Learning About Love - The Hard Way - Part 4

Please make sure to read parts one, two and three before you get sucked into this

My teenage boy brain insisted that she was the one. She had never had sex, never drank, never done drugs, never snuck out of her house, never ditched school….and I was the one to show her how it is all done.

Our relationship was good…while it lasted. I taught her that blow jobs on demand were “what people in love do.” I taught her that slinking up to the college guy outside of the liquor store and putting on a cute smile so he’d buy us beer was the greatest gift a girl could give her man. I taught HER that sneaking out of her house late at night, and walking the ¾ miles to my house, to have sex with me in the woods was best, cuz I would have more energy for her. I taught her that …well…I won’t get into the real heavy stuff. I think you all get my drift.

Anyway, I can honestly (and now shamefully) say that I thoroughly corrupted her. Only a few months into our relationship she; smoked cigarettes, drank on a regular basis, smoked pot here and there, coned beer out of unsuspecting college students, ditched school, snuck out of her house at night and put my sexual gratification above anything else.

It was not long after my step father walked in on …her kneeling before me in my mother’s home office, that I broke up with her. Honestly, I think I did it because I was starting to get more attention from a lot of other girls (she had a tendency to discus our sex life with all of the other girls at school). To top everything off…as payback for me breaking up with her, she asked my younger brother out (and he said yes) and proceeded to have sex with him for about 2 weeks before that faded away.

Now…if you have read all of the parts of this series, you’ll understand that I had finally learned a thing or two.

I moved to NYC shortly afterwards and proceeded to spend the next 5 years just being a single (dog) guy in his mid to late teens. I had no serious relationships…but did have a lot of fun. I guess that is why they say that you have to ‘live a little’ before you settle down.

The End…for now.

Learning About Love - The Hard Way, Part 3

Make sure to read Parts One and Two before you read this one

Summer between 9th and 10th grade, I returned home and was going to go back to public school. I lived in a very small town where everyone knew everyone…until a new family moved into our development. The neighborhood guys and I decided that it would be a good Idea for up to stickball games, bikes and skateboards to the street in front of their house…you know, we had to check them out.

As it turned out, the family was a mother, and a girl about our age and a younger son. No more than an hour into our street shenanigans, we saw the screen door on the front of the house open and the mom saying something to the girl as she pushed her out the door towards us. (old school social enabling)

The girl stopped in her front yard, sat down and just watched us. Most of us began showing off and trying outlandish jumps and tricks on our bikes. After she watched us acting like fools for a while, two of my friends and I walked up to her and introduced ourselves. We found out that she was our age and would be starting in our school in September. They had moved here from another state after her parents got divorced.

The girl was a bit homely and did not really have anything special about her looks. Just kind of plain. After inviting her to hang with us, we began just treating her like one of the guys. Not to mention that she was pretty good on a skateboard.

As the summer wore on and we all hung out together, I made it a point to look out for her…I knew better than to burn ‘girl’ bridges. It was not long before I felt as though she kind of liked me. I was unsure about how I felt about that. I mean, it is nice to be liked but I did not know if she were my type. (as a girlfriend) She was not ‘sexy’, hung out with the guys, had previously confided that she’d never even kissed a boy and was all around kind of a goody two shoes. I on the other hand had started drinking, smoked cigarettes here and there, dabbled in smoking pot, went out at night to cause trouble with the boys and expected sex from a girlfriend.

…beginning of dilemma.

I did not know at that time how much she really knew about me or if she’d like what she saw …but a part of me liked the idea of ‘molding’ her to my liking. I could teach her the rope and then she’d be perfect for me.

My friends did not understand what I was doing when I asked her out, but soon after…they did. (I hate to say this now, but she was like a puppy going through training.)

...More to come.

Learning About Love - The Hard Way, Part 2

Make sure to read Part 1 before this one.

On our 15 block walk back home, we exchanged a few “I am the man” nods…but did not say much to one another. Once we got home, our father wanted to know the scoop. We filled him in to the best of our ability and then went into our room. Antsy and pacing around the room, I did not know how long I could put off calling her. I need to know if we were going to see each other again. I needed to know if she really liked me. I needed to know if there was a chance of a long distance relationship. I was dying. After about an hour and a half…I was defeated. I caved and called the number that she wrote on my hand.

After a few short rings, the sound of her sweet voice filled my ear. I struggled for words. A few seconds later I was comfortable speaking again. She had a weird way of calming me. I adored that in her.

We saw each other a few more times before I headed back home to New Hampshire. During these visits we kissed twice, we sat in her room for hours talking and listening to music, we agreed to be boyfriend and girlfriend and we agreed to call and write to each other frequently.

