Strangely while gone, I picked up some creepy readers. Look at these search terms I found yesterday: Sex girl, sex girls, girl sex, bengali wife boobs, photos girls, sex c string, girl sex com, transparent c string bikini, girls sexual images, sex, girl.com, sex girl in bikini … my personal favorite of course, was “bengali wife boobs.” That one rowed my boat. (more…)
March 27, 2015
March 26, 2015
For all of you that are wondering, we were out on the Super Slab chasing all the boys with their bright shiny backdoors on their reefers, racing up and down the road in the Great American Southwest. Which is now unfortunately just a glimmer of what it used to be. (more…)
March 9, 2015
No sense owning a bus if you are just going to sit around in it and pretend camp. Time to get out on the road, weather window has opened, and we are out of here.
See you when we get back.
March 7, 2015
Okay, this is NOT funny, who sent me this email?
Mr. Smith, I just wanted to read you something from the Internal Revenue Code. It is the last sentence of section 509A of the code: “For purposes of paragraph, 3, an organization described in paragraph 2 shall be deemed to include an organization described in section 501-C-4, 5,6, which would be described in paragraph 2 if it were an organization described in paragraph 2 if it were an organization described in section 501C-3.”
Now “that” was not funny. No sir.
March 6, 2015
March 5, 2015
As you age, change is inevitable and in my case, hard to adjust to. I guess, unlike the typical Okie, who lives in a fast-paced, experience-driven, multiple-option world, where choice and personal values pale beside the possibility of exposure to the latest, the biggest, the fastest, the most prestigious, and don’t forget ……. “the best” ……. or the most expensive.
March 4, 2015
Most of my life my work has been motivated by my fragile, child-like ego If I do good work, people (okay, mostly women) will like me. Is this a sad, Sigmund Freudian mommy thing?
March 3, 2015
California and the Bay Area. I am sitting here in the quiet tranquil morning time, drifting off, and thinking back to the “Good Ole Days” one of the luxuries of life I can still afford. Stirring up the dust, blowing the cobwebs out of my brain … Turn right and head on down Harder Road or up to Mission Blvd, maybe to the Plunge, how does that sound? Maybe walk the long trail to the back of the park, check out the hollow dark cavities of my mind …
Sitting out front of Dad’s house, on his redwood fence, smoking a Marlboro, the cool breeze coming in off the bay, carrying the smell of tomato’s from the Hunt Cannery on B Street.
Saturday’s (and sometimes in the middle of the week, don’t tell Mrs. Ormsby) on the beach in Santa Cruz, the surf pounding, a gull swoops down to steal a potato chip off the blanket. An ice cold bottle of wine at the end of the string, buried in the sand.
A teenage girls’ husky laugh in the dark in the balcony of the Hayward downtown. Two slow dances with Marylnn Matteson-Stith at the La Vista Cafeteria on Friday night. Squatted, Indian fashion, on a boulder in the Sierra Nevada’s just outside Lake Tahoe. A sky full of white wispy clouds and dragon flies.
A stolen kiss at the Grove after a Lancer’s Football game.
The smell of fresh cut Alfalfa wafting into the cab of the pickup in the valley outside of Manteca. 12 years old, sitting on top of the Hayward Hills, looking west to San Francisco, and seeing the city clearly, along with the Bay Bridge. Remembering back then, how it used to be, not like it is now, with the myriads of people and the pollution.
Sitting in the shade of a lofty majestic pine beside a deep hole in the Truckee River. Hooking a big fish on a trip to Clear Lake. Sleeping on a blanket on the grass in Golden Gate Park. Working as a pool hand at the old swimming pool at Tennyson one summer.
Back in the day, back in the day.
Need to wrap this up, I am getting carried away.
Time to go, I have rambled on for long enough. Having sufficiently increased my word-count, I shall now retire, only to fight again, on another day. Back to the real world … I have rats to kill … checks to pay …
Life, what happens when you are not looking.
March 2, 2015
To my astonishment, this is the year I feel I will beat 70 percent of my fear of succeeding and I have dissolved 80 percent of my tendency to sabotage my ambitions. Not only that. I have almost reconciled my checkbook at least twice, and that is encouraging.
March 1, 2015
Some people can easily turn off the Internet and ignore their favorite haunts. But many have the urge to compulsively “just check,” no matter what conversations and activities are going on around them.
That’s because each notification, like, and communication, is a stimulant that acts as a pleasure hit to the brain. Better than Denver smoke, or a doctored candy bar in some instances. It also creates an instant sense of excitement and a false expectation of being needed.