Interview with City, Part 2

Well, I did not get a job offer after the interview. However, that does not mean I did not get it. Another individual I know received a telephone call requesting a psychological profile on her. In essence, she received an offer.

I guess next time…

Interview with City, Part 1

Well, it is 8:00 am, and I am anxiously awaiting my interview for a new job with the city. With a few hours to kill, I thought I might post my news.

At 10:00 am I am scheduled for my interview. Perhaps I will post Part 2 with good news.

Let us hope so.

Son’s Visit: Mohawk

This past weekend, my son came to visit. He is eight years old, so it is not like he just stopped by.

As usual, he wanted me to cut his hair. He likes his head shaved, but his mother and grandmother do not like that, so they make him grow his hair out. Since he lives with his mother, who in turn lives with her mother, the long amount of time between our visits allows his hair to grow quite a bit.

You know, if they were smart, they would let me cut his hair. It is not like she spends the child support money on our son, anyway. This way, she could save money on cutting his hair. Eureka! I know what it is. If he shaves his head, he will look more like his father.

Well, this past request was for a Mohawk. It is not hurting anything/anyone, so I cut his hair in a Mohawk. He looks good! I definitely think the Mohawk is his hairstyle. Moreover, he is more than ecstatic about having a Mohawk. He stands up proud, sticks his chest out, struts while he walks, and instead of lowering his eyes while he walks, he makes eye contact, greets people, and presents himself with confidence and strength. In short, the Mohawk makes him feel like a man, so he presents himself like a man.

Sunday nights are when he and I make the hour-long trek back to his mom’s house.

Inside, his excitement and pride was overwhelming when he asked his mother, “See my haircut? Do you like my Mohawk?”

His mother’s response was anything but accepting. “Mmm,” she said with disapproval. “Yup. I see it.”

Before I left, he thanked me, again, for cutting his hair in to a Mohawk. His mother only walked out of the room.

On Monday, I called to see how things went with the Mohawk.

His grandmother started the telephone call with, “You need to quit cutting his hair.”

I only laughed and insisted that if my son wants a haircut, I will cut his hair. I also told that since his haircut does not hurt anything, I will cut his hair the way he wants it.

She disapproved. And, she continued pressing me to say I will quit cutting his hair. That is not going to happen.

Apparently, they kept my son home from school on Monday. Since they did not shave off the Mohawk by Monday night when I call, I can only imagine they kept my son home on Tuesday, as well. The reason was something about the school having strict rules on haircuts. My response was to tell them to cut it off, then.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, it’s getting cold, now. And, he needs his hair to keep his head warm,” my son’s grandmother said. I never speak with my ex-wife since the divorce. She is very childish.

“Get him a winter cap,” I said. “I get him winter caps.”

Needless to say, she continued arguing with me about it.

If they shave my son’s Mohawk, it will distress him. He absolutely loves it.

On another note, Saturday all of us visited my folks. We were not there long, maybe four or five hours. I can not visit my folks for very long. We have a tumultuous history.

Sunday, my son and I went to the park while my wife went to work. At the park, he and I made up our own Frisbee games after he was inspired by some people playing Frisbee golf.

Also, he and I made up our own game of Parkour (PK). Since I have an interest in PK, I thought it would be fun to play it with my son. Actually, PK is only a combination of follow the leader and an obstacle course. It was fun, and it is good exercise. We were jumping over knee-high concrete walls at the picnic shelter, climbing over picnic tables, and running between and around other obstacles we found.

After stumbling across a play area, we started chasing and treeing squirrels because we got bored. I taught my son how to stalk and “hunt.”

He and I had a great time treeing squirrels. We would get one up a tree, pull back and silently wait without moving, and, when the squirrel got a fair distance from the tree, would rush it, sending it scurrying up the tree as fast as its little legs would take it.

The best part was running from the play area at our first squirrel. It must have been about fifty or sixty yards away when we got in formation and began sprinting. We kept the squirrel between us and distance ourselves so we were about fifteen yards from the squirrel if it were directly between us. Then, one of us gave the signal and we sprinted as fast as we could. My son was whooping and yelling all the way. <smile>

We had an awesome time!

Writer’s Group: First Impression

Mohawk, running shoes, crisp blue jeans, and a brown pullover with a dragon in black on the front.

Shaved head, steel-toe work boots, faded blue jeans, and a black Marine Corps t-shirt.

My son and I enter the coffee shop downtown where the most recent writer’s group I have joined meets on Sunday afternoons.

I walk to the back with my son in tow.

Sitting in a separated room with double doors open, a lethargic man sits at the long wooden table in the center of the “conference room.” On his head, a 1950s-style felt hat commonly worn with a suit in that era, but worn in poor taste with jeans and a day-old t-shirt this afternoon. Some would call it eccentric; I would call it sloppy. Or, in the words of my wife, “That looks frumpy.”

“Hey.”

“Greetings,” he responds in monotone as he pulls his ear buds out and salutes me with his other hand. He does not smile or stand. Instead, he makes himself look busy and preoccupied with something else as though he is always busy.

Does looking busy make one look successful? I think he believes it.

