Life is Good
|
Posted:Sep 27, 2016 8:29 am
Last Updated:Apr 28, 2024 10:28 am 2455 Views
|
I have been blessed with a life that is amazing. Travel. Love. Great family. Great friends. I love most of where I am but I believe that I haven't come this far to only come this far and I cannot wait to see where my next chapter of my life will take me.
If you have hit a point in your life where you don't have goals and are just getting by, we will likely not have much to talk about. I am also not a fan of anyone who blames the bad things in their life on something else. If you don't like where you are, change it. If you can't change it, own it and accept it and reframe it as the most positive thing that ever happened to you -- because it made you who you are today.
Tomorrow, I may be in a downswing where life is horrible and miserable, but today, the sun is out and I am going to shine. May your day be as good.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
STUNNING STORY
|
Posted:Jun 22, 2009 9:20 pm
Last Updated:May 13, 2014 7:48 pm 7076 Views
|
I got this story from a very vanilla uncle who is into gadgets. Its worth sharing:
Pocket Taser Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife. A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Taser for their anniversary submitted this.
Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that
sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety....??
'WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing!
I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. AWESOME!!!
Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave. Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right?
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently
(trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie
(for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading
glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting he batteries. All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, "no possible way!"
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best...
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it master," reasoning that a one- second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and . . .
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!
I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs. The cat was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "Do it again, stupid, do it again!"
Note: If you ever feel compelled to "mug " yourself with a taser,
one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one-second burst
when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. A three-second burst would be considered conservative! !!
-OF-A-... That hurt like **% !!! A minute or so later ( I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get up there??? My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I'm still looking for my testicles & I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!! I'm still in shock!
P. S. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!
"If you think Education is difficult, try being stupid."
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
Private Dick
|
Posted:Oct 17, 2007 9:21 pm
Last Updated:Sep 27, 2016 8:30 am 5142 Views
|
She was a dame unlike any other dame I’d ever met. She slipped into the office on legs that could take a whole night to slide down, gazed at me with sweet puppy-brown eyes swimming with sadness, and asked for a cigarette. Simple request, but I couldn’t stop watching the orange sheen of the streetlight reflect off her ruby lipstick until far too long after she’d stopped talking. Maybe it was the piss water hooch I’d been drowning in all night. Maybe it was the fact that the only woman I’d rubbed against in months was the neighborhood moll down at Dinker’s joint. Damn, she even smells like a million bucks.
Yeah, she was trouble. And I’d let her in.
I woke up out of my stupor and fumbled a pack of Lucky Strikes out of the desk drawer. “Down boy,” I thought. She gracefully took the smoke in her red-manicured hand and softly held it to her lips, looking at me expectantly. I find I’m staring at those lips again too long and cuss at myself under my breath. I fumble again in the drawer for the dented Zippo and hope it still has enough juice for the task. Ah, flame…..someone upstairs likes me for once.
She inhales like an angel getting its first whiff of heaven. Shit, the bitch must know the effect she’s having on me. Much more of this and I’m done for. I clear my throat.
“Why are you here?” I know, but I want to hear her say it. I want to see the words fall from those lips that are reminding me of an itch that hasn’t been scratched in far too long.
She exhales quickly, bites her lip, and I see a glint of worry or fear flash across her eyes. It amazes me how fast she covers for it. Nice. She’s one of those strong broads with the softer, hidden side. That will make this assignment more interesting.
“By now, you got my fax?” I nod a response. She takes the barely used smoke and grinds it slowly to a disabled stub in the gritty ashtray on my desk.
“I need your help, Lou. Bad.” For a moment, I think all sorts of bad things that have nothing to do with this assignment and everything to do with a long set of gams.
“I got myself into something. I had no idea it was so serious. Its like I’m stuck driving down this road in the middle of nowhere that I know leads me to terror, and I just can turn around. I can’t go back. I have to keep driving. And the view keeps getting darker and the signs all say turn back. But I just can’t. I’ve got this fear in my stomach that keeps getting worse and worse, but the car won’t stop. Even if it did, I know I wouldn’t even try. The steering wheel will turn, but my hands won’t move to turn it. Its like I gotta know what’s next, but all I see in the windshield is just a great big mess of pitch black. And I just keep driving… Please, Lou, ya gotta help me…..”
“There’s a hunnerd other fellas out there who’d be begging for this, lady. Why’d you end up banging on my door?”
She looks down at her carefully enameled hands in her lap. When she looks back up, her puppy browns are holding back Niagara Falls in a delicate stasis. So much for the tough broad part. “I’m scared, Lou. I think I’m being stalked by a bad crowd. I need help before something terrible happens. Rumor is that you’re not afraid to…get dirty….if dirty is what needs done. I’ve got the money.”
I’m offended. But I need it. Rent for a dive like this ain’t free. And the landlord was talking eviction just this morning. Something about an interested party willing to pay double for the space now that grungy is hip again. I’m frowning when I look back. The dame takes it the wrong way and thinks the look on my face is about her.
“If you don’t want to take the job….” She pauses and a single tear rolls down her cheek.
I’m torn. I don’t normally mess with high society issues. Usually, involves too much drama for a lazy scum like me.
She does that thing where she suddenly finds her boldness, squares up her shoulders, and stares me straight in the face. “Is it because you have to deal with me?”
I laugh. I hear myself. It’s a little more high-pitched and stressed than I would have expected. Maybe, I should cut back a little on the cheap whiskey. But it feels good. Damn good. I make a reckless decision. You only live once after all.
“Got your check?”
You can see the relief in her disappear faster than the beer down at Dinker’s. She carefully unfolds a crisp piece of powder blue vellum from her purse. I snatch it and take a quick scan to make sure the amount is there. Payable to “Lucy Archer”. One of these days I plan to get that corrected to the Lou thing. Damn parents. What did they know. A few more high society jobs might just do the trick. I look at little miss fancy pants squirming in the chair and smile as the wicked plans take shape.
“Now strip.”
“Here?” She looks terrified. I arch a brow. She realizes her mistake, pops right up and starts divesting her snappy tight clothing into a quick, nicely-folded neat pile. I watch as the creamy white skin is released into the rank orange light of my office and wonder how much she’s embarrassed that I have no curtains in here. And I don’t care. I grab the fax sitting on the desk and take a quick second glance at her checklists while Miss Fancy Pants finishes her deshabille. I pocket the lighter and the cigs… they might come in handy for some of what I have in mind.
"Hairpulling, optional, likes. Giving oral, optional, hates. Humiliation, necessary, loves. Corporal punishment, optional, wants."
The list goes on. A quick inventory of the health screen. Nothing of any concern there. Miss Fancy Pants is standing there watching me read, probably worrying over what she’s gonna tell her Fancy Pants husband about where she got all those marks by the time this bull dyke is done with her.
I walk over and lock the front door behind her. Don’t need the landlord walking in now. I grab Fancy Pants’ hair hard. Some of the fancy little pins pop out. Others gouge her scalp. I start dragging her through the curtains into the big, well-equipped room behind my office. She’s already squirming and whining. I smile. One thing old manufacturing buildings around here were known for was the reinforced, sound-proof, windowless, concrete walls. Maybe so the labor couldn’t be heard crying. I close the thick door behind us and click on the bare overhead bulb above.
Fancy Pants takes one look at the room and starts to scream.
Yeah, she was gonna be trouble. And I’d let her in.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