Once home, I bragged to all of my friends (all that would listen) about how "I picked up the hottest girl in New York and now she is my girlfriend." I don’t think many of them believed me…until the day that I got my first letter from her. It was the sweetest love letter I had ever gotten and it had a Polaroid picture of her in front of Tower Records. My friends, after seeing her picture, both believed and, from then on, looked up to me.

After a few weeks, it was time for me to go upstate to my boarding school. I did not like that idea of being that much further away from ‘my love’ but I had no choice. The adjustment to living at school was tough, but was made much easier with the picture of Vanessa on my desk and the letters I received EVERY day from her. I literally got about 40 letters from her in the first 2 months of school.

After a few more months, and as the letters slowed in frequency, I received the letter that I hoped would never come. The Break Up Letter. I was crushed. I know that I had only known her for a handful of months and that I’d only actually seen her in person 5 or 6 times and she lived 10 hours away…but still. I moped around for a week or so hoping that I’d get another letter…which never came.

The next two years I spent flirting and having flings with all of the teachers’ (age appropriate) children and a few girls from neighboring towns. I suppose it was the experimental phase…where I needed to know where I stood as far as picking up girls and handling short term relationships. It was quite fun while it lasted (barring the time I got caught with the headmaster’s daughter in the bathroom of the church.) but I knew that when I got back home, I was ready for something more.

...More to come

Learning About Love - The Hard Way

Daddy Geek Boy’s recent post really got me thinking…thinking about my childhood and old relationships.

It not only re-hashed memories of my first ‘true love’ (Sydney something) who moved out of state 3 days after we started ‘going together.’ I had liked her for a long time (at least a month) before I got up the nerve to ask her out. Yeah…my timing sucked. We could have had a whole month together. The way that my 7th grade mind processed that badly timed and handled relationship was this: I would no longer fear rejection and if I liked someone…they knew it at the same time as I did.

This led me into quite a difficult to sum up stage.

It was the summer between 7th and 8th grade and 2 of my siblings and I were with our father in NYC and browsing through the aisles at Tower Records. All of the sudden my brother (2 years my junior) rammed his elbow into my ribs. As I raised my fist above my head, ready to open the flood gates upon him I grunted, “What?!...the hell was that for?” Not at all scared of the impending fist in the face…he just pointed. There were two girls a few rows over…looking up at us and giggling.

Holy shit they were hot! I mule kicked my sister so that she would get away from us, and proceeded to shyly look over at them and then smile and look away. This continued for a few minute…until I was brought back to reality by a tap on my shoulder. It was my father. I thought he was going to totally ruin this…a kind of tendency he has. But he didn’t. He handed me $5 and said, “Go buy those cute girls a Coke or something…and meet us at home before dark.”

My brother and I were in shock…starring at one another as our father and sister left the store. We grinned and then continued with our little eye game with the girls. Then it hit me…a flash of Sydney. I was not going to let this opportunity get away. Noticing that we had drifted into the Opera section, we, needing to collect ourselves, headed for the door, looking at the girls over our shoulders a few times before getting out o the street.

Once outside, we propped ourselves against the side of the building and began throwing ideas around as to what we’d say to them when the came out. All of the sudden the emerged from the store, saw us and smiled. As they neared us I could not believe how good looking they were.

After a very awkward greeting and introduction, the two of them agreed to go for a soda with us. While standing in line at the hot dog cart, we exchanged bits and pieces of info about ourselves.

Not thinking about the fact that this was New York and we lived in New Hampshire…or the fact that at the end of the summer I would be going to boarding school about 4 hour further north. We were here and they were interested.

Vanessa (mine) had super long black hair that swayed back and forth across the top of her ass, hazel eyes and a developing body that made me stare a bit more than I should have. Her friend Nancy (my brother’s) was a strawberry blonde with a Brooklyn accent and beautiful blue eyes.

We sat on a nearby bench, talking about what we’d been doing, music that we liked and how long we were going to be here in the city. It was bliss. I remember when Vanessa’s father came over and told them that it was time to go. I was crushed. I sadly watched as she and her friend trailed behind her father…looking back at us. As I sat there thinking of yet another way too short relationship, she came running back and grabbed my hand. Whipping a pen out of her pocket, she wrote down her phone number and whispered in my ear to call her later.

I think I about peed myself. With my mouth gaping open and an odd grimace on my face, I waved as she trotted to catch up with her father. Once out of sight my brother and I turned towards each other and proceeded to give each other a high five followed by the most ridiculous end zone dance imaginable.

...More to come

Help Our Children - Cure JM

Kevin of Always Home and Uncool has asked me to post this as part of his effort to raise awareness in the blogosphere of juvenile myositis, a rare autoimmune disease his daughter was diagnosed with on this day seven years ago. The day also happens to be his wife's birthday.

*
Our pediatrician admitted it early on.

The rash on our 2-year-old daughter's cheeks, joints and legs was something he'd never seen before.