I sit at the table while my son sits at a table behind my chair. He gets to play with his Spiderman figurine while I partake in the meeting.

Fifteen minutes later or so a young lady joins us, and sits down beside me. I will name her Blondie.

Hellos are exchanged between the young lady and Mr. Eccentric, who also happens to be the organizer. I quietly continue setting up my laptop and opening the necessary files for the meeting. After an awkward silence and a few sly peeps at me through the corner of her eye where there has been obvious omission of my introduction, Mr. Eccentric supposedly remembers. As though he forgot?

If he would have failed to introduce me before the meeting or near the beginning, I would have allowed the meeting to begin. Then, I would have interrupted with making her acquaintance.

“Oh, Blondie, this is Artificer. Artificer, Blondie.” Motioning between us with a wave of his hand, she and I turn to one another and greet. She smiled at me with her soft, thin lips parting only slightly. Her shoulder-length blond hair gave a bit of a whip when she turned her head to face me, her smile already present. Perhaps she was nervous. Perhaps she was shy. Perhaps she was dead set on not liking me.

I have been told that my greetings with women are old fashioned and outdated. Many have said that my greeting is not modern and is no longer necessary. However, I have never been poorly received by any female when I use this:

1. I never reach out, first, to shake her hand. I allow her to initiate the gesture, be it a handshake, hug, or anything else.
2. I always position myself at her eye level, so that means I sometimes must stand or sit.
3. I always: 1) compliment her appearance, or 2) express pleasure in meeting her, or 3) express appreciation in having her attend.

I smiled in response. When she stuck out her hand, I shook it. Girls never know how to shake hands. They always leave their hands loose and do not grip your hand. If they do shake, they over do it way too much. Otherwise, they do not shake at all and leave their wrists limp. I never know how to shake a woman’s hand. I usually squeeze slightly on their hand, which folds every time, and lift only high enough so my pinky finger takes the place where my middle finger was.

Shaking hands is a man’s greeting. I do not think women should shake hands.

By this time, I am sure the mark has been branded upon me: the man in steel toe boots and the black t-shirt with faded jeans and a shaved head is obviously not a good writer, if even a writer at all.

Then, we proceeded with the meeting. We shared our writing for an exercise Mr. Eccentric assigned two weeks before. We were to zoom in and zoom out on any subject and limit our piece to three pages or less.

My zoom in and zoom out writing was chosen to be discussed first, in honor of the group’s newest colleague, before we passed around laptops and shared our compositions.

When we were ready to share feedback, or criticism as they like to call it, Blondie and Mr. Eccentric had only compliments for me.

Having experience in sales, I understand the effect and psychology of questions and statements, aka leading the conversation. So, I started with, “What did you like best about it?”

Blondie kept going on and on about how much she liked my writing, and how the imagery in her mind was so vivid as she read along. Also, she thought it was really fascinating how I began with something physical and took it into something philosophical.

“You know, I was thinking only in a physical aspect when trying to write my zoom in zoom out. It was really interesting reading yours,” Mr. Eccentric added after Blondie finally finished.

Then, Blondie gabbed about how her father has a tarantula, so she found the subject of a spider relatable.

The two of them took turns speaking on specifics of my piece, explaining how it affected them, the questions they asked themselves while reading, and what things they may have overlooked in their life.

I really did not have an opportunity to lead with any further questions. They pretty much ran away with the feedback after my first question.

“I would love to read anything you have written,” Blondie added, wide-eyed, earnest, eager, and at the edge of her seat. She had really made it a point to emphasize “anything.” She was so much on the edge of her seat that both her legs were pushing against my closest leg. Her back was straight, leaning slightly forward, her chest out, smile wide, and her hands beside themselves in her lap. She was giving me the “fuck me” signal. If not, then I am totally confused.

Mr. Eccentric was visibly agitated. From this first meeting, I believe Mr. Eccentric holds meetings for the writer’s group mostly so he can meet girls. And, as the meeting gradually progressed, Mr. Eccentric’s agitation increased as Blondie’s flirtations, innuendos, light touches to my arm (she touched my hand once), and laughter at my jokes increased in frequency and boldness. With me, she always made eye contact with a smile.

When I was able to share feedback on their writing, I held back on my first opinion that they write like third graders. Furthermore, since I am the only writer who does not focus on fantasy and magic, I failed to include such distinct and creative things such as a character named Merik, a wizard’s guild, an eight-hundred-year-old instructor who specializes in ancient runes and incantations, and pets known as familiars.

Needles to say, most of my writing was deemed unacceptable due to its sexual explicitness. What’s more, my style and skill of writing, as well as my feedback, was admired by Blondie, but stifled by Mr. Eccentric. I think he feels threatened by either me or my writing, or both.

In conclusion…

They never saw me coming. My writing blew them away.

I was very pleased with myself. At the same time, though, I was disappointed because I was really hoping the writer’s group would have something to offer me.

I gloated about the outcome of the meeting with my wife. I could not stop smiling, and I could not stop enjoying hearing positive feedback on my writing. It only encourages me to write more.

