The Rut

The hallway was dark.

My cousin was standing in said hallway; in the dark as I related, her head tilted slightly, looking at me with seemingly vacant eyes. No, not vacant….

Horror? No, not horror…..

It was…it was…..I got it.

Her brain was locked up. The blue screen of death look….

That’s usually what happens to dope fiend potheads so I wasn’t too alarmed.

I’m used to her bunch taking a trip and never leave the farm. If you know what I mean….

Anywho, she’s standing there in the dark hall, barefoot on a hardwood floor; vacant stare, tilted head, lips slightly moving.

She was making no sound that I could make out but as I got closer to her, I heard two things; one distinctly….

She raised her hand slowly to ward me off but making the gesture for “hold up”

Her eyes slowly found mine.

The look of a person that has lost their soul….

She made a “shush” gesture and mouthed “oh. MY. GOD!”

I made the silent “What’s up?!” face with accompanying hand and shoulder gestures.

Her finger slid across her throat in a cutting fashion….no, no, she was pointing to a door to my right, my uncles door; her daddy’s.

I followed the finger, looked at the door, didn’t see anything, started to turn back to her then…..I stopped.

I heard something….

What was she hearing? What was I hearing, slight as it was…

She was pointing with more vigor and giving heavier shushing moves….

I leaned toward the door…”W#hat?!” my sneaky shushed silent face said….

Her eyes got wider in that “LISTEN closer” wide look eye thing…

I listened.

I heard it. I knew the sound.

It was sex.

There was sex going down in my uncles room and he is 62 years old and he’s not supposed to have sex because he’s too old and not married plus his pecker shouldn’t have even been working…because he’s you know, OLD. And, he’s my dead dads little brother!!

My face now had the “WTF” look accompanied by the token slow head turn of the truly baffled, while the realization spreading across my face as I turned back towards my cousin who’s dad was a dirty sinner.

Next silent shushed face wide eye question: “Who the hell is in there?!”

She looked at me, her eyes narrowing; then in a silent lip sync moment she said…

“Mama is in there with Daddy” jabbing her finger at the door.

Dirty, dirty old people fuckers, I thought.

I looked at her. She looked at me.

I needed a shower all of a sudden.

Then, It hit me…

These guys have been divorced for like 30 years! They probably ain’t seen each other but a handful of times in that span!

Hell, I didn’t even think they got along! She was here visiting her grandson for the love of all that’s holy!!! OMGODDDDD!

The sounds were getting louder and more intense.

The bed was actually creaking! Just like in the movies! Moaning and groaning, springs squeaking, headboard banging, faster and faster….!

I had to run. I had to get out of there….I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.

I was mired in sin…..

OMG; I’m gonna puke.

We were frozen to the spot.

Trapped by the sinful sex romp shadow demons that floated around us….grunting, humping and porking!

“Ugh ugh argh argh, yesss, yesss, oh I got a cramp! Bang bang, fucking creak!!!

Just like in the freaking pornos.

Minus the saxophone….

I don’t remember too much after we heard her saintly mother cry out “punch it, dick ninja!” “It’s getting away!

“I got it!” “I got it, Mamasita!” the dirty Uncle/daddy fucker screamed.

My body ran cold. Her face was ashen.

Her mama…..my uncle,,,,her daddy….were doing the big nasty and liking it!

Can. You. Believe. That. Shit?!

Freaking 62 damn years old and bouncing around on each other with their old person bodies, old man balls, granny panties slung over the bed post, slipping and sliding over each other like two grunting, gasping sumo wrestlers fighting over a corn dog!!

Some people…..

Then…..

It was over.

The noise stopped.

What was said next between the two of them will not be mentioned….

Ever.

Hint: It had something to do with bull riding….

I knew they were dirty fucker people.

I could see it in their eyes.

Here they were….acting like nice old grandparents; kissing babies, cooking supper, drinking sweet tea and sitting by the fire pit and as soon as we turn our freaking backs…..!

BAM!!

They should be ashamed, dirty old people!!

I don’t think I can ever talk to them again or look them in the eyes without seeing Mamasita and Dick Ninja….

54 years old and I have a fresh new scar for my life.

Great. Just what I needed. More trauma.

Thanks, Unc. You dirty old bastard.

My poor cousin.

I think she’s traumatized, bless her heart.

She told her preacher everything; confessed her disgust and shame.

She got baptized a week later.

She sees Jesus in her coffee now.

Check this out, I swear to God! If you can believe this shit;

Mamasita is dating the preacher…..

My therapist told me to write about the dirty old fuckers.

It helped a little. Not as much as the liquor, but it helps.

I wish I could wash out my brain sometimes.

Don’t you?

Dick Ninja? Really….?

Dude Looks Like A Lady

wpid-business-man-blank-sign-11-vector-104ggur52892-picsay.jpegThere is a man/woman, “transgender person” I guess they call this type of human, sitting here in the breakroom at my company HQs.

With very much disappointment in myself, I am realizing that I have a looonnggg way to go to become a truly righteous man.

