Toadie in "Haunted Bordello" (Final Chapter)

If you haven't read the first two installments of this enchanting tale, click here for Part One and here for Part Two.

The spirit of "Bent Joe" Paulson stepped menacingly toward Toadie, Val and the ghost, Annie, interrupting their lovemaking.

Wide-eyed, Toadie stuttered until he could finally say, "Toadie may be frightened to the point of shitting himself silly right now... but Toadie can't help to wonder... Why do they call you "Bent Joe?"

Annie warned, "Don't rile up his tail feathers, Mr. Toadie!"

The cowboy ghost dropped his pants and pointed to his crooked ghostly penis.

"Bent Joe" growled, "This is why, you mush-headed, numb-nutted dimwit! You satisfied now?"

Toadie replied, "Toadie thinks you have a bad case of acute dicklopsidedness."

Snarling, the ghost got up into Toadie's face and said, "You sayin' I have a cute dick?"

The sound of a car pulling up, down below, cut through the dead silence of the night.

"Bent Joe" Paulson pulled up his pants, cocked his head with a curious expression on his face and said, "I sense one of my kinfolk is here."

What the cowboy ghost was sensing was the sudden arrival of his great-great grandson, Henry Paulson. Paulson had, coincidentally, turned into the old west town as a means of escape.

Henry Paulson had made a lot of people angry with his latest televised interview because of his statements concerning why he thought people of the Occupy Movement were so angry. He was completely off the mark with his remarks. An Occupy group had caught sight of Paulson, outside the studio after his interview and wanted to share their opinions with him.

Instead of being bothered further with any more questions or accusations, Paulson had waved them off before saying, "Go get a job instead of complaining. It's your fault that you're poor."

With that said, the group ran towards him, shaking their fists and shouting obscenities. The former CEO of Goldman Sachs got into his limousine, told his driver to start the car and leave the city, immediately.

Wanting to avoid the peasants and miscreants of the area, altogether, Paulson instructed his chauffeur to take him on a few quiet desert roads for a bit of peace and untroubled thinking. While the chauffer drove Paulson on a few mostly desolate roads, the wealthy man poured himself glass after glass of expensive cognac until finally, they arrived at a ghost town.

Looking out the window, the old man nervously searched the area around them. He thought he saw a pair of glowing eyes peering over the saloon doors of an old bordello. Within a few seconds, they disappeared.

Then the limo's engine began sputtering.

"What's wrong with the car?" asked Paulson.

The driver shrugged and said, "I don't know, sir. It was given a tune up not long ago."

That's when the limousine stopped running, completely. The driver and Paulson immediately pulled out their cell phones. Neither of them were working. Suddenly, all the lights and the electronics in the car went out. They were sitting in near darkness with only the moonlight shining dimly around them.

Paulson's chauffeur, Riley, said, "Sir, I'm going to have a look around and see if I can find a phone or something we can use."

Riley got out of the car. Not wanting to be left alone, Paulson opened the car door and joined his driver. "Hold on," said the old man, "Another pair of eyes may help."

After finding out the flashlights in the limousine didn't work, Riley and Paulson started walking. The crunch of their footfalls and their breathing were the only sounds that they heard. And then a voice came from the nearby saloon.

"What are you looking for?"

At first, Paulson thought he might be imagining the voice- until he saw that it was obvious that Riley had heard it, as well.

Riley, unafraid, walked up to the doors of the saloon asked, "Who's in here?"

Receiving no answers, Riley pushed open the swinging doors of the saloon. The chauffeur walked inside. Paulson stayed close behind him. They were at the bar when a fiery orb appeared from nowhere. The orb quickly transformed into a recognizable human form- at least, to Paulson, it was recognizable.

The ghost said, "The word is, is that you've been an ornery, inconsiderate sonabitch, my great-great grandson."

Paulson placed his hand on his head. He was feeling faint. Perspiration, with traces of blood, ran down his face and neck until it soaked into the collar of his once neatly pressed dress shirt.

After gathering the strength and courage to speak, Paulson said, "You're my great-great grandfather. How can this be?"

Before the ghost could reply to his kinfolk's inquiry, Toadie and Valerie came down the steps. Annie floated down and met them. All eyes were fixated on "Bent Joe" until Valerie and her seemingly dim-witted friend, Toadie, recognized the old man in the business suit.

Toadie laughed and felt a thunderous cloud of methane pop out of his anus. The uncomfortable silence had been shattered by the awkward fart and caused everyone to turn toward Toadie. Everyone, including "Bent Joe".

Toadie pointed at Paulson and stated, "Toadie agrees with "Bent Joe". You are a sonafabitch."

Paulson was taken aback by the slightly retarded man and his words.

Toadie continued, "Don't act confused or startled, you fucking turd! You, Ben Bernanke, Alan Greenspan and the rest of the major guilty players in the great debacle that is our current Great Recession, allowed the housing bubble to expand to the point of exploding in everyone's faces. And instead of bailing out homeowners, they bailed out greedy bankers, causing events to be triggered that very quickly caused our economy to go into a horrible downward spiral. Because of people like you, who had a major part in keeping up the deregulation of the financial industry, we are experiencing the residual effects of not only your greed but your inconsideration of the people in this country. Meanwhile, you stay wealthy, get wealthier, manipulate the media, the government and generally tell the vast majority of the public to go fuck themselves and make out like they are the ones who are the criminals. All you care about is money, power and manipulation. The majority of people in this country, who are the neglected... who are protesting, meanwhile, are arrested... or worse."

"Bent Joe" pushed at Paulson's chest, crying out, "You're nothin' but a piece of snobby, arrogant, thievin' shit!"

Henry Paulson stumbled back and stuck his foot into an old spittoon. Panicking, Paulson felt the spittoon latch onto his foot, pressing the leather of his shoe against flesh and bone. Unbeknownst to the living folks inside the saloon, the spittoon was possessed by the spirit of Toadie's great-great grandfather, Gregory McKelly.

The spittoon laughed when Paulson fell on his ass. A sharp pain followed, causing the old man to scream in agony. It felt like something had abruptly fractured or broke near his ass. Riley pulled the spittoon off of his employer's foot and tossed it to the side. A face appeared on the spittoon as it shook and rattled across the room. The spittoon emitted an eerie bale of laughter as it skittered and rolled back and forth across the old wooden floor.

