodes upon itself.

As this all occurs, the other planet can only watch till the final event of implosion occurs, and this goodly planet must endure a pelting from the shards of its neighboring planet. Quickly, this planet thinks to itself, I hope that the debris will clear and the natural order of all will return. Because, since the neighboring planet has endured such misfortunes it chunks of debris have flown from the neighboring planet causing disturbances and aberrations of harmony on the goodly strong planet. But with the final days of the neighboring planet and the realization that its friendliness with the planet is over, there is a hope harmony will return. The inhabitants of the surviving planet are still picking up from their own close call with disaster; they are still growing and looking for new resources. But during this, they all know the implosion of the planet is complete and the shards will soon disappear, and soon they will have rediscovered the natural resources they need, and harmony will return to this planet and the sun will shine on them as it did in the beginning.

* Mimi - Naked Here, There, & Everywhere!

NOTE: This is post #2 tonight

As the night is getting on and I must do some other things, there is but one other thing I want to touch on tonight. If you have read Mimi’s blog about our Big Night Out, I was left with desire to mention something she had touched on before and to extend the bounds of our somewhat deviant (or what I think might be deviant) penchant to have sex in public places.

Last night I touched on an episode where Mimi and I went out a few weekends ago and we went to the bookstore (BTW, we may have to do that again this weekend as there is a book I want to get “The World Is Flat” so maybe we can explore some additional things together. As you may recall we went to the bookstore and she was wearing this dress and nothing else, she was naked other than her little dress and sandals. I played with her in the store and she even (and I think it was purely accidental due to the dress) flashed me as she sat down. Afterwards we ended up at a construction site whereupon she became naked and we had sex.

This weekend, we went out and I was the happy recipient of a blowjob at a post office outlet after dinner. Now really, WTF is someone doing getting mail at 9:30 at night on a fucking Saturday night? And I do not mean just one person, I mean several people. I was thinking today, since the first guy was by himself, maybe I should have just stayed there and let Mimi continue with me, I mean what is this guy going to say about that? I mean you are a guy, you walk on another guy in a fairly remote place and his wife is squatting blowing him with her legs spread wide apart showing her nicely coiffed almost bald pussy. Now that is a great fucking sight! I swear as I think about it even now, I should have said nothing. It would have been interesting and hell, by the time he was in and she knew what was going on, what could any of us do but go on with our business.

So then, after we avoided getting caught, we ended up at this hotel. Now we had originally thought about going to Mimi’s alma mater and checking out the 50 yard line (a suggestion from Chris) but the travel time, plus the time it would take to go elsewhere if the escapade was not feasible would have severely eaten into our time out and Mimi’s patience. So we went to this hotel, went to the men’s room (nice hotel, nice restroom, nice private stalls, basically a room enclosed with a toilet) and set to oral sex upon one another. Mimi decided afterwards, we should have fucked… After thinking about it, I told her that is one more thing we could do.

Now in another post, of Mimi’s she has listed places where we have had sex in public, it is a good list, but I was thinking based on a couple of these things, I have a list of places I would like to have sex with her or places I would like to see her masturbate.

What I would like (besides the 50 yd line at one of our alma maters – we are scouting that one out) is some additional sites besides these:

*A quite bookstore where she can sit and I can watch her play with herself
*In a library where I can masturbate her to climax
*In a porn theater, where I can strip her naked and fuck Mimi
*At a peep show (there is one place I know in our city), and do the same as above
*Another nice bathroom, but this time leave the stall door cracked open
*Would like to take Mimi shopping and let her leave the curtain to the dressing room a little open and watch her get herself off
*That big fountain in that subdivision we saw this past weekend Mimi
*At a regular movie theater that is empty before a movie (again)
*At the park we discussed, you in a dress sitting on my hard cock seeing how long we can sit and watch others around us with me in you.
*On the train
*At a partially constructed office building or house. Maybe even with workers about with the possibility of discovery.
*At the post office again (a different one)
*In an alley, you wearing your vinyl dress
*At the side of a shopping center like this past weekend, But I will get you completely naked first.
*On that picnic furniture by that McDonalds where we took pictures that one time

And I cannot think of any others at the moment (and maybe that is a good thing as this may make me look pretty deviant as it is...) Maybe someone else can help us out with other ideas and scenarios.

I have one thing that Mimi left out about Saturday night… When we got home, she wanted me to take some pics of her in a wet t-shirt, so a t-shirt we got her, a cup of ice cold water, the digital camera and into the hot tub we went. But to get to all of that, when getting out of the car upon our arrival back home, I had her remove her dress, and she got to walk to the door naked, and then I began to kiss on her and run my hands all over her naked body before going into the house. Just as we stepped into the house a car came around the corner, oblivious of my wife’s nakedness. Then on our way out to the tub, we took the long way around; through the front door, around the side and to the back. I love watching my wife walk around naked outside. I wanted to throw her down in the soft grass and go down on her again… maybe I should have… Maybe I will next time. We shall see.

Wolves, Shepherds, Sheep, & New Horizons

Such a rant I embarked upon yesterday. I was all up in arms, and it was a subject I have been trying to get to for well over a week, basically since the day (06/14/05 which happens to be Flag Day) I heard Dick Durbin’s comments.

Today I am a much happier person, not that I was pissed with the world or anything yesterday, but that whole issue had been bubbling for some time, a topic about which I wanted to soapbox. So I have read through my favorite blogs and must go ahead and knock out my nightly post as there are other things on the agenda tonight.