I also realize that I am MOST certainly prejudiced about this and feel wholly uncomfortable to be in the same room with this person.

I do not know why….

I’m disgusted that I am a hypocrite.
Gosh, I HATE hypocrites!!!

I am not a mean person, I am not a cruel person, I like people and generally, people like me. At least I think so, I haven’t been maced or tazed in years…

I am not shocked by that much, I am an American after-all and have a Facebook account loaded with crazy relatives, and I firmly believe in letting people live their own lives how they wish; thus, is the secret to happiness.

We really don’t have a choice here in this country anymore…

The new motto of the USA…..”DEAL WITH IT!!”

I do not know this dude that looks like a lady.

I have never met this lady that is really a dude, before.

He/she could be a wonderful caring person….IDK

But, do I care? Should I care? Why do I care? Does anybody really care?

I’m sure I do, because I’m a sensitive, caring guy, DAMMIT!!!

But that doesn’t have anything to do with the “creepy crawlies” I’m experiencing right now.

I don’t know why I’m like this or should I say, reacting like this.

So why, oh why am I disturbed by this person sitting at the table across from me?

I am very, very uncomfortable right now.

I feel like I am in a pit with sheer walls, a venomous serpent is also there, with no way out while I’m overdosing on caffiene….

Know what I mean?

The back of my neck is hot

My forehead feels hot

My pulse is beating in my ears.

I think I’m sweating on my laptop.

I feel like I’m getting physically ill….

I can’t stop grabbing furtive glances of this person, it’s kinda like looking at a terrible car wreck or accidently catching a glance of my naked grandma…

I can’t believe how uncomfortable I am!!!

I don’t like being this way!

Am I actually frightened….SCARED OF A……well, a person!?

Why am I this way?priest

Why does it bother me so much?

Is it an instinctual reaction to something that is not natural? Am I being an animal!?

This dude, that looks like a chick, is talking to me now. I am listening (and still typing this) but, I can’t look at….it? Him/her…AC/DC?

Victor/Victoria is less than 3 feet away from me and talking to me and I am actively trying to avoid eye contact.

I don’t feel contempt, I don’t feel anger or hate….I just feel….dirty.

I know that’s wrong…..I know it’s bad….I know it’s not Christian love and I haven’t investigated what my churches stance is on the subject. I know what they stand for and they won’t change on the basic tenants of some things.

I will have to ponder on this a while longer….

I just don’t understand why people can be so weird…..IS IT WEIRD?

I know Tootsie has to have some balls, figuratively or no….

It would take some HUGE JUEVOS to dress like that in a truck company, IN ARKANSAS!

IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!!!

Especially in those shoes…

Good. At least I can laugh at myself for being a dink and use my blog to explore my thoughts and feelings and work thru them.

It is excellent therapy…..almost as good as fasting and praying.

Hey, thanx for listening guys….and gals…or guy/gals.

It helped a lot.

I am trying, you know?

I’ll put more on my blog…when I  am confronted with more personal bigotry and intolerance.

Tomorrow good for y’all….say about….6-ish?images (3)

Great….

***Matthew 22: 36-40

EGADS

I must run! Make haste!

I wake up and quickly realize that I have only 42.56 seconds to make it to the potty or there will be hell to pay.

[Ominous background music here…the Exorcist theme sounds cool or maybe a Star Trek one…]

But, alas…

I waste 23.93 seconds putting on clothes and locking my truck.

I have 18.63 seconds left…

I dash to the truck stop, lurching and stumbling like Mr. Hyde on a foggy London street, grunting and growling.

I crash thru the front door of the store like Matt Dillon in Dodge City wondering where in the hell Festus is and why is Otis on my desk!

My body is gripping, squealing, clinging….

I burst into the bathroom like the DEA on meth, my eyes wild and…

Gasps…
Screaming…
“Rape!!”
“Oh, sorry ladies, my bad”…

I burst into the next bathroom, my eyes wild and frightened like a scared person I guess, my face pale, my bed head struggling for its own identity.

The potty God’s are kind, 2 stalls open for “business”

I fall into the first stall and to my horror see that the lid is down and still contains some urine and stool samples of the previous few occupants.

I curse the name of God and inbred swine. Cat like, I ninja roll into the next stall.

EUREKA!

I made it! 3.24 seconds left!

It does not matter that my shorts and shirt are on backwards, or the fact that there is no toilet paper.

I made it and it’s not Monday.

I will rely on the Christian charity of strangers.

Funny though, no one’s been in here for the last 30 minutes and I have no socks.

True Story….

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30 Day Writing Challenge; Treyzguy Style

I accept this 30 day Writing Challenge from Klnikolovas’ Blog because I get where Klnikolova is coming from….

I’ve been in bad places and I’ve been in some good places.
wpid-fb_img_1428067892126.jpg

I guess I could say that my life is a happy medium, the bad and good balances out to make my life interesting and gives me just enough bad to make me truly appreciate and recognize the good when it happens.

Kinda weird though….