The next doctor wouldn't admit to not knowing.

He rattled off the names of several skins conditions -- none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner -- then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.

The third doctor admitted she didn't know much.

The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter's knee showed signs of an "allergic reaction" even though we had ruled out every allergy source -- obvious and otherwise -- that we could.

The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.

She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:

The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.

The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.

The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.

The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.

She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook.

She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.

This was her gift -- a diagnosis for her little girl.

That was seven years ago -- Oct. 2, 2002 -- the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.

Our daughter's first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn't tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.

Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.

What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don't know.

I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter's condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.

That, too, is my purpose today.

It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.

To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.org.

To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go to www.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever or www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.

What is a sick child?

I have to say that I feel very lucky when it comes to the health of my kids. Yeah, they get banged up, get colds, toothaches, stomach problems…occasionally some constipation…but never anything serious. I have even posted about me and my unhuman history of making it 41 years and never spending a night in a hospital or even breaking a bone.

Since I started blogging, I have heard some of the most horrendous stories about people’s kids being gravely ill. It is almost unimaginable for me to comprehend what they must be going through as a parent…not to mention the suffering of a child.

In real life, I don’t even know anyone (close to me) that has had a very sick child…I have experience here. The one thing that I can say is that I bet I’d be a mess. I can see myself going over the top and just plain losing it. I’d be like Denzel in that movie John Q.

Much of the time, Mariah will come up to me with a sad, heartbroken look on her face…then I’ll ask her what is wrong. She slump into a chair to tell me the horrors that some other blogging parents are going through with their sick child. I feel bad for them. But it just does not affect me the same was as it does her. Maybe it is because I have never been through or experienced first (or even second) hand what it is like. Maybe it is because I don’t know these people. Maybe it is because I am a cold son of a bitch…I don’t know. But the fact remains; I DO feel for these families and truly care about the health and well being of ALL children.

Now…one of the resident Hot Dads (AlwaysHomeandUncool) has a big date (October 2nd ) coming up that really means a lot to his family (especially Thing1) and many more people throughout the world. Read a bit about what they have been through here and here.

I encourage you all to join him in his efforts to create awareness and raise funds for Cure JM. Cure JM is a 100-percent volunteer organization that funds medical research into the cause, treatment and eventual cure of juvenile myositis, juvenile dermatomyositis and their variants. The group also offers family support opportunities to help JM children, their parents, friends and relatives cope with the disease. To date, we are more than halfway to this year's fundraising goal of $500,000, nearly all of which goes directly to JM doctors to pay for research fellowships, specialized lab equipment and fund studies.

Please do what you can and save some space on your blogs on October 2nd and make sure to even tell your real life friends and family about it. We need to get a hold on these childhood illnesses that cause so much pain!

Love in a Bottle

The following is a letter that I have just sent off to 'my friends' at the Boston Beer Company. I wonder if they will take it to heart and help a brotha out.


Dear Samuel Adams executives,

I am writing this letter to you in an attempt to express to you the extent for my love of your Boston Lager. As I am sure that you have received many such letters, this one I assure you, is straight from the heart.

I first had the pleasure of being introduced to my first Samuel Adams Boston Lager in 1991, whilst living in Boston’s Back Bay. As with some human relationships…it was love at first sight. Our love affair has spanned the past 18 years and its full flavored goodness has been one constant in my life that would always be there for me.

Over the years, I would find myself angered and disgruntled at the fact that everyone does not carry the Sam Adams brand. People just don’t seem to understand the extent to which Sam Adams far exceeds other beers in the realm of quality, taste and …yes…drinkability. Yes…I am the guy with the collection of anything and everything Sam Adams (signs, openers, glasses, bottles and even retail store signage (that I pleaded with owners for.)

Getting to my point, during these times, times in which money is tight and budgets are stretched, I am finding it harder and harder to justify this long time relationship of mine. Currently I am out of work and am a father to 6 children. Besides scouring local stores for sales, the price of Sam Adams is making it like the love a teenage fan would have for a hot celebrity…consistently intense, but unattainable.

As I have written on my blogs about this love affair of mine (http://ipitw.blogspot.com/2009/06/insane-love.html http://ipitw.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-guess-pleasantries-are-overrated.html ) I plan to continue passionately writing about the most superb beer in the world, I am asking, right here and right now…for your help.

As a long time HUGE fan, coinsurer and lover of your beer, please help a struggling guy continue on this journey of love. As I cannot fathom my life without your delicious brew, I’d be happy and willing to plaster my blogs and Facebook pages with banners, ads and text links pointing to Samuel Adams. Coupons, website credits, cases (to review), etc. or anything else that you can think of would not only reinforce that yours is the best beer, but the best company in the world.

I eagerly look forward to your response.

