Precedence
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Posted:Jan 28, 2012 2:21 pm
Last Updated:May 8, 2012 7:56 pm
31110 Views
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You have my permission to stir it up, spread it around and get it stuck to the roof of your mouth as you wish.
In layman's terms: you may link within this board to my profile, my blog and/or any posts or comments therein.
I reserve the right to not be offended.
© Spinmedown
Might as well make this a 2-fer, so leave me a private comment if you got an itch to scratch, axe to grind, something on your mind, etc...
WARNING: I will only guarantee the privacy of comments that begin with a good sentence containing the words: Frog, Ointment, Blend, and Keister.
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Back and Forth
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Posted:Apr 30, 2012 10:10 pm
Last Updated:Aug 7, 2013 11:20 am
33012 Views
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I go forth into the real world.
But I always come back.
This place is like one of those hospitals with the hallways that keep going and going with more hallways branching off leading to even more hallways, and occasionally I start to feel like I've travelled a bit too far down all those hallways.
And then the real world gets hold of me for a little while.
Love to come back here with that freshly fucked feeling and write about it.
Off to bed, now. Nurse!
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5
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Outsourced
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Posted:Jan 25, 2012 4:53 pm
Last Updated:Apr 30, 2012 7:37 pm
33519 Views
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Times have been hard since the peoprietor up and moved to Paris after selling his recipe for bath tub gin to a major distillery for a fat pile of cash and The Seedy Bar on the Outskirts of Town had to shut down. Especially hard for me since I lost my job as barback and occasional bareback on Rodeo Night. Always dreaded those nights and called out sick, but Frank would always go upstairs and find me in my room under the bed and give me his Famous Cowboy Up and are you a Man or do you Want to be Just Another Rat speech and shake his trusty mop at me for emphasis. Always worked like a charm. Man! He sure could play me like a violin, but it was cool because I always knew that behind that gruff and bluff exterior beat a heart of gold. I wont tell you where they had to put the quarters or how hard it was to try an throw some stringy redneck off you back, especially with Wagner's Ring Cycle playing in the background unless it happened to be that Ride of the Valkyries Passage. Truly some beautiful moments.
I thought I'd finally firmly got my feet on easy street with my Seedy Blog on the Outskirts of the Net. But the participles and infinitives were always on backorder. I wasn't making anything off the free nouns. The verbs demands were too bold for mediation. And the electric bills for the shocking adjectives were bleeding me dry. Like a fool I'd jumped in while ths whole E-commerce thingie was flopping worse than the Annual Nudist Three-legged Race.
So yeah. That's my story. That's how I wound up here with a Seedy Vegetable Stand on the Outskirts of Town. S'okay. I still got my digity. And a bad back. And I'm gonna make the most of it. Yannow, it's funny what you can learn about a person from their choice of produce. Might take me one of those online psychology courses some day and write a book.
Here are a few things I have learned:
Onion - you are either hot or sweet with many layers
Apple - sweet or tart , good to know
Tomatoes - popular with a dangerous secret
Potato - definitely got appeal
Strawberries - always popular
Grapes - possible whiner
Cucumbers - don't ask me why they are always greasy How should I know?
Peppers - sweet or hot but sometimes both
Peach - oh, come on
Celery - clearly a stalker
Rutabaga - can get real nasty if not handled properly
Melons - how you doin?
Cherimoya - very, very rewarding for the truly adventurous
Bananas - very choosy
Lemons and Limes - usually a little tart, but good for ya
Pomegranate - lots of work, must look good in red
Pear - nice
Cherry - uhm hmmm, that's one pie that needs to be made
Iceberg lettuce - must be more than that
Eggplant - so versatile and misunderstood
Grapefruit - very focused on personal goals
Fresh Coconut - sure are serious about something
Parsley - what's the difference between pussy and parsley? Nobody eats parsley.
It's all fresh, mostly fresh. Don't mind that bug. No extra charge.
Just pick what you like, and I'll bag it up.
Yeah. It all costs the same.
If this coffee keeps kicking in, I might have to move this gig to the parking lot of the 7 - 11 by the flophouse on the southside.