Still, today, I gloat to myself about how much better I write than them. In spite of this, I would never boast of my writing to anyone. Am I boasting here? Of course I am. However, the only presentation I give here, in Mind Fissure, is my candid self. Therefore, there are no stops, censorship, or editing. I am as I am.

“What a person says is equally important as what a person does not say.” ~~Artificer

Writing Exercise: Zoom In, Zoom Out

We always think big, do we not? Why is it unfavorable to think smaller?

Let’s do it.

Sitting in my chair outside my home, the wooden chairs on my front porch sometimes serve as a perch for the local stray cat. Still other times, the chairs provide relief to persons visiting.

On Monday, I was sitting outside in one of my chairs and lazily taking in the lack of events in my neighborhood – it was Labor Day. The morning was proving to be bright and warm, starkly contrasting with my home’s cool air conditioning.

Looking across my yard and down the street, something glistened in front of me. Taken aback, I sit forward and strain to see the glimpse, again. I wait. And, I wait. But, all I see is the distance out of focus.

Returning to taking in the haphazard events of the neighborhood, I lean back in my chair and light a cigarette.

There it is, yet again. Out of nowhere, all of the sun’s brightness just got focused into a single beam, blinding me in one eye. So, I investigate out of intrigue and irritation.

I look up and down the yard for what may have caused the phenomena. I find nothing. So, I look down the side of the house as I slowly walk towards the corner where the air conditioner sits running in the heat. Still, I find nothing.

Feeling like an idiot, I pretend to swat at some gnats pestering me. Afterward, I casually look around, trying to show very little effort and worry despite my concern. In the end, I failed to find the flashing culprit or identify any witnesses to my lunacy.

Facing back towards the chair and contemplating what to do, I intensify my cigarette’s embers with a draw. As I was drawing off my cigarette, I was once again hit with a flash of light. But, this time it came from somewhere between the corner of the house and the chair. What ever it may be, it must be between these two locations.

Standing at the central point between the two, I begin looking for any kind of evidence. As I am, I use a trick where anomalies of the background can reveal objects in the foreground. The sun light found the anomaly just to the left of me as I was facing the house.

Right in front of me, a spider’s web extends from the grass in the yard all the way up to the gutter on the eve of the house.

The phantom glisten has been found.

There are two long strands of web extending from the house to the yard. Quite the engineering feat, the two strands have been pulled together in the middle creating what can best be described as a cross between an “X” and an “H”.

Like all webs, there are many geometric shapes outlined with silk radiating from a central point, uniquely distinguishing the art as arachnid.

Near the center resides its builder and owner.

From all things in life, I strive to learn from it and improve myself. So, a thought crosses my mind and I think to myself as tobacco smoke softly drifts away, How daring for such a small creature to take so much of my space. Why does such a small thing create so much fear in a person, which is thousands of times larger?

I am left standing in awe and in respect.

Many times people will make a comment to the effect that the night sky and the myriad of twinkling stars makes one feel infinitely small and insignificant in the grandeur of life. Perhaps my own flaw, but I sometimes want to feel big, not small.

How can I be more like a spider, I still ask myself and mull over.

With sufficient purity and faith, some Christians may believe that God will bring good fortune to them. Other Christians may believe God will only provide good fortune if they work in God’s interest, as well as towards good fortune. Which do you believe?

In the center of it all… in the center of your world… in the center of your decision is always you. It does not matter if you forfeit that to a god, a spirit, a goal, or a mentor because it was you, by only your decision, to forfeit your sovereignty.

What web am I spinning? How big is my web? How strong is it? What lives have I touched? Is it vertical, horizontal, tubular… what shape is it?

The web’s vertices, in my opinion, represent significance in my life; perhaps a person, an achievement, or an ideal. My character and personality constitute the silk strands of web, and charisma helps make it sticky. Carefully anchored to strong principles, the whole thing could come apart if not sufficiently strengthened or anchored to poorly chosen values. Disastrously, if such a thing should occur, there are only two options: 1) accept the destruction and give up, starving to death; or 2) rebuild and continue struggling to survive.

In the center is the spider, the builder, the owner. Like the spider, I am at the center of my web. Like the spider, I am hanging in the breeze, partly living with specific intent and partly living by chance on what comes my way.

Finally, I think about how I had come to find the spider’s web and how we come to find other people. Are there accidents, or is it divine? Will it be of my fruition or God’s? My initial intent was to enjoy the morning. Instead, I found life in a spider web.

What will you find the next time you notice a spider web?

Beautiful Dog, Black Mouth Cur

Black Mouth Cur (60 - 70 lbs); looks like Augustus

As pictured, this the exact Black Mouth Cur (BMC) that I want: approximately 60 to 70 lbs, red coat, black muzzle, muscular build.

The Black Mouth Cur, aka BMC, is an uncommon dog breed in Nebraska. They are commonly found and firstly bred in the Southern United States. Blood lines of BMC were qualified for specific duties pioneers, ranchers, and homesteaders required from their close companion. Some obvious duties included: hunting (pointing, retrieving, tracking, flushing, treeing, baying), guarding, companionship, herding, traveling with men on horseback, and (as many job descriptions often state) other duties as needed.

