Happy New Year

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There will no TMI or Weird Wed for me this week.
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I can't even check out the year end HNTs. My eyes have deserted me this last week - probably because I ate too much sugar. Luckily I can still see enough to maneuver around the blogs and Google reader which my voice reader can handle.

Hope everyone has a Happy Newyear!

Wednesday Weirdness #35

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#35 - Visit the Website

1.) Did you donate any money/gifts/time to charity this year?
+/-Click here for Answer

Yes, all of the above.


2.) Were you in a hurry to grow up as a child? Do you ever wish you had enjoyed being a kid more?

Grow up? What's that? I'm still a kid about certain things.


3.) What snack did you used to leave Santa? Did you ever catch a parent putting away or eating the treat you left for Santa?

Cookies and Milk - I remember that it would be gone shortly after we set it out and BEFORE the presents arrived.


4.) If you were not related to your cousins, are they people you would pick as friends?

There is one cousin I would be a friend with benefits but most of them bug the hell out of me.

5.) When was your last awkward moment? What happened?

I was bitching about service at a store and the sweet smiling customer service lady whispered my zipper was down. As it turned out it had broken.
The pants were their's and she replaced them. For some reason she would not help me change. For the record I have been a commando since I was a teen.

6.) What is one gift you would be really excited to receive this holiday?

Permission to try surgery to get some/all of my sight back.


7.) When staying with relatives/having relatives stay with you for the
holidays, is sex a go or put on hold?

My previous GF and I would try to have sex in as many rooms of the relatives home as we could. The thrill of possibly getting caught was such a turn on.


8.) Do you have any traditions for the holidays? (ie opening one gift Christmas eve and saving the rest for Christmas day, opening them all Christmas eve, listening to a particular holiday CD while opening gifts, preparing a special breakfast, etc)

Always one gift on Xmas eve for the little ones and save the rest for Xmas morning.


9.) What is something you would be embarrassed to receive as a gift?

I don't embarrass easily buy I suppose porn would do it.


10.) Do you collect anything?

Odds and ends - Three boxes of stuff I will probably never use - extra screws, bolts and nuts, pens and pencils, cables and connectors, receipts, old pill bottles, small cleaned glass jars, keys and key rings. Old computers (10 or so) - I do recycle the monitors.

But my favorite - old Corvette Stingrays - I have eight so far...and it is NOT because I am lacking in other areas!

My Favorite Acting Stage: The Bar Chapter Five

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My Favorite Acting Stage: The Bar Chapter Five
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Read Chapter Four Here

Wednesday afternoon she said she had to go visit a friend and I was not invited. We were at my hotel – Tuesday evening we had toured her ‘mansion’ right across the street after dinner and a few drinks. I had to visit my computer installation to fix a minor problem.

Her mansion was actually a warehouse disguised as a big home - the home part was still over 4500 square feet but only three rooms were finished - sparsely.

She told me she was waiting for a husband to help her decorate. I pretended to run away in fear but she assured me I was not a likely candidate – I did not have blue eyes.

Little did I know how serious she was.

She left for her afternoon appointment and I decided to go for a drink at the bar where we met. Me and the very young bartender were the only occupants but at least she had the ball game on.

She told me later her uncle insisted that a sporting event was always on if possible – he did not want the news or a soap opera greeting a patron.

I ordered a beer and she blushed. She explained she was not old enough to serve – she could deliver but could not serve – it was help yourself and she would take my money.

I asked where the regular bartender was and she asked why I thought she was not the regular. We both laughed and she explained she filled in when her uncle had other errands to run.

We watched the game in silence for a while until she asked how Jane and I were getting along. As far as I knew no one had seen us or talked to us since Sunday.

I decided to play dumb. She told me not to play dumb, she was a friend of Jane’s brother. I asked what she had heard and she pretty much described Jane and my activities for the pass few days.

I laughed about small towns. She told me everyone loved Jane and wanted to make sure she didn’t get screwed (except she used the F-word).

I asked if she meant literally or figuratively. She threw something at me and told me if all I wanted was a piece of tail (she said something else) she would give me a number.

I asked if it was hers and she said maybe. I held my hand out and she put ice in it.

A couple walked in and I could tell they must be regulars because they went straight to the beer taps to draw their beer into frosted mugs they pulled from the freezer under the taps.

They both would have made great bartenders.

After they sat, the lady looked at me and asked how Jane was. She never once asked about me. But after ten minutes her pointed questions could not have been any sharper.

Jill, the underage bartender actually defended me a couple of times again surprising me with how much information she knew. It dawned on me that either Jane’s places were bugged or she was very close to her brother.

Sometime later my pager went off and Jill handed me the phone without asking. I showed her the number and she said Jane’s parents house. I dialed and Jane answered asking me where the hell I was.

She told me to stay much like someone would command their dog and I just about left just to bolster my manhood.

A few minutes later she walked in and kissed me for several seconds, tongue and all. She also rubber herself against me like she could not wait.

One thing to point out – up to this point we had never kissed or even touched each other except as brother/sister. In fact, if I was forced to describe our relationship it would be as older brother/younger sister.

That’s not to say we were not attracted to each other – we had both agreed that friends was a good position to be in for now.

The lady patron told us to get a room and Jane told her to eff off. I was surprised. Then Jane whispered for me to follow her lead.

Now so far this young lady had not led me astray so I smiled and winked at her. She gently squeezed my crotch. Talk about mixed signals. I knew to keep my hands to myself.

She went to the other end of the bar to talk to the couple and Jill came down to tell me I was a good kisser and a liar – we were just friends her butt.

I knew no matter what I said she would just laugh at me so I just smiled.

Jane came back and kissed me again then she smiled and asked if I was ready.

She started talking louder and not very nice. She wondered why I complained five times a day was not enough. I told her I was use to more and she laughed calling me a liar.

She asked if I wanted her to get on her knees right here or should we go into the back room. She grabbed my hand and led me behind the bar and through a door which I assumed led to a back room.

After a few moments she asked loudly what the hell was wrong. Did she not do it right? Why did I not respond?

She left everything just vague enough that most people would assume I was unable to respond to her sexual advances.

She walked back out the door in a huff. I followed a minute later and all I saw was her back as she walked out the door.

I went after her listening to the three people in the bar calling me bad names.

Read Chapter Six Here

TMI Tuesday #166 - Merry Christmas!

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TMI Tuesday #166 - Merry Christmas!


1. What present do you hope ends up under you tree?
+/-Click here for answer

A bigger computer monitor.

2. What present are you most psyched about giving (PLEASE be vague or ignore this question if the recipient reads your blog)?

Large cash gifts to biological kids.

3. Do you prefer to give or receive?

I love to give but I really like to receive - especially se...

4. What is your favorite part of a sexual partner's body?

Her brain IF I can fuck with it.

5. What is your favorite part of your body - the one you hope a sexual partner will find or pay the most attention to?

My neck or the hanging chestnuts...

Bonus (as in optional): [Idea blatantly stolen from Os and his HNT wishes.] What Christmas wishes would you grant to whom?

Let all the troops be at home for Christmas with their loved ones.

Wednesday Weirdness #34

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#34 - Visit the Website

1. What is the one sexual act you would never do?
+/-Click Here For Answer

Anything in my butt


2. Is there anyone you know, that if they turned out to be a serial killer you would not be surprised?

Yes, actually 2 or 3.


3. What is the most annoying thing about the holiday season for you?

I can be a Scrooge.