Like Klnikolova I too was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder years ago, with a dash of manic depressive mood swings thrown in for good measure. And after having no luck with the crazy medicine they kept pushing on me (3 suicide attempts in 2 months) I quit taking it and realized that I was just having a bad year.

But, I have been in enough psyche wards, too many; I really love the little socks and Jell-o they give you, Like I was saying, I’ve been a guest at the padded hotels to understand that this stuff is real and comes in as many shapes, forms and fashions as we humans do.

Some not so terrible as others; some, almost evil and definitely real to the poor soul it is happening to.

I guess that’s the real misconception and misunderstanding surrounding us that stygmatizes mentally ill people….

It is real to them and not to us….”It’s all in your head”.

…yeah……it is.

I am in a good place now, for the moment; and I hope I stay here for a bit so, in support of Klnikolova and the challenge, I will do the “thing”. Plus, it’ll be fun and a happy change.

I think y’all oughta give it a shot until all this rampant writers block pandemic passes and our creativity has returned….LOL!

30 Day Writing Challenge

Daily List

Day 1: Name 10 things that make you really happy

Okay, I’m not falling for this trap.

I’m gonna avoid the obvious answers like; God, my kids, my church, my sports team winning and so on…

That gets boring, redundant and expected….except for the God part, my kids part, my church part, my sports team not winning isn’t that big a disaster, not really….Sorry God, just doing it a little different. I do appreciate what you go thru and have to deal with…

I’m not gonna do this in any type of order, I treat all things that make me happy a bonus.

1 Happy) Perfectly prepared Lobster Tail….
How do I explain the level of happy that a steaming Lobster tail sitting in front of me on a big plate with the melted, hot butter and garlic sitting in a bowl close to my left hand, gives me….
Oh, then they bring the frosty pitcher of beer….
This makes me extremely happy.Lobster-Dinner-psd91952

2 Happy) Lottery tickets that actually award me more than I spent on them.
I don’t do lottery tickets or the Powerball or any type of Gambling, really. I’ve never actually seen the sense in throwing away perfectly good money over something that is chance or not a sure thing. I know I’m missing the whole concept of what gambling is but, I’ve always been able to walk away from that sort of thing.
But, when I do buy one and come out on top….this makes me extremely happy.

3 Happy) My Wife walking around the house in one of my shirts with nothing on underneath and is busily walking amidst the bottom lowest kitchen drawers, supposedly looking for mysterious implements and “mouse traps”….
I know what she’s trying to do……Hold on, I’ll be back in a second….
Okay, I’m back and I am extremely happy, although the headboard came loose for some reason….
My wife snores….

4 Happy) Reading the above #3 to my wife and tormenting her.
That makes me extremely happy….

5 Happy) Finding socks that match or just finding socks of the same size and particular pattern.
This makes me extremely happy and I give burnt offering.

6 Happy) Finding something that my wife has been looking for over the span of anywhere between 2 days or two years in the exact spot I told her to look for it in the first place.
This TICKLES THE SHIT OUTTA ME!!!! THIS IS BEYOND HAPPY, THIS IS VALIDATION AND VINDICATION!!!!

7 Happy) Being right about everything and proving it.
I love being right…
My favorite words are “I told you” or “Like I said” or “You’re a dumbass”
Oh and the thing I was right about ALL OF THE TIME and the person it is associated with has differing levels and intensities of satisfaction….
I WILL NEVER LET THEM FORGET!!!!
When I am right about something where my little Missus is concerned, it borders on orgasmic.
This makes me extremely happy and makes me raise a joyful noise….

8 Happy) Tormenting my wife.

Honey Biscuit go nite nite
Honey Biscuit go nite nite

I tease my poor wife relentlessly. This is something I do all day, everyday. First thing in the morning to edge of sleepy time. It’s as much a part of my personality as my nymphomania is….I HAVE TO FUCKING DO IT….HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Get it?! Nymphomania and HAVE TO FU……DO IT!

I amaze myself sometimes with my witicisms (Is that how you spell it?)

9 Happy) Writing an entire post and not having one mistake on the spell checker or grammar checking thingy…
This makes me extremely happy and is not applicable for this particular post (see above “witicisms”)

10 Happy) My Kids…
I had to say it.
I’d be nothing without them as a part of my life.
I am always hoping that our relationship will get better and better in the future.
Thinking, praying and hoping for this….
This makes me extremely happy.

FullSizeRender_5
Stephanie 1990?

This was fun.
Thanks for reading.

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Ryan and Logan 1992?

Check back tomorrow for #2 on the list:

“Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot”

Chiao Mein….

3 Inch Nipple Hair and Boners

I wonder if there is a medical term, for the ever present condition of hard nipples on a man….

Now that I have your attention, you bunch of sick bastards; I wanna talk about real life sex things, after the age of 50.

Sex things, you ask?

I'm being serious this time...
I’m being serious this time…

”Hmmmm, oh yeah, baby, now he’s talking….” you moan….

Y’all make me sick…

……repent ye

Anywho

I am a prude.

I get embarrassed watching people smooch. On Tv or live…

I can’t watch soft porn, hard porn or naked people on TV, ask my wife!