Black Mouth Curs were one dog bred to do it all, and still are.

For two or three years, now, I have been researching BMCs. And, ever since I saw my first picture of one on Dog Breed Info I have been in love with them.

Well, today, I saw my first BMC in-person!

I was taking a nap in the car, waiting for my wife to finish working with a patient at one of the City’s universities. Unable to sleep, I sat up. In front of me was a gentleman walking directly towards me with a dog.

As he was about to walk past the window of the car, I politely asked, “Excuse me, sir. What kind of dog is that?”

He was not sure what kind of dog it is, so I said it looks very much like a Black Mouth Cur.

“You know, not a lot of people know about them,” he said with wide excitement. “Some people have suggested they think he is a Black Mouth Cur, but no one seems to know for sure, and I do not know for sure. Most people think he is some kind of cross with Labrador.”

I laughed. People who do not know Black Mouth Curs would think the dog is a mutt mixed with a Labrador.

He and I talked for about an hour with his dog patiently reining his need to pursue his mission: carry the pack on his back to the destination his master leads him to.

Found as a stray in Michigan, his owner had this to say, “This is the first dog I have ever owned, and I feel like I have struck the lottery.”

I told him, “Yes, you did!” He certainly did strike the lottery with Augustus.

Adult and puppy BMC

Oh, the dog was so beautiful! I even said those words to my wife when she finished, and she could have seen the dog if she would have come out just five minutes earlier.

The dog’s name is Augustus. His coat was red, which is the same coat color I want my BMC to have. Weighing sixty-five pounds, Augustus is a medium-sized dog. However, this sized BMC is also well known for jumping six-foot fences! His head was broad and thick just like his body. His tail had a slight upward curl near the end, also known as crank. And, despite the dog’s muscular body, his body movements exhibited power, speed, agility, and capability with his smooth walk and acute awareness.

He was a beautiful dog!

Txt Msg ;)

Today, as I was walking to the library to update Mind Fissure, I received a text message from… guess who.

I received a text message from Nubi.

She expressed her apologies for not calling me back or letting me know what was going on.

Sunday, when I had called about going out, she was spending time with her folks. Plus, she said her allergies were acting up and she was really cranky. So, instead of being a bitch to me, she chose to cool off and let her allergies settle before getting back to me.

Not the greatest way to communicate, but I can have an appreciation for why she would feel inclined to do what she did.

Anyway, Nubi is totally onboard about working around “issues” such as the wife and our conflicting schedule, and said she could call me between things such as work, class, and home stuff. You know the drill when living on your own.

How do I feel? Relieved and encouraged. Also, very horny at the prospect of fucking.

House Rules

This was a random writing I come up with for a short story I never got around to writing. Instead, it has remained on my harddrive as a fun little “rule book” for bachelors.

1. No females are to casually hangout at the residence, for any reason.  A brief visit is acceptable, but with discretion.  If possible, the female should stay outside, perhaps in the vehicle.
2. The only acceptable reasons for females to be present at the residence are ONLY for any of these three reasons: 1) sex, 2) a party or some other gathering/occasion, or 3) chores/cleaning.
3. ABSOLUTELY no roommate or other persons, guests or otherwise, are allowed to break up at the residence.  A break up should only be performed at another location.  It is suggested that any break up should be conducted at the female’s home, leaving the emotionally charged event at her residence and protecting the sanctity and property of our shared residence.
4. Any and all unsolicited visits by females are to be discouraged and prevented.
5. The House is a bachelor pad, therefore, it will be an intimately conducive environment through the décor reflected, as well as its cleanliness, both indoors and outdoors.  The roommate’s bedroom, which is the only personal area, is as what the roommate wishes.  However, a roommate’s bedroom must not be conducive to mal odor or infestation by rodents or insects, nor shall it by suspect of.  In other words, it must be kept clean for everyone’s benefit; décor or organization is not a consideration.
6. It is strongly suggested to roommates to only “date” females who live outside the residing community.  It is strongly urged not to “date” females within the residing community, especially those females who reside within walking distance or line of sight of The House.  Perhaps those females who are not familiar with the residing community would be better.
7. It is everyone’s responsibility to maintain cleanliness of all common areas.  Rule of thumb: if you know it needs to be done, just do it.  Common areas are all indoor and outdoor areas that do not include a roommate’s bedroom.  Examples of common areas are: garage, lawn, sidewalk and drive, living room, bathrooms, hallways and stairways, kitchen, basement, and so forth.
8. ABSOLUTELY not acceptable is illegal conduct in The House, or anywhere on the premises, that has the potential to bring legal detriment to any or all roommates.  Examples are: any and all illegal drugs, misuse of weapons, domestic disturbance/violence, and so forth.

No Call, No Show, No Problem

On the laptop speakers plays my personal playlist, My Truckin Music! David Dudley is calling out his Six Days on the Road.

It is Wednesday night, and I am typ’, typ’, typing away…

Tanisha and Nubi, the stripper and the voluptuous intrigue, both have failed to return my phone calls or follow through with any plans we made.

Yes, I was stood up.