Riley freaked out and ran out of the saloon, leaving the old man to fend for himself. Paulson crawled out the door like an injured cockroach. His chauffeur got into the car and tried starting the car. Fortunately, it started. Riley looked over at Henry Paulson, saluted him and promptly left the haunted ghost town, spinning his wheels and leaving his employer in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes.

"Wait for me!" commanded the old man, as he writhed in pain, finally making it out of the saloon.

Toadie, Val and Annie laughed at the old man, turned their backs and headed upstairs for a sprightly human/ghost orgy. As far as they were concerned, the show was over and there was nothing more to say. They opened the door to the room upstairs and very quickly got busy.

The spirit of Paulson's great-great grandfather remained for a few moments, staring at Paulson's quivering form and then shook his head before stating, "You only have yourself to blame, son."

And then he vanished, entirely.

The next day, Toadie and Valerie thanked Annie for the great time. When they left the saloon, the engaged couple stepped over Paulson, who was still moaning and continued to walk out of the old western town, hoping that someone would eventually come down the highway and offer them a ride. Luckily, they were found and taken back to a town where they could rent a car and continue their travels westward.

And this concludes our story, folks. Have a dandy weekend!

For more Tales of the Toadie, click on any or all of these fine links:

Toadie in "Happy Anniversary"

Toadie in "Road Rage Spectacular"

Toadie in "First Love"

Toadie in "The Christmas Trip" (Part 1)

Toadie in "The Christmas Trip" (Part 2)

Sex Toys Should Come With Warning Labels

I’m so pleased that Kelly is allowing me to do a guest post for him, not just because he is awesome but also because there is no way I could ever post this story on my own blog without having to deal with a very disgruntled husband. So what better place to post this than here where limits and boundaries are promptly scoffed and violated?

So without further ado, today’s topic is sex toys and the bodily injuries that can sometimes result in their misuse.

I’ve been to a couple “contemporary Tupperware” parties. If you’ve ever been to one, you know the kinky shit that goes on at them.

I remember the first time I was invited to one of these parties. I was horrified when I learned that they had no intention of selling me Tupperware. Rather, this was a whole new set of collectable plastics!

After I got over the initial two minutes of embarrassment, I was like a kid in a candy store. I want one of those and one of those and oooo I like how that one tastes!!

My excitement quickly turned to terror when the rep pulled out the anal beads. “Wow, kewl!” It was like looking at a new age weapon that had the power to either strengthen or destroy your opponent. I watched hypnotized as the beads swung from her fingertips.

I hung on every word as she explained how they were used….

Anal beads are used by both sexes and all sexual orientations, and while they can be considered "kinky", they're not considered a fetish. They are, however, incorporated in many fetishes that involve anal sex, ass worship, spanking, enemas or anything involving the buttocks, anus, or the anal area.

The beads may also be used alone, as both men and women can find them very stimulating.
As with all anal sexual activity, the anal beads and the rectum should be well-lubricated with a sexual lubricant intended for such purposes.

Here’s where she lost the sale:

It is important to do this as the rectum can be easily ripped, torn or injured. It’s also important to count the beads after using them to ensure that all are removed from the anus.

(wait, what?)

There have been instances of the string being broken by intense rectal movements. If a bead gets stuck within the rectum and can not be pushed out naturally, surgical intervention may be necessary.

The last thing I want one of my sexual encounters to lead to is surgical removal of a foreign object from my ass or my partner’s ass, thank you very much. I just didn’t trust myself with that kind of power.
Unfortunately I ended up going home with an equally dangerous toy: The Jelly Sleeve!

The Jelly Sleeve will provide pleasure to both you and your lover’s hot spots! Insert your own bullet into the sleeve and then slide the ring around his penis. Both of you will enjoy sensational vibration and the feel of the soft nubbies while he’ll enjoy that perfectly snug fit. The Jelly C-Sleeve also brings non-vibrating bedroom toys to life!

Regrettably, the very basic instructions were lost on me. (Note to Self: Do not smoke pot at these parties. You may miss key instructions on how to use your new toy.)

I did not “slide the ring around his penis” as much as I did “drag his nuts through the hole”. I knew I had done something horribly wrong when his moans turned to tortured screams.

The results were damaging, not so much physically but, emotionally. It was a lot like when you accidentally slam your dog’s tail in the car door and he never gets quite as excited about car rides as he did previously.

I cringe to think what would have happened with the beads if I couldn’t even get the Jelly-Sleeve right!

Fun Things You Can Do By Yourself

Discovering fun stuff to do when you are alone can open up a world of possibilities that will help you find out more about yourself. Listed below are various ways to cheer yourself up and/or relief boredom that are usually affordable. Ways that don't involve your ever reliable computer. Ways that might require you to actually raise your sweaty buttocks from the chair you find yourself in. Depending on how deeply attached you are to the computer, the task of separating yourself from it, alone, may kill a few hours.

Try any of the following activities or combination of activities:

Take a walk outside

Go for a drive or a ride on a bus

Read a book

Listen to music

Watch a movie

Build a birdhouse

Create a painting

Exercise

Create a song

Dance merrily, barefoot, on broken glass

Volunteer

Hypnotize yourself

Masturbate

Eat a bug

Plant a tree

Take a shower (you could use one)

Cut off your hand

Accept yourself for who you are

Kiss yourself in the mirror

Try to invent something using only the following: a sheet of aluminum foil, a rubber band, a paper clip and a decapitated head

Take a trip to another place in your mind and then get up and go there

Make plans to go skydiving

Get outside, look up at the stars and shout

Stick a carrot up your rectum

Meditate

Choose wisely (or else don't)

Ask yourself a question and quickly answer it before you can think of another question

Create a card trick

Fantasize

Go to a museum

Cook something (Start with water and work your way up)

Go to a park

Organize stuff

Conquer a fear

Roll your eyes to the back of your head and scream

Try your hand at flagpole climbing

Go to sleep

Pretend that you're riding a wild bull, while yelling, "Yeeha!"

Put as many articles of clothing on that you have in your house and let yourself roll down a flight of stairs

Set up a tent in one of your rooms and act as if you're camping (Don't forget to bring marshmallows!)