I hope I do not jinx myself, but I must tell you all I have an interview on a position I desperately want, and not because this place sucks ass and is an extension of the 13th round of Hell. This position is written for me; it is the “ideal” position and will put me back onto my career aspirations, rather than being just a job where I get paid for working and doing my time. I mentioned some posts ago, that I was not going to talk about my interviews and the such, but I am pretty excited and that is what is on my mind at the moment. I have had other interviews over the weeks and months and I have not mentioned them, and for good reason, they have not panned out. I have some others coming up as well, but this is a position I am after, and I want it, so it is at the forefront of my thoughts. My fear… I will come back to this place tomorrow night feeling as if the interviews were disastrous, or I wait week after week again for naught.

Now that I have expressed my fears, I will put them behind me, and I will be the wolf. I tell my son that he too is a wolf. There are three kinds of people, the shepherds, the sheep, and the wolves. Please do not think I am condescending, and this is only my philosophical view on life, but here goes.

Shepherds – these are the very good and gracious people in the world, they are wise and spiritual people. Now these folks don’t have to be clergy or “Holy” people and probably most of them are not. My wife is one of these people, she tries to guide me to help me become a better person, but I fear have many more lives to go before I become enlightened.

Sheep – most people are sheep. The best way I can describe the sheep is they are the people in the middle of lanes of the interstate during rush hour. They do what everyone else does, they honestly care what other people think of them, and follow the crowd, rarely thinking “out of the box”. I think sheep are generally not creative, but for the most part are pleasant people.

Wolves – I am a wolf, and like most wolves I think we tend to have an overbearing personality. We are creative, think out of the box, look for alternatives, make creative decisions and make them quickly. We are strong willed and really do not put a lot of credence in what others think of us. We are leaders and most people think we are mean, arrogant and uncaring.

Since I have been at my current place of employment I have played the sheep as I want no trouble, no real responsibility, and to maintain my position I know I cannot be vocal or challenging. I am not in a position to get things done here, to make things happen, to bring about improvement, to make things better for the organization or the people. This machine expects performance and nothing more from me. My interview tomorrow represents a new opportunity to throw off the sheep’s clothing and get back to the wolf I am at heart. But not only does it represent this opportunity, but I miss being the wolf, and I miss getting excited about my job, and I miss doing something I see as meaningful not only to myself but for other people.

I mean, I shit you not, that if I could do something big for people; to do something philanthropic that would be big, to organize it, run it, and do something good for a lot of people, I would. I enjoy making things happen, to see a project completed and see people getting something positive from those things I have built. I know of this structure in a city I once used to live where I was a primary manager. I remember the excitement I had the day the project started as it was the first one I would both start and finish. The day it was finished, there was a large party I attended, and I felt full of accomplishment that the final punch list had been completed and the final payment made to the contractors. It was a pretty huge day for me.

It is jobs like this, that I will be interviewing for today, that will allow me to feel those sort of accomplishments again. It has been much too long since I cared about what I do. I look forward to feeling that sense of accomplishment again. I hope this is the one thing I have been hoping for over these past months.

Its Good To Be A Dick, or Just DICK!

I feel better now! Why do I feel better, I have gotten caught up on my posts. That is assuming I finish this and get it posted this morning. But this is not going to be one of my more humorous postings, but hopefully not as dark as the one about child molesters and murderers. One thing I am going to try my damnedest from doing is making this a political post or rather I should say, I am not going to slam on the Dems specifically. I am going to take down one particular Dem, but not because of his party affiliation, but because this ass-clown has fucked up and now back tracked and is a nutless fuck bag that needs to be detained by whacked out Islamic Wahhabist Radicals who want nothing better to do than cut the heads off innocent civilians because they themselves are nothing but nutless cowards who seek to kill innocent people while hiding behind their cowardly blasphemous religious ways.

I once again remind you this is not a slam on the Dems, this is a slam on Dick Durbin and he and those like him be it Democrat, Republican, Arab or what have you. If you feel the way Dick Durbin feels then I am talking to you and I will pitch a war of words with you. There is a caveat in that challenge, you must serve or have served your country in peace or war, and you must have gone through at least one survival school and dealt with severe ass-kickings. Then and only then will I enter into a war of words because if you have done these two things you will be in a position to have a minutia of understanding what it feels like to be a prisoner.

So there I sat… No Shit (this is how all good military stories start), I was cold, I had these thin blue pajama things on, and some boots with no laces. I heard myself across the loud speaker system and the horrible things I said about my country, about the people I was with and I started to cry. I could not understand it, those were none of the things I had said, they turned everything around. I knew my buddies would not believe what they heard, but what about the others? I had no idea, I was broken, and that was what did it. The beatings, and everything else that was easy, but I had been tricked and they used my intelligence and my knowledge to break me.

Several days later I was ordered to turn around, and salute the flag of the people. The people of who I was now part of and joined. We all refused (I am not sure if I am even supposed to tell this part, it is like telling an ending of a story which should be kept secret), but finally we were forced to turn and salute this flag. My intention, and I know based on our training the entire team’s intention, was never to salute the flag but keep our eyes turned down, or give the bird in a mock salute or something like that. But we turned, saw the stars and stripes, and the national anthem was played and we cried. All of us, and even at this moment as I write this I force myself from tearing up because the emotion of that day being “repatriated” still lingers in me. In that moment as the pea gravel shooshed with all of us turning around, and looking upon the flag, I understood what it was to be one of those who defends their country. For a moment, I was a patriot, I was one of those few who stood for their country in harms way and would have gladly died for her. I understood what it was to be part of a brotherhood of military men who had fought and died, but I also learned a little of what it was like to be captured tortured and to understand what it took for those men who were POWs to make it out alive to come home to this wonderful land of ours.