I get all red in the face and say something like “I can’t believe they put that shit on TV where kids can see it”

Then I turn  the channel to a nice family show or a bible study channel and ask God to punish all of the dirty filthy sex fiends….

But, I also remember that I was 13 years old, once and I too, was a dirty filthy sex fiend.

I guess I am like most men or I should say, most men that are not currently incarcerated in a local penal facility for illegal expressions or applications of a carnal nature. (Ha ha, I said “penal”)

When I was 13, the most important thing in my life was a single 3 inch hair on my left nipple.

The next most important thing was that I had an all consuming, burning desire to stick my pecker into anything that didn’t contain broken glass, bees, venomous reptiles or first cousins.

Well, the first cousins part is a little shady.

I mean, it’s in the Bible that you can marry a cousin, I think…so….

All I can say now as a grown man, looking back; Thank God my family isn’t from Kentucky and all of my first cousins, that are female, are ugly.

I had some third cousins though, that I woulda….Grrrrrrr.

They were from Alabama and y’all know how those Alabama girl cousins are…..

I’m getting side-tracked again…

Anywho…

1012400_327514874087185_5381873385758747239_nWhen I was 13 I cursed God for giving me 2 hands and accompanying arms, long enough to help said hands reach my pubic area.

If idle hands are truly the devils workshop then, when I was 13 I was going straight to heaven, baby!

Let’s just say that I was devout…..

Unexpected Boners:

  • English class/ 8th grade/ Ms Fitzgerald: Red hair/Female/pouty lips
  • Biology class/ 8th grade/ Ms Mulkey: dressed like an Amish woman/ female/ Sex-Ed/ pictures in books
  • P.E/ boys showers/ 8th grade/ Coach Jaworski/ male/ girls playing volleyball and basketball; both games involve lots of jumping and running, which causes boobs to bounce; hence the perfectly natural result of the embarrassing situation jutting within my flimsy gym shorts/ girls squealing and laughing in their shower right next to the boys shower, separated by an impenetrable and unbreachable, 8 inch thick, cinder block wall, dammit!

Man, I think that’s when I developed my overactive and very descriptive imagination….

We boys knew that the wanton strumpets on the other side of the wall were necked; they’d be bouncing around under that hot, steamy water covered in soapy soap suds, wrestling with each other, pinching each others boobs, smacking each other on the butts, wet hair flying around….….

Never mind….I’m getting light headed all of a sudden…DSCF0687a

I’m glad I don’t think about that perverted stuff, anymore.

Back to unexpected boners:

  • Hallway/ 8th thru 12th grade/ bumping into girls/ smelling girls perfume/ smelling girls hair/ girls bending over looking in their locker/ girls dropping something on the floor/ girls reaching high for a book in the library/ girls bending over to tie their shoe/ girls eating a banana very slowly or using utensils very slowly, in the lunch room/ the sweaty cleavage women in the cafeteria serving us our food/ cheerleaders in skirts kicking their legs high and wide into the air/ girls breathing/ girls looking at me/ girls smiling at me/ girls breathing……

Yeah….they wanted it.

What was I saying again?

Oh, my 3 inch nipple hair.

When I was 13 years old I wanted to be Paul Stanley, the lead singer for the band KISS.kiss

Well, I wanted Paul’s hairy chest and Gene Simmons tongue but, let’s not go down that road….

God, I was a little pervert!

You know what?! Now that I think about it, if I’d had a son like me, I’d give him a year supply of hand lotion, dirty books and pizza pockets; lock him in his room for the year, pipe the music of Air Supply, Mozart or Yani into the room and take him out once a week, put him in plow harness, plow 40 acres of turnips and taters until he couldn’t walk anymore, then beat him with a knobby stick for an hour and tell him that girls have cooties and that Jesus hates you when you pull on your pud and think dirty thoughts about Ms Mulkey, the neighbor girl and/or his third cousins….

That’s the ticket.

Anywho…what’s with me today? I keep getting side tracked…

My 3 inch nipple hair….

I was so proud when it popped out; the hair I mean.

I was a man.

I had some new hair already….you know, down there….but now, I had a “hairy” chest, too!

FINALLY!!!

I probably looked up at my Loni Anderson poster that hung on the wall beside my bed and whispered “You know you want it baby” then I probably ended up pulling on my pud with great vigor and dedication until I felt guilty and had an overwhelming urge to confess to a priest, regardless of the fact that I had never really met a priest or that we tended to hang Catholics in my part of the state…..

Loni....
Loni….

I wonder if all 13 year old boys are dirty little bastards….

Probably not….

I remember tugging on my 3 inch nipple hair to make sure it was rooted properly and wouldn’t rub off or break when I put my shirt on.

When I tugged on it, the hair, not my pud; I was quite surprised that it was attached, internally, to my spine, toes and finger-tips….weird.

Quick observation for y’all, since I like to report on real time things while I’m talking to you…

I’m sitting here in my big rig looking out the windows as I think of these witty things to write and wonder why people stare at their dogs while they go poop…..