Put on a helmet and run full speed into a wall

Tell yourself a bawdy or cheesy joke

Laugh- just for the heck of it

Fun Houses

When I was a little kid, I'd go to the town fair and they would always have either a really crazy looking fun house or a terrifying one. The first time I entered inside a fun house, I got trapped in this tumbler kind of thing that spun you up and over, round and round (like a clothes dryer) until you received a concussion or fractured elbow. Loads of fun. This was back in the late 60's and early 70's where they didn't give much thought to safety issues. Then there would be the claustrophobic mirror rooms to contend with. I'd walk into mirrors, almost in tears, trying to get the fuck out. I almost had a seizure from the panic attacks endured, trapped in those rooms. Luckily, I wasn't scarred for life having been exposed to that shit. Just a few years.

On the subject of fun houses, this seems to be the kind of house that would be fun to live in.

What's that nursery rhyme about the old woman that lived in an over sized shoe, had so many children, she didn't know quite what to do-- so she let the government foot the bill, keeping the rugrats fed, schooled and clothed while her vagina steadily grew to the size of a fun house?

Yeah, you know the one. I think she lived here, in the fun house pictured below. After awhile, the woman, a human vending machine, didn't bother going through labor or pushing down hard to get the bloody little bundle of joy out of her ever-widening gaping clam. She needn't try. Often times, she'd bend over to pick up a lit cigarette that fell out of her blubbery mouth or a dropped, halfway drunken can of beer and the lil' cutie would just kind of plop out onto the roach-infested floor.

The old woman (who just looked old because she was a meth addict) wouldn't know she had given birth until she stumbled back and tripped over the infant, causing it to cry out, cursing it's very existence into this world and the fact that it's mother was a drug addled whore with festering sores covering 80% of her body. Luckily, the kid rolled out of the way, onto a bed of dead rats, before it could be crushed by the stinking behemoth.

Later, the darling little baby couldn't tell whether it was sucking on a nipple, during breast feeding or a pus-filled skin ulcer that reminded one of a strange, nightmarish teat.

Otherwise, it was a nice house. Friendly neighborhood, too.

The next pic isn't so much of a house as it is a photo of a building. But it would make a nice house. Sure, it's been through a couple earthquakes, but hey, no house is perfect.

This next one is a bounce house. They call these things fun houses, too. People buy and rent these "civil lawsuits in the making" for their kids' parties. It's supposed to keep the kids occupied. They jump all around in these big inflatable enclosed rooms, cracking their heads and bones together, causing each other to scream and cry and have all kinds of related fun.

All I see, when I look at one of these things, is the end result. Someone always manages to get hurt and bloodied. Yes, indeed, nothing says "party time", more adequately, than one of these plastic, injury-causing monstrosities. Good luck with one of these fuckers at your next kiddiefest!

At least this next "fun house" has a sense of humor. Sure, the neighborhood kids, your offspring and their rabble of pals will sustain multiple broken bones, chipped teeth and contusions, but at least they'll be able to come tumbling out of a rabbit's asshole, eventually. Gotta look on the bright side!

This next shot is for an establishment that is a kind of "fun house" for grown ups. This fun house is a bar and grill in my general area. I've wanted to take a picture of this sign forever, but didn't do it until a month ago. "Hummers" is a really nice name for a bar, isn't it? Big red lips, right there on the sign for the place. Great piece of advertising, that is. A place you can go, get sloshed and meet that special someone.

Someone that's just perfect for giving you a hummer, hence the name.

After getting your hummer for the night, why not make a stop at this next fun house. At this fun house, you can eat all the doughnuts you desire, while the doughnuts busily soak up all the alcohol in your belly. Afterwards, if you haven't thrown up all the doughnuts in the toilet bowl in the back room, you may decide to make a return visit to Hummers and do it all over again.

And wouldn't that be fun?

To Do Notes For Today

Escaping Through Movies and Other Means

By whatever means necessary, people going through some personal hell should be able to take a break from it and escape for awhile, as long as it doesn't knowingly make the personal hell worse. It's not avoiding the problems in your life. It's just taking a break. Let me be perfectly clear for those who confuse the two. I'm all for this idea, since I'm going through my own hell right now and I'm trying to tip toe through the land-mines of things that could complicate this period of life further.

Seeing movies is a great way to escape from times of stress and pain and -good golly- I've been trying to catch one here and there any time I've had the chance the last couple weeks. Whether you just lost your job, have family members giving you grief or you're just sick and fucking tired of all the negative news and stupidity and cruelty of society, I'm a firm believer in escaping for awhile.

Here's what works for me:

Seeing a movie. It's quick and mostly effortless. Make sure the flick is either funny, action-packed, interesting or any and all of the above. Do not see a movie that you suspect will bring your sorry ass down further into the abyss like a "weeper". A "Terms of Endearment" type of movie. Watch a "weeper" when you're strong enough or want to feel like complete shit. For some fuckers, that's their thing- to have a good cry. In my mind, these are folks who are not experiencing enough pain and suffering in the real world. With that said, let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Baseball Bat. Stop by my humble abode and I will gladly give you your money's worth of suffering by caving your skull inward with one of my favorite instruments of pain- the baseball bat. If you like, I'll even explain to you what all of your personal flaws are, to encourage sadness within you, while you desperately attempt to suck in your last dying breaths. Hell, I won't even charge you the price of a movie matinée. How's that for a bargain?

Reading a book. I know some of you younger folks probably don't know what a book is since computers and electronic gadgets have become so popular in the last couple of decades, but books are wonderful things. A good example of a book can be found at the top left corner of this post. See if you can find it! Oooh. Ahhh.

Let your eyes feast upon the written word of a book and let your mind travel to different realms and/or engage in imaginative experiences. Make sure the book is in the same type category as the movie I prescribed above. No weepers, please, or I'll have to bring out Mr. Baseball Bat to have a word with you. Again, no charge. I'm doing the lord's work here and it is always a pleasure to help out.

Best of all, with books no electricity is needed. If you can point, click, text, twitter, Facebook and all the rest of that shit (and really, it is shit), I'm betting you can turn a goddamn page. I know it's old fashioned to read and turn the page of a real papery paged book but think of it as a challenging game if you must. Books can be found at the library. You do know what a library is, don't you?

Going out amongst nature. Even if you are living in a new ice age type area, like I am and will be for the next century or longer (it will feel that way, anyhow), being amongst the natural surroundings of the great outdoors will help to clear your head many times. If you must, put on four to five layers of clothing on yourself and roll out the back door like an overinflated beach ball. Staying inside your car to avoid frostbite is also a good idea, too. Without your fingers, you can't text and twitter that well, unless you are adept at using your nose or dick on the keyboard.