After my first school I attended several other schools. I wanted to be a better stronger willed person. I wanted never to be beaten and broken again. I learned several times over, very basic techniques of resistance in a POW situation. But not until last week did I learn something else. There are those in our ranks, people in our country, that have not the foggiest clue as to what abuse is, what interrogation mean, and what it takes to extract information from prisoners and terrorists. They simply have no clue.

So these guys start walking up to the rolled barbed wire. They wore tattered clothes, they had holes in their boots, they had shed most, if not all, of their equipment. Some brought weapons that were empty of bullets to trade or sell (the had been told that we would only help them if they had something to trade) they were hungry because they had not had even partial rations for days. Most of all they were scared of the US military because they were told their imprisonment would be harsher than the most hellish of Saddam’s prisons, a place called Abu Graib. They were told the US soldiers would slaughter them, and roast their flesh and eat it while drinking alcohol on the holy sacred ground of Mesopotamia. They were told their women would be raped beaten and tortured if we invaded, that they would be ripped apart under torturous conditions. The only way they could avoid these tortures was to fight to the death, resist all help from the Americans. For all that, these Iraqi soldiers were starved and given limited rations and provided no support, little to no water, no uniform refresh, they were given nothing. And the desert is hot my friends, at the height of the day it can soar to over 120 degrees Fahrenheit. We do not fight in the day, or we try not to fight in the day, we fight at night and rest during the day when we can. They forced themselves to turn themselves over to us, knowing that their fate was doomed. All of them were repatriated to go home, fully fed, sent with rations with clothes, and all treated for their medical ailments. And at the end of the conflict they brought the word back, the American soldiers were not beasts of hell, but men of mercy and truth.

Now, I am not sure if you know of all the atrocities that go on foreign soils, I am not sure if you know about the Hanoi Hilton, or the death camps in Pyongyang (these are not only for POWs but for civilians as well), or if you know of the gulags of Stalin and Hitler, or of Auschwitz or Bergen-Belsen. If you do not know of these places, I implore you to research them. I will not go into the graphic sickening details of the Abu Graib of Saddam’s day, and I will not go into a history of the hell our American POWs have endured at places like Bataan, or the other Japanese camps of Asia during WWII. I refuse to put you through the mind numbing graphic detail of torture, murder and truly inhumane treatment of POWs.

So DICK… Dick Durbin that is, Dick Durbin (D) Illinois, Senator Dick Durban otherwise known as Richard Durban, who is a Senator of Illinois, you are the reason why I am glad we have free speech. I am glad you were able to stand up in front of America and shame our military, but instead shame yourself. I am glad you have now stood up in front of America and back peddled because you a are worthless spineless piece of human refuse. You sir have not a fucking clue as to what inhuman treatment is, you have no idea what some of these people are capable of, you have no idea what a garden of Eden the prisoners of Guantanamo Bay reside in as compared with where they came. They were “free” before Gitmo, but they were free to kill our citizens, and free to repress women, and free to kill those who do not believe humankind should be free to make their own choices, they were free to live in caves, and they were free to inflict torture on people who for the most part were innocent, they were free to shoot people in the head for minor crimes against their religion in soccer fields while being televised on state TV.

Now these people DICK, live in cells bigger than barracks rooms I had when I was in garrison and had two to four additional bunk mates, these prisoners have to endure non air conditioned rooms, while our soldiers lie out in the battlefield under a poncho for shade in 120 degree weather, waiting to move on to the next engagement. These people get lukewarm water, while our troops have nice hot water from their canteens or have to wait for their next re-supply. Have you ever had to drink an IV because you had no water DICK? I thought not!

I think you know not what you talk about when comparing the conditions of the prisoners of Gitmo to the treatment our fellow Americans and various contractors receive before their beheadings. I dare say they do not get air conditioning, three meals a day, fresh linen and a pool to lounge about while waiting for their execution. Sure our prisoners may have to listen to some rap music at an excessive level, and sure they may not get 8 hours of sleep, and sure they may be hosed down from time to time. Big fucking deal! I had that bullshit happen to me DICK! I had worse happen to me and I was in fucking training. And it happens day in and day out to many professional soldiers training to deal with the threat of torture at the hands of an enemy. And I want you to know DICK, that 99% of all those fuckers in Gitmo know they will be released to go home some day, alive and healthy. You cannot say that about our soldiers and civilians.

So let me tell you DICK, I don’t even want you to walk a mile, all you have to do is walk a half mile in my shoes and then maybe you can talk. But let me tell you… You cannot do it, because you lack something my brethren and I have; Integrity. You know why I know you do not have that quality, because you back tracked and you made an apology for statements that you made. But you could not even take the fucking blame for your own statement you blamed it on the media, on a right-wing conspiracy, on the fact it was out of context. Well DICK, you are no man; you are a spineless coward who cannot even take responsibility for your own actions. You cannot stand for your convictions, you helped and continue to help the terrorists and enemies of our country by being spineless and thus you are a traitor to those you say you serve out of complicity by being a purveyor of untrue baseless arguments due to your own self gratifying ignorant and cowardly statements.

So to both of my readers, I apologize for my rant, my hope is somehow this will get googled, and I get a billion hits, and this makes it to the email rounds and this dick at some point gets to see what I think of him. So thank you for enduring through my ranting and I promise a bit more enjoyable reading through out the week.

Old Post, New Post... I Am Playing Catch Up!