Speaking of dogs….

Two guys watching a dog lick himself…

One guy says “Man, I wish I could do that”

Other guy says “Dude…..that dog would bite the shit out of you”

Both dudes nod their heads, speculatively.

Ha ha! Here’s another one….

So…I got a new pair of black Speedos a little while back

One sunny day, I went down to the beach and asked my ugly buddy how he was always surrounded by so many beautiful girls.

This is not, me...
This is not, me…

“Ancient Chinese secret” he laughed…”I take a potato and shove it into my trunks and they come a running”!

I was impressed at the simplicity of it, but dubious…I retorted, “Hell, That’s no secret, but when I did it they kicked me in the cahoonas and sprayed me in the eyes with mace”…

My friend said “It’d probably work better if you put the tater in the front of your trunks”

Ohhhhh….

Okay, I’m tired of messing with y’all, I gotta go to work.

I don’t know why I was thinking about boners and my 3 inch nipple hair this morning…

Hmmm…I just thought of something;

Now that I’m 50 years old, I don’t get that excited about new hairs that much.

They’re everywhere…

My 3 inch nipple hair has moved to my ears and comes out gray….

It ain’t attached to nothing….

Not my Pud...
Not my Pud…

Well, unless someone else LIKE MY WIFE!  JERKS IT OUT BECAUSE SHE THINKS ITS UGLY AND I WOULD APPRECIATE HER TENDING TO THAT IRKSOME HAIR FOR ME!!!!

Y’all have a good Sunday now, ya hear….and why ain’t you in church?

Sinners….

Genesis: Mortal Remaining

I’m mortal.

That sux…

I’m revisiting this post a tad because of my recent heart procedure. And since I am a flaming hypochondriac and a drama king I am expecting to die at any minute, so I wanna re-run some of my earlier posts, rework them and re-submit them for the new readers enjoyment, as I come to grips with my new bionic heart and pharmaceutical wonderland.

Trey Header

I’m gonna change a little, add a little.

Just like my life….

I guess you could say, or not, since you weren’t here with me during my life, that all people have their own struggles and until recently; very recently that is, I was not aware there were other beings on this earth and never really paid them any attention.

Just minor actors on the stage of my life, and not one of them could hit their mark or remember their cues.

…hacks

Please, don’t get me wrong; I love life….

I just wish it would love me back sometimes; well, during the bad days or especially on Mondays….

First things first…

I love my parents very much, in some ways, older ways; much more.

I don’t know them anymore….and it breaks my heart to no end.

We don’t talk to each other…

I can’t remember what my Dad’s voice sounds like, or my mom’s….and she’s still kickin’.

I never thought it’d all turn out this way.

Life sux sometimes….

Well, anywho, my Dads been dead since 2001….So he has a good reason to not call.

I still think about calling him on the weekends, but then I remember…..he’s not here, anymore.

I can’t picture my dad as ash or dust.

He drops into my dreams now and again….

It’s always good to see him.

I don’t know where my mom is.

I know she is alive., that’s it.

Maybe we’re afraid to hear each others voice….

How sad is that…?

You’ll see this is a prevalent “thing” with most of my family, direct relations or extended kin.

It’s understood, albeit in a quiet manner, that we all love each other and are “thought” of daily.

Evidently we don’t need constant contact, and generally ignore each other…at least that’s my end of the stick.

I hate this fact.

I wish that we could be having family reunions, know all the names of the 4th cousins twice removed and be all up in each other’s business but knowing that whenever one of us got thrown in jail or needed a kidney transplant, all we had to do was call….

The older you get, the more you realize that this is bogus; the whole “We’re related, but not relative to one another….

You need family always… it’s all we have…some of us.

Hmmph…hindsight….

The ones of you that have close family….

Cherish them….

Some poor souls don’t have a loving, nurturing family.

I have my wife, Sheila and my step-daughter Lacy.

My little circle.

The “step-daughter” moniker is only a technical designation for Lacy, whom I will officially pronounce, for evermore, as occupying “daughter” status.

Congratulations, Lacy; you’ve made the big time!

Dookie Licker
Dookie Licker

When you get a cell phone after your 25 year grounding is completed, I will make you speed dial # 4 on my phone.

I’m so forgiving and loving it makes me sick!

Despite the fact that Lacy is almost 15 years old now and is the only true threat to my sobriety, I love her dookie licking butt!

I wish I had 6 more just like her…

Oops….there goes the alarm for my medication…..

I thought I was feeling overly magnanimous and delusional there for a second.

Anywho…Back to my past (Get it?)

I was born in Biloxi, Mississippi on September 5th, 1964 on Keesler AFB.

I don’t remember much about it though, I was still young…

I don’t even know how long I was in Mississippi with my parents.

My mom never told me and I don’t remember asking.

My dad was an USAF airman that was working with the early radar systems and my mom was just a little Cajun girl.

She was born in Sulphur, Louisiana on October 10th, 1947.; so that means, she was almost 17 when I was hatched.