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Icebreaker Email Form Letter
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Posted:Jan 21, 2012 4:25 pm
Last Updated:Apr 30, 2012 7:38 pm
35947 Views
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I was reading a post here that mentioned the site wanted to set up some distribution system to randomly deliver emails that the ladies here would write to the guys. I don't know if it would include all the guys or just the new guys.
Could be a good thing. It might be a good idea to let the ladies, Real Ladies, have a chance to set the tone with a friendly greeting and some sensible advice. Hopefully the guys will take the time to read it and maybe learn a thing or two.
I feel this is asking a lot of the ladies here. And I'm sure this will only add to the time they already have to spend managing all their emails. So I thought someone should offer up a few suggestions to help them compose their messages.
Presumptuous of me? Probably. Maybe the whole idea is presumptuous and/or preposterous.
Feel free to cut, copy, paste, edit, expand upon, or try a rough draft here.
Dear (adjective) (noun) ,
You are receiving this Icebreaker Email as part of a welcome package for new (noun) . The (adjective) (noun) in charge of this (noun) have asked me to write this message to help you get your (noun) (preposition) of (adjective) (noun) and get off to a (adjective) (noun) . So put your (adjective) (noun) (preposition) and (verb) up.
If you haven't already (verb) your (noun) , then you should do that ASAP. That first time might be a bit (adjective) . It is for everyone, unless they are a (adjective) (noun) . LOL But you'll soon be (verb) like a (adjective) (noun) .
I'd recomend that you (verb) your (noun) and get (verb) with all the (noun) offered here. And please keep in mind that even though you can (verb) (adjective) (noun) and (noun) as often as you like. That will only (verb) you (preposition) (adjective) (noun) .
The best (noun) I can (verb) you is this- this (noun) is just like the (adjective) (noun) , and you should always (verb) a (adjective) (noun) when you (verb) someone for the first time.
I hope these few tips help you (verb) in the (noun) here, and feel free to (verb) me a (noun) . I'd like to hear how you're (verb) (preposition) (noun) . In the (noun) we are all (adjective) (noun) here with (adjective) (plural noun) and (adjective) (plural noun) the same as (adjective) (adjective) (noun) . But now I must warn you, if you aren't (verb) like a (noun) you'll find (verb) with me is like (verb) a (noun) down a (noun) full of (adjective) (plural noun) .
(plural noun) and (plural noun) ,
Username
P.S. ~ (Verb) up here is (adjective) . Easy like (verb) a (adjective) (noun) . LOL
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I Would Like to Have a Seedy Blog on the Outskirts of the Net
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Posted:Jan 12, 2012 9:19 am
Last Updated:Aug 7, 2013 11:23 am
34255 Views
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Yeah.
I'd like to have one of those kind of blogs.
A blog where everyone could just be themselves and let it all hang out. Where participles could dangle freely and infinitives split often. And prepositions flowed freely.
A blog where all the nouns were free, the verbs were bold and the adjectives, shocking.
And mispellings? Fughettaboutit! We all know what you're talkinbout.
Maybe someday. Until then here's another man's dream, FrankPicasso ( in the comment below ).
One of the funniest things things I have ever read here or anywhere. So let's hear it for Frankie and hope he stops plucking that banjo long enough to get back to writing.
And that aint no euphemism!
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chutesandladders
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Posted:Jan 9, 2012 10:04 pm
Last Updated:Jan 12, 2012 1:13 pm
32445 Views
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I remember some kind of law from physics that said you could either know the location of something or its speed, but not both at the same time. I never really understood it until now. It has something to do with time, a moment in time versus a period of time.
Some changes in my life reminded me of this. I've spent a long period of time working towards a moment when I could finally claim satisfaction and happiness. Found the right girl to love. Found a nice place to live with good neighbors. Found the right place to work with people I like. Found places I like to go and people I like to see. I've worked hard to find these things for myself and nurture my surroundings. Contentment had settled in.