Best regards.


Chris
Lover of Sam Adams – America’s World Class Beer

Talk About A Complete Woman

The first time I saw her, sitting across the room from me, I was in awe. Her very presence threw me off balance. Thinking of what to say to her was futile. I could not get words to pass my lips. I sat there, hypnotized by her.

After a day of continuous thoughts and dreams, I took the leap and uttered a string of words to her that to this day I have no recollection. Something happened. I did not have to think of what to say …the words just flowed out. Talking to this stranger was the easiest thing I had ever done.

We bonded very quickly and talked about everything. We shared our secrets, likes, dislikes, histories…our entire lives. After only a few days, it was as if we’d known each other since birth. The number of things that we have in common is absolutely amazing.

This was 3 ½ years ago. Today I feel the same way. We are very similar, but even with our differences…we balance each other in the most perfect way.

In this woman…with her; old man fetishes, quirky weirdness, yearning to ‘rescue’ any and all animals to keep as pets…her love for religion and her uncontrollable and overwhelming tendency to emotionally be sucked into ANYONE’S misfortune…..I have found the woman that I’d do anything for…that I will be with til the end of time…that makes me strive to be better every day…that STILL makes my heart beat faster in her presence.

This sexy, smart, funny, outgoing, loving and honest woman is the woman of my dreams.

**I wonder if she knows who she is.

Insane Love

As many of you know, San Adams is my all-time favorite beer…actually more of a love affair. (As seen Here and Here)

Anyway…I was on TweetDeck and decided to do a search for Sam Adams…to see if I was alone in my obsession.

HOLY SHIT!!!!! I am not alone…not the crazy bastard that I thought I was.

Below are about a dozen tweets that I pulled (as they came in):

wish I had some beer STOP complaining! BEER BEER YUMMY BEER! SAM ADAMS ALL THE WAY!

oooh I had some sam adams summer whilst in chi and it twas delightful.

currently drinking Sam Adams seasonal and watching the NBA. In theory running a training session

$2 pints at the fox & the hound. Sam Adams here I come!

Is it wrong to drink an ice cold Sam Adams Lager for your recovery drink after a 35 mile ride? You know what i don't really care. mmmmm yum!

Cold Sam Adams- Penguins in the finals- Life is good.

Enjoying a Sam Adams with my bride.

6 pieces of ravioli with tomato sauce and a sam adams cherry wheat ale

Sam Adams Summer Ale. Yes we are double wristing it.

Yankees. Red Sox. Sam Adams. It's all good!

Cracking a Sam Adams to go with my from-scratch clam chowdah. Wicked good.

Case of Sam Adams cherry wheat for the game. Slightly more excited for the beer.

Need me a Sam Adams.

Eating at a sports bar. Appetizer combo and a sam adams beer. Yum.

Does anyone know where in Kazoo to get Sam Adams Black Lager?

How bad is it to ditch the post-work run in favor of potato chips with Sam Adams? Probably pretty bad . . . crunch crunch crunch

So…if you have never tried Sam Adams…put down whatever it is that you are doing and go to the fucking store. It is worth it. My favorite is the regular Sam Adams Lager.

**To Any and all Sam Adams PR, Marketing, Operations, Management and Executives…PLEASE KNOW THAT I AM OPEN, READY AND WILLING TO CONDUCT TASTE TESTING, REVIEWS, COMMERCIALS, OR ANYTHING ELSE THAT YOUR HIENESS WOULD ASK OF ME.

Kids Are A Reflection

As a parent, I can say that I find it funny how much you can tell about the parenting by the attitude of kids. I truly think that when you encounter those smart-ass kids with disrespectful attitudes and a filthy mouth…it is the parents’ fault. Those bratty kids that whine and can’t do a damn thing on their own…parents’ fault. The kids failing at school…parents’ fault. The trouble makers, the bullies, the sissies, the druggies and the sluts…all the parents’ fault. Yes….there are exceptions, but for the most part I think that much of the above can and could be quickly sqashed if the parents act quickly and tend to their kids the way a parent should.

This also goes the other way. You know when you meet that kid who seems 5 years older than they really are. The one’s that consistently say please and thank you. The one’s who do well in school. The ones that surround themselves with decent friends. The ones who enjoy being home as much as going out with friends. The ones who, by nature, offer respect to elders and don’t talk back.

You meet those kids and suddenly wonder what you could do to get your kids to act more like them…”Have I done something wrong? Why doesn’t my kid act like that?”

Yes…you guessed it. I am talking about Mariah and her kids. For any parent…or Mother for that matter, there is no better compliment than someone telling you how great a job you have done in raising such well rounded and wonderful children.

I am saying this to you Mariah. You have done the impossible. You’ve raised 4 great kids who all have the ‘good’ qualities that I mentioned above. No matter how you feel about yourself on any given day. Know that you have successfully out-parented 90% of the nation.

