Gut Rumbles

June 26, 2003

something personal

Yeah, I'm making a big deal about getting a pump installed in less than two weeks. If I sound as if I am obsessing about it, I am.

I've always been a vigorous man. I played every kind of sport, including water polo, did a lot of outdoor activities, including hiking to the top of Hangover Mountain FIVE TIMES, and once up that trail usually is enough for anybody. I became at home in the woods and enjoyed shooting firearms from an early age. I was a writer and a musician. I was willing to try anything once.

I also liked wimmen. A LOT. I was quite a swordsman in my guitar-playing days and after I read some Wilt Chamberlain-type claims of incredible bedding, I tried to make a list of the women I have pleasured in my life. I ran out of names to go with the faces. I remember the times and the places, or at least 85% of them, but I was heavily into the vampire life in those days. I drank, drugged and debauched, stayed up until sunrise and slept until dark. I wish I could go back and do it ALL over again in that 20-something body I had back then.

When I settled down and went straight, I thought those wild days were behind me. I thought I would become Ward Cleaver. But I didn't. I became an ex-guitar player with a wife and a child and a real job. It didn't work out the way I planned it.

I was ambitious. When I first made supervisor, I knew how ignorant I was about things I needed to know. So, I put in incredible amounts of unpaid overtime just to learn from the guys who DID know. If I had a problem on my shift that I couldn't resolve, I stayed over to watch what happened when the seasoned foreman took over. I learned a lot that way.

I remember not seeing my father for a week once, when I was eight years old. He was pulling sixteen-hour shifts 1500 to 0700 and he slept while I was at school and was gone back to work by the time I got home. My mama praised him for that.

"We've been living tight, boys, and daddy is making money while it's there to be made. He does that because he loves us, and don't you ever forget that. Your daddy is a HARD WORKER. And where I come from, if you ain't a hard worker, we say "PFFFTTTT!" on you."

Mama would have said "SHIT ON YOU," if she wasn't my mama. She is a hillbilly lady. She thinks it, but she doesn't say it. That's the difference between her and me. If I think it, I say it.

And PFFFTTTT! on you if you don't like it.

But she and my father taught me to work hard if you expect any results. Hard work has given me everything I ever got in life, including this blog. I post a lot, and that is hard work. I was raised to work hard.

My first ex-wife didn't think that way. She declared that I was putting my job before my family, which I thought was hoot because she became the QUEEN BEE, unable to work anymore, but capable of putting me in $17,000 worth of credit card debt in two years. Her response? "I'm worth it."

Trust me. She wasn't worth it.

My second ex-wife was my one TRUE LOVE and understanding her is difficult, after seeing all of my shit stacked in boxes, with labels on them, and about two week's worth of my clothes piled in my truck. She is efficient. She is very good-looking. She's a bloodless cunt, too, which helps with that efficiency quotient. Her outstanding bloodlessness is much admired at work. My company WANTS people like her.

She is an attack-hound now, and she is perfectly matched with her job.

I've had to put up will all the shit she gave me, all the snotty crap, all the fucking around for 20 miserable months, and it's about to change.

Some women find me attractive, but I don't court and spark when I know that my dick is dead. Mine is. As dead as a dick can get, when the nerves that do the good stuff are severed. I have a couple of wimmen who simply enjoy my company, and I've used fix-a-flat on both of them. I also told them both that I wouldn't do that anymore.

They didn't run screaming. They still come over to visit. Hell, I may have a dead dick, but I've kept my tongue in shape. BWHAHAHAHAHAAA! Yes, I have become a cunning linguist in the meantime.

If I can talk them BOTH into coming over at the same time to check out the bionic dick, I will be a happy man.

My life is about to CHANGE! And I am goddam ready for it.


I can't wait until you fall in love with a real woman. I will be so happy for you.

But hell, what will you write about then.

All flowers and sunshine? Gosh, I hope not.

Posted by: Dawn on June 26, 2003 05:54 PM

Two of my favorite sayings come to mind:
If you can't cut the mustard, you can still lick the jar
There's more than one way to skin a cat

Posted by: dippy on June 26, 2003 07:07 PM

Don't you just dread what he'll be like when he's gettin' some regular-like?
I mean, it boggles the mind!
Warn us first, huh A-man?

(Oh, and imagine what it will be like to be an unsuspecting woman in his town...)

Posted by: InTheDark on June 27