4. If you saw a video of your celebrity crush picking their nose, would that change your opinion of your hotness?

I doubt it as long as they didn't eat it.


5. What is the one non-sexual thing you would be embarrassed to be caught doing?

Flatulence.


6. A favorite blogger friend wrote a column about the one word that really turns her on. Do you have a word or phrase that does the same for you? What is it?

When my partner whispers in my ear, "F@&k me!"


7. As someone who ran a virtual cookie exchange, I have to ask what your favorite cookie is?

I would have to say Peanut Butter with Chocolate Chips but only if freshly baked with a glass of milk.

How Not to Clean Frozen Rain Off a Frozen Windshield

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I have not been able to drive for almost a year, as a matter of fact it will be a year tomorrow.
+/-Click for the rest of the story

So I loaned my vehicle to a friend/neighbor – well more of an acquaintance. He is almost as old as me and has not had an easy life.

He seems to have a great big heart but a brain that is not always ‘on’ - if you know what I mean.

This morning it was decided he wanted donuts. A year ago I might have taken him to get a donut but not anymore.

IF my kitchen window blinds are open he is more then welcome to knock for whatever reason. This morning I heard my truck start (he pays the insurance so he has keys).

For some reason he left it out instead of putting it in the garage or under the awning.

I can not see very well but I could see enough to know he was whacking the windshield with the ice scraper. I think he only got one smack.

He covered up the cab of my truck with a tarp from the garage then he scraped and salted my and the neighbors driveways, steps and walkways.

About every ten minutes he looked up at my kitchen window. He has learned that someone better be dying before he knocks on my door. I tend to stay up for twenty hours then sleep for eight or ten then do it all over again.

My days are twenty-eight or thirty hours long. Just because my lights are on does not mean I am awake.

But this morning I could not sleep so I called the glass shop. I used to maintain a very large fleet of vehicles and I have used this guy hundreds of times.

He told me he’d be there at noon. I told him I’d move it into the garage and turn on the heat.

I went out and told my friend to move it into the garage and turn on the heat. I told him to leave it unlocked but to keep an eye on it.

I went to bed. I woke about two and he was sitting in the garage talking to my glass buddy. I made some hot tea then started to go downstairs but I heard my truck start and it and my glass buddy and my friend were gone.

I called my glass buddy later and he told me the insurance covered it all. Great.

I caught up with crap on the computer and news and decided I needed some breakfast. I walked into the kitchen and was about to raise my blind when I saw something sitting on my flower pot.

I opened the window and grabbed a small box of donuts. My friend had remembered what I liked.

About an hour ago he came in the back door and told me he got all the glass out of the cab and had washed all the windows so that they were as clear as the new windshield.

He told me he could not believe how dirty the old one was and he asked ME how long it had been since I washed it. I could not remember.

He told me from now on he would start the truck and let it run or move it into the garage to the heat. He would never swing the ice scraper again.

I laughed and told him I broke two windshields and a rear glass the same way.

He tilted his head to one side and asked if I had always been in such a hurry. I offered him one of the last two donuts and never answered him.

That’s how friends do it – right?

TMI Tuesday #165

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TMI Tuesday #165


1. What is the greatest age difference between between and a SO? Older or younger?
+/-Click For Answers

I was 20 years older.

2. What is the greatest age difference between between and any sexual partner? Older or younger?

I 46 - partner 19.

3. Have you started your holiday shopping? Is it done?

Shopping done - online - all received, wrapped and sent on.

4. What are the chances there will be a "naughty" present under the tree this year (either from you or for you)?

Probably no chance under the tree but always get something naughty Christmas morn.

5. What is your favorite holiday song?

Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer (Joking)
It is actually White Christmas (Bing) or TSO's Christmas Canon

Bonus (as in optional):Do you have a preferred time of day to have sex? If so, why?

My preferred time is ANY time - because I like it (sex).

My Favorite Acting Stage: The Bar Chapter Four

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Read Chapter Three Here

Back at the bar, the news had already spread. A guy asked how long I had been playing and when I said since I was five he was suitably impressed and nothing else was said.
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Jane and I talked about nothing and at ten told me it was her bed time. I found out later she was teasing but I had already offered to walk her home.

She accepted and I paid my bar tab, left a tip and offered my arm. She pulled me across the street to the only house and said good night and was gone.

I headed back for my hotel and noticed that the house she went in sat on the entire block. The place was a mansion but very few lights were on.

The next morning was cooler and it was raining. I walked to the front desk to see about buying an umbrella when the desk clerk told me my car was waiting.

I looked out and saw a black limo parked under the awning. When I came out the driver ran to my door and said, “Good Morning Master John.”

It dawned on me that everyone except Jane thought I was John so I did not correct anyone.

When I walked into the church, using the front door this time, I walked past Jane. I just missed her but she ignored me. I was wearing my emergency suit that went every where with me. Very expensive three piece Italian made in Britain…Iowa I think.

With a light pink shirt, a multi-colored pink silk tie and matching kerchief with gold and pearl tie clip and cuff links. And patent leather black shoes. When Jane finally recognized me she told me I shouldn’t have but was glad I had.

She escorted me to the organ loft and asked if I would play my song for a few minutes before the regular organist arrived. I noticed the organ was already set so I played the funeral version. Jane leaned close and said it was perfect.

Then a young man that looked just like Jane showed up and watched me play a few minutes until the old guy from the night before made a sign from the lectern.

The young Jane look alike motioned me to scoot over and he played until the pastor gave his talk.

The choir did two songs then the look alike got out of my way and setup the organ. The pastor introduced me and the choir made me proud.

When I was introduced Jane made me walk out so that I could be seen and I took my bow.

The service was finished and I offered to help pack the organ up. Jane introduced her twin brother. Their father came back and shook my hand and I was formally introduced then an older Jane came up.

I asked how many brothers and sisters she had when older Jane corrected me and introduced me to her mother, Jane’s grandmother. They all looked the same to me and I told them so.

Jane asked if I would like to have a quick lunch. I had already told her I had to work at one

We climbed into the limo. I found out it was her grandmother’s limo and driver. He took us to the other big hotel on the opposite side of town where Jane was treated like a queen. I asked how long her grandmother had owned it and she was glad she could hide nothing from me.

The meal and service was the best and when her parents and grandmother stopped by the table Jane told me we had completed the other half but would say no more.

At noon I said I had better get to work. I usually spent a few hours on Sunday morning just checking things and I hoped to have a little time plus I really wanted to get out of my suit.

She asked if the suit was really bothering me that much. When I smiled she signed the check but I told her I wanted to pay, I was on an expense account. She let me then directed the driver to my hotel.

She climbed out with me and said she had not been inside this hotel for years. She followed me to my room and bounced on the mattress saying Granny needed to upgrade.

I changed and she asked when I might be coming back. I told her probably in five or more years. She could not believe it. It dawned on me that I had never told her my profession. I invited her back to the office warning her it would be boring.

She sat at the main console and after a few seconds typing she told me the router R4 was reporting the route to home was screwed up. I looked over her shoulder and asked how she knew. She started telling me until she figured out I had given that router a bad gateway on purpose to hide all the others from the net.

She figured out that unless she knew the ip and the correct VPN password she would never find it. I gave it to her and walked away to check on things.

Many of the employees congratulated me on my organ playing and wondered where my suit was at. Jane found that funny and peeked over my shoulder for a while until I saw her helping someone. I peeked over her shoulder and she had already figured out much of my program.