I remember some other law that stated that a body at rest will stay at rest unless acted upon by external forces. That was an easy one to understand, and an easy one to forget. My best bud at work got promoted out. All of our favorite neighbors are moving away. The places we enjoy are changing their menus or losing the people we enjoyed seeing. External forces at work on my happy slice of life.
And isn't there some other law that says that everything in the universe is constantly switching from matter to energy back and forth. Which makes me think of the point in time versus the period of time I mentioned above. Maybe things exist either in a state or a process.
But if the conservation of energy is to be believed, then everything must always either be in motion or changing into something else. That leans very strongly in favor of the process viewpoint mentined above.
But I want my happy state to exist. Grand Unification be damned, it should be possible.
A true fool's paradise.
I've been reminded that life is a process after all, and in the nicest way. The external changes all came from people I care about moving out of my life along their own paths to happiness as I had gathered them into my life in my quest for contentment.
Moments join together to form this path like links in a chain. Each link bonded to the preceeding link while providing the possibility for the next link to join. Maybe more like the frames printed on a movie's film. Chains can be too binding.
Fortunately, I still have my girl. And hopefully she understands that our lives are a process and not a state, and that all things will continue to change and develop. It really is the journey that matters, not the destination. The thrill of the chase, not the kill.
Moments don't really exist. Only Momentum. Guide that momentum in the direction you want your life to go and enjoy every moment as it flashes by. Every movie has an ending. Especially those annoying French ones where everyone dies, 'cos it's true. But don't worry about that. Just remember that all energy must be conserved. And matter is just energy tying to exist in the moment. And Love is the Law.
This post was inspired by a game of Chutes and Ladders that I played with my four year old niece on New Year's Eve. ( Yes. I am a party animal. ) In the game I landed on the long ladder that went all the way to the top. On my next turn I landed on the long chute that went all the way back to the bottom, and we laughed and laughed. And on my next turn I landed back on the long ladder that took me back to the top, but I still lost. Lots of fun times. That's all that matters.
And I invented the Slappo Joe sandwich. Make a standard Sloppy Joe and if there is any of that Taco Dip lying around ( You know the dip with the bottom layer of refried beans, then salsa and sour cream with diced onions, tomatoes and peppers, and covered with shredded cheese. ) slap a heaping spoonful of it on the Sloppy Joe and smash it all together with the top of the bun.
I had Two, and my girl still loves me.
That says a lot right there!!!!!
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Again the Abuse
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Posted:Dec 27, 2011 5:34 pm
Last Updated:Dec 29, 2011 9:39 am
32088 Views
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There I was having a lovely evening, engrossing even, when suddenly there was a knock at my door. Upon answering it some stranger thwacked me on the peepee and told me to knock it off.
Apparently some sort of abuse was either reported of me or requested for me. The results being the same either way, though one seems more giving than the other somehow. Maybe I'm needy in a rose colored glasses sort of way.
Or maybe I shouldn't open the door for strangers any more. But where would be the fun in that?
Oh! My ability to reply to emails seems to be verschissen for some reason.
Once again Gay Hookup Zone admits impediments to the meeting of true minds.
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Cats and Cashmere
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Posted:Nov 6, 2011 5:10 pm
Last Updated:Dec 28, 2011 7:36 pm
32567 Views
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Well, the damn bugs have finally chewed up my favorite v-neck. Who'd have thought my neighborhood would have such persnickety moths.
"Will sir be dining on the woolen hunting socks tonight?"
" Certainly, not! I'm in the mood for something cashmere, preferably that perfect shade of dove gray with just a hint of blue that would make it perfect with a pair of faded blue jeans. Do you have anything in a v-neck?"
"I do believe we have something that will be to your liking."
And I did. Did, dammit! The little buggers chewed it past the point of pulling off shabby chic. It was tossed from the closet onto the bed to be gathered up later and discarded.
In under 2.7 seconds....the cat is on it all stretched out and comfy like he's never imagined life could be this good.
Yeah. I know how you feel, buddy. It always made me feel like that whenever I wore it.
Cashmere naps and seafood suppers. I want to come back as one of my cats in my next life.