Ok… so I am in trouble here. I fear my readership of two readers is going to wane and that, as is quite apparent with only two readers, is a huge circulation problem. You see, I understand that in order to maintain readership, one must provide new reading material to maintain interest. I have failed the both of you (you know, I admit and realize there may be more of you out there, I just only know of two confirmed readers, although after the lack of posting lately, I could be down to only two readers by now, if even that many. So make comments and let me know you are here please!)! I am sorry and most humbly repent for those words I have let unwritten and thus unread!

So in order to catch up, to provide you some material and to show I was not slacking on purpose last week, the following material includes partial entries I had planned to post last week. Unfortunately I actually had work on my shifts last week, so everything came to a screeching halt.

Now here is the deal, I will proof this stuff quickly and as well as I can (I am sure you can tell I do not proof very well, and as my dear and loving wife has pointed out, I tend to ramble in almost a stream of consciousness way, stringing sentences together, thus creating a rambling effect and potentially making no sense during the entire long drawn out diatribe and quite probably tend to lose the reader as I continue down that sometime mind numbing series of event I began about at the beginning of the sentence or parenthetical), but these entries are partials with no conclusion and sometimes little body… but at least you will have a glimpse into the general thoughts I had last week. Most of which had to do with my wife, her being naked, and sex with my wife, and maybe a couple of other things thrown in… So here we go!

So this happened last week… If you read Mimi’s blog you read about the Crazies and the GREAT MELTDOWN, as that is exactly what happened. Mimi IMed me about the incident as it unfolded, here is the entry I began to put together:

… I am not rejoicing nor do I find the situation humorous, but at the same time, it is hard to turn ones eyes from a train wreck that is happening right in front of your very eyes!

The heat was turned up another notch today, and I fear like Mt Vesuvius, the pressure was too great and an eruption took place. Is this but a crack in the dome or did the whole thing blow up. I cannot say for sure at the moment, but I do know the Crazies have made it to the deep water.

Mimi IMed me and the following conversation took place:

Mimi: Hey baby
Mimi: Things are really getting bad across the street....
Mimi: MM called the police
Mimi: Mrs. C came over here and brought MB and Mrs. C had a big cut on her leg from him throwing something
Mimi: The police are there now
Mimi: Damn, there are two cops there now
Me: holy shit
Me: I cannot believe this shit
Me: lemme see if I can get out of here
Me: I do not want you to be there by yourself
Mimi: Oh baby, I think it is ok. I mean the cops are there
Me: just keep an eye out
Me: I want to know where Mr. C is
Me: be it in handcuffs
Me: I do not want you at home there by yourself if Mr. C is left there
Mimi: Well, I did lock the door :-)
Mimi: I can’t imagine they will let him stay there
Me: just keep a watch
Me: and let me know what happens
Me: windows can be broken
Mimi: Yeah, ok
Mimi: Shit, they just brought him out in handcuffs and put him in the car
Me: ok
Me: well he will be forbidden to come back there
Me: he has been tossed out
Mimi: Yeah, Mrs. C said she wanted him out until she could get an apartment
Me: she is going to see an attorney today
Mimi: yes, I think so
Me: and they will probably file some things today
Me: and he will have to pay
Me: you know it was only a matter of time

That happened on Wednesday morning and when I got in that night I tried to diligently begin working on a post after deciding not to post the IM session. I have now decided to post the IM session and this next entry I planned to post with a link to the full story on Mimi’s blog…

… As I gazed across the street this evening prior to going to work, I had to think, what the hell is wrong with those people. The house was quiet and dark as I left, my wife in bed, probably asleep already from the stressful day she endured. For the first time ever, two babies slept in my house, and my son was probably asleep too as I did not see any light emanating from the upstairs as I turned off the kitchen light to exit the house, nor did I see any lights through the windows of our house as I stood outside.

Looking across the street, the house was empty but lights inside were on and I could see several cabinets in the kitchen open, but empty. No one stirred in the house and I wondered what it looked like inside after the events of this morning. You see, this morning the trains collided, the world imploded, and the final inkling of a marriage that should have never been, ended yesterday. Now if I am mistaken about the ending of this abortion of a marriage, I will have to ask both parties directly WTF they were thinking after they get back together.

So with a cut and bleeding leg, Mrs. C brought MB over to Mimi and told Mimi that MM had called the police on Mr. C because he had basically cracked. He was throwing shit all over the house and at… (So I never finished the entry, the rest of the story is here)

Now, several times I started a post, but never finished because of fucking work.. Geez what a suck ass place this is! [I have made a prepositional faux pas… yes, just like the joke: A northern lady and a Southern Lady were standing in a line next to one another and the Southern Lady turned to the Northern Lady and said, “Why, that is the most beautiful dress you are wearing, where did you get it at?” The Northern Lady having a Yankee attitude, looked at the Southern Lady and said, “My dear, being a properly schooled woman I must tell you, that you should never end your sentences in a preposition…” The Southern Lady, being the ever so demur southern belle, blushed in what appeared to be embarrassment, smiled a gentile (spoken as “jen-teel”) smile, and in a fashionably gracious way said, “Oh I am so sorry let me start over… Why, that is the most beautiful dress you are wearing, where did you get it at BITCH?”]