Happy Mother’s Day M-Cool !!!!!!!!

Tribute to Maddie

See what beautilful art can be done by kids and a dad?

3 Fucking Years!!!!!!

You ever have something that you really want to do (for many reasons) and you just can’t seem to get it done…no matter how hard you try?

Well that is MY LIFE!

As you all know…I married the wrong bitch-ass, cunt, troll, psycho person the first time around. We separated in September of 2005 and the divorce proceedings started shortly afterward.

Now…3 FUCKING YEARS LATER…I still can’t seem to get the freakin troll off my back!

I love my two young boys (who live with their motherfucker) to death…but I want the legal issues to be finalized so that there is no more back and forth and we can all move on.
I fell in love with Mariah (Insane Mama) and her kids…I want to marry her, but I can’t until my divorce is finalized.
I want to be able to get along ok with mongoloid cunt…but she is a nasty, backstabbing piece of shit…and I have to say that I’ve had some pretty evil thoughts about her…and her well being…and continue to find myself smiling after each thought.

How can a divorce case last more than 3 years when there is no fight over money or property? Well…let me tell you:

She has ‘changed’ lawyers 4 times…each time the new one would be granted a continuance.
She has come to every court appearance with long lists of accusations, which the judge (by law) has to examine.
She makes a point to state at every opportunity that she will not agree to, but is willing to ‘discuss’ overnight visits down the road…knowing that that is what I want…so we have to go back to court and fight again.

On another note….but about as frustrating…I had this throat problem since last December, where I irritatingly clear my throat every 5 minutes or so…EVERY DAY!!! At first I thought that I was just a bit sick, then tried some random over the counter meds that by reading them I thought might work. Then I went to see my Dr. who told me that it must be an allergy….although the allergist and blood work up that I had done said that I am not allergic to anything. My doc put me on Zyrtec D and the shit stopped…after about 2 weeks…but in the meantime…I got a cold and now, although not clearing my throat…I can’t get rid of my hacking cough. Just another thing that I just can’t seem to have ‘closure’ with.

TALK ABOUT PEEING IN THE WIND!

Remote Fun - Continued

We hung out there for a little bit…then we started talking to some of the people playing darts. It was obvious to us that they had seen how we were groping one another by the way they were inconspicuously watching every one of our hand movements. We …kind of liked that. We continued our playfulness…not trying to hide any of it. It seemed to be turning the other couple on a bit and …we liked having that effect on them. The few times that I ‘buzzed’ her while talking with the other couple. I saw Mariah move her hand to her nether region while letting out a slight moan. I knew that the other woman had put two and two together and offered up a slight smile and approving nod to Mariah.

After another drink, Mariah and I moved back over to the bar area and squeezed onto two empty bar stools. This gave me the ‘access’ that I had been wanting. She sat facing me…with her legs slightly spread. I watched as they opened and closed every time I hit my little secret button. We sat, making small talk while I worked one of my hands up her thigh…to her incredibly wet panties. Her thighs clenched around my hand…keeping it in place. Rubbing her in small circles, I felt her rocking back and forth on her stool…pushing herself into my roaming fingers. My hand felt as if I’d been soaking it in hot, sweet massage oil. I slowly pulled my hand back, careful to keep all of her sweetness on my fingers. I began raising my hand, to my mouth when she quickly grabbed me by the wrist and pulled my soaking fingers to her lips. Not caring who was watching, she began licking and sucking on each of my wet fingers. I was rock hard. I raised my glass, indicated a toast and downed the rest of my beer…she followed in suit. I jumped up from my stool, realizing that both my pants had an obvious bulge in them and she had left an unmistakable wet spot on the stool that she had just jumped off. I led her by the hand to the front door of the bar. Once outside, I pulled her around the corner into the alley. It only took a second for my trained eyes to find a slightly dark spot for us to slide into. ‘Our spot’ was not completely out of sight…but enough for us. Being seen…was a bit exciting.


TO BE CONTINUED…….

Remote Fun

I give My Love the sexy new panties, with a remote controlled vibrator built-in, that I just found at our local ‘adult store.’ I tell her that we are going to go out for a drink. As we walk up to the door of our favorite English Pub, I turn to her and tell her that I want to see her squirm. She gives me a sweet smile, accompanied by a look that you would get from a puppy dog who saw the big piece of steak that you were holding behind your back.

We walk in and I tell her that I am going to run into the bathroom and that she should order us a few beers. As I come out of the bathroom, I see that she has wiggled her way up to the busy bar…and she was trying to get the attention of the bartender.

Wedged between a cluster of people, all trying to refill their drinks, I thought that it would be a good time to test the range of our new toy. With the press of a button, from inside my pocket, I instantly saw her jump a bit and then look around…expecting me to be right behind her. I was still about 25 feet away and blocked by a group of people playing darts.