My dad always told me they found me by the railroad tracks eating spiders…

I don’t think that’s true about the tracks, I hate spiders….

I’m actually starting to hope he wasn’t lying and that I’m not a genetic descendant of this bunch.

Not much difference between them and spiders, now that I think on it.

But, I look just like a lot of them, not the spiders.

I am much more handsome than most, but the similarities can’t be denied.

Unique….are we.

My dad was born in Edison, Georgia, on May 1, 1942, so he was…what…22 when I was born?

Close enough…..

One thing my dad’s younger siblings and assorted cousins mentioned (when pressed) was that his dad (Pawpaw) was extremely hard on him.

He beat him with boards or fishing poles, practically anything he could grab at the time but, of course, others beg to differ on the severity of these punishments.

Just can’t keep shit straight, can we, when it comes to family skeletons?

It was a different time then; people didn’t get involved in parental discipline of their children; especially in the deep dark south.

It just wasn’t done…

Probably these days, with cell phone cameras and YouTube, my Pawpaw would be doing 5 to 10 at the state work farm for child abuse.

My dad, the younger, was skinny with a square head.

Good looking dude nonetheless, but in his adulthood he stood 6’2” and might have weighed 150lbs in a heavy sweater.

He was the secretary of his FFA group that went to the Kansas City Convention and the 1959 Florida State horseshoe champ.

He played his best horseshoes when he was drunk.

He was an intense competitor (he didn’t care if you were 3 years old or not), and he was a terrible loser.

Terrible….Loser.

Hmmm…it’s hard to use the term “loser” and my Dad in the same sentence.

Let’s just say he didn’t like to have the “lesser points” in a contest or game.

This made it all the sweeter to beat him…

I honestly can’t remember ever doing it or seeing it done…but, I’m sure someone had the pleasure at least once or twice.

The joy of their victory would have been short-lived though. The whole, dodging pool cues, flying horseshoes and verbal onslaughts would have taught them to not to have airs of a celebratory kind.

When my Dad was deep in his cups and drinking liquor, that’s where “BC” lived;

In a dark place.images (68)

You didn’t beat BC…at anything, or at least, admit to it….

Not if it killed him….

Granny (his mama), always said she thought, that dad was never the same after he got “those shots” while in Air Force basic training.

I think he went through the training in San Antonio, Texas.

He wanted to go to college for Journalism, but ended up as a pipefitter/welder.

The paths we choose or have chosen for us by fate…. C’est la vie!

I hate fate….absolutely, no direction.

My Dad smoked 3 packs a day, drank LOTS of coffee, and was EXTREMELY high strung.

Drinking made him mean…like I said, BC lived in a dark place.

Now that I’m older I realize that my Dad was only a man, a human.

I know he had demons, that he was tortured somehow; but we never had the type of relationship where he could or would share with me, the monsters that crept in his mind.

different times….

Lord…I wish I knew then what I know now. Maybe I could have gotten him to talk about it, to help me understand or help him fight through his darkness.

We could have traveled together….

He was, early in my life, (until I fled ‘home’ at 16)…in my opinion and recall, abusive.

Both, mentally and physically…to me, at least.

My siblings Dad was different from mine…but the same guy.

Know what I mean?

He was holier than thou, manipulative, insulting, and had a God complex.

He was extremely intelligent and knew it.

BC did not suffer fools.

He had no use for others he considered “culls”.

He had little patience with anyone over the age of 16… no one more than me.

When you ask my uncle and others, that were in “the know”… ask him/them how I was treated as a kid…his/their faces get very dark; with very few kind things to say about his/their beloved older brother/nephew/cousin.

Dear old dad…

Another thing that baffles some people, not directly related to the family, is that little children adored him.

Little kids worshiped the tall, skinny crazy man…weird.

So did I… Even through all his crazy times, and mine.

For all the bad times, he was still my dad.

And he made excellent Chili!
I forgive him based solely on that reason…js

He did play pitch with me, took me fishing occasionally, and I remember going hunting with him twice.

We chased stray chickens at the Cagle’s poultry processing plant…

Now that was fun!

I am not worthy...
Thx for sharing my past

Oh yeah…he bought me clothes and fed me…plus a house or 4.

We never lived anywhere for very long….

My Dad was always restless, always….moving….never….satisfied….

I guess I shouldn’t bitch so much….I haven’t turned out too bad.
…just a little wrinkled and crooked in some spots

I am an ungrateful tyke.

A Tad Distracted, Or Am I?

What a terrible world…images (40)

What a beautiful planet…

What a rotten day…

What a golden moment…

What a disaster…

What a wonderful life…

What’s the use?

What am I doing here and who are all these strange people?

I wish you’d make up my mind, for me.

I can’t decide if I like it or not…

Walk with me and I will show you the sky

Walk with me and I will lead the way

Walk with me.

Walk with me because I hate to be alone….

Paper or plastic…

Have you ever really felt the sun on your face, I mean, felt it poke into each pore, make you eyebrows burn, make your eyelids turn pink and your mouth to turn up at the corners?

Have you everapostate picked a flower and committed murder?