An hour later I asked if there was any real live music in this town on Sunday evening. She told me the nearest was almost sixty miles away. I asked when we were leaving and she called her mother letting her know she was heading for her apartment in the big city.

We walked back to her mansion (she said it was all hers) and got a plain Jane Chevrolet out of the garage.

We made it to her home in forty eight minutes. She drove as bad as I did, but safely.

We walked about three blocks and I found my jazz. She talked to the band leader while I was in the restroom and I was able to sit in for a couple of songs on the piano.

We ate breakfast at four AM and went to her apartment and talked until ten AM. I asked when she had to go back to work and she told me she had been laid off so she was free.

I was on spring break so I also had extra time. I called the office with a number to find me, called my ex to give her a number to find me and we talked until eleven PM that night when I fell asleep.

She slept in the love seat and we both woke at five the next morning. I made breakfast while she showered and she did dishes while I showered.

We spent the day sight seeing and talking. At some point I found out she taught many classes to the local businesses before she got laid off. Mainly computer classes.

Wednesday I suggested she come back home with me to apply for a job I knew about.

But first we had to have some fun.

My Favorite Acting Stage: The Bar Chapter Five

My Favorite Acting Stage: The Bar Chapter Three

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Read Chapter Two Here

I listened to the organ with my eyes closed and knew it had more pipes then the little church back home.
+/-Continue To Read

Jane laughed asking if I was OK. I opened my eyes and saw the shadow of the cross on the building across the street. The side of the church facing me was so common I would never had guessed it was a church.

I asked what the band’s name was and when she was a little slow I asked if it was the Angels or maybe the Pulpit’s back room. She knew I had figured it out and told me the people were nice so I should be too.

I stopped and told her if she could get me a seat at the organ’s keyboard for a few minutes I would be so nice she would be sick.

She grabbed my arm and used a key to get in a steel door. As soon as it opened I saw the bass pipes and immediately walked to one and put my forehead on it. She asked if I wanted some alone time.

I asked if her pipes felt this way and she blushed and left me. I caught up and we walked into a beautiful church through another locked steel door.

I had just turned around to find all the pipes when the music ended. She started walking towards the side of the stage I guess you would call it.

I followed and said hi to several people coming out of what I assumed was the choir section. We went through a passage beside it and there was the organ keyboard.

I heard Jane say something and an older guy stood up and motioned me to sit. I was in heaven and I guess my grin showed I was in the right place.

He asked if I was doing a hymn or something else. Before I could answer he pushed some stops in and said we’d see.

I got settled and played some simple single handed hymn – at least I think it was a hymn. He pulled one of the stops out giving me more volume and I started Pachelbel’s Canon but he stopped me motioning me to stand up.

He pulled the pedal covers off and motioned me back down. I warned I had never played it with pedals but I practiced for a few moments, re-adjusted my seat then played the worse I ever had.

He smiled all the way through and Jane just sat there with a happy look on her face.

By the time I was nearing the end I had finally got my hands and feet working together and he had given me full bass.

But I was also hearing something else and Jane motioned to look over the divider and the choir was singing the melody notes.

I used to be the backup player for a small church back home. Their organ did have foot pedals but most of the songs I played were so simple I almost fell asleep. I practiced at least once a month and toward the end of every practice I always played rock or jazz or blues.

One evening the pastor asked that I give them an impromptu jazz concert when the main speaker was late. They asked me back several times.

But this was the first time I had a ‘real’ pipe organ under my fingers and feet. One of the singers asked if I knew some song and I asked her to sing it and I improvised until the older guy pulled the sheet music out of a cabinet and put it in front of me.

He directed us and worked the stops and turned the pages and I must say we did a grand job.

He asked if I would be around in the morning at ten. He thought the congregation would love that song. I did not even get to answer, Jane just smiled and said she was sure I would help them.

We did the song three more times then I met most of the choir. One of the younger kids jokingly asked if I could play some song and she hummed the first few bars and I started playing – one of my son’s favorites.

It completely blew her away. Then the old guy said I had come to sit for just a few minutes and two hours later they had kidnapped me. He asked what I wanted to play.

A friend playing guitar and I loved to play jazz during jam sessions. We had even polished a couple of songs but had yet to play them in public. One song in particular I played on an electronic B2. This organ could sound like a real B2 and the old guy did his stuff.

I started playing and loved it so much I repeated the song four or five times while trying different filters. Everyone liked it and applauded when I was done. The old guy told them I had written it – I wondered how he knew.

I helped him clean the keys and pedals and close the organ up. I thanked him several times and promised I would be early the next morning.

Jane kissed the old guy on the cheek and said, “Thanks Dad”, told him she loved him and we left.

She grabbed my arm to speed me up and told me we were half way there. I asked what she meant but she didn’t answer.

Read Chapter Four Here

My Favorite Acting Stage: The Bar Chapter Two

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Read Chapter One Here

One Saturday evening I was in a smaller town that only had about twenty bars total. It had more churches than bars.
+/-Continue To Read

Looking back the bar even seemed like a church. Very quiet and reserved. Might have been six people leaning against the bar and they each had nodded and looked me up and down, some had done this several times.

The jukebox was hanging on a wall opposite the bar but it was not playing – it was not even on unless all the bulbs were burned out.

The TV behind the bar had seen better days, many of them, maybe more than me – it was so dark every scene looked like it was filmed at night and it was hard to determine the race of the actors or news people or whoever was on camera.

I had already decided I would try the next bar when the bar maid asked if I was waiting for so and so. I did not hear what she said exactly but I never say no until I was sure what I was turning down.

She repeated herself asking if I was waiting for Jane, that’s what I will call her. I did a thing with my shoulders that could have been yes or no.

She grabbed me another drink and walked toward me. I put money on the bar and the girl warned me that everyone in town considered Jane their family and if I mistreated her I would get my ass kicked.

Well, at least I knew the people supported one another. But I was not sure what I was waiting for.

I was told that the last two guys had failed to show. I was not quite sure what that meant. She told me the first one was so ugly and repulsive one of the older ladies pretended to be Jane and ran the guy off.

I kept continuing to play dumb.

I figured out I must be a blind date or a dating service match. I asked her how I was doing so far and she said not to be nervous. First impressions were important.

I laughed and made a face asking if that was a good one or maybe this was better changing faces again. The laughs made it seem I was accepted within minutes and I was getting many pieces of advice about Jane from all the patrons.

I had already decided to turn the tables on them by announcing I was not a date of any kind when I heard the barmaid tell, I assume Jane, that I was looking good. She also told her to wear a shorter skirt then last time and maybe some taller heels.

My curiosity got the better of me and I had to stick it out until at least the real blind date showed up.

About fifteen minutes later two attractive women walked into the bar. One had very high heels on and a skirt that really could not be called a skirt.

The other wore flat shoes and a skirt right above the knees. The first had enough makeup for ten women and the second’s was so bare I could see the freckles on her cheeks and nose.

If the first held her lips together too long, the extreme amount of lipstick would have melted together and she would be silenced.

The second looked like she had applied lip balm. But her cheeks were naturally red and she seemed embarrassed or maybe just bothered by all the fuss.

Ms Makeup introduced herself asking if I was John. I never answered but I did shake her hand. The fake ‘Jane’ ordered a whiskey something with a beer back. The real ‘Jane’ ordered a soda.