I moved a bit closer and, leaning up against a post, gave her another quick little buzzzzz. She quickly turned her head, not seeing me…but smiling intently anyway. As the bartender approached her and I saw her begin to order…I hit her again…this time…I made it last a few seconds. I could see that while I was pressing that little special button in my pocket, it was as if I pressed the ‘pause’ button. She froze for a few seconds…mouth gaping…and eyes twinkling.

I approached her from behind and put my hand on the small of her back while pressing the button again….on…then off, on…the off… She turned to me and asked me how in the hell was she going to be able to order our drinks if I kept doing that. I smiled and just told her how hot she looked while getting a love jolt while trying to order drinks.

We stood there, in the middle of a big group of bar patrons…waiting to get our beers. I asked her how her new little ‘treat’ was. She smiled and responded with, “I hope to hell this thing is water proof.” I moved in close to her and gently slid my hand between her thighs…slowly moving up her skirt. Pressing the button again, I felt the vibration through her hot, wet panties.

Keeping the button pressed, I wet my fingers with her sweet, hot juice. After bringing my fingers up to my mouth and licking them clean, I smiled and winked at her and then grabbed her face and kissed her. I could tell that she could taste herself…the way that her tongue wiped mine clean. She looked me in the eyes and said, “I think I’m kind of liking this.”

We grabbed our drinks and made our way through the crowded room and found a little spot near the dart boards where we could put our drinks down and continue people watching, watching dart games and …our little sexual exchange. Off and on, I had been pressing the button…watching her miss a step and stutter a bit. I slid my hand under her skirt once more…this time I felt her juices literally dripping down her upper thighs. I looked down at the floor…expecting to see a small pool of ‘love’…then I caressed every part of her body with my eyes, until we made eye contact. She just nodded and said, “Oh yeah.”

Her hands then started wandering…brushing over the front of my pants…finding me completely hard…she gave me a gentle squeeze. I gave her a little buzz…in return I got a slight stroke. I liked this give and take. We kissed again. Grinding on her…I could feel the vibrating in my groin…oh…this is good.


TO BE CONTINUED - PART 2

I wish I were a Jason Bourne-like sniper

As my first ‘Private’ post, I thought it proper of me to offer up some sort of explanation as to my desire to pee a bit more stealthily.

WARNING: This post WILL contain VULGAR language and TRAMATIC imagery.

As many of you know, I took my blog ‘private’ because my (soon to be) ex wife and her friends have been reading it…and using much of what I write against me.

I will give you all a bit of background and will do my best to get you up to date on where things stand as of today.

About 4 years ago, I realized that the woman that I fell in love with 18 years ago…was not the same woman that I married…actually, she was not a woman at all (not the way some of you sick, twisted fuckers are thinking) she was actually a psychotic, self-centered, fake-as-shit, fat, ugly, deceitful, non-sexual, nasty, egotistical, loud-mouth, fucking bitch of a person…but she IS…my baby’s mama. Even to this day...every time see or talk to her...it takes every inch of my will power not to vomit or poke her eyes out, knock her down and piss all over her.

It was September of 2005 when I finally had had enough of her and all of the shit that she dished out to me. Leaving was a very hard decision. I had two small boys, 4 and 1 1/2 , I knew though, that staying would be misery for us all.

The divorce proceedings began in December of 2005 and are STILL looming over my head. I am here, lingering in some divorce court limbo with that demon I was married to jabbing me in the face with her pitchfork at every opportunity.

Now, I understand her being upset with me…and I understand her general dislike for Insane Mama, but her tactics are so out of control that …. Well, let’s just say that I’ve had dreams that include; blood, severed body parts, ripped out intestines, wild animal attacks…well…I guess you know what I am getting at.

I will just name a few of the things that CUNT has done in her attempts to attack both Insane Mama and myself:
1. Refused to let me see or talk to my boys for almost a year
2. Insisted, in court, that a professional monitor must accompany me on all visits with the boys
3. Accused me of being an uncontrollable drug addict
4. Filed (and received) a restraining order against Insane Mama (provided fraudulent documents in court)
5. Changed lawyers every 6 months (for 3 years now) to slow the whole court process down
6. Schedules family trips and doctor appointments on my visitation days and does not offer opportunity for me to make up the visits
6.When I call the boys (every night) she puts the phone on speaker and monitors every word
7. Tells the boys to say things to me on the phone when we talk (i.e. “mommy wanted me to tell you about my play again…she said that maybe your were drunk or something and forgot.”
8. Is accusing me in court of neglect because my 7 year old got a scratch on his knee
9. Spends her free time trolling my and Insane Mama’s blogs for content that she thinks she can use in court against me
10. Published a whole blog to trash me and disparage my blog and my name
11. Continually threatens to call CPS on Insane Mama

12. Emails me stating how fucked up Insane Mama and her kids are...that they are nasty, white trash, uneducated losers.

Well…the list goes on…but I will spare you the additional 1,000 words.