Didn’t the roots look like fingers trying to reach and keep hold to the earth as you tore the flower child from mother…?

I heard a flower scream, once….in a dream.

Salt or pepper?

Have you ever shaken your fist at the sky because someone told you, a long time ago, that that’s where God lived…?

Did God see you?

Of course he did, you silly goose.

God see’s everything….

You just can’t see him….until you die….or if you’re a good person, definitely if you’re bad….or when you look into the eyes of your child.

PhotoFunia-Wooden_SignThat’s where God lives….

That’s where innocence lives…

Chocolate chip or oatmeal?

Now….just add a dash of a terrible world a pinch of human interaction, and….VOILA!!

A little monster….

Get outta your head, man!

I’m gonna stand up and dance a little jig that I just made up.

I’m dancing because I want to change my attitude.

Don’t dance in the flowers, please.

You’ll kill ‘em.

I wonder if God thinks we’re flowers?

I mean…

We need water, sunshine lots of bullshit for fertilizer, lots of room to spread and occasionally be burned to the ground or harvested…

Hmmp…I guess we are chaff to be spread into the wind, after all…Now that I think about it in a biblical way.

My feet stink…..need some odor eaters.

Are we flowers?

Are we weeds?

Are we bacteria or virus?DSCF0687a

Are we doomed by apathy or neglect?

Are we promised an eternal life by the invisible guy that lives in a mansion in the sky?

Or, is he gonna push us into a burning lake after we are found guilty of saying “God-dammit” once when we saw that one thing that was jacked up and would have even made God say “Holy Shit…!”

How come we’re amazed at card tricks but never ponder a fish?

Why are we here?

What purpose does our existence serve?

There’s got to be a purpose to everything, right…..?

Well, you just go on believing that…

I “believe” there is a “purpose”….

See it…?

wpid-20141212_140144.jpgMan, this eczema itches like CRAZY!!!

If I water this flower, it will grow and give oxygen and food. That is the purpose….

If I believe in God, live justly and humbly…and with charity and love for my fellow man; I will live forever. That is MY purpose…

Who says so?

That guy in the sky?

Fear tactics.

But, what if I believe in God and want to live angrily and selfishly?

According to the “Book” I will still live forever; only it’ll be in fire and brimstone; according to “the book”.

I just thought of something….

What if “the book” had this in it…

“No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher.” 

I guess that’s how we know God wanted us to have “the book” at no price, other than our eternal salvation or damnation, I mean…

Man would’ve never let royalties get wasted.

What if God had stamped that disclaimer on Adam and Eve….

Was the Tree of knowledge a loop hole and the serpent, a lawyer?imagesblock3

Wow….

I love coffee and everything it stands for…

That’s something to think about over your morning cup o joe….

That’s how you change your attitude and level of stress….

Think about crazy shit…

Think about, “Why do some flowers smell good and others stink?”

Defense mechanisms?

Attraction?

Kinda like people, huh?

Or…..

Just think about how good your coffee is, where it was grown, how many burro’s hauled it down the mountain, did the coffee farmer trip over a root and shout “God, I hate growing coffee!”

javaOr…

Think about why God likes you so much but, still wants you to be nice to other people even when you haven’t had your coffee yet….

Man…growing coffee is an important job.

See?

I made you think of something other than your life for a moment…

“This guy is nuttier than a squirrel turd”

You’re welcome….

Now go out there into the big wide world, shake your fist at the sky and say…

“Let’s do this thing!”

God likes to kick ass….

Things That Piss Me Off!!!

wpid-img_1490823277378.jpeg
Abused husband and father. And yes…I drink. A Lot. Constantly.

Not in any particular order….

It’s all about the timing.

Women that do not refill the ice trays and put them back in the freezer with one cube left.

I’M NOT EVEN GONNA START ABOUT THE PEANUT BUTTER!!!

420 empty shampoo and soap bottles, 1 half empty or half full depending on your outlook, in the shower. (Honey Biscuit….Lacy?)

Oh! How many freaking scrunchies do  1 1/2 women really need!??

Clothes on the bathroom floor. I pee on them out of spite and retribution. (Honey Biscuit….Lacy?)

Women that need help with reaching things and opening jars. Ever heard of cans or ladders?

Women that have no sense of humor at 5 am when Daddy wakes up in a good mood and wants to play the tickle game. (You know who you are)

Women that leave food in the refrigerator until it becomes self aware and needs money for college.

Women that won’t take out the garbage when I don’t feel like it for a week or two.

Woman that doesn’t understand that sometimes I just want to cuddle. All that ripping and tearing and heavy breathing……(Honey Biscuit….?)

Women that cry over stupid movies and make fun of me when I get something in my eye during that death scene in “The Notebook”. I hate that movie……stupid dead people….why’d he have to die too!? Why couldn’t they have lived longer!? Why’d she have to leave him that one time!? Whhhyyyyy!!!???

1012941_361492360678838_1066685027317112704_n
Spawn of Satan

People that have NO IDEA how to color their hair and end up looking like a Jackson Pollock painting. (Lacy…?)