Yes I know rambling and digressing once again… So this entry is about Mimi, and an outing we had a little more than a week ago. I never finished, and I may complete it depending on the week, so basically this has no ending and leaves you completely hanging… You see I must tell you about the blowjob in the Post Office and sex in the restroom from this past weekend…

… (written Saturday morning) So much to write about, and I am just not sure where to start… I feel like I am at the big money table and I have no idea where to place my chips. There is the domestic hell that erupted this week (Mimi covered that for the most part), there is this ass-clown DICK Durbin I want to kick in the nuts (assuming he has any in the first place, and it appears he has none since he is discussing apologies) as well as slander (actually it won’t be slander since he is a slimeball and knows it), there is always the on-going saga of my job and the hell associated with that, and then at some point I just have to talk about this movie I discovered, “The Girl Next Door”… High cheese factor but higher gratuity (I know just like a guy…)! And finally, I want to talk about my wife walking around in public naked. Well not naked, but practically naked. So where do I start?

Ok, how about my wife, I started writing about this some days ago, but never finished. You see, one thing I love about the South in the summer is what women tend to wear, or rather what they do not wear… I love seeing women’s bare legs and sandaled feet, their tummies (especially with a belly piercing), bare shoulders and the natural bounce of their breasts while wearing pretty much next to nothing. That is how it is with women in the South as the days lengthen and things heat up to a steamy sultry temperature. They shed their clothing and become these seductive creatures of beauty with a shimmery glean on their bare skin during the high heat of the day, God they are beautiful, I thank you Lord for these works of art you bestowed upon the earth. To look upon their curves and their gait when they walk, just makes one want to love everyone of them. BUT… I am married to my own Southern belle and I get to see her curves and her gait, and her bouncing breasts every day completely naked at home and not so naked elsewhere, but then again completely naked in other places too! You will see how all this relates to Mimi in a moment.

So last weekend Mimi and I planned to go out for a few hours. What we did in general isn’t where I am going with this entry though. It is something she did that I enjoyed and look forward to whenever we go out. You see, I have a tendency to do something that pisses my wife off, and I wonder if I am the only guy that does this… I am not sure, but regardless, I have a tendency to ask Mimi to wear certain things. Yes, sometimes I treat her like a giant dress up porn doll. When we are going out I know what I would like to see her in, and like to challenge her to wear certain things. At times she acquiesces to my more outlandish requests, like the time she wore her plaid skirt, her sheer bra and a sheer blouse. We went out taking pics at a mall and on the train and then enjoyed some naughtiness.

On some occasions she wears exactly what I would have asked her to wear like this past weekend. She wore a sundress, and well… she wore some sandals, but that was it, the dress. She is pretty hot in general but when she is basically naked with the exception of a dress covering her, it truly makes me horny. We went to a bookstore and had some coffee. And as she sat down at a table I turned in time to watch her sit and cross her legs. The dress being quite short, exposed her bare pussy. I wanted her to keep her legs uncrossed but I could not convey that to her from where I was in line getting our coffee.

Now, when we first got in the car, she made a comment about looking slutty. I told her that she looked like a woman in a sundress. I grant the dress was short, but most women and girls where short dresses, short skirts, short shorts, and tiny tops. She looked no different than most any other attractive woman who would be out on a relatively warm or hot day.

So going through the bookstore, we went to our favorite section and this section at this particular store is set in an alcove type area with a reading chair for patrons. So as we were perusing the area, I was able to reach up her dress as play with her nicely trimmed bush and smooth shaven lips, looking as if I were trying to read what she was reading. All the while, oblivious to my actions was this guy sitting in the chair with his back to us.

… So there is more about up the dress play, Mimi naked at a construction site and other such goodies… But I shall have to come back to this at a later time.

Now I shall go on about some other things in a new entry and maybe revisit some things from old entries.

Busy, Busy, Busy....

So busy I have been… I have actually had to work, which really sucks. Now one might say, Jay, you goldbricking lazy fucking non working fuck, what’s your problem, they pay you to work. Well you are exactly right except when you couldn’t pay anyone enough to deal with the bullshit my peers and I must endure on a daily basis, thus I am working my ass off to get out of here! But seriously I never signed up to get publicly flogged if I fuck up. Oh no, its not like that teenage punk in Singapore getting caned (Singapore should have never bent and just whipped that fuckers ass… we should do that here [yet a thought of something else I must speak about – that fucker DICK Durbin] so maybe these punk ass kids would straighten their asses up), its more a prideful flogging. We all get on this call each morning and the guys who fuck up because Monday Morning QBs know every fucking thing and what you “should” have done, not what you did, even though I am there to save someone’s bacon every time one of their poorly designed pieces of shit fails!

The upshot… I have not been able to provide you with one of my witty, insightful rambling diatribe. My hope is that this evening I will be able to provide you with such wit, as I have much to rant about and tell.

Vinnie The Hitman Moves to the Burbs...

Yes! (In my mind I hear Napoleon Dynamite’s drawn out, Yessssssssssss) Another four days in hell! Now please, do not think I am excited or anything, I am not. I am trying to be optimistic as my fate continues to leave me trapped in the death grip of a titanic sinking with so many captains and officers running about trying to make some sense of the sinking monster they try to maintain. They direct everyone to fill the holes with their fingers, thumbs, and toes. Yes it is bad, and maybe not as bad as I make it out to be, but you know it is pretty sad when employees WANT to get laid off cause they know they will make some money off the deal.

So, here we are another night and what am I going to go on about? Well I had an interesting conversation with my wife today, something that is at the forefront of my thoughts. Yes, maybe even a bit worried, but in general a minor issue but something bearing caution.

In the army you are trained to be cautious and suspect anything. I recall during some training how we were in the triple canopy jungle, a place that is dim of sunlight even though the light is as bright as one could ever imagine 100 feet up above all the trees. The vegetation is still thick, and when moving upon an enemy site ANYTHING can happen, and one is to suspect anything. In the world of nature nothing is perfectly geometric, and anything that has a look of symmetry should be closely examined. That is how, when once being on point, I looked down and saw something that did not look right. I put my hand up to halt my team, and I knelt down. I couldn’t figure it out right away, but there was a problem in the undergrowth. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my eyes focused. This was all from training and sensory perception of my environment.