I was hooked the moment she snuck a look at me and coyly looked away without attempting to hide her interest.

The fake Jane drained her whiskey, ordered another and drank half her beer. She leaned close to let me look down her top, light her cigarette and smell her perfume and asked if I had eaten supper. She suggested garlic pizza around the corner.

The real Jane giggled and roller her eyes behind her friend. Fake Jane wobbled down the bar to talk to someone and I asked Jane a question using the name Jane.

She answered and I caught her. She blushed and told Marie to get her darn stuff out of the way. Then she introduced herself and I told her my real name. She caught on right away.

She asked if I was here from some match site on the web and I told her I had never heard of it. She laughed and told me she was sorry she had bothered me and started to move away.

I asked her a few questions and then excused myself to use the restroom. I heard Marie asking questions from one end of the bar to the other. Jane had every chance to tell her friends I was not the guy but she didn’t.

When I came out I asked her why? She said she had already suffered their pity and jokes. The first guy they had intervened and used an older woman to run him off. The second, third, fourth and fifth had not even shown up but they did not know that.

The sixth was the wrong type and she never talked to him again. He was there for less than an hour.

I told her seven was her lucky number and she shushed me – they thought I was like four or five.

I told her I was in town until Monday so I would help any way she wanted IF she could find me some live music. She looked at me with a very queer look and said OK but her eyes were laughing.

She told the bar patrons I wanted some live music and she was thinking about eighth and Grove; I think that’s what it was. Someone chuckled and wondered if I really liked that new kind of music.

She finished her soda and away we went walking. She told me I was walking too fast so I apologized and slowed down. She grabbed my arm and said she was being sarcastic. I had not heard it in her voice but later I would be able to pick it out easily.

She did not let go of my arm until I heard one of the best sounding organs I have ever heard. It was wonderful and totally captivating. I stopped on the sidewalk to listen but she kept walking and let go of my arm.

She told me many months later it looked like I was have a sexual moment. I didn’t tell her until recently that I was.

Read Chapter Three Here

My High School Sweetheart – Part One

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After her grandmother’s wake, my sweetheart’s daughter invited me for food and drinks at a local watering hole.
+/-Continue To Read

She asked me to keep it a secret from her mother. It was a surprise, she wanted to ‘get the goods’ on her dear old mother.

As it was I had come armed with a surprise. While looking through boxes in a closet I came upon my high school year books – all four years and several love letters or ‘passed notes’ if you will.

There were very few pages in my yearbooks that my sweetheart had not drawn hearts and professed her everlasting love. They were the ramblings of a love struck teenager and maybe she wanted to make sure no one else could sign them.

On one page my best female friend (and the hottest girl in the class) had written a little note next to her picture. My sweetheart had obliterated it with X and Os and hearts.

That hot girl, who was a still a friend of ours and at the watering hole, told me she still looked fantastic but I could not confirm this since I could not see much of anything that day. Her husband later confirmed it but told me he thought my ex-sweetheart looked even better with age.

When I talked to my ex-sweetheart’s husband later I told him what had been said. He asked me what had happened between us, why, after seven years we had each gone our own way.

It was no secret that the recently deceased mother really liked me and had almost excommunicated her daughter when she learned who she was marrying but I had not heard this before.

Then my sweetheart’s lil sis arrived at the watering hole. She surprised a lot of people wearing regular clothes and when she saw me she came up and hugged me for a long time before turning me around to show my back side to the crowd as she grabbed it and squeezed.

I heard several ooh and ahs before she told them I would have been her husband if she had not promised her mother and sister to leave me alone.

She said all she had to do was wait for her sister to leave this world and she would have it made. The lil sis was always terrible.

Then she told the crowd that I was the only man except God that had seen her naked below the waist. Then my ex-sweetheart came over and said I was the first of two to see her naked. I know I turned bright red.

He husband reminded her of the time they had gone skinny dipping at the lake and all the fishermen who had surprised them.

I could not resist and asked if it was at the beach or in lover’s cove. He looked at her with daggers until I assured him we had not done it at the lake.

He looked at her then asked me where we did do it and she told him at the pool in school and at the lake near the campground. As she started to continue he told her to stop and most everyone laughed.

That’s when good ole lil sis wondered why she had been told we had never done it period. Her brother-in-law gave her a dirty look and her older sister was trying to kill her with looks.

Unfortunately my best hottest female friend looked at us as if she had never seen us before. She could not believe we had not done it every night we were together. We were perfect for each other and knew we loved each other.

She did not know she was bringing back old hurtful memories but we just smiled and let everyone think what they wanted.

Part Two coming later.

My Favorite Acting Stage: The Bar – Chapter One

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For too many years most weekends I installed or upgraded computer systems in medium sized cities around the Midwest.
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It was logical since I designed and programmed the systems and I got paid for them. I was a class A nerd.

I used to do it on Fridays and Saturdays but working those two days just ruined the entire weekend so I changed things around.

I started arriving Friday evening towards the end of the work day. I’d have the employees move their old equipment out of the way and put the new stuff where they wanted it.

That alone saved me many hours of unpacking and carrying all the crap to the right desk or room.

I would hook up the network Friday night at my leisure, spend Saturday installing software or upgrades and moving data around or whatever. Sunday after lunch the employees would come back for a quickie systems check and any last minute questions. Didn’t take long since it was on their dime.

Monday morning I would check in making sure everything was good then I would head home.

Some of you are saying: I thought he said he used to do this on Friday and Saturday but moved it to Friday, Saturday, Sunday AND Monday.

You have it right. But before the change I would start work around noon on Friday which took everyone offline.

It would take me until the early hours of Saturday and several back breaking hours of lifting to get the network alive.

After a few hours of rushed sleep I would work frantically to get everything done and catch an early evening flight home on Saturday.

By the time I got home Saturday evening I was worn out so I went to bed and woke up around noon on Sunday. The entire weekend was gone.

Monday morning was a crap shoot – if something didn’t work it had to wait for me or a local repairman that usually could not fix it.

So I changed things around.

I traveled to very nice cities stayed in extremely nice hotels with wonderful, exceptional restaurants and nightlife. And I was on an expense account.

I would grab a burger at the nearest fast kill-my-heart food place to save time. WHY? On Friday I would rush to get everything done to get a few hours sleep on a $1000 mattress with high thread count sheets and rush back on Saturday to finish to rush home to catch up on my sleep. WHY?

My new method let me A) Finish up early Friday evening and have a leisurely late dinner at a fabulous restaurant.

B) Wake up late on Saturday and take Saturday evening if not all afternoon for sightseeing and another good meal AND a visit to a live music venue such as the jazz clubs in Chicago or blues clubs in St. Louis or even a local rock cover band. I could stay out at late if I wanted.

C) I would spend Sunday afternoon and evening at a neighborhood bar watching the local sports teams (and rooting against them just to piss off the locals) and eating my favorite food group – greasy bar food.

Even after several heart attacks, bypass surgery and fighting diabetes, I still crave a red plastic basket with a wax paper liner, fries or rings hanging over the edges still dripping grease and a half done hamburger or brat or Philly Cheese Steak steaming fresh from the grill with the grilled onions peeking out dripping even more grease..

AND the always present dill pickle slice that I actually hated but could not leave behind – on principal.

My system was great – my kids lived with me Monday afternoon to Friday early morning. They would spend Friday evening, the weekend and Monday morning with their mother or grandparents and they would come back home Mondays evenings.