At the very least, you will likely find peace in nature, provided you are far away from people. Remember, kids... People = Chaos and/or Stress. Avoid people as much as possible unless they, by some miracle, instill feelings of positivity and contentment in you. I've heard of people like this before but I've never had the pleasure of meeting them in real life. I think they may belong to a tribe of mythical creatures. Who knows?

The following are some reviews of escapist type movies I've recently seen:

Tron: Legacy 3D

I liked this movie a lot. Often times, Hollywood will produce 3D movies that are absolute crap and didn't need to be produced in 3D in the first place. For me, this movie lived up to it's hype. The storyline was simple but interesting enough. The acting was great. The special effects were fantastic.

And Olivia Wilde gets naked (just kidding- but wouldn't it be great if she did?).

Jeff Bridges stars in the movie in two separate roles. In one role, he plays a computerized clone of himself that appears to look the same as he did in the first movie when he was younger. In the other role, he is the same guy, human, but 30 years older. He's much wiser and kind of beaten down by being trapped in the world of Tron for so freaking long. When his son comes back for him in the world of Tron, it is a happy, yet a little bit of a bittersweet reunion. While the years have somewhat diminished him, he has gained a lot of wisdom and it shows with both his words and actions. This movie was not exactly what I expected it to be and I'm glad of it. I liked the ending, too.

Little Fockers

This movie, starring Ben Stiller, Robert De Niro and the cast of the first two movies of this franchise was hilarious. Again, Gaylord "Greg" Focker plays the victim and De Niro is his antagonist. This time around, the story is centered on Jack Byrnes (De Niro), after suffering a minor heart attack, going about pressuring Ben Stiller's character to be the main dude to take over being the head of the family if and when De Niro's character bites the big one (dies). There are a lot of funny scenes in this movie, including one where Greg has to stab Jack in or around his old wang because of a prolonged boner as a result of taking too many erectile dysfunction pills.

I also like the scenes of the Early Human School, where Greg Focker and Jack Byrnes believe this school will provide the best education for Greg's kids. Laura Dern's character, Prudence, acts as the headmistress or something like that of this psycho-babble-ly, artsy-fartsy type of learning institution. The things they put these kids and their parents through is entertaining, humorous and disturbing. See the movie to know what I mean!

Though this 3rd installment of the movie franchise isn't as good as Meet The Parents or Meet The Fockers, this flick will give you something to think about and laugh at during the recession burdened times we're living in.

True Grit

A remake of the John Wayne western classic, this movie was good because it was very well acted and genuine in it's depiction in the way people likely talked, dressed and acted in the American Old West. Jeff Bridges stars in this movie, as well. Though I didn't think the last ten minutes of the movie was a satisfying as the original, I still think it was well worth seeing because of the storyline, the authenticity of how things appeared and the way people acted during those days.

Plus, I like the part where an outlaw takes out his big knife and chops off the fingers of this other outlaw who's trying to give Bridges' character some much needed information on the whereabouts of a certain gang of criminals. While the guy is holding up his blood spurting hand and screaming, the same outlaw with the knife shoves the knife blade in his chest right before Bridges' Cogburn character shoots the knife wielder in the head at point blank range.

Funny stuff, really. You'll have to see it for a chuckle.

Outlander

This sci-fi/Viking action movie is one I rented a couple months ago. I liked it so much, I bought it, recently. For some odd reason, this satisfying movie didn't do well at the Box Office in 2008. For me the acting, storyline, special effects and message it conveys is superb. Without giving too much away, it is about a man from a futuristic society who crash lands on Earth during the era of the Vikings. At one point during the movie, he tells of the sorrow of losing his wife and child shortly after helping to massacre a race of beings that prove to be "too much in the way of his people's expansion and progress".

While these moments of truth are sad, they don't control the entire movie with it's "weepiness". This movie has a vital message and is basically the same message that Avatar expresses- which causes me to bring up another point. There were some critics of Avatar that bashed James Cameron because he was rehashing a point of view or message that other movies have made. And that is, is that it is ethically and morally wrong to massacre an entire society simply so another group of people can move in, set up their communities and take control. In my opinion, I don't care how many movies convey this same message. It should be repeated and repeated until when and if we ever finally get it into our heads that it is wrong.

Here's a short clip of Outlander, that takes place shortly after Jim Caviezel's character crash lands on Earth.

Well folks, that's it for this post. I apologize for not being at your websites, lately and commenting but I've been pretty busy with family obligations and woes. In another hour, I have to pick Dad up from the assisted living place to take him to the doctor to have the staples removed from his head. You can read the previous post to learn how he injured himself in case you're interested. Hopefully, he'll keep his outrageous behavior, verbal abuse and negativity down to a tolerable level. The head injury hasn't kept him from his usual asshole antics, unfortunately.

So wish me luck on dealing with him today.

I'll catch up with all of you soon at your sites and in other avenues of communication. I think I'll be getting a short break from my obligations after this day is done. In conclusion, happy escaping, everyone!

Before, During and After Christmas

Mmm. Well... At least the ice age has taken a reprieve for the next couple of days. The temperature has finally reached above freezing temperatures. First time for that in almost a month. Right now we're sitting at a nice, balmy 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The ongoing monsoon we're experiencing, currently, here in the Midwestern U.S., is washing away the eight or so inches of ice and snow we got around the beginning of December. And this is the end of December. Ridiculous.

And yeah, I know people have it worse somewhere else... like in New York, for instance. It just seems like it's taken a goddamn eternity for the white shit to thaw out and for me to be able to walk five feet anywhere I go without risking slippage and neck breakage. With the advent of this current thaw out we're experiencing, I'll be treated to the sight of morons wearing shorts in these chilly, yet not sub-freezing temps. I've already seen a couple idiots wearing nothing but shorts, shoes and imbecilic grins at Wally World. This type of carefree simpleton behavior happens every year when we have even the slightest thaw out during the winter months.

For those reasons and more is why I'm not in my usual delightful mood and why I haven't been doing the blogging thing, lately. I've been too angry, depressed and seething with madness to do much on the computer except check out a few porn sites, humor sites and The Huffington Post website. It's a good thing my wife won't allow me to buy a gun, I suppose. God knows how many bodies would be lying around. Happy Holidays, everyone! And don't forget to go fuck yourselves silly! But not you, my cherished reader, not you. :)

Ah... As you can see I'm purging myself of the nasty negative thoughts in my head by sharing them with you. Isn't that nice of me? It's nice to share, they say.

