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Maybe one day I'll find home...

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» What was I thinking?

I really should know better.
I was helping a friend of mine clear some brush from his land, including a stand of bamboo. We had piled a load of brush in a clear area and had a merry little fire going onto which we threw the shrubs and branches and whatnot that we had cut down. Then we threw on a load of green bamboo with the rest of the branches.

Did you know that those chambers inside bamboo are actually pretty airtight? Did you know that putting it into a fire while green would result in steam pressure building up inside those chambers until they burst? Did you know that a large piece of bamboo can produce explosions sufficient to hurl chunks of fire in all directions so that you have to simultaneously dodge and try to put out a dozen small fires that have suddenly sprung up all around you?

Well, I fucking do now.
(Fri 24th Sep 2010, 13:47, More)

» My Arch-nemesis

My fiancee owns Basement Cat.
If you ever go to the Lolcats website you'll know what I mean- the black cat with green eyes, the Desolate One, the First of the Fallen, the Destroyer of Souls, She Who Must Not Be Named.

In truth she looks a lot like this:



She's a fairly average-looking black cat with short fur. Often she's quite snuggly, and in particular has taken to me over her actual owner.

The thing is, she's always there, lurking in a corner.

I wake up in the morning to her walking on my bladder. If I throw her off she simply returns. When I get up to go piss, I turn around to find her watching me from the doorway because she pushes the door open. I go downstairs to make coffee and turn around and trip over her. When the coffee is made and I take a cup to the living room to sit down in a chair, I invariably sit on top of her. Once she's made her protests known and has stalked around the room, she waits until I have the laptop open and then jumps up onto the keyboard.

When I cook dinner she's there under my feet until I kick her, at which point she lurks in the corner. We sit down to eat and there she is, finding a piece of paper or a plastic bag or something else noisy to tromp around on so that we pay attention to her. If we're watching TV she finds something else crinkly to thrash around on, making as much noise as possible. When we go to bed she's there at the top of the stairs waiting for us. If I lock her out of the room she claws at the door. Once she's in she insists on sleeping between my knees.

The last thing I see every night is this:



The one question that I've had for my fiancee that she's never been able to answer is...

What the hell does she WANT?

Actually, she's starting to make me think of Teh Fear...
(Sat 1st May 2010, 17:07, More)

» The Naughty Step

I very seldom meted out corporal punishment to my kids.
At least not past the age of three or so- when they're having a complete meltdown, a swat across the arse with an open hand snaps them out of it.

When my son was in his early teens he had his first cell phone. One day when he was being particularly obnoxious I took it away and locked it up, resulting in a tantrum which then got him grounded besides.

I then secretly began sending SMS messages to it and calling it. He heard it and got almost hysterical at the thought of all the messages he was missing. I was firm, though, and didn't give it back until the following day.

His rage at discovering who was calling him made it even better.
(Thu 7th Feb 2013, 18:21, More)

» Breasts

I had a friend once with the biggest boobs EVAH.
Jennifer was a fellow student at college. She almost instantly took to me, I think, because I paid little to no attention to her boobs.

That took effort.

She stood about 5'6" tall, I would guess, and outweighed me significantly. She had deep black skin, enormous hips and boobs that somehow balanced them out in that way that only black women seem to be able to pull off. She also had an improbably small waist, so the effect was rather disconcerting. She was outgoing, all bouncy and giggly most of the time, and definitely took over the room wherever she went. But underneath all of that was a remarkably sharp mind and a bawdy sense of humor that I really liked, so we hung out together a fair bit.

One day I told her of one of my favorite spots in a local park and she was interested, so we drove over there and started walking around. The place I had told her of was at the top of a hill, a little gazebo that always had a gentle breeze and a great view of the park. We hiked up and sat in the shade for a bit, then felt the need for a beer and some food so we started down the hill toward the car and a nearby restaurant.

The hill is a fairly steep one, and I trotted down it without difficulty. But as Jennifer tried to keep up harmonics set in until she was jiggling in ways she had probably never experienced. She was wearing a rather low cut top at the time and showing impressive cleavage, as was her habit.

Then one of her boobs popped out of her bra and out of the top, did an amazing bounce and caught her full in the face.

She lost her footing and tumbled down the hill, both boobs out now and flying around like a couple of enraged watermelons. She sat up, dazed and scratched in places that had seldom seen sunlight but otherwise unhurt, and saw me as I ran up next to her. She looked down at her chest, gasped as she tried to cover them, looked up at me-

-and we both cracked up.

That was the only time I ever really got to see them, which is probably for the best, but after that all I had to do was imitate a bounce to set her off giggling.
(Thu 6th May 2010, 18:09, More)

» Little Victories

PGMT reminds me
of an incident from a few years back.

I was on my way out of town and needed to get some cash, so I stopped by an ATM that was on the way. The ATM is built into the front wall of a bank, so you have to park your car and walk up to it.

As it was very early on a Saturday morning, I was a bit surprised to see two girls ahead of me. They were probably in their late teens, cute, fashionably dressed and chattering away as they walked together to the machine. I did the polite thing and waited at a respectful distance of ten or fifteen feet for them to finish their transactions so that I could get my cash.

Only thing is, they weren't really paying much attention to what they were doing, and were utterly absorbed in their conversation about the show they were going to see that night, what they were going to wear, who was going to be there, how Tony owed her some money so she was going to make him buy her a shirt, how the last time she'd seen Paige she was soooo drunk and hanging all over Kevin... and all the while I waited, my patience growing thinner by the second.

I had not had breakfast yet, but I had had a couple of cups of coffee. I felt pressure building in my intestines, partly due to the Belgian beer I'd had the night before, and knew what was coming. So I casually maneuvered myself upwind of the chattering girls and let out a long silent exhalation from the deepest demon-infested sulfurous regions of hell, the sort that burns slightly as it goes and makes you feel like a deflating balloon.

A moment later they stopped in mid sentence and frantically stabbed at the buttons on the machine and wordlessly left as fast as they could, their pert behinds jiggling in their haste, and at last I was free to use the machine.

Why waste words when a good crop dusting will suffice?
(Thu 10th Feb 2011, 18:58, More)
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