As I knelt down it dawned on me what did not look right, a length of dark camouflaged twine ran across my path. It was hidden in the underbrush, but what stopped me as I was scanning was the fact across my path I saw a perfectly straight line in my field of vision. That is not a natural occurrence. My training paid off, and what I had almost stumbled across was a trip to a smoke grenade taped to a tree and hidden just off to the side where were moving. This told my team and me several things; that the way we were going was an expected route of entry to where the enemy was setup, there was probably an ambush site just up the way or at the very least and observation post where upon tripping the flare, our presence would be known so the folks at the OP would notify the rest of the enemy element, thus compromising our point of entry and our team in general.

As it worked out, we stopped, checked our map, made a deviation of route from our original plan, and attacked our opposition from an unexpected location, and won our engagement. But, had I not been on my game, we would have lost the engagement in a very bad way, thus would have gotten a no-go on our exercise.

So I have mentioned Motormouth in my blog several times. She is the annoying daughter of the Crazies, specifically the daughter of Mrs. C. I had wanted to give you some background on this wonderful young lady (hahaha, I cannot keep a straight face… sorry!), but as this story involves her, her history will remain some bit of an enigma of which I will elaborate at another time. What is most important is the fact she incessantly talks and is (I really hate saying this about a 13 yr old girl, but it is the truth) the most self involved little bitch I have ever known. I cannot blame her for being how she is because it was her mother who let her develop to the point where she has arrived. But her daily arrival at our home is dreaded by everyone (I am sure the little one would express the same if she could verbally express her thoughts). MM cannot stop talking; she walks in the door and is already talking, it could be to herself, on the phone, who knows, but she is incessantly talking. Mimi tends to get headaches that are bordering on migraines by the time MM walks out of the house. I mean two toddlers and this self involved teenager who cannot keep her mouth shut for a nanosecond. A true recipe for a migraine!

So apparently Mimi and MM were having a conversation, mind you the conversing was minimal on Mimi’s part, and MM related to Mimi an incident that occurred the other day. In some ways it is pretty humorous, but on many other levels, a bit disturbing. The incident involved me, in that I had gone over to the Crazies’ place found Mr. C. outside and threatened him with bodily harm if he did not give me a check.

Ok, I first want to examine the humor in this situation, as the vision of it all could be a great movie scene. That is how I see lots of things, as scenes form movies, I think my calling is to be a writer/director, but I have never figured out how to get there… I digress. So many folks look at me and think, this guy is “Family Connected.” I am a bit of a stout guy, with a big barrel chest, decent sized arms and all, of medium height, and I have the dark salt and pepper thing going on with my hair, and my features are a bit dark. I also spent some years in Philadelphia (so I now have a flat accent with a bit of NE flavor from time to time when I speak) and have on occasion been known to associate with kids in connected families while in school. But the most humorous part of this was I happened to be dressed in one of my suits when this occurred. So I probably did look the part. But my vision was me walking across the street, in my suit, me closing my hands on each other in front of me, my head cocking to the side, and me saying something like, “Hey, Mr. C. we need to talk… You see your wife gave me a bad check, and now I have to kick your ass if you don’t pay up.” He writes me a check, I look at it and say, “No, you see you don’t understand, now you owe interest, you are doing business with me, not my wife now. There is a vig we have to talk about… So I can go across the street and get a bat, and beat it out of you or you can pay up the 600% interest, whaddaya say?”

Ok, so look… don’t freak on me. That never happened. I am just thinking of some scene out of the movie, “Vinnie the Hitman Moves to the Burbs” that would be fucking excellent!

You see, apparently the Crazies have separate checking accounts, and as their train wreck of a marriage continues on its collision course, the chain reaction to implosion is not far away. Mimi is now having issues with getting money for taking care of their children. Mrs. C., to her credit, is very good about paying, but Mr.& Mr. C trade weeks on paying for the childcare, which Mimi provides at bargain basement rates. You will not get one on one care like this for the price Mimi is charging, much less regular daycare. So Mrs. C doesn’t pay Mimi on Friday, which made this past weekend a bit tough, but that is another issue. Monday morning she brings over a check but says it cannot be cashed till Wednesday at the earliest because she has to wait to get paid, and Mr. C refused to write a check. I will admit I was pretty furious about the whole situation. I mean what the fuck is the deal, where you cannot pay for your kid’s daycare? Now I understand Mr. C. never wanted Mrs. C. to work outside the home, because he wanted her to be a stay at home mom. Unfortunately, until all these legal issues are resolved, Mr. C. has real jail time looming over him and it does not appear those problems will be resolved any time soon. So Mrs. C. is hedging her bets and has been working for the past year getting certified and experience in a field that will be quite lucrative for her in the near future. The intent, is, if Mr. C gets jail time for the trumped up charges (yeah, this guy is innocent of the shit that has been brought against him, and his issue right now is a mental breakdown he refuses to acknowledge so he won’t get help and his parents refuse to acknowledge the issue either, so intervention is not going to happen, and he will continue to meltdown), Mrs. C will have a safety net so she and the children do not end up without a roof over their head and no money coming in the home while he is in jail.