Surprisingly, there was no carnage or destruction at my wife's Christmas family dinner this year. No mirrors or ceramic keepsakes were broken into a million pieces like last year. And the cat remained safe this year, unlike last year, where it was constantly being chased and whipped by a cat toy by my 3 little nieces. The reason for this is because (A) The cat ran and wisely hid under the bed when it heard my nieces menacing giggling when they entered the place and (B) Half of the time, while here, they were playing around with their little electronic gadgets or watching an insipid Nickelodeon TV show. The sound and sights of children shows drove me nuts time to time but at least everything, including the cat, remained intact.

The only bad moment happened while I was whispering to my sister about the eldest niece's boyfriend. My oldest niece is 17. Her boyfriend is 18 and weighs close to 500 pounds. I was explaining to my sister that the boyfriend has broken all the chairs, a heavy duty recliner and a coffee table with his hefty, morbidly obese ass by sitting in and on them, of course. He destroyed these fairly expensive pieces of furniture at my sister-in-law's and mother-in-law's places and nothing was said to the behemoth, as a result. I don't get that part, especially. I would have told the guy to pay for the damages, lose weight (at least for his own health) or something.

A week ago, I told my sister-in-law that the boyfriend wasn't allowed up to my place for the Christmas dinner because I was afraid he would actually go through my upstairs floor apartment and possibly land on and kill the tenants below. It sounds funny, but in his case, I think it could happen. Beside, I don't have anything he could sit on and take his weight without being crushed to molecules.

This same guy has had his picture in the local paper for entering and winning these all-you-can-gorge-on contests. One contest was for how many Twinkies you can stuff in your big fat face and the other was for pigging out on corn dogs or something like that. In other words, he not only engages in gluttony, he flaunts it, is proud of it and celebrates it by entering in these disgusting competitions.

When my mother-in-law overheard me talking to my sister, Christmas Day, about this dude, she got bent out of shape about it and started defending him. She told me how he had promised to marry my niece after he went through culinary art school and how nice he was and how he made her cry by saying all this wonderful stuff about her granddaughter and so on. With the rate he's going, I don't think he's going to live long enough to accomplish any of his goals.

I have asked my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law if anyone has ever warned him that being morbidly obese like that was a danger to his health. Both said, "No." They said that as far as they knew, not even the boy's parents have tried to talk to him about it or curb his weight with correctly portioned meals.

I said, "That makes me sick to hear that and I don't really have anything to do with him."

In fact, the boy's parents actually encourage their kid to go to my sister-in-law's place to eat all of her food when it's dinner time. And eat, he does. Everything. In. Sight. And nothing is ever said to him about that, either. Disgusting and amazing. I would have already knocked his ass out with a baseball bat, or at the very least, tell him to go graze in the back yard for nourishment. My tolerance for repetitious ignorant behavior is little to none. It's a good thing I don't have children.

Strangely enough, I've been told this enormous 18 year old kid's health is okay. For now, I'm guessing . Of course, it will be just a matter of time before he will eventually have problems with any or all of the following: Diabetes. Coronary Heart Disease. High Blood Pressure. Stroke.

To name just a few.

While I'm on the subject of diabetes and other health problems associated with that disease, another curious type of behavior has come to my attention. I know of two family members and a friend who have severe diabetes and a few of the other health conditions I mentioned and none of them seem to give a shit about it. They eat and drink whatever they want, no matter how much sugar and fat it contains. INSANITY.

Look everyone, FREE DIABETES! Come and get it!

If people want to kill themselves by ingesting whatever they want while having diabetes, they're going about it in the slowest, most torturous way possible- aside from disemboweling yourself with a small fork.

The truth is: Diabetes is synonymous with a gradual, often painful degradation of the body's parts and internal organs and ultimately- death will fuck you in the ass, as a result- with no lubricant. When you have diabetes, like I happen to have, just giving a "fuck it" attitude towards it and consuming what you want, guarantees all manner of horrible things to come your way. Like being hooked up to a kidney dialysis machine, for instance (no more caffeine for you, fucker). Or how about the lack of good blood circulation which will cause you to lose your feet and your sight. Does that sound like a good time? And healing from a wound or overcoming sickness, no matter how minor? Forget about it, baby!

Here's a funny story... As I was plunging an insulin needle into my belly a couple days ago, a friend knocked on the door. Since I knew who it was, I told him to come in. He came inside the apartment and was jabbering away about letting himself in until he noticed me slowly inserting a needle into my belly.

As I was cringing and curling my toes in discomfort, he asks, "Does that hurt?"

I didn't reply at first because (A) That's a stupid question and (B) I'm kind of busy at the moment and (C) If I don't focus on where I'm puncturing, I could bend the needle in my belly and tear open my flesh. I've done that last one a couple times, due to my wife causing me stress with inane jabber or the time when I was on the cruise ship and it lurched to the right while the needle slit my belly open. Good times!

Anyhow, my wife comes home from work and gives my friend a Christmas gift that I'm thinking he will likely take a pass on because he suffers from diabetes and has to take a couple pills for, as a result (no insulin yet, but he's working on it, I think). The gift he opens is a nearly two pound bag of gourmet chocolate caramel covered popcorn that has about a trillion (or so) grams of sugar in every piece. My wife thought he would like it because he likes sweets. I was just going to him a gift certificate at Lowe's or something but she thought of this, instead. Eh, okay.

Anyway, he opens the bag and instantly starts to gobble down the the contents of the bag with reckless abandon, diabetes be damned. I laughed, as i always do when I see someone doing something bizarre and I asked, "What about your diabetes?"

He said, almost incoherently, while munching and crunching, "My last blood sugar test result at the doctor's office turned out okay."

For now, I thought. He's very lucky in the way that he eats and doesn't exercise that his blood sugar counts haven't skyrocketed. I, on the other hand, watch what I eat and exercise and I'm forced to take insulin and pills for my diabetes. Go figure. Am I somewhat jealous? You bet. I'm not perfect by any means.

The last couple of weeks, I've been severely depressed because of mom not being here for the fifth Christmas in a row. She died in August of 2005 and I was closer to her than any other member of the family. The inner family fracturing, squabbling and accusing my father of killing my mother by my grandmother just adds heaping helpings of stress to my usual decaying mental health at this time of year. To counteract this, I would go out and take pictures of Christmas scenery in the town surrounding me. Only when I'm not around the usual negative people (family and friends) and outside, do I receive anything remotely describing peace. Sad, isn't it?