Please catch up with: the backstory...an the backstory 2

Now...Everyone sing with me

(in the tune of the old Oscar Meyer commercials)

"Oh, I wish I were a Jason Bourne-like sniper...I'd be rid of nasty bitch, and finally free.

There's nothing she could do to make me like her...All I want to do is vomit and pee!"

As this story has...a lot of…substance…I will have to say that this post is…
TO BE CONTINUED…

My Pine Forest

I grew up in a small town in southeastern New Hampshire. That is where I developed my love for the outdoors. As there was not much to do, I (with my brothers and sisters…and friends) spent a lot of time exploring. I loved running around in the woods, playing in fields, climbing trees and just sitting and watching animals ‘doing their thing’ in the forest.

When I look back at my past, I will say that my fondest memory would be at the age of 9, at my grandmother’s house in Newcastle, ME.

She had a large house on a private road. The house sat on a cliff, overlooking the Atlantic and bordered on two sides by a forest of large pine trees. I did love sitting out in the yard, looking out over the beautiful beach and watching the waves crash on the rocks below. My siblings and I had a great time climbing up and down the 50 foot cliff and playing at ‘our beach.’ But most of all…when thinking about this time…I can…still to this day, close my eyes and transport myself back to the pine forest surrounding the house.
I inhale and can smell the soothing aroma of pine. I walk barefoot on the ‘featherbed’ of pine needles that line the floor of the forest. The gentle crackling of the dried needles beneath my bare feet send tingles up my spine. I lie down, feeling the softness of the forest floor. Looking up, the tall pines shelter me on all sides. Large pine cones are scattered, as if sprinkles on a cupcake. I could sit there for days, walking, sitting and staring at the glimpses of sky through the tall bushy trees, rolling around…getting the needles stuck in my clothing and in my big head of hair. It is pure delight.

My love for that little forest of mine was enhanced by the constant smell of salt in the gentle ocean breeze, along with the feeling of being completely safe and secure in ‘My Pine Forest.’

A Love Affair

In the absence of coming up with something interesting and pertinent to write about today, I thought that I’d come clean on a very sensitive relationship issue. I know that this may cause some waves here at home, but…you know me….I Pee In The Wind.

Well, without beating around the bush…I’ll just come right out and say it.

I am having two love affairs! There …I said it. I don’t want you all to think that I am a bad person…or a foolish man for saying this where I know that Insane Mama will read all about it. I think that she already has some suspicions. I know that she sees me staring and smiling at them. She hears the discrete words of affection that drift from my mouth. And I’m sure that she does not miss the fireworks that go off within my eyes when I see them.

I don’t really try to hide these yearnings and strong emotions…and Insane Mama has hinted that she may be willing to share me with these two other loves. Now one of them has been my mistress for more than ten years and since that has been going so well, I picked up my newest love just a few years ago. Combined, their mix of beauty, sex appeal, no strings relationships…the fact that they will go anywhere with me and that…tingly feeling that I get inside when with them…is something that I don’t want to let go of.

When you read this Insane Mama…please know that YOU come first…always…But I do think that a foursome (all of us together) would be a great way for us to explore new things together.





That being said….I’d like you all to meet my mistresses.








The smooth refreshing wave of chilly goodness that flows from a bottle of Boston’s Samuel Adams Boston Lager mixed with the sexy wiggle of my collection of hula bobble dancers…makes me smile…every time I see them.

Wow….that was not as hard as I had thought.

Late Night Buzz

It is not the buzz of the alarm clock that wakes her, with a smile...

A few nights a week, Insane Mama crawls into bed an hour or so before I do. That is when I sit there half watching TV and half watching her sleep. Per the norm…I let my imagination take control of me. I notice my PJ’s starting to rise.

Getting up from my comfy chair…I wander over to the closet and pull out “the bag.” Rummaging through the large assortment of sex toys, lubes, videos, fantasy stories, dildos, “personal massagers” and vibrators…I find what I was looking for….The Rabbit.

I quickly flip it on to check the batteries…testing the vibe on myself for a second. Then I proceed to the edge of the bed. As I crawl in, under the covers, and snuggle up with her, I gently pull her onto her back. Careful not to wake her…I position the Rabbit’s vibrating nub directly on her “hooded warrior,” I turn it on…creating a soft buzzing which emits from underneath the covers. Slowly gyrating the Rabbit in small circles, I begin to see Insane Mama…moving with it…in her slumber.