Oh, well, right? Shit happens, but life goes on. Life is a bitch, but at least she is good in bed. Attitude determines your altitude. Extraordinary is ordinary with extra…

Enough of the positivity already! LOL

Tanisha, the stripper, was probably stringing me along so she could get more money from me at the titty club. I can understand the tactic – most men are motivated by the prospect of sex. But, I am an eclectic man, and dangling the carrot of sex in front of me does not motivate me. Instead, I simply go to where I can get the sex. And, when I do find the sex, it is the sex, not the illusion or promise, that motivates me.

Nubi, the voluptuous intrigue, probably spoke with someone she knows and heard some kind of statement like, “And, he’s married? I’d be careful. If he is divorcing, you don’t want to get in that mess. And, if he’s still married, you don’t need to be fooling around with some married man.”

Nubi told me she would like to get together with me over Labor Day weekend. Well, she never called me back to let me know when we could hook up.

I am not one who will chase a girl. Yes, I like chasing tail, but I do not put myself out chasing one particular girl. So, my response to Tanisha’s and Nubi’s lack of response was to permanently erase their numbers from my phone. Erasing their numbers was actually part of my Drunken Frustration night. I was feeling a little depressed from the thought that any woman would not be attracted to me and wish to spend time with me. After getting drunk, I quickly did not give a shit. In my anger, I erased their contact information and cleared my recent calls, permanently erasing all traces of their numbers. The next morning, suffering a hangover, I was a bit frustrated having erased their numbers. But then, my KMA quality in my personal character kicked in and kicked them no good girls out of my mind.

What is KMA? It is a powerful governing value I live my life by. K-M-A are the initials to a personal saying, “Kiss my ass.” That’s right, baby. Kiss my ass!

(Now playing… Black Velvet by Melissa Etheridge)

Yesterday, I met another girl at a McDonald’s where my work crew took our afternoon break.

She is a BBW girl with an incredibly pretty face and a very high standard of fashion. She has blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and rose colored lips. The other guys did not find her attractive as a woman they would hit on or fuck. But, they did admit she has a pretty face.

How we met…

The crew and I went to McDonald’s for our afternoon break after checking and clearing storm grates during an all-day rain, yesterday.

Entering the establishment, I noticed Sam sitting alone at a booth reading a magazine. As we ate, I would casually look over at her. Casually, but not hiding.

The crew and I had finished eating, but I was not satisfied and returned to the counter for a Dollar Menu item. Returning with my double cheeseburger, I picked up everyone’s trays and trash at our table. After dumping the trays, I casually walked over to the booth where Sam was quietly sitting and reading.

My hand hovered near her tray, giving the impression that I would pick it up. Not wanting to be rude, I asked with a smile, “Are you done with this, sweetheart?”

As if I were a ghost, she sharply looked up at me, agape. For a moment, I did not think she would answer. Maybe she is deaf and I startled her. Maybe she does not like strange men approaching her. Or, maybe I just fucked up and walked myself right into a women’s lib advocate lying in ambush for the next unsuspecting man for her to castrate.

“Yes, I am. Thank you,” she said with pleasantness and sweetness in her tone. The words rolled smoothly and gently off her moist, pink lips. Eye contact between us let me see a sparkle in her eye with a hint of sexual arousal.

My eyes lingered on her for just a brief moment, and then I promptly and gentlemanly removed her tray.

I returned to the table where my crew was sitting, and I finished my double cheeseburger.

(Now playing… one of my favorite songs… Driving My Life Away by Rhett Akins)

Now, the crew and I had been boisterous with wit and silliness since entering the McDonald’s. However, it was only after I had initiated some kind of acquaintance with Sam that she began responding to our raucous, laughing at our jokes, rolling her eyes, and shaking her head.

She was showing interest.

Finished eating, the guy on my crew that I am most sociable with had to use the restroom. Doing so required him to walk right by Sam. As the rest of crew went outside, I acted like I was going to use the bathroom, too. Except, upon reaching Sam’s table, I allowed my co-worker to proceed as I paused and asked her with a smile, “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”

“No. Please,” she responded with equal charm as her first words. I sat down, turning my body so I could rest my back against the wall, hanging my boots over the open end of the bench seat, and using the table as an arm rest.

There we sat together in her booth. She commented enjoying my antics with my crew, as I seemed to be the comedian of the bunch. She shared with me her love of football and the articles she was reading in her sports magazine, Sports Illustrated. She did not care that I do not follow football, but enjoyed laughing when I jokingly asked if she was a sports agent.

I enjoyed her attention, loveliness, beauty, and wonderful smile.

She gave me courtesy; she gave me respect. She gave me affection.

We exchanged names, but did not have an opportunity to discreetly exchange contact information due to the return of my co-worker.

At this time, I do not wish to share my sexual discontent and marital trouble with my co-workers. Therefore, I do not collect or share that kind of information with females when I am in the presence of my co-workers.

She told me where she works, and it is right across the street from the McDonald’s. I tried calling, today, but only received a recorded message explaining a list of representatives and their respective phone numbers.

I hope to see Sam, again. Perhaps she and I will hit things off, huh? No need hold my breath, as time will prove the course.

