Catface spider

Look at this amazing thing.  It’s about as big as your first thumb joint.  What you’re looking at is the spider’s rear end which really does look like a cat face, doesn’t it?  It came from my sister’s porch in Idaho.   T killed this one but K is growing some more.

This discussion about missionaries [which I can’t even fucking find now] and the guy who answered the door nekkid reminded me of something that happened long ago in Junior High.  In Idaho Junior High = grades 7, 8, and 9. High school was 10, 11, and 12.

I was a smart, fat little toad in gradeschool and 7th grade. Then a miracle happened in the summer between 7th and 8th grade. I grew 4 inches, developed a waist and hips and even some pert little boobs. It was amazing. Puberty hit hard and fast for me, so when I went back to school in the fall, it was a whole new world.

Boys were suddenly very important and I went from being a shy fat little egghead to a, oh hell, I don’t know what I became. But I talked to boys, and flirted with them, led them around by their collective cocks (with a special penchant for teasing the Mormon boys) and was VERY forward and did all manner of things that “good” girls would not do. It was heady and invigorating.

I had a couple of friends, one of whom was as horny as I was all the time. We were shameless in our pursuit of power through pussy. I haven’t decided yet if I can tell some of the stories. It would be rather Cringe-making, I think.

Anyway, back to the nekkid missionary story and the point to this windy post: The guy who answered the door was in a band called the Dreamchildren. The Dreamchildren were the very zenith of cool around the area where I went to school.

The lead singer was named Cliff. He had long blonde wavy hair and was quite beautiful to my lusty little teenaged and hormonally saturated eyeballs. I wanted him.
One afternoon the Dreamchildren gave a free concert at the YWCA which was directly across the street from the high school and not far from the Junior high. I went over with friends, and we sat on the floor in the front row, no doubt reeking of girly pheromones. Cliff sang Pretty Woman, and at one point, bent down to me, lifted me by the hand and then kissed me on the lips during the song. It was surreal. I nearly passed out from the thrill. And it made for a vivid memory.

I married the drummer later but that’s a whole different story.

Urban Word of the Day
www.urbandictionary.com

September 27, 2007: peasantvision

Television channels you get without a cable or satellite TV subscription.

I can’t afford digital cable, but I still get some good shows with the rabbit ears on peasantvision.

————

I had peasantvision for years – with a 13″ TV and I didn’t care. It kept me from sitting in front of the tube too much.   Now we have every channel and a big TV and my worst fears are realized … I watch TV WAY too much.  An hour every weeknight and more on the weekends.

And we still can’t catch up with our TIVO recordings.  I might have to ditch House.  He’s gotten a bit too formulaic anyway and “cute” to me.  I don’t love him like I once did.

it made me laugh 🙂

Man’s Trip To Walmart

You are in the middle of some kind of project around the house. Mowing the lawn, putting a new fence in, painting the living room, or whatever. You are hot and sweaty. Covered in grit or paint. You have your old work clothes on. You know the outfit, shorts with the hole in crotch, old t-shirt with a stain from who knows what, and an old pair of tennis shoes.

Right in the middle of this great home improvement project you realize you need to run to Wal-Mart to get something to help complete the job. Depending on your age you might do the following.

In your 20’s:

Stop what you are doing. Shave, take a shower, blow dry your hair, brush your teeth, floss, and put on clean clothes. Check yourself in the mirror and flex. Add a dab of your favorite cologne because you never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkout lane. You went to school with the pretty girl running the register.

In your 30’s:

Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt. Change shoes. You married the hot chick so no need for much else. Wash your hands and comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror. Still got it. Add a shot of your favorite cologne to cover the smell. The cute girl running the register is the kid sister to someone you went to school with.

In your 40’s:

Stop what you are doing. Put a sweatshirt that is long enough to cover the hole in the crotch of your shorts. Put on different shoes and a hat. Wash your hands. Your bottle of Brute Cologne is almost empty so you don’t want to waste any of it on a trip to Wal-Mart. Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing. The spicy young thing running the register is your daughter’s age and you feel weird thinking she is spicy.

In your 50’s:

Stop what you are doing. Put a hat on, wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don’t want to get dirt in your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and you swear not to wear that shirt anymore because it makes you look fat. The cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and you think you still have it.Then you remember the hat you have on is from your buddy’s bait shop and it says, “I Got Worms”.

In your 60’s:

Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat anymore. Hose off the dog crap off your shoes.The mirror was shattered when you were in your 50’s. You hope your underwear covers the hole in your pants. The girl running the register may be cute but you don’t have your glasses on so you are not sure.

In your 70’s:

Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Wal-Mart until they have your prescriptions ready too. Don’t’ even notice the dog crap on your shoes. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you remind her of her grandfather.