First post in a very long time. Kitchen fire in the apartment below me, police and fire trucks and all my neighbors milling about, call from my mother, had to get the trash out to be picked up, and this iPad is going to take some getting used to..... Yep, I want to come back as a cat, cashmere or not..... even in my own house, next time.
Best wishes to all. Thanks for stopping by..
( I'll leave the lights on as usual  )
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Knock Me Out, Shave My Crotch, Hurt Me Bad and Bill Me Later
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Posted:Aug 3, 2010 9:25 am
Last Updated:Nov 6, 2011 3:11 pm
33235 Views
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One month to the day I finally got off my lily-livered, scaredy-cat, procrastinating, sorry ass and finally got my hernia fixed.
Glad that's over, mostly...over.
You see. It isn't the pain and suffering, or the fear of the unknown, or walking down the hall in an assless gown with an IV shoved in my hand, or the thought of strangers shaving my privates while I'm unconcious, or waking up in a strange, unknown place mumbling aloud my deepest and darkest secrets. No. It's none of that. I got used to all of that after my first few sleepovers in middle school. None of that is the reason why I put off this surgery for so long.
And you know you put it off for too long when the surgeon throws all of these technical terms he picked up during many years of medschool like, "Holy, crap!" and "Psshhheeeee!" and "Yowza!".
That's how you know.
No! It's none of that. Come here. Come closer. I'll let you in on a little secret about me.... Shhh... I hate the paperwork, the redtape, the runaround. Can't stomache it. Feel my gall bladder trying to slither out of my throat, sweat between the buttocks, broke out in hives behind both ears, can not stand it.
I can not fathom the damn insurance forms. One charge disected and spread across sixteen columns; and yet the whole is always somehow less than the sum of its parts, and I'm instructed to pay some strange fraction thereof forthwith. And then the next day a neweth form cometh which instructs me to pay some other fraction due to some cryptic excuse code ( Code 815.2a More information required prior to request for additional data ). And then the back of the form covered in fine print of even finer gradation as it scrolls to the bottom of the page, which curiously causes an ilusion of perspective which makes the top of my desk look like it's in the apartment below me, then the apartment on ground floor, then the earth's crust, the mantle, the core, and the first 5 rings of hell. Wherein the boldly printed words,"This amount is not subject to appeal.", lieth.
I beseech thee, just spell it out clearly,lay it forth plainly, cut to the chase, the brass tax, tell me what I fuckin' owe ya, man! I'll gladly pay, rest well at night, lie down upon the green pastures and such. Just send me a bill, a real bill. I understand bills. Bane of my existance, but I can understand bills.
Insurance, finely honed double-edged sword that it is, is both a grand and a terrible thing. Not only is it a chance for doctors to make money off of healthy people, but it allows sick people to afford doctors. Fine! I get that. But I don't get all the go-betweens wh have to justify all the money they skim out of the system by complicating it to the point of near madness and collapse.
And then, there's the company I work for. Been out on doctor ordered medical leave for one month, and they still haven't approved my leave of absence. I don't even know if I still have a job. Ha Ha!! Funny how that works.
But the worst thing, I'm bored. Bored stupid. Went from working six days a week, never taking more than six days off in a row for twenty-five years to sitting on my ass for a month. Too damn hot to go outside, a few restrictions, not enough money to go hog wild. But I did get TiVo hooked up finally, and Poirot, Futurama and Anthony Bourdain shall sustain me.
Still. All things considered, best move I've ever made. I have not felt this good, nay, great, for years! My surgeon was an ace and a great guy, my recovery has been a breeze, and I'm skirting irresponsibility as much as all this damnable paperwork allows.
Maybe that's what it's really for, to keep me grounded and slightly ground down.
Business as usual, aye?
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The Smartee
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Posted:May 5, 2010 7:43 pm
Last Updated:Jan 19, 2012 5:29 pm
32675 Views
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Give an idiot a well stocked bar and enough time and he just might come up with a new drink sensation or just turn into a lush trying...that's the fun part, and it's for a good cause. Right?