You can see these holiday pictures at my other website, Pics For Kicks. Going out and taking these pics is very therapeutic. And taking the holiday shots reminds me of the times, every Christmas, when my sister, dad, mom and I would go out, drive around at night and look at all the decorated holiday scenery in all of the neighboring towns.

To top off the near ending of the holidays, my dad slipped, fell and cracked his head wide open on the corner of a wall the day after Christmas. He's okay now but it scared the shit out of my sister and I. He fell at the assisted living place he's living in, due to taking his diabetes medicine but not eating any food with his medication. That will drop the ol' blood sugar to the basement. When I came to the emergency room, he was lying in the hospital bed, talking calmly to me, like nothing happened.

He looked fine but then...

As I sat down in a chair, he asked how he looked to me. All I could see at the moment was a tiny paper cut on his forehead. I said, " You look alright to me. Just a small cut above your nose."

I wondered silently why he had been rushed to the hospital.

But then...

I saw blood spreading on the pillow behind his head. I got up, walked over behind his bed and saw the four inch gaping gash in his scalp on the back of his head and almost fainted. Just then a nurse walked in and put a fresh bandage on his head. Five or so minutes pass and a doctor walks into the room, takes a stapler and staples the gash together with 8 staples.

Ca-Chunk... Ca- Chunk... and so on. He ended up staying overnight because his blood sugar was so low it wasn't even registering on the meter.

I remember the sound of staples going into flesh quite well since I had the same thing done to me when I was 21. Right after my double hernia surgery. I sat in a slightly leaned back chair as Dr. Frable Ca-Chunked Ca-Chunked twenty one staples between my belly and just above my crotch. He gave no warning he was about to do this. All he said beforehand was that he was going to check how the two wide incisions appeared. And then the surprise! Whoopee!

Good times.

Trying to fuck without literally busting a gut was quite the trick back then but I somehow did it. Back then I didn't have diabetes but I did have raging, horny hormones that made me do stupid things like trying to fuck not long after surgery.

Anyway, dad is back at the assisted living place. They're keeping an eye on him and making sure he doesn't go out and drive while healing. He's under strict doctor's orders. I'm sure today or any of the upcoming days he will be screaming and throwing the usual verbal insults at my sister and I, thinking we had something to do with this. Business, as usual.

Yep. Happy fuckin' holidays, everyone. I'm sure the new year will be just as delightful (sarcasm intended) as 2010, minus the honestly pleasurable reprieve of the week long Caribbean cruise we went on this past summer and the times I wasn't around family. During those times, I had nothing but peace.

Below, you'll find a humorous, truthful Christmas message from Bill Maher. After watching it, remember that Oprah Winfrey will or already has debuted her private network, OWN. Which, of course, stands for the Oprah Winfrey Network.

A Christmas Message from Bill Maher - watch more funny videos

How Santa's Reindeer Are Able To Fly

Many people have asked me how this can be, that reindeer are able to leave the ground and take to the air. Hopefully, after this post, you will come to understand how this is possible. Read on, my gentle readers.

Throughout history there has been much speculation on this amazing phenomena. Many historians and zoologists point to the early years of Santa's role as Father Christmas. During these harsh and formidable years as a major holiday figure, Santa seemed to relish the fact that he had been imposed with certain magical abilities by elves and was drunk with power, thus ruling with a mighty mittened thumb.

Ancient texts, found recently by archaeologists, describe numerous tales of Santa forcing his beloved reindeer to endure nights of severe whippings with the lash and brutal sessions of anal sex, or "fudgepacking", if you will, before the much anticipated eve of Christmas. He often discussed these special training techniques with his fellow brethren, the elves.

In a previously undisclosed piece of antique manuscript, Santa is quoted as saying, "I encourage these retched, foul smelling beasts to pull my colossal, bulging sack of toys and my own fat, sagging ass on a sleigh with nightly scheduled thrashings. When this part of their training has concluded, I instill in them the deep desire to take flight by ruthlessly humping them in their asses until bleeding commences."

More than a few elves would stare blankly at the jolly old fat man, in horror and disbelief, after being told of his unusual procedures. According to the same aged text, one elf among the crowd, was quoted, inquiring, "But isn't this rather harsh?"

Santa lifted his cumbersome belly, let out a jovial laugh and then pointed to the elf and exclaimed, "It's either them or you fuckers!"

The video clip below explains, partially, how Santa Claus' enslaved caribou are able to fly... and fly so high, as well. Watch the video clip to learn more.

Oops... He Lost His Hat

LilPixi's latest post inspired me to post this video clip. Check out her hilarious post and this video for pure entertainment.

A Unique Alternative

Ethan had brought in the last box of his belongings. He was anxious to get his stuff put away so he could finally relax. It had been a long day. His buddy, Ken and his new girlfriend, Daria, were a great help getting him moved into the old rental house but even they had had enough. They were tired and wanted to go home. Ethan told them to go home and that he was just going to unpack some plates and coffee mugs before going to bed, himself.

Ethan walked back outside to tell them goodbye and to thank them for their assistance. He was standing on the sidewalk and was about to say something to both of them when he felt like someone was watching him from the living room window. He turned quickly to look. There was nothing there, of course.

Daria asked, playfully, "Well, guy, are you going to be okay in this big ol' house, all alone?"

It was an obvious joke but he wondered if Daria had thought he had a strange look on his face when he turned around.

Ethan laughed in a way that suggested he was more tired than amused. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, Ethan replied, "That's nice of you ask but I think I'll be fine. Thanks."

Ken pulled out his cell phone, rocked it back and forth in his hand and reminded, "Well, man, you know our number if you get too burnt out from unpacking your shit tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'll probably give you guys a call. Maybe we can go see a movie." offered Ethan.

As Ken and his new girlfriend, Daria, pulled out of the driveway, Ethan waved them goodbye. Even then, he felt as if he were being watched from the curtained window. A part of him dismissed it as fatigue. Another part was telling him that someone was in there.

He turned around for the walk back and said, "I'm being paranoid."

Ethan stared at the window while walking back toward the house. After he was inside, he cautiously searched every room. Nothing unusual. He could clearly smell Daria's perfume in the bathroom from when she used it during their hours of moving.

The thirty two year old muttered, "She must have taken a bath in that stuff. It doesn't smell too bad, though."