I was almost always alone Friday, Saturday, Sunday and most of Monday.

Tuesday through Thursday I taught school at the local college full time (if you can call four classes full time) and I used the rest of the time for consulting and providing customer service to my systems as well as cooking, cleaning and raising my kids.

At least with my new way I had some sort of life, even if it was not at home.

The problem I ran into was simple and simple to solve. Once I was noticed at the bar everyone wondered what I did for a living.

IF I answered a computer teacher or computer support people I instantly had however many new friends as were in the bar. They all had a problem with their new computer or they wanted to add more disk space or they wanted a better sound system.

Since I already talked computers constantly, my creativity kicked in and I became an actor of sorts.

I changed street lights, I was a cabinet maker, a brick layer, a carpenter, and a grain bin installer – things that I had done before. Jobs that no one really cared about.

I was a tow truck driver, a snow plow driver, worked in a headstone engraving shop (I re-wrote a computer program to control an engraver for a guy in Iowa). So many varied professions.

But I have saved the best for last – one of those things that just happen without planning or even thought. And I’ll tell you about it next time.

Read Chapter Two Here

Wednesday Weirdness #33

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Wednesday Weirdness #33
-Amorous Rocker

1.) Do you get along with your significant other's parents? If you've never met their parents or if you're single, how did you usually get along with former SO's parents?

+/-Click here for answers

Never had a problem with parents. I just charmed them and kissed butt.

2.) Have you ever stolen a tip from a table while eating at a restaurant? If you saw someone doing this, would you speak up or pretend you never saw anything?

Never - if I saw it happen the person would be outed, ridiculed and embarrassed and get their ass kicked. Thieves are not tolerated.

3.) Do you have any sexual fantasies that you’d never admit to anyone?

NO

4.) What smells do you find comforting?

Smell of cooking meat - fresh cut grass - freshly lit cigarette amd for some reason Fabreeze?

5.) Do you ever resent your significant other for not earning more money? Do you ever find yourself jealous because your SO earns more money than you?

NO

6.) If you had to wear a Halloween costume for 3 hours a day, ever day, for the rest of your life, which would it be and why?

Happy Clown to make people laugh.

7.) Have you ever had sex with someone and kept a piece of their undergarments or anything else for any reason? Have you ever had someone want or try to keep something of yours?

I've had bras left behind but not at my request. Girls always wanted to wear my light blue buttoned down collar dress shirts - I gave up many of them.

Writer’s Block – Where is my creativity?

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When I started this blog I had dozens of stories that did not really fit with my other sites and I just wanted a place to put them for comments and/or revisions for later publication.
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About three quarters of a month later I am having extreme writer failure. I type a story into a text editor but while editing it I don’t like it. Things just are not flowing. It is like my creativity has left me.

I have been sick most of the last half of November and am still rebuilding my strength. Maybe the fevers damaged my little brain.

Oh well, just a brief explanation why I have not posted anything beside Weird Wednesdays and TMI Tuesdays answers.

WW #32

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WW #32
from Wednesday Weirdness by (Macabre Girl)

Questions Submitted By: Anonymous

I would like to thank the lovely girl who submitted this weeks questions! I do understand your request to remain anonymous. As an added kick, the anonymous question creator this week is also someone who ~might~ be playing along with us as well. :wink:

1.) If you knew one of your close friends was cheating on their significant other, would you get involved? (EX: Tell their SO, try to talk to your friend about it, etc) Why or why not?
+/-Click here for answers

I would talk with my friend to discover why then make a decision about intervening.

2.) If your SO was cheating on you and one of your close friends knew, would you want them to tell you? Why or why not?

Absolutely - friends are friends - share everything - SO are just that, 'others' until they become a friend.

3.) Have you ever stuffed your bra or underwear to make the size of your breasts or penis seem larger?

Never had a need to stuff my pants...

4.) Would you sleep with a friend's significant other behind their back if it were guaranteed you'd never be caught?

Never - unless they divorced and my friend told me to go for it. Happened once - he warned me I would not like it - he was SO right.

5.) Do you think you are more intelligent than your significant other?

I'm stupid - I know that because she tells me all the time.

6.) Do you ever fantasize about cheating on your significant other? Are you ever tempted to really go through with it?

I fantasize about threesomes with my SO - no luck so far but I am persistent.

7.) Have you ever had cyber sex, text sex or phone sex with someone other than your significant other during a relationship?

Nope - if I am not being satisfied by the one I am with then I am no longer with her.

8.) Would you cheat on your significant other twice monthly for half a year to have all your debt permanently erased?

I have no debt - but I do not think I could live with myself.

BONUS! Have you ever fantasized about having sex with any blogger friends? Would you be daring enough to reveal five of them?

Can't say I have fantasized but I could name with ease five I would like to have sex with IF they agreed. The problem would be getting up enough nerve to ask....

Then again a question never asked is never answered.

RedneckMommy

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If you don't follow RedNeckMommy get your ass butt over there NOW and read her last few posts. Take a hanky with you.

Excellent written story - you'll laugh and cry at the same time leaving with a happy heart full of hope.

Road Trip Trick

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Every Thanksgiving for many years I cleaned up my RV, made sure I had extra blankets and coffee, tested the generator and heater and cringed while I filled the two gas tanks AND the generator tank.
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Thanksgiving eve morning I would drive to my dad’s to pick up the bunch wanting a ride to my sister’s a half day trip away where collectively we would eat over 200 pounds of food, some more then others, on Thanksgiving.

The younger people would fight for a place on the bunks or at the kitchen table or in front of the TVs.

The older group always used the large table in the master bedroom for card play.

I almost always drove stopping half way there for a snack, a smoke and a new pot of coffee.

But last year I lost my license. I could not see well enough to watch TV and could barely use the computer let alone drive.

Since that time my computer has been enhanced with screen readers, an extra screen and magnifiers. I’ve learned how to use RSS feeds and readers to keep up with the news, weather and bloggers.

But one thing I have not been able to overcome is the ability to drive my ass self any where.

Last year my brother-in-law ex-semi driver took over the driving. This year however he and my sister were hosting his family for the big day.

It was decided that my son would drive instead. He handles a car and his small pickup just fine. He has never really had occasion to drive ‘big wheels’ so I was wondering how interesting the drive would be.

Come to find out, he has been practicing. My brother-in-law took my RV to him at his very small home town and he cleaned it up and got ready for the big day.

But he had a plan that I fell in love with. He called everyone telling them to be at Grandpa’s early. He wanted everyone to see how well he could drive it.

So early this morning he came to pick me up. We drove to the street behind Grandpa’s and put his plan in action.

I wish I could have seen their faces when I drove up in the RV. My daughter told me they were all shocked and started to run out of my way.

Grandpa wondered which operation had finally worked and my sis was a little upset at how close I had come to her SUV.

She was even madder when she learned I really could not see.

My RV has four cameras in it for security but also as a help to the driver. My son could ‘see’ where we were going even though I was driving. He laid on the floor beside me and used the cameras to ‘guide’ me.

We had practiced the stunt several times in his small town the last couple of days.

Needless to say they all laughed afterwards but they did not like it at all when I resumed my seat behind the steering wheel after they had all loaded up.

When we got to my younger sister’s my son had called ahead and asked her to help guide him as he backed the RV in place.

She was waiting and did a pretty good job directing me into place. When she saw who was driving she was so excited I had my vision back but when I stumbled out of the driver’s seat and missed kissing her cheek by at least a mile, she too started yelling.