What really happened? Admittedly, I was not happy about the situation in general. Mrs. C. annoys the shit out of me as does everyone else in their world. I do try to be a nice guy, and although I do have some issues with Mr. C. (we used to be decent friends, until his world collided with mine creating deep fissures between the families), I was not unpleasant at all. So the issue was, I had a check that was no good, and I needed one that was good. I noticed Mr. C. was around, and strode over to him after coming home from a meeting. And the conversation was short and sweet. I said, “Hey man, need to talk to ya for a sec… This is a bit awkward, but I need a check. Apparently the one Mrs. C. wrote Mimi isn’t any good till Wednesday.” I explained to him the issue leaving out the part of her accusing him of refusing to pay, he said, “no problem” and wrote me a check. Now he did mention how, “…fucking women, can’t get anything right. Leave it to a woman to fuck things up.” And a couple of other choice phrases. To which no comment was made by me. I let him vent. The other thing that occurred during our meeting was that his face was twitching all over. When I told him we needed to talk, he looked at me for a few moments till I began the next sentence, and his eye twitched and he just stared me down. So I began the next sentence of, “…this is awkward, but I need to get a check from you.”

I took the check, came home, and mowed the lawn. Mrs. C. Came to get MM and MB and Mimi, explained what happened, Mrs. C. was pleased I collected from him, and life went on as normal. Mimi’s headache went away, we had dinner and the evening was peaceful, except for all the fucking dishes we had to wash by hand! But other than that it was a good evening.

So now, I have to wonder, WTF is going on here? Has this guy melted down so far that his reality is distorted? Did he really say out loud that I threatened to kick his ass if he did not pay up? Did MM pull that out of her ass? Does one’s own reality shift completely when entering the realm of the Crazies? I don’t fucking know. What I do know is that if Mr. C. were to call the police, he could easily state I threatened him with physical injury, which could be considered terroristic, and quickly I could be handcuffed and taken to jail. Yeah, so what if I didn’t do a fucking thing wrong, I would still have to spend money to prove I was innocent and (money I do not have) and I could potentially come away with an arrest record, something I proudly can say I do not have. I have never had handcuffs utilized on me in that way!

So now my senses are alerted and I must go to one of my best friends and ask him for advice. Yes I have a lawyer for a close friend. He is literally the only one I know who is truly honest; otherwise we never would have become friends. But I hate asking him for advice, especially since I am a friend. Plus I know the advice I would give Mimi and me… Disassociate ourselves from these insane people in anyway we can. Unfortunately for the near future, we need the income the childcare brings in, so we are in quite the quandary. However, maybe because my senses are alerted, I can move in another direction with some stealth to avoid some psychotic trap he may cook up to sabotage my family. Yeah, I know mellow dramatic, but it sounded good. But really, I think this is a definite sign that caution must be taken with these folks.

So yet another chapter of strange tales from the burbs! HA!

Sorry, No Monkey News Today… Just The Crazies, Boardroom Tables and Lots of Commas and Parentheticals!

Word Spelling, Grammar, and general proofing disclaimer… I did NO proofing on this entry, as I need to go and there is too much traffic around me to spend too much more time on this, lest I give myself away!

This week has been a frustrating week from a personal point of view, in so far as the financial punishment we took or rather chose not to take by merely forgoing a luxury item that today is not so much considered a luxury but a required item (I am making a clear distinction between a requirement and a need here). Mimi is working very hard to move from the sand to rock and me… well I am going to lay off being a whiney ass bitch for the moment.

Au contraire mon frere, that does not mean I am not going to bitch about something, just not about my sad state of affairs. However, regarding my state of affairs for one moment, I was apprised that maybe I am not being a whiney ass bitch because I am “a real person” with “real people” issues. Now that is cool, so thanks Brandy! You see much of the times, Mimi and I feel as if we are on this island, and everyone around us is doing so much better than us. So now at least I can point out to Mimi there is one other person who can relate!

Well on to other things here for a moment. Generally there is a single topic I hone in on, but I have several short topics (hopefully unless I begin to drone and ramble on about one thing) that I will hit. The first two I just find ridiculously humorous, and the third involves the Crazies. But let’s discuss (well I guess there is not much discussion, but I am not gonna fucking share because that is for windows users and left coasters [no offense you libs], and I do not want to tell you something as that is rude, so I will leave it at discuss) about commas and parenthesis, writing on tables, and Monkey News.

Now one of my favorite blogs is the Hot Librarian’s blog (this is besides Mimi’s blog of course) because I love her freakin stories. I mean, she has some fucked up shit that happens to her. But then again, what do you expect when you are a single chick living in California with a bunch of guys while going to what I suspect (I suspect because she only hints at it) is Berkley. That, in and of itself, is just asking for a bizarre life.

So I read her entry for the other day and found myself laughing aloud in the office. I love the way she writes and love her stories but some ass-hat (slightly less than an ass-clown) gave her shit because she writes wholly complicated multi subjected sentence and links them all together with commas, all the while making side comments via parenthesis (sound like anyone we know?). So she recognizes her grammar has a high suckage factor, although I do enjoy her sentence flow, but she ripped this guy a new one, and in quite the humorous way. So why do I mention this, well as I read the entry I realized one of the things I like about her style of writing is that from a structure perspective it is quite like mine. Now she is much better at the random use of hyperbole, similes and metaphors, but never the less, structurally we write in a similar manner. So I am not sure if you read my blog THL, but tell your grammatical correcting ass-hat he can kiss my ass too.