Ethan smiled and thought of Ken's girlfriend in his bathtub. Then he reasoned with himself, acknowledging that though Daria was pretty, he would never act out on his impulses regarding her. Besides, her attitude could sometimes annoy him to the point where he couldn't care less about her looks. And he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Ken about his thoughts on his new girlfriend.

After ending his room-to-room search, he was satisfied with the results enough to collapse on the bed, welcoming sleep. Even in his bedroom, he could smell the perfume. Minutes later, he was asleep.

Around one in the morning, Ethan woke up to the sounds of crying. It seemed like it was coming from down the hallway. He rolled over to listen closely. Nothing. He thought that it was strange but he had more pressing matters. And the pressing felt like it was on his bladder. He thought, Great. Gotta take a piss.

Sleepy and frustrated, he got up, flicked on the hallway light and made his way to the bathroom. He stood there, relieving himself, pushing one hand against the wall for balance. He remembered the last time he had to take a piss when he was this tired. He thought, I tripped over the toilet and almost did a header into the shower stall, nearly cracking my skull open. Damn, I'm good.

Again, with the crying. Now it sounded like it was coming from his bedroom. He knew what would happen next. He would stumble his accident-prone ass back to his bedroom, find nothing and likely keep awake to the sounds of crying throughout the rest of the night. But Ethan was beginning to get nervous. He was running the possibilities in his mind of what the source of the crying could be.

As he walked back, he felt something cold brush by him. The hallway light flickered a few moments. The crying suddenly became a long, drawn out wail and caused Ethan to stop moving. He held his breath. The crying stopped abruptly. Ethan was about to exhale when he heard...

"I'm sorry I scared you."

He heard the words coming from directly in front of him but they offered no comfort. His heart beat faster. Ethan felt dizzy.

Minutes passed before he calmed himself to the point where he wanted to move again. When Ethan finally made it to his bedroom, he saw what he hoped he would see, which was nothing unusual. Shaking his head, the dark haired man crept beneath the sheets of his bed and did nothing but stare out his bedroom doorway. He wasn't sure, if anything, what to do next. He thought about getting up to check the rooms again but finally decided that he would try for sleep one more time. If that wasn't going to happen, he thought about leaving the place or calling the cops or something else.

Ethan got up from the bed, on impulse and shut the bedroom door before climbing back into bed.

Suddenly, the sheets of his bed pulled away and he heard, "I'm not trying to scare you."

Something invisible, yet heavy enough to make an lengthy indention in the mattress, pressed along his side. It felt cold. Ethan went into shock. A glowing mist formed beside him. His eyes widened, pupils dilated. His mind was in full "fight or flight" mode but fear kept him in place, completely petrified. The mist formed into an orb. The orb began to take a human form. And before he dared to think another thought, the apparition of a woman with a pale face and long, dark red hair pulled together so as to be completely visible. She was radiant, beautiful and smiling.

Ethan watched the clarity of her image sharpen. The glow dampened to being almost nonexistent. And she was speaking again. He listened.

"Are you okay?" she said, "My name is Clara."

The spirit touched his face. She smiled. The light coming through the window from the street reflected off her dark red hair. Green eyes stared into his eyes. Slowly, her arm lowered to his lower torso. Her cold hand seemed to be searching for his-

Ethan gulped a little when she grasped his penis and gently stroked it. He thought, This can't be happening. The red haired, green eyed ghost confirmed what part of himself didn't want to believe.

"Yes, I am a spirit", she said, matter-of-factly, "And I'm not here to hurt you."

Ethan looked down and a somewhat transparent, yet clear hand, was pulling gently on his cock. He looked back up, his eyes meeting hers, before he stuttered, "So you're a... ghost... and your name is... Clara?"

"And I'm lonely," Clara finished.

Ethan's penis stiffened and with each stroke, her hand seemed to warm up. She closed in on his face and softly kissed him. Her lips felt every bit as real as her hand. Ethan didn't pull away. Instead, he kissed her right back.

Clara pulled her wavy long hair back off her smooth, freckled shoulders and got up until she was kneeling on the bed. From there, she commenced taking off her vaguely luminescent gown from her body, revealing well rounded breasts that swayed a little from their size. The gown seemed to become a murky image for a moment and then entirely disappeared. Clara placed one of her pale, tender thighs over the top of him until she was completely straddling him. Ethan grabbed her ass and slipped his penis inside her vagina. At first, it was cold, but with each thrust he made inside her, he felt her warmth strengthen and the smell of her perfume became a little more powerful.

Ethan soon came hard. Clara's vaginal muscles tightened around his throbbing, pumping cock. His orgasm was strong and made him freeze in place again. Only this time, it was in a good way. The ghost threw her head back and she let out a groan which eventually became a wail. But this wail was one of extreme pleasure, instead of the previous one that conveyed grief and hopelessness. Clara slowly looked down at Ethan and smiled, all pain diminished.

After having sex, Clara collapsed on top of him. She raised her head to face Ethan and said, "There's something I have to tell you about Daria."

The continuation of this story will conclude in the next post. Until then, Happy Halloween and Happy Waiting!

Caribbean Adventure: Stage Shows, A Belly Flop Contest and Coming Home

This is the last post about our Caribbean Cruise Adventure. Hope you liked the series.

In the middle of the week of our cruise, I came down with a fucking sinus infection from hell. My chest was congested with gallons of snot, I was running a fever and my throat was sore to the point of bleeding. Still, I carried on. I pushed through my physical woes and told my body to basically go fuck itself and that I was going to push forward, full snot ahead. I wasn't going to let a little thing like being sick as a dog get in the way of our good times.

One thing I did to take my mind off the mucous hacking, forehead splitting headaches and sweating like a crippled obese guy, covered in honey and surrounded by a village of starving Ethiopians, was to pop copious amounts of acetaminophen tablets and Valium into my gullet.

One night we went to a show on the boat that featured a comedian and an aerial acrobatic act. I had taken a Valium before going to the theater, which was bigger than I thought it would be. We take a seat in the very front row, an hour early.

After the hour passes, the curtains part and right away, a guy in tights is running wildly towards this bungee cord/rope thing hanging down from the ceiling and grabs the motherfucker like he just caught a crazed dragon by the tail. Meanwhile, there is his female partner, with a ton of eye make up and she's doing about a dozen flips, backwards, from one end of the stage to the other. The dude hanging on the cord is shouting something in a foreign language about this time and with the Valium pushing me into another dimension of reality, I'm not sure what to make of it. I thought I was hallucinating all of it.