2 oz. The Macallan 12 Year Scotch
1/2 oz. Cointreau
Juice of 1/2 Large, Fresh Lemon
1/2 tsp Simple Syrup (made from Demerara Sugar)
Shake well with lots of ice and strain into a CHILLED Whiskey Sour Glass.
After about the fourth sip, this tastes exactly like Smartee Candies to me, but with a serious kick.
Next... maybe something with Absynthe that tastes like Now and Laters... maybe not...
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Charlie's Wishing Box
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Posted:Apr 26, 2010 10:50 am
Last Updated:Feb 16, 2012 7:53 pm
32651 Views
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"Yeah, right! Whatever!", he muttered under his breath as he paid the stooped, little man behind the dusty counter at the dustiest and most unusual antique store he'd ever visited.
He took the brown paper and string wrapped package and his change and nodded at the man's parting comment of, "Be wise with your wishes...", as he walked through the door back to the land of sunlight and fresh air.
A short and uneventful drive brought him back to the familiar world of his comfortable apartment. He walked over to his desk and set the package down. After taking a seat he snipped the twine and slid the paper off to reveal his latest find, a simple, unadorned box made of rosewood. Age had darkened the grain to an almost even purpleish, inky black. Rotating it in the light revealing patterns of grain that seemed to emerge from deep within the wood and swirl almost like smoke as they disappeared or formed new patterns as the angle of the light changed.
"Quite a find", he sighed as he set it back down on the desk with other ancient treasures he had collected thru the years, intricate inkwells, tiny clocks with unusual chimes and movements, scales and measuring instruments from the earliest days of science with patinas almost black, "and quite a story as an added little bonus."
The old man at the shop had told him that the box had been at his store for many years and had been sold many times. Each time the owner had eventually returned with the box to inquire if he might repurchase it since they no longer wanted it. And each time he had simply refunded their original purchase price, no questions asked.
"Why would they return such a simple and useful box? I could always find a use for it, even just to store old tax receipts or something. How many times has this happened?", he'd asked.
"More times than I can remember", the man had replied.
"How unusual! Why do you think it keeps being returned?", Charlie inquired further.
"When the mind is no longer full of empty wishes, only then can the fullness of the heart finally be appreciated.", was his cryptic answer.
"Wishes? Are you trying to sell me a fable?", Charlie had snorted.
"Fables sell themselves", he'd replied with a slight twinkle in his eyes.
"Well then, sold. What do I owe you?" and the deal was done.
He left the room and returned with a soft flannel square. Wiping the smooth finish, and turning it in his hands to admire the mysterious patterns of the grain again. He set it down and opened the lid to reveal a plain interior, finished the same as the exterior but with a bit more contrast between the black and purple streaks of the wood.
He closed the lid and pushed the box to the back edge of the desk to admire it and wonder what he might store in it. An old surgical kit from the turn of several centuries past caught his eye. He slid the leather case across the desk until it was in front of him and opened it to admire the gleaming instruments formed for the precise requirements of past genius.
"Amazing!", he said as he lifted each instrument and polished its elegantly simple and slightly disturbing form. "So many amazing things in this world. Such a great diversity of excellence and artistry. A toast to excellence is what is called for in a moment like this. But what to toast excellence with....other than excellence? If only I had a bottle of Mouton '65. That would be perfect!"
The faintest of sounds, like the smallest of thunks drew his attention to the new box. He pulled it back toward him and felt something roll inside it to hit the back of the box. The impact made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rise and tiny jolts like electricity shot up his spine as he stood.
"Noooo....couldn't be....", he whispered as his hand moved slowly up the sides of the box to the lid. He kept his hands on the lid as curiosity built like a volcano in the icy depths of the ocean of his mind. Finally the pressure was to great to resist and he jerked the lid open to peek inside. There on the bottom of the box was a bottle of wine, dusty and real. He reached in and lifted it out, letting the lid close with a low thunk and a small chuff of air. Turning the label to the light and wiping it gently with the cloth, he read the word Mouton and dropped it onto the desk.