Next subject: A few months ago coming into work after a break, my peer tells me as we swap shifts that there has been a slight change on access to a conference room we use to meet with our people. Now look, this is getting really close to home so if there are any of my peers or management who have stumbled onto this blog and are reading the horrible shit I write about this pit of hell and the slave driving ass-clown non-leadership management fuckers that run this place, oh well. Mimi, I guess I will be jobless sooner than I expected. This policy comes form the idiotic and senseless, as if we were managing a daycare for adults. Some weeks ago, several folks from the management team had a big meeting and on the big conference table someone had felt it necessary prior to the managers meeting (prior; meaning probably over the past couple of weeks, and I opine this occurred during some training session held by another group who was allowed to use our conference room, but WTF does my opinion mean, right?) to write their name on this table with a blue pen.

Ok what a dumb ass thing to do. However, I maintain it most likely was not something one of our folks would do, because it is difficult to get the de-motivated staff to pay attention to the meeting in general, much less bring writing tools to our meetings. Sure it could have taken place during some other meeting with our group for some other issue, get together, or whatever. Regardless, I get in this one particular evening, and I am handed a key. That’s right, you know it, you won the $64,000 dollar question if you both asked and answered it, the key was for the conference room.

An email had been written and sent out to the entire staff, that writing had been found on our VERY expensive table (now that is not a joke, someone paid arms legs and a fucking torso for this table, if Mimi saw it her panties were she wearing any would get nice and moist and would want to use it regardless of who might be around. It is big and quite nice) and the room would now be locked and with the exception of management, one could only access the room under only the most strict guidelines, those of which I will not explain for reasons of extreme idiocy and brevity.

So now this conference room is locked up tighter than Fort Knox, I mean one would have an easier time enticing and corrupting a nun of the highest order before a “normal” person could gain access to this room. However, even with all the precautions, DNA sampling, retinal scans, polygraphs and body cavity searches, you would not believe what I found. So the other day we had a meeting and as I leaned back in my chair to stretch, since I was working on a half day (12 Hrs) at that point, I noticed under the lip of the table top on the recessed edge of the table someone else had written on the table. This time in large two inch letters spanning the height of the recessed edge. Well I am nobody’s fool I promise you. I saw that and thought to myself… “Hmmmm, should I alert someone to this newest instance of vandalism?” Well folks, I only thought about it for a few seconds before I came to the realization, that if I brought it to the attention of management I might well be assigned my own personal bottle of Lube since it is quite apparent neither my peers of I have not been doing our jobs policing the Boardroom Table Writing Bandit!. I have failed in such a woeful way for my management! What a fucking lousy employee, oh wait I am just a fucking contractor (That is what my manager said about contractors the other day, “Contractor Guy is not an employee he is just a contractor, so we should fire him for making that mistake, I said, Manager, I am a contractor…” WTF is that all about… DICK!).

Last order of business… Last evening Mimi and I had to go hit the Walmart (Yeah I know some of you guys have it out for Walmart… I am fucking lazy, I have no money and it is close to the house and dirt cheap to buy shit there… So I go to Walmart, you Walmart Haters) for a couple of things we needed. Well our conversation turned to the Crazies (I have talked about Mr. and Mrs. C, their children, Motormouth, The Bad Seed, Jeremy, and the Man baby… It is a marriage on the way to a horrible, horrible crash, and unfortunately we have let them into our lives to the point they are now intruding…). Mrs. C asked Mimi earlier in the day to intervene between her mother in-law (this was an effed up situation but thankfully nothing came if it) and her about an issue with the Man Baby (MB) should the mother in-law drop by. Mimi explained the situation never occurred, but this segued into another issue. When Mrs. C came to pick up MB, MB wanted a pair of my daughter’s shoes (I have mentioned this too, but refresher; MB likes to take my daughter’s shit in the afternoon as Mrs. C is taking her home, and asks Mimi if it is alright… sometime shit comes back, other times it does not. The issue is Mrs. C cannot be a grown up and a parent and tell the child NO, so she depends on one of us to be the fucking parent.) and so Mrs. C sits down on the couch with MB and starts putting the shoes on the child. Now these are my daughter’s shoes, and this woman is telling MB, “oh no these are Baby Mimi’s shoes, you cannot have these…” and apparently telling this child the same time over and over while she puts them on MB. Finally, she asks Mimi if it is alright if MB wears the shoes. Holy shit I am thinking, what is in this womans head besides stagnant air? This is just not right, I should shoot a laser pointer directly through her empty skull! So Mimi, takes MB and takes the shoes off the child with no fight, and hands MB back to Mrs. C who thanks Mimi, cause she did not want to make MB upset.

The night before, Mimi and Mrs. C talk and then it is related to me Mr. C was outside with MB (The rest of the brood is at their biological father’s place and then camp for the next few weeks, thus it is only Mr. & Mrs. C and MB.) and all of a sudden storms into the house, puts MB down somewhere and tells Mrs. C that MB is a brat just like the rest of her children. Well now I do not condone necessarily Mr. C calling his almost two year old daughter a brat… But he does have a point! Now I understand why the rest of her brood is the way they are and MB is already on that path!

Well, I have to go, have a great weekend, and maybe I will post something later this weekend. I am thinking I want to go to the library on Sunday, maybe Mimi can wear something conducive to some naughtiness.

Comment Whoring 101....

I have over 270 hits on my site, and can count my comments over the past few months on probably one hand, maybe two hands. Seriously I am not comment whoring here, but I do need some help.

1. Any feed back on my ludicous boring insanely long entries really would be appreciated. Meaning - should I keep writing this schlock or should I aim for a pulitzer...

2. This is MOST IMPORTANT at least for the moment, in easy concise instructions can ANYONE tell me how to view what searches and other sites bring people to my site, if any?

3. I Am now going to "comment whore" for Mimi... She is getting lonely and wondering if people are really reading her blog...

Thanks for your comments!