With the sheer force of his run and his ability to shift his body just right, the acrobat takes the cord and rides it, flying around the entire interior circumference of the theater. Around he goes, feet going up, head going down. Now he's holding on with just his ankles. When he gets back to the stage he flips and lands back on his feet. This guy is a freaking monkey!

Before I can take a fuckin' breath, the dude runs quickly to the back of the stage and then runs even more quickly towards the bungee cord up in front. All eyes were on this crazy bastard. He clutches onto the cord and with only a shot glass worth of space to spare, he takes flight and barely misses the top of my wife's head and in that split second of witnessing him doing that, I'm thinking (A) If his foot hits the top of her head, he's going to goddamn scalp my wife and I'll never hear the end of it and (B) Wow! This is cool!

But I don't know which came first. With the Valium, who knows?

An hour of this entertaining show went by and the comedian that took the stage after the aerial act was funny but not as much as he thought he was and, in fairness, he did have a mind blowing act to follow.

During one of our days on the ship, we went to the pool deck and promptly learned it was a good idea to have sandals on your feet or you would suffer the blistering torment of the scalding hot cement floor around the pool area and the flesh-bubbling hot deck floor with the lounge chairs above the pools. I think I lost a pound of foot flesh during one of those days I forgot to wear shoes of some sort.

Anyway, on one of those days, they held a Belly Flop Contest. You could win either 1st, 2nd or 3rd prize based on how big a splash you could make with your portly flab pot of ugliness. You were also judged by the audience (the standing crowd) by the great technique you showed when leaping and slamming your bulging balloon of whale belly into the water.

Only six guys volunteered, even though the top prize was a thousand dollars. Not a bad reward, I thought, for thoroughly embarrassing yourself in front of a sizable crowd and having a huge red painful splotch on your belly from the hardcore impact of your overflowing gut meeting H2o.

It was all fun and games as one by one took their turns, making their crowd-pleasing splashes (not drowning anyone by the ensuing tidal waves) until one hairy old dude in a pair of loose swim trunks had his fifteen minutes of fame. He launched himself with all the dignity of coked up walrus and created a tremendous belly flop in the water. Everyone applauded.

There's always one bad apple in the bunch, as they say, and in this case, two very large fat white buns and butt crack was in this bunch and were exposed as the old fat dude grabbed the ladder and pulled himself up. Unfortunately, his ill-fitted trunks did not come up with him and everyone was treated to a sight that likely made everyone want to skip their next meal at the buffet that night.

I think I heard the cries of children and maybe a few of the unborn.

Now this pic isn't of the dude who had the wardrobe malfunction during the belly flop contest but it sure looks like him. This wasn't even taken on our ship. I just needed this for my post. This guy looks like he's been stuck on a cruise ship for about a month, however. All you do is eat and eat till your stomach bloats while you're on the boat.

The host, the cruise director of our ship, made a joke about his crack and proceeded, after milking some laughs, to move on to the next contestant. The old fat dude ended up winning the bronze and received a Royal Caribbean hat and a lifetime of future therapy as his 3rd place award. Hurrah!

It's too bad we couldn't throw darts at him.

The last day on our ship was a lot of limb-breaking, mind-numbing fun as we woke up exhausted and struggled with our cumbersome luggage at five in the morning, going down decks and walking from checkpoint to checkpoint. With documents, customs forms and passports in hand, along with carrying heavy luggage, we somehow managed to get from security checkpoint to security checkpoint, then shuttle bus to airport -without any problem.

That is until we reached Orlando International Airport. It was at the airport security checkpoint that we had our biggest problem. When we tried to get our carry on bag through the x-ray scanner, while emptying our pockets into a plastic tray, the alarm went off and a security person took us off to the side. I was hoping she wasn't going to do a cavity search on me because she looked like she was "on the rag" and her pussy cramps were pissing her off, plenty.

She took our "suspicious" bag and rummaged through it. Meanwhile, both of us voiced our surprise at the sudden situation. The security woman said she was looking for a container that made the scanner go off for whatever reason. I asked her if it was a can of shaving cream or the little bottle of rubbing alcohol. I pulled the lighter out of my pocket, at one point and asked, "Could this have set it off?'

She said, "No." None of the above.

I thought, briefly, how much fun I could have by asking her it was the bomb in my underwear that was setting the alarm off. Then I realized how severe lack of sleep could alter your judgement on what was stupid and what wasn't.

Finally, after digging out numerous breakable souvenirs and an entire rumpled suit ensemble, she found the dangerous culprit. It wasn't a lighter, an aerosol spray can or flammable rubbing alcohol that had to be disposed of... It was suntan lotion. She said I couldn't take it on board the plane. I said that's okay and to just throw it away. The lighter and the other things were okay but not suntan lotion. I don't get it.

I was already nervous about showing all the right papers at the right points and getting home alright without complications so getting rid of a fucking bottle of suntan lotion meant nothing to me in light of my goal.

In closing, we were picked up by my wife's parents at the CVG Airport and eventually made it home after several stops. After dragging our souvenir booty and hernia-inducing luggage up our apartment steps, we both collapsed on the bed, face first. My cat immediately jumped up, pranced between us and lay on my back. I didn't have the energy to shake him off.

Looking back, we had a lot of wonderful, exciting experiences which will stay in our minds for the rests of our lives. I wouldn't trade any of them for hardly anything. I'm sure I've left some things out but I feel like I've mentioned all of the main events that happened. If I didn't write everything that happened with words, I think I covered it with the pictures that were taken.

Speaking of pictures, here are some miscellaneous photos that were taken on the ship, ocean or the islands we traveled to and from.

Cozumel, Mexico

Orlando International Airport trams and terminals

This Caribbean adventure we took was just the kind of relaxing, learning and fantastic event we needed in our lives. I'm glad we did it and we will always treasure the memories this trip provided us.

Links to all the posts (except this one), from beginning to the end, in this series:

Back From My Caribbean Adventure

First Day Nearly Killed Me

Enjoying The Beach in The Bahamas

Grand Cayman Islands

The Top Deck Action

Inside My Pirate Ship... Argh!

Swimming With The Dolphins in Cozumel, Mexico

I've got a buttload of more photos of our trip on Facebook, if you're hankering to see more. My next post will be about sex and chocolate pudding. Ahoy!