I might have two pissed sisters but it sure was fun to be behind the wheel again.

Ms Tizzy

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About 2500 words

Had I known I would be writing about Ms Tizzy forty years later I might have asked for her real name.
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As it is my readers and I will forever know her as Ms Tizzy.

I learned about twenty years ago she was a teacher at a private school near my childhood home. But she was so much more than a teacher.

Forty plus years ago I just knew her as a strange old lady that never invited me for dinner OR dessert. Especially dessert.

Yeah, I was mad at her for many years. Some of those years I thought I was not good enough; others not smart enough; and still others I was totally confused.

But I need to go back forty plus years to explain.

I grew up in a white Catholic neighborhood in a Midwestern blue collar town. The Catholic school was two blocks away and many of my neighborhood playmates attended that school but only until high school.

It was many years later I learned that the Catholic high school cost too much for the average student in our neighborhood.

There was another school a couple of blocks in the other direction. It was run by an Episcopal church that many people did not like but it had a grade school that was free to anyone who participated in the church on a regular basis.

Many folks preferred this to the public school that was a block in yet another direction.

Now you know why this neighborhood was selected by most of its occupants – the many schools, kids and parks nearby - the diversity was immense.

In the last direction was what many folks of the town referred to as the Ghetto, less then a block away.

It was the older part of town that was originally settled by the railroad and foundry workers.

Small duplicate houses on almost as small lots without garages or even driveways and almost all supporting a garden and/or orchard in the back yard.

Most had a very tall old tree or trees on the south side to help shade and cool the home during the summer heat.

Most of the homes needed a coat of paint or more extensive repairs. There were several that had burned resulting in boarded up shells or empty lots that served as parks or community gardens.

There were several nice houses in the ghetto that the owners maintained – the owners were normally older business owners with extra cash. The rest of the homes were rentals – their tenants could have cared less.

So, one block west of us was the Ghetto. Its occupants mainly stayed in their area.

One block east was the public grade school and junior high sharing a park that was six by six city blocks – it was huge and drew people from all sides of town.

Baseball fields, basketball courts, tennis courts, a football field shared by two high schools, several pavilions for picnics. A giant long hill for sledding. Several play grounds – name the activity and the schools or parks probably had a place for it. There was even a place designated to fly kites. We had it all.

One block south was a neighborhood in transition from rich Catholic white to a poor non-denominational neighborhood. The Episcopal Church, its school, a Christian book store and a neighborhood tavern were the mainstays.

And two blocks north was the Catholic Cathedral, the Catholic School, the Catholic Hospital and a very large Rectory as well as all the support staff and buildings and businesses a hospital supports. The hospital was the city’s 2nd largest employer.

At twenty minutes before normal shift change, hundreds of people would be walking to work from the neighborhoods surrounding my house. It looked like a stampede of like dressed people and sometimes sounded like it.

Christmas Eve and Day were especially memorable. The herds would sing Christmas songs as they made their way to work.

What I have always wondered – why did we not see the stampede of people going home? Did they have shopping to do? Did they all stop and visit at the local watering hole? Did they get off work at different times? It was always a mystery and I have no good answer for it.

Right smack in the middle of all this diversity lived Ms Tizzy to the west of us on the ghetto border in a well kept brick home with a large garage and large side lot that she let us use as the neighborhood football field.

She had a roommate who worked for the state or federal government I think. They both drove large shiny new cars. I know one was a Lincoln, the other I think was a Cadillac but I am not sure.

I know that every two years, compared to most others’ four years, they would get new ones in the fall and sell the old ones from the football field.

The women were ‘strange’ compared to the rest of our neighbors but we didn’t really know why and I am not sure we cared. Many stories circulated about dead, jailed or MIA husbands and crazy siblings or children.

Early each morning Ms Tizzy’s roommate walked north for mass and Ms Tizzy went south for services. I slept in until I got a paper route then I always met them both either coming or going.

As the bells from their respective bell towers fought for dominance, they would return to their glass enclosed side porch drinking coffee while eating their breakfast on view for the whole neighborhood to enjoy.

When I left for school at twenty till eight each morning - which I did for all twelve years - her room mate would back her Lincoln out of the garage and use part of the empty lot to turn that monster around to glide down the drive to the street. She always made the horn give a short beep and waved behind her as she drove off.

Ms Tizzy followed her down the driveway usually walking and I would wave to them both as I walked to which ever public school I was attending.

At three each afternoon, Ms Tizzy and four to six girls of differing ages and race would walk up her driveway. The girls would spend a few hours doing what I was not sure but I do know the last thing they did was eat a meal and have dessert.

Most days they left carrying their schoolbooks and a sack of leftovers. They were always smiling and talking excitedly among themselves. My friends and I always wondered why we were never invited.

We smelled the meals and pies she/they made and saw the homemade ice cream she spooned on top of those pies during the summer time.

The only time we could have pie and ice cream was at the annual block party when Ms Tizzy and her roommate served it up after a giant pan of chicken soup was devoured – it took three large men to move the pot when it was full.

When I asked other adults about the lack of invitations, I was told the children that visited Ms Tizzy were of lesser means than I and needed guidance. That was all I was told and I did not understand until twenty years ago at a high school reunion.

My high school sweetheart was there and we were reminiscing about Ms Tizzy and a few of the nuns we both remembered.

My old sweetheart was a faithful Catholic but we both went to public school. Most of our playmates/friends had nuns for teachers. I met enough sisters to last me a life time, not that there is anything wrong with them.

My sweetheart went to the Episcopal school for a few years and then to the public schools for the seven through twelve grades.

Her dad did time for tax invasion when she was in grade school. Her mom worked for a local family as a day time nanny. My girl didn’t talk about it much but I know her Dad tried to make it up to her in high school – she just didn’t like him.

I met her in the seventh grade by handing her a note addressed to ‘Dear who ever you are’ and requesting permission to walk her home.

She accepted even though her parents had expressly forbid boys walking her home and the rest is history. She lived in the south transition neighborhood right across from the Ghetto.

We had a wonderful 7 years of fun, companionship and love – if it was love – and we still communicate today. But that is another story.

Twenty years later I found out that my sweetheart was a regular at Ms Tizzy’s for tutoring sessions, and what she called charm and etiquette lessons. She also had many dinners with pie and would take a sack containing her next day’s lunch home with her.

Ms Tizzy invited kids that were not getting enough food or/and guidance at home.

There were lots of those kids when I was growing up, I just did not know it.

Two local factories had closed and the railroad had laid off three quarters of its employees. Most of the males had left the Ghetto for greener pastures - many were in jail except most people called it the ‘big house’ which confused me for years.

Ms Tizzy and the kids studied and made dinner - she taught them how to cook and she taught them other things. The only requirement was that they come to her bible school class on Sunday and to other classes she held on different evenings of the week.

My father was white collar as were most of our neighbors so we always had plenty to eat. Plus I was male and my sisters were too young. That is why we never invited to dinner and dessert. But I did not know it at the time.

My high school sweetheart explained that Ms Tizzy taught her how to be a lady when she was a pre-teen – how to carry herself when she walked - chest out, stomach in, pretend there was an egg on her head and sway her butt as far as she could without falling over. She swore that is what she was taught.

Ms Tizzy taught her how to keep her privates private whenever she wore a skirt and to keep her ankles and knees together no matter what she was wearing – at least until she was eighteen.