I like quotes, so here are some I wrote. Perhaps they will continue the hope of fleeting love’s return:

1. Be the person you want to be, live the life you want to live, and you will have those things true to your heart.
2. It is within you.
3. When it is time, it will happen.
4. What a person says is equally important as what a person does not say.
5. Life and love is like breathing.

(Now playing… (I’m Just a) Redneck in a Rock N Roll Bar by Jerry Reed)

This song reminds me—Jerry Reed, country music artist and actor, recently died. I think his passing is a real shame. I like his movies, especially Smokey and the Bandit, and his music. I can not say I have all of his music, but I have some of his albums on mp3.

* * * DISCLAIMER: by the author stating that he enjoyed a BBW’s “attention, loveliness, beauty, and wonderful smile” does not imply that the author no longer objectifies women. In the author’s personal beliefs, women are still sexual objects, property to be owned, and in the service of man. He still defines the phrase, “It is what is on the inside that counts,” as, “It is what is inside them clothes that counts.”

If you found the above disclaimer offensive, please read the second disclaimer for a politically correct explanation that is more sensitive to your concern.

* * * DISCLAIMER: Hey, kiss my ass!

That is how you effect the KMA governing value.

Frosting on the “One Day” Cake

FYI – I had a bunch of photos to go with this entry, but I can not seem to get them uploaded. Perhaps it is the WiFi connection I am using. I will try to upload them to this blog at a later time.

Table of Contents

• Log Cabin
• Volkswagen GTI
• Chevrolet Corvette
• Ford F-Series Pickup
• Black Mouth Cur
• Your Best Playas Are Discreet Playas
• BMW 535xi Sedan
• Land Rover LR3
• Unimog
• Hummer H1
• Aston Martin

Log Cabin

Originally, the VW GTI was first. However, I hold the acquisition of my home at a higher priority. In spite of this, the VW GTI will most likely be the first thing I will be able to obtain.

No city living for me! Give me the country where my closest neighbor is miles away and I measure the span of my land by square miles, not acres. I want to go fishing in my front yard and hunting in my back yard. Ride on horseback for days and never leave my property. I want to walk outside and know that from horizon to horizon, it is all my land.

My log cabin will have exposed timber construction, allowing the vertical and horizontal supports inside the home to be visible. Also, the exterior walls will be reinforced and either be constructed of insulated concrete or impacted earth, which will increase its insulating properties battling cold winters and hot summers. The exterior will be given a façade in order to achieve the look of a log home.

All of the four or five bedrooms will be upstairs. The master bedroom will have his and hers walk-in closets, as well as a master bathroom with a Jacuzzi bathtub and a 4-person shower. The other bedrooms will share an upstairs bathroom. If there is enough space and there are four other bedrooms, a bathroom will be shared by each pair of bedrooms.

The main floor will have a sitting room, sun room, large kitchen with island and dining area, dining room, pantry, full bathroom, mud room at the back door, entry to the attached garage, exit to the wrap around porch, front door and coat closet, and my den/office.

The basement will have a TV room (or theater if there is enough funds to do so) with surround sound and a recreational area with a pool table, air hockey table, or what happens to be the toy of choice. Also, the utility room containing the hot water heater and furnace will be in the basement. All of the necessary electronics and networking cables will all be hubbed in a room in the basement as a makeshift IT room, if you will.

The washroom with the clothes washer and dryer will either go on the main floor or the basement. At this time, it is undecided which floor it will go on.

Volkswagen GTI

Yes, the VW GTI is often the starting point of my daydreams when accumulating things of success. I find it sexy, sporty, economical, and fun to drive.

The black carbon fiber hood in the picture is similar to what I like. One of the few modifications I would make, the hood will be the first. Either looking similar to or actually crafted of carbon fiber, the black hood with its large heat extractors will contrast nicely with my future GTI’s red or white exterior. However, if blue is ever available, I would much prefer a bright blue similar to the screenshot to the right.

The second modification I will perform is the custom audio system. No flashy LCD screens, DVD players, or navigation systems; just some good old fashioned beats with little to no bling-bling. One ported speaker box housing two 12” Treo Engineering subwoofers powered by a single D Class amplifier. All gold connections and an easy connect/disconnect system so I can remove the speaker box when extra cargo space is required. The remaining OEM (original equipment manufacturer) audio system will not be removed or altered. However, a master switch controlling the amplifier and subwoofers will be hardwired in a discreet and convenient location for the driver. It is my stereo system and I wish to keep that way.

Lighting. To really set the mood and strike awe, aftermarket lighting is a must. Inside, I will have either red neon or “lava” light tubes over the front floor boards. A definitive decision is beyond me, right now, because I do not know exactly how the two look. Outside, I will definitely have underbody neon lighting. I have seen LED lighting and do not like them. What color? Undecided. I have seen some vehicles with more than one neon color. To do that requires installing a tube for each color. There is no one magical neon tube that will change colors.

Chevrolet Corvette

I know the VW GTI is a vehicle I would like. However, it can be a stepping stone to other vehicles. The GTI can replace my current 1982 Toyota Tercel two-door hatchback. Then, the Corvette will replace the GTI.