His legs gave out and dropped him back into the chair. His mind reeled and he began to giggle and then to laugh in a wide-eyed grimace of disbelief. "Thank you, sir! May I have another? And another? Thank you, sir!", he blurted out and laughed until he couldn't breath.
He bolted upright and reached out to lift the lid again and see two more bottles of wine in the box. "Now this really calls for a celebration", he thought as he sprinted to the kitchen to retrieve a cork screw and a wine glass.
Savoring the last mouthful from the glass with a satisfaction that would shame most men, he eyed the empty bottle of wine standing beside its two full brothers and the box on the desk that might as well be empty of other things. "Excellent it was! And excellent it shall be again", he proclaimed as he raised his glass.
"A perfect ruby to match the color of this most excellent wine and able to fill this glass is what I wish for now!", his proclamation continued. And he heard a slight tap from inside the box. He opened the box and the light from the lamp turned rosey as it shone on the huge ruby that lay inside. A hint of something almost like greed snuck into the gleam in his eye as he lifted it out and dropped it into his wine glass. Lifting the glass and turning it in the light as he admired the impossible gem.
He went to the kitchen to fetch another wine glass and uncorked the second bottle when he returned. He poured another glass of wine and placed it beside the one with the ruby in front of the lamp. Then he leaned down to admire the similar ruby color shining through each glass. "Perfect! Perfect like Heather Leare at the office! God! I wish I had her phone number right now! I'd call her over to share this wine with me!", he said.And then realized what he had said and done and looked and found the seven numbers on the paper inside the box.
He laughed the happiest laugh of his entire life and sipped his glass of wine as he strolled to the kitchen to get another glass.
"I should call her...I will call her....I can call her... this is amazing!", he shouted as he returned. Retaking his seat at the desk he glance at the paper in front of him and sipped his wine as he imagined the possibilities this night held which stretched out almost to infinity before him.
"Man! I wish my penis was two feet long...", he mumbled dreamily and sat upright as an icy realization gripped him by the balls and nothing else. "Oh no! Oh! No! No! No! No! No! I didn't! It couldn't!", he exhaled as he reached for the box and shook it to hear something dense and heavy slap against the inside.
"O shit! Okay! I also wish for a 'Do It Yourself Fully Functional Penis Reattachment Manual'", he blurted out. "Painless....With Pictures....Foolproof.....Crap!! This is gonna be a very, very long night!"
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Just Drifting Ghosts of Glass or Something
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Posted:Apr 24, 2010 6:03 pm
Last Updated:Dec 28, 2011 7:37 pm
33238 Views
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It's been forever and a day since I was here last. Been busy, real busy. Got a life or something when I wasn't looking. Actually, that's a pretty glib bullshit statement. I think I found the life I've been looking for all along.
I found a terrific lady.
I put a ring on her finger.
I stuck with her through breast cancer treatment.
I think the world of her.
I love our life together.
She makes me laugh.
She keeps me on the right path.
She thinks I'm weird.
She likes my cooking.
She brought home a kitten last week. A miniature version of the cat we already have.
Add deliriously happy to any list of mental disturbances you might have been keeping about me.
I usually hate posts like this, but I really wanted to put this one out there along with bunches of gratitude to everyone who kept pushing me kicking and screaming - we took turns with the kicking and the screaming, didn't we? - in the right direction.
You told me so. You were right. I got the message.
Thank you!!
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12
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Maybe It's Just the Name
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Posted:Nov 12, 2008 7:43 pm
Last Updated:Apr 24, 2010 6:05 pm
32222 Views
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Maybe it's because it tastes so sweet and kind of dirty.
Maybe it's because it makes me feel young again.
Maybe it's because someone gives it to me because they know I love it.
Maybe its because they have to know me pretty darn well to know that I love it.
Maybe its because I love the look in their eyes when they give it to me, a shared secret fulfilled, an unspoken promise, a peculiar little custom.
Every year, around this time, mixed in with the holiday candies, if you look very hard, you just might find a one pound box of Horehound Stick Candy.
My teeth hurt so good!!
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To link to this blog (spinmedown) use [blog spinmedown] in your messages.
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