Woman that wears faded, bleach stained pink sweat pants and green tee shirts to bed…..and striped socks….

Woman that wears her bra to bed because she says that she’s too tired to take it off, making it harder for Daddy to get his groove going….

Woman that says she’s too tired after the Viagra kicks in.

Girl that screams at me when I sit on her and fart.

Girl with no sense of humor

Girl that bites and scratches Daddy.

Woman that forgot to get band-aids and antibiotic cream.

Woman that tells me I deserved it.

Woman that comes to bed naked and Daddy is too tired…..What!? It happens…!

Woman that bites and scratches Daddy. Oooooo….Now we’re talking!

Woman that has no understanding of foreplay. 30 seconds, tops!s

Women that don’t lift the lid FOR ME when they’re done. Quid Pro Quo….

Girl that steals the batteries out of the TV remotes for her crap.

Women that don’t understand that sometimes Daddy wants to be right about something, JUST ONCE FOR GOD SAKES!!!!

10502183_288548261317180_6832953235268112972_n
Poor man…

Women that need to eat 3 times a day…..or more.

Women that need hot water, electricity, a house, water, weekly garbage collection, Direct TV, toilet paper, “girl stuff”, more shampoo and soap, more food, date night, “us” time; violent, hot, animal murder sex, training bras that can’t be trained, stupid ass movies that get shit in my eyes, infinitum…..

Why do they call them training bras?

Women that don’t grasp the concept that, flowers and that damned dog, need food and water to live….

Women that can’t follow simple directions on where to scratch.

Women that leave Daddy alone in the house…by himself….alone….by himself.

Women that scream at me when it’s the appropriate time to quit tickling them. I inform them that when they pee on themselves, I’ll stop. I know how to tickle, dammit!

Women that, get mad when I hold them down and lick their face

Women that don’t understand what it’s like to be an aggravating asshole….

Women that only tell me they love me 10 times a day.

10670270_347409812087093_482638345951863755_n
The Dynamic Duo

Stupid ass movie…

God! I hate “The Notebook”

Cat Man Do

As I sit here on my Throne of Reflection looking at the perfection and intricacies of fake wood grain in our bathroom door, I….ponder life’s irony.

There is no toilet paper.

wpid-20141212_140144.jpg

There are no baby wipes.

I have no socks on.

Sans, underwear.

I am a commando….

It is 4 am and I am alone.

I am helpless.

I am restrained by social more’s….

I consider this….

As I have said; I am by myself and I am paperless….

Yet, I am afraid.

One does not simply stand up and walk away from “the business” without the required tasks.

We are not animals…

Or are we?

What is stopping me from sliding to the floor and dragging my hiney across the carpet?

The dog does it and we just throw up our hands and say “Dirty dog!”

Then we forget about it, go pop some popcorn, then stretch out on the very same carpet to watch TV as the dirty dog walks over and licks your face.

Dirty humans….

I….ponder life and its wicked forks…

I sense someone staring at me.

I look around….

It is the cat.

He is in the corner of the bathroom, sitting in his box and he is staring at me.

images

He yawns, scratches around in the litter, steps from the box and returns to staring at me.

I know he’s mocking me….

The cat is an animal.

I am human, therefore, of higher intelligence.

A problem solving species…..

The dog is lying on the floor of the bathroom, his big eyes flitting between me and his nemesis.

download (86)

Dog is man’s best friend.

Cats are pagan Gods….

The cat rises and stretches his long, furry back.

My brain takes a fork in life….

The cat walks slowly toward me and begins to rub against my stranded leg.

The cat is purring….

I am human, I am a problem solver.

It’s just me, the dog….and the cat.

….and no toilet paper.

I am human and bigger than the cat.

It is a dark fork that I have taken and I should be ashamed.

But, who are we to question fate or destiny?

I will call PETA later in the morning and confess.

But right now….?

I am human….I am trapped.

At first the cat scratches and bites….and I jump around a little bit, surprised at his ferocity and perserverance.

Then….The cat screams and meows…resigned to his fate, his fork in the road of life.

download (1)cougar3

But I am stronger, and I have plenty of antibiotics and band-aids…

The dog has raised his head from the floor and watches in interest, his big, fluffy head cocked to one side.

The cat’s screams are muffled now….

I am sorry Mr. Cat; I can’t imagine what you’re going thru….

But, animals serve man; as companions and beasts of labor and toil….

God said so…It’s in the Bible.

I am human, I am a problem solver.

The cat has fled from my grasp and is back in his box…..violated.

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap….

It must be hell for a cat that can’t clean itself….

I wouldn’t know….

I shouldn’t be so selfish, next time.

I feel guilt…..I feel pity.

“OMG!”

I am no longer trapped in the bathroom…

I am free!

The cat now lies luxuriantly in my wife’s lap as she watches TV.

She strokes him distractedly, frowns…smells her fingers and gently pushes the cat to the floor.

The cat is staring at me now….

I know, Mr. Cat….

I know….

But, I am human and cats are not.

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