Color? I do not know what color I want. Red sports cars are said to compensate for a man’s sexual inadequacy or his suffering a mid-life crisis. Although that is an impression I do not want to give, I still say “they” can kiss my ass with what they think about what I drive. I like red. However, the yellow Corvettes I have seen are very nice, too. Plus, I like the way yellow is bright in the sunlight.

Having never driven a convertible, I do not know what it is like. So, I am at odds with whether I would like my sports car to be a convertible or a hard top. I imagine convertibles are fun, which may provide some truth to the widely accepted concept. Also, women seem to like convertibles a lot more than hard tops. On this matter, I just do not know which one to pick. I will cross that bridge when it comes.

I do not foresee myself mechanically modifying the Corvette. On the other hand, an awesome sound system is necessary, which will be just the same as what I described for the VW GTI.

Ford F-Series Pickup

A Ford enthusiast, Ford is the only pickup I will own. And, I see myself owning two Ford pickups.

One will be a new F-450 crew cab, one-ton dually, turbo diesel, which is what I have pictured above. With four-wheel drive, locking rear differential, automatic transmission with tow/haul, chicken lights, and all the options, it will be my flagship pickup, setup for towing and road trips. Modifications and accessories will include air brakes, removable fifth wheel hitch with air ride, CB radio and dual antennas, and a one- or two-cylinder APU (auxiliary power unit) for HVAC and electricity when not driving.

The other Ford pickup will have a big-block V8 gasoline engine, four-wheel drive, regular cab, and eight-foot bed. For this pickup, that is all that is required.

Black Mouth Cur

I am a dog person. I do not like “ankle biters,” so small dogs are out of the question. Cats are also out of the question, unless they are strays that hang around outside the house to hunt mice.

The Black Mouth Cur (sometimes called BMC) is not as well known as I would like to think it should be. On the other hand, its uncommon notoriety is part of the attraction.

Although dogs think its human master as a member of the pack, I am still afraid that my dog will become lonely, so I want two Black Mouth Curs.

Black Mouth Curs are beautiful dogs in my eyes. I like their size, their temperament, and their utility.

We will go hunting for birds, deer, squirrel and rabbit, coyotes, and other North American game. For fun, we will cart, play fetch, perform obedience training, train for obstacle courses, and play in the water.

Your Best Playas Are Discreet Playas

I am a nymphomaniac. Five times a day on a regular basis satisfies my sexual appetite. Some people think I am bragging when I say five times a day. However, how many times you fuck, how long you fuck, or who you fuck really does not matter if you have poor technique and fail to satisfy. Five times a day is a need, not a want.

I never fuck around too close to home. For instance, if a neighbor wants to get promiscuous, I must decline. On the other hand, I can continue flirting, so as to set myself up for any future endeavors should one of us move or whatnot.

Additionally, girls do not come to my house. Those who visit my home are not girls I fuck. Sure, it would be very nice to have the convenience of home when fucking, but I do not want girls coming over unannounced and disrupting things. Should a female who disapproves of polyamory learn of my “affairs,” she may take drastic action against my personal property, such as my vehicle or my house. I do not need any busted windows or windshields. So, girls do not come to the house.

While creating some funny and interesting things for a random writing, I created something I called House Rules. If you want to read them, I will hyperlink to another blog post describing those rules. Even so, the House Rules are and excellent benchmark of conduct for any bachelor or playa.

Perhaps still juvenile in the eyes of some people, I still lust for as many women as I can get my hands on or my dick into. So, naturally I daydream of a multimillion dollar home on some beach in the tropics that is totally overflowing with hot, horny, obedient women who desire only me.

One girl? No, no. Not for me. I am no longer a one-woman man. Instead, I am a multi-woman / no-girlfriend man.

Make me your friend with benefits, your friend that fucks (aka FTF), your weekend boy, your boy toy, your booty call, your one night stand, your fling, your rebound… make me anything BUT your boyfriend.

I am discreet. I am incognito. Neither the guys nor the gals see me coming. If I get too close I’ll get a smile, a blush, a laugh – charm and attraction – from any woman.

I am a kinky son of a bitch, too. I like sex with guys as much as I like sex with girls. I do not seek romantic relationships with guys, but I like the sex.

I like to gag girls on my dick and let them fuck me with strapons. I am usually on bottom with guys, thoroughly enjoying sucking dick and taking it in my ass, but I also enjoy being versatile and switching things up. Give me some man ass I am happy, too.

I have an oral fetish, so I like doing a lot of things with my mouth. At the same time, I enjoy others with an oral fetish, as well.

All kinds of women attract me, not just the ones in the pictures. However, I do have an affinity for: TNA (titts and ass); ghetto booty; flexibility; dancing/stripping; bikini tan lines; oral fetishes; anal; open mouth; hips; long legs; braces; the sweet/innocent look; pinup; thick or thin lips; pink nipples; tall slender women; pretty mouths; long hair; dark skin; gothic; pale skin; freckles; red hair; black hair; ghetto hair and fashion; big hair; hoop earrings; bracelets / anklets / belly chains / necklaces / chokers; older women; young women; exotic looks; long face; plain looks; and odd looks (like large eyes, large or small mouth, abnormally spaced eyes, etc).

