:: It is not within me to be silent ::
Semi-regular filthy-minded misogynist rants coupled with philosophical treastises into the nature or gender politics. Though I'm not always right, I'm very rarely wrong.
Saturday, July 05, 2003 ::
Well, I did one of the things listed below,and then went to a party. There was a strongbad storm this morning that blew branches off trees all around my house, the same one that hit Boz, but not as bad. After it hit, I went to eat and play pool at the Wheat and Rye. Good stuff. I ended up playing against the waitress, who kicked my ass! I thought women were weaker at geometry than men? I've been totally lied to! She gloated when she won too, which would have made me laugh if I wasn't the fucking loser.
Afterwards, I went to a party, drank my first ever sip of Grand Marnier, and then had 1/10th of a margarita. Man, that shit is tart! Or tangy. Or bitter. Whatever. Nasty. We blew off the weakest fucking fireworks ever. They were cheap and nasty, sparks and such, a couple of pops. Meanwhile people around us are firing mortar shells from their backyards and detonating hydrogen bombs. I now know how the men with small weiners feel. Inadequate, compared to the incredibly large explosions of light, sound, other dimensions.
And the conversation turned to firsts, as I recalled my first groped booby. Ah, wonders of wonder, I can still feel it in my hand, soft like a wonderful pillow filled with love. It was a friday night, a girl named Jamie B. was with me in the living room. We began wrestling, I got behind her to wrap my arms around her, expecting nothing more than the closeness of her body to mine, but my left hand slipped. REALLY! And closed upon her breast. Ah, heavenly.
In trying to stop me, though, she pushed her butt back into my crotch. Talk about the world's best discouragement! So of course, I slid my right hand up to her other breast. In order to make sure that what my left hand felt was true. It was. Jamie B, wherever you are, I hope your life is as wonderful as the thousands of fantasties I had with you in the starring role. She was blushing as much as I was over the whole situation, and I can still picture her as she looked that moment, blonde (with an E, cacoa) hair lightly falling in her eyes, rosy blush upon her freckled cheeks, bright blue eyes shining as she smiled at me.
Memories are the best thing ever to happen to man. Could you imagine being a fish and forgetting everything 2 minutes after it's happened to you?
Addendum: Apologies to Mo for making fun of her favorite gross beer, Corona. It was not a slur to you, queen of the Corona, but the beer itself.
:: Paul 3:26:00 AM [+] ::
...
| boz's ring Ring Owner: boz Site: boz's ring |
||||
| PREV | LIST | RANDOM | JOIN | NEXT |
powered by  bravenet.com |
||||