She asked if I ever wondered why I could never get to any base until she turned 18. Blame Ms Tizzy.

Ms Tizzy taught them how to be ladies and how to fight off all the men chasing after their virginity.

She taught them how to plan a family but wished/hoped that all would go to college and helped them research different colleges and financial aid sources.

She helped them dream and gave them the tools to attain those dreams.

I never noticed but on the second Sunday of the month, all current and previous attendees would come for Sunday brunch and share their successes and failures.

The odd thing at the time – the previous attendees were all under 18. Not one had graduated yet.

Ms Tizzy taught over two hundred girls during her time at the Episcopal school and 85 of them were invited to her house and the special classes and dinners.

She moved on to a university position after her roommate died. That was the year I graduated high school and my family moved on to another city and my sweetheart and I parted ways.

About twenty years ago we had a reunion and my old sweetheart and I talked about Ms Tizzy. No one else at the reunion knew her but my sweetheart had kept in touch with her. And most of the 84 other women Ms Tizzy had affected.

Of the 85, 84 had attended college. Twenty-Five obtained advanced degrees, twenty of them received a doctoral in their field of study. Four of them became medical doctors. Forty-three of them became teachers.

Not one gave birth out of wedlock - only four have not married and NONE of the others have divorced.

A few months ago my sweetheart’s mother died and we had occasion to chat and update each other on our lives.

The numbers are still accurate. The one who did not go to college was my sweetheart’s sister. She became a sister – a nun – a celibate which completely blows my mind – I knew her when she was a teenager.

I saw more of her private parts than her sister’s – she loved to tease me - she was very wild – when I saw her in a habit my first thought was that it fit her perfectly.

At the funeral Sister sister gave me a hug and then she pinched my butt – just like she used to do so many years ago. She told me that if she had not promised her sister, she would probably be my wife. I did not know what to say but that is another story.

Ms Tizzy’s girls still meet at least four times a year and until about a year ago, Ms Tizzy joined them at almost every meeting.

She died ten minutes after she got home from a meeting on her birthday – two hours after telling them this would be her last appearance – she could feel something was wrong. All the girls said she looked great for 90+.

I assumed they had a big deal to celebrate her accomplishments. A few of them installed a very small plague at her favorite place in a small park near her old school.

The fact that she was a hero was not lost on them but they had all made a promise – a simple promise – a gigantic promise that even my high school sweetheart would not give up.

Ms Tizzy asked that no one reveal her real name or any personal details while alive or dead.

And I could get nothing else. Nothing.

Later that evening my old sweetheart’s husband took me aside to tell me the rest of the story but swore me to secrecy. After a recent short talk, he and his wife agreed I could say this:

‘Ms Tizzy was the daughter of one of, if not the richest couple in the state. But she was disowned at age 24 when she confessed her love for an older woman, her room mate.’

They never told me her name and I am sure I would rather not know.

Recently I read a story in the local paper about a church program that does much the same as Ms Tizzy did forty years ago.

Children come for some learning, some guidance some dinner and some simple companionship with an adult.

I wonder if the woman touted in that story was one of Ms Tizzy’s girls? I know I’ll never find out but wouldn’t that just fit so perfectly.

TMI Tuesday #162

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TMI Tuesday

1. What is your favorite Thanksgiving food?
+/-See My Answers

Fried Sweet potatoes with onions.

2. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist out of existence. Which one will it be?

Barry Man-its-Low

3. You seem to be having an excellent day because you just came across a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk. Holy crap, a hundred bucks! How are you gonna spend it?

Save it for a bad day….

4. What is your favorite curse word?

Mo-Fo......

5. Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-traveling phone booth. You can go anytime in the PAST. What time are you traveling to and what are you going to do when you get there?

Back to high school to study harder and to keep pressuring my sweetheart to give it up and not wait until we are 18.

Bonus (as in optional):You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What's it gonna be?

Healing By Touch – Heal anything with one touch.

Wednesday Weirdness #31: Thanksgiving Edition

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Wednesday Weirdness #31: Thanksgiving Edition

Questions By: Another Suburban Mom

+/-Click here for questions/answers

1. What are you thankful for this year?

I am alive.

2. Since some of our participants are not in the US, what do you think about Thanksgiving?

I LOVE Thanksgiving but I live in the USA.

3. What is your favorite part of the holiday/ your least favorite.

Turkey Dressing/Cranberry Sauce and putting up Xmas decorations.

4. Mashed Potatoes or Sweet Potatoes?

Sweets with fried onions.

5. Do you own eating pants? Describe.

Yes, sweatpants with broken elastic waistband and long lost draw string.

6. What is your favorite thing to do with the Thanksgiving leftovers?

Eat them.

7. Who are you most looking forward to seeing? Least?

My aunt and her Creamed Potatoes with Peas and Banana Creame pie for dessert.

My sister and her annoying habit of….never mind, I am glad she could make it.

8. Do you go shopping on the day after Thanksgiving?

Only if we have run out of some kind of food or beverage.

twitter And twhirl Took Over My Life

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Yes, I follow and am followed on twitter.
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And I will probably never forgive the local radio talk show host that mentioned one morning that fateful day in October he could be followed on twitter.

I almost never agree with a darn thing he says but now, I thought, I can fire zingers at him from afar without sending email or dialing the phone.

One show used chat to communicate with its listeners but I grew tired of the chatter and saw that many of my comments were ignored or got lost in the clutter.

I had signed up for twitter in March of this year while delving into the Live web broadcasting for a friend. I thought twitter would be better then a chat client.

I sent one tweet and didn’t see the point. Nobody cared what I was doing and I could not think of one person I wanted to ‘watch’ every minute of the day – not even my true love Mariah Carey (does she twitter? She makes me twitter - pant, pant, pant - gotta check – nope, don’t see her).

Plus I didn’t know anyone else using it and searching the site generated lists of people I was sure I did NOT want to follow.

From March to October of this year, no one had followed me on twitter so boo hoo, what did I care.

It was worse than chat sites – at least there was one weirdo always wanting your ASL.

Then this talk show host said we could follow him on twitter. I went to the home page and Firefox still remembered my username and password – damn.

I found the talk show host in about .02 seconds and became a follower in even less time. Too easy (what a freaking understatement).

Of course I had to add some of the people following him because I knew who they were and I wanted to ‘see’ what they were saying to each other.

Within three or four hours I was stalking following more then 40 people and about half were stalking following me. I even had some ‘spam’ followers. Welcome to the world of twitter.

The saddest thing, not one tweet, NOT ONE enhanced my life in anyway. NOT ONE. But I was nosy and downright voyeuristic. I soon became hooked.

I knew when the personal lives of my stalked kept getting interrupted by the newsies I was following with breaking stories or advertising their latest post or article that I needed another twitter account to separate the newsies from normal people.

So with two twitter accounts I was kept busier then a cat in hurricane winds on a sandy beach switching users at the main twitter web site.

Noticing that many of the blogs I followed also had twitter accounts, I added yet a third account to follow my favorite bloggers.

Keep in mind, I already had over 150 RSS feeds in Google Reader to keep track of info ranging from News Sites to blogs to Google/Yahoo groups to comic strips I like to read.

So, happier then the aforementioned cat on a sandy beach in a hurricane, I was keeping track of so much stuff I found I was not capable of surfing the net AND watching TV at the same time.