It is not long before gasps and moans begin dripping from her mouth, as she begins to wake. A small smile appears on her face as she realizes what is going on. She grabs my hand…pushing it harder onto her…thrusting against it. I use my free hand to slowly play with myself. I then feel her hand join mine, rubbing harder and faster.

Rolling her onto her side, facing away from me, I lift one of her knees, reach around to keep the vibrator in position while positioning myself between her legs, from the back. We start rocking and gyrating together…


TO BE CONTINUED

The Battle

I wrote this while at the hospital (with Insane Mama). I was exploring the transition from where I was to where I was headed.



Internal battles within the war
Climbing from the trenches
Fighting uphill
Dazed and confused
The landmines of life

Shrapnel hits from the ones I love
I fear the fight and want to lie down
Sink into a fox-hole
Watching life go by
The danger above rivals the pain inside

Can’t climb out
Too weak
Sitting too long
Paralyzed
Tree roots and vines snap from my weight

Helpless and hopeless
Starting to give up
A rope swings down
Reaching feverishly
Hope is in sight

Is there enough strength to climb out again?
Gripping for life
I need to be pulled up
I hold on for life
The life I know I can have

A FINE-ASS Day At The Beach

We had yet another fine day at the beach with the kids. Both Insane Mama and I were a bit out of sorts this morning. She seemed to have a fairly short fuse and I just felt somewhat foul. None the less we packed up our beach cooler and headed off to the beach…just south of Venice beach. After getting there and lugging the blankets, boogie boards, towels and such down to “our spot” the kids took off into the water and Insane Mama and I broke out our books and got comfy.

It was a great day (not too hot nor too cold) and I was about 20 pages away from finishing the book I was reading. Mind you that this is a 240 page book that I started on June 20th 2007. It was a great book…but I have never been a “reader.” We continued like that….going back and fourth between our books and watching the kids try to surf on their boogie boards…for a while. Insane Mama was then suddenly jolted from her book by me jumping up and yelping, hopping around our blanket chanting, “I finished it! I’m done with my book!” She looked over at me, rolled her eyes, and said, “Great! Now what?” I looked at her with a puzzled stare and shrugged…but I was still smiling.

I rested my head and relaxed for a few minutes…then noticed that several more families and couples were infringing on “our beach.” The people watcher that I am…I sat up and …just watched. I love to sit and watch (mostly making fun of what people are wearing and all the crap that people tote to the beach.) Yesterday, we actually watched as a family unpacked two wagons full of “stuff” and then proceeded to blow up a pool. Yes…you heard me…the fools brought an inflatable pool to the freaking beach!

Anyway, as I was watching the folks around me…and I’d finished my book….I notice a few couples around us…snuggled up together, rubbing lotion on each other and just being cute with each other. Suddenly, I became aware of an increase in blood flowing to my …nether region. I looked down and watched as Insane Mama was laying on her stomach, reading her book. Panning down and letting my eyes rest on her cute-as-shit booooootay, I proceeded to slide my hand down the small of her back, across the back side of her bikini…resting it so that my fingers dangled down in just the right place. She gave me a courtesy moan and a wriggle of the rear as she continued with her book. I looked around and saw that from where other people were sitting…nobody would ever be able to see what we did.

Slowly, I began to curl and extend my fingers – just enough for them to lightly brush up against her…privates. She began to move with my hand for a minute and then rolled over onto her side. I removed my hand and stopped what I was doing. She looked at me with a look saying to me “what the F are you stopping for?” I looked at her and said…”just keep reading your book baby.” She quickly repositioned herself (exactly as she was) and I let my hand find its way back to “that good spot.” I kept rubbing and stroking (all of this ABOVE her bikini….NO nudity.) That continued for a few minutes until I knew that she was ….”happy.” after a moment…catching her breath, she rolled her head toward me and said, “Thank you mister!” with a large as life smile on her face. I think that the ocean, waves, being in public…all of it made things a bit exciting for her. She sat up, still smiling, and plopped her book on her lap. Smirks and giggles escaped as she tried to find where she left off in her book. Looking at her…I saw that she had found her place and sporting a content look, continued reading.

I don’t think that more than ten seconds went by before I interrupted her…
Me – Hello?
IM – Yeah baby? (smiling)
Me – Um…are you forgetting someone?
IM – What?
Me – What about me?

Then I felt her hand move down to my board shorts as she looked over both shoulders, making sure we were not being watched. I was lying down on my side and she was sitting, leaning her back against my thighs. She continued stroking me, then I felt a tug at the drawstring of my shorts…giving her a bit more access. Needless to say, within a few minutes (and most likely and arm strain)…we felt the need to put our beach blanket and my shorts directly into the wash when we got home.

The next hour or so that we were at the beach…although it was a bit overcast…it seemed sunnier and much more beautiful out there…in “our spot.” Our moods had most definitely improved since morning.