Curves… it is all about the right curves. And, jiggling in all the right places.

I can be sparing with a woman’s face, but her body has to be a knockout. What is more, all the parts to her mouth – teeth, lips, gums, tongue, area around the mouth – absolutely has to be perfect. If it is jacked up in the slightest way the rest of her does not matter.

You know, if the woman has wicked skills in bed and is one freaky bitch (of course implying that she satisfies my sexual cravings), I could go for a girl with less than par looks and an okay body. If there is going to be compromise, I need to know where and how much I am willing to compromise.

To me, the mouth is the sexiest and most intimate part of the body.

I am open to many things and am sexually adventuresome. I have never done/been with: transsexual/transgender, tongue piercing, gangbang, train, swapping, orgy, sex/key party, couples, bisexuals, bisexual coed group, BDSM, girl with strapon, water sports, or beastiality.

BMW 535xi Sedan

Since I was little, I always admired the BMW sedans. I always found them refined, classy, and sexy with international prestige and distinction.

My BMW’s only modifications may be new rims and tires. Other than that, it will all be OEM (original equipment manufacturer).

Sexy!

The BMW is only a weekend driver, as well as the occasional date. Also, when necessary, I will drive it in to work on nice days.

Land Rover LR3

“If you can afford all of this, why settle for an LR3?” you might say.

To answer that simply, I have only experienced the Land Rover Discover and LR3. The Range Rover and Defender are two models of Land Rover I have only read about.

I can not say that I would like a Range Rover. However, I can say with confidence that I want a LR3.

No modifications. And, the color is really not all that important to me.

Like BMWs, I think Land Rover has international prestige and distinction.

Unimog

The Unimog is a German military and farm vehicle – it is to the Germans what Hummer and John Deere is to us.

Filling my utilitarian demands, the Unimog is a more-than-capable worker on and off the beaten path. Available in various body styles, engine sizes, and cab sizes, this one vehicle is like the Swiss Army knife of adventurers and workmen. Front and rear PTOs (power takeoff) operate a wide range of implements from snow removal, tree trimming, winches, grass cutting, sweepers, cranes/lifts, buckets, or any other kind of implement you can think of.

I like the old body style, but I want all new technology: a Caterpillar diesel engine with VGT (variable geometry turbo) and intercooler; CAT engine management computer system; four-wheel air brakes with trailer electric and air brake hookups; front and rear locking differentials; auxiliary lights for work and off-road driving; automatic transmission with tow/haul feature; high (3.75:1) and low (4.35:1) gearing in front and rear differentials; two- or three-cylinder APU (auxiliary power unit) to provide HVAC and electricity to conserve fuel when not driving; air lines for operating pneumatic tools; outlets for operating power tools; hydraulics to operate implements.

The Unimog is a beast. It is best to stay out of its way. Grrrrr.

Hummer H1

Although I would very much like a Hummer H1, I just do not foresee it becoming attainable with a $100,000 price tag. Consequently, this and subsequent items are on more of a “wish list” than an obtainable goal.

If I could, I would buy: a yellow wagon; brown/tan, olive drab green, or digital woodland camouflage two-door hard top; and a white four-door with black soft top. Of course, I would have all of the options on them.

Every man needs a Hummer H1. H2s and H3s suck.

I would go hunting in them, cross-country on road trips, and go on “safari” though out the world.

Aston Martin

At $250,000, Aston Martins are also unattainable and on the “wish list.”

Aston Martins are, in my mind, the ultimate in luxury sports cars. They are sexy, strong, sleek, and masculine. I find nothing about this vehicle that both men and women would not find appealing.

I am not well versed in Aston Martin’s lineup, but I believe the above is a picture of a V12 Vanquish S. Turbocharged, supercharged, or naturally aspirated… I do not know.

Seeing these beauties in person is totally different than seeing them in a picture or watching them on video – it is like going to the safari to see the animals you normally watch on TV.

Quixtar was hosting a conference in Scottsdale, AZ, for their IBOs (Independent Business Owners). If you do not know Scottsdale, it is commonplace to see cars worth over hundreds of thousands of dollars driving all around or parked on the street outside businesses. I have never been to another place like it.

I was parked at a stop light when an Aston Martin pulled up beside my teal 1996 Mazda 6. She was a beautiful convertible with shining white paint on the outside. Inside, she was lined with leather. The sound of the engine and the acceleration from the stop light made me want to cream my pants. And, all of the refinement that I saw inside the vehicle was just incredible.

The thirty-something female driver did not seem to mind that I was checking her out. When I finally noticed the driver and shyly smiled when I discovered she had been watching me look at her car, she only smiled real sweetly.

Another time, a black coupe sped by me on the highway. Later, when I had caught with it in the city, I learned this driver was an older male in his fifties or sixties. This Aston Martin sounded much more aggressive and powerful than the previous one I saw.

Before these encounters I never really liked Aston Martin. After these encounters I have fallen in love with them.