I had to rewind and watch the same five minutes of House at least TEN times – I could not concentrate on the TV without scanning the computer screens (yes I run two of them) to see who had sent the last tweet, email, blog post etc.

For years, I have worked at a computer, programming, managing networks or surfing the Internet while watching TV – news channels, movies, documentaries, comedies – anything.

I could do two things at once and sometimes even three, if the phone rang - I never missed a word of dialog. I might have to rewind a bit to catch a steamy nude scene or giant explosion I missed with my eyes but my ears never missed a thing.

But I was getting bogged down. Between email, Google Reader, twitter and normal surfing, I was going nuts.

My attention span was about four seconds and I could not do one thing let alone three.

I went searching for a client and found Digsby but it took care of twitter AND Facebook (boo) AND MySpace (gag) and all chat users as well as email. It only showed new messages and tweets for 1 or 2 seconds which forced me to pull up the main window and scan every account to figure out which one had changed. It pissed me off more then helped me.

And then along came twhirl. I saw someone had posted a tweet five minutes ago using twhirl instead of the web, digsby or tweetdeck so I went searching.

I installed my new BEST twitter utility – I could track all FIVE (don’t freaking ask) twitter accounts from ONE program. I never had to login in again and I could control which accounts were active at any time and how often they updated. And with one click in the tray I could kill twitter completely.

But the best things – it ‘dinged’ every time I received a new tweet, reply or direct message and displayed same in the corner of the screen so that I could read it almost in real time.

I could ‘filter’ out certain boring, blah, blah, blahtalkative users that post at ten tweets a minute without un-following them.

I loved it – until the dinging completely overrode any noise from the TV and I became a Pavlov dog. ‘Ding’ and my eyes went to read the message in the corner of the screen interrupting whatever I was doing.

When I discovered I had re-read the first paragraph of an email seven or eight times or had started proof reading the same post nine or ten times, or that I had no idea, not one tiny glint of what the show was about I was watching on TV, I decided enough was enough.

I could exit the twhirl program but when I re-started it, it would ‘ding’ at me for three or four minutes while it caught up with all the tweets I missed.

I could mute the speakers but then I would miss email and other notifications and any music I was listening to.

I was about ready to pull the plug on twitter completely when one of my bloggers sent notice of a new post and I immediately clicked the link adding it to the 50 other pages waiting for me to read.

I accidentally clicked on the wrench of a twhirl window instead of the link and noticed things I had missed or had been added since I stated using twhirl – such as how loud the notification sound is and how I am notified – I can kill the message appearing in the corner and the beep is so faint I do not hear it four feet from the computer – I remember that sometime last week I was waiting on a reply tweet to a question I had asked.

The kitchen timer had rung telling me my cinnamon rolls were ready and I had shut off the timer and had peeked in the oven to see if things were done when I heard twhirl ‘ding’.

I am sure I did not run, but I did get back in time to read the tweet that had just posted in the lower corner of my screen before it disappeared.

Then my expected reply came and about thirty minutes later I put the remains of my cinnamon rolls in the sink and wrote that cookie sheet off. I had let them ‘die’ in the oven.

I knew it was time for intervention and the little wrench on that twhirl window was my savior.

After some experimentation I have reached a workable situation with twitter and twhirl and even changed the way my email program ‘talks’ to me.

All the screen flashing and popup windows appear on one screen which I do not see when I turn my head to watch TV.

And said notifications only happen every fifteen minutes instead of every two minutes.

My world is almost back to normal while twhirl still makes it easy to read some stupid tweets from crazier tweeples then me.

At least I know what the last episode of House was about.

WW #30

from Wednesday Weirdness (Macabre Girl)

1.) Have you ever taken your clothes off for money?

No one has ever asked.

2.) Are you a morning person or a night owl?

Both, I love to watch the sunset, stay up late waiting for the sunrise. I usually sleep when most people work.

3.) Do you take any kind of medication daily or regularly? If so, what?

Ace inhibitor, Beta blocker, diabetes meds, insulin, satin and 81mg aspirin plus
nitroglycerin as needed.

4.) Do you ever have naughty thoughts about any of your friends significant others?

Yes

5.) What are your favorite comfort foods?

Use to be (See #3) Chocolate, More Chocolate and even MORE chocolate which led to #3.

6.) Would you rather direct a porn or star in one?

I'd do both jobs with a bevy of female stars.

7.) Have you ever seen a "donkey show"? Would you ever be interested in seeing one?

Never saw one and #6 appeals to me more.

8.) On a scale of 1 to 10, how gullible of a person would you say you are?

-20

Dr House and Knockers

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Trying to clean off my TiVo and found a House (FOX) show from last season I missed or don't remember watching.

One of his lines was "Where can I find a decent set of knockers around here?"

I swear that is one of the only times I have heard that on broadcast TV and the first time I've heard it in years. Maybe it is the company I keep (or don't keep).

I just love this Headline

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From FARK:
Illegals illegally here legally are legal to be legally dropped to illegally be illegal after illegally being extremely illegal. FARK: In Texas, the "tough on crime" state

Story is here

After reading the article this is just legally illegal....

Bad Habit

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Today's Writing Prompt: Habit

What bad habit would you like to change?
+/-Click for my answer

I can not discuss it here in mixed company - besides, not ALL people consider it a bad habit......

Title Changed - Oops

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I may have violated the One Minute Writer terms with this post so I have changed the title but left a link back to the site. Hopefully the author of One Minute Writer can straighten me out. Sorry if I bad.

UPDATED Sunday, Nov 16
See The One Minute Writer

Line Erased - Click on link above.

+/- Click For My Answer

Platform shoes - at least I think that is what they were called. My wife at the time bought me some; patent leather brown and white with three inch heels and two inch souls. I got vertigo when I tried to walk and very difficult to drive with and forget riding the Harley - I almost got pulled off when I put my shoe down too soon. I only had one pair of pants I could wear with them - big wide bell bottoms - I thought those were 'neat'.

Hers were platform boots - knee high with laces from top to bottom - patent leather black. Took her twenty minutes to lace them up. Don't remember how high the heels were but there was one thing I liked about them. Just one.

We were height mis-matched. When I stood behind her I was about fours inches too high and it was very difficult to do that one thing even if she wore high heels or stood on a step.

Her boots gave her the needed boost and as long as I was san-shoes, we fit together beautifully - one of our favorite positions - boy could we dance good. :)

The one good part of our marriage was when she came out of the bedroom wearing her boots - she had thrown the laces out much earlier. It was her way of saying 'come and get it'. Too bad it was the only way she liked it.

But I still say they should never come back - they belong in death with Disco.

UPDATE Sunday, Nov 16: I didn't think my new 'piece of ass joy' paid much attention to my blogs. She made her weekly visit last evening and we talked and watched the news for a bit then she told me to get my head out of it's usual place, acted like she was mad about something (seems to be happening more often lately) and left the room.

I was trying to figure out what I said or did wrong and wondered how far I'd have to open my wallet this time. She asked if I had plenty of nitro spray for my black heart (I knew I was in for big trouble because we love to argue have intellectual discussions) and when she told me to get it she walked out in a pair of boots with at least five inch heels and NOTHING, NOTHING else.

Then she cupped both breasts and asked how I liked these jugs or did I prefer knockers? (See this post)

I could not stop smiling but I was smart and shut my mouth AND grabbed something but it was not my nitro spray. My heart was working just fine, just fine, She asked how I knew and I showed her how well my heart was pumping blood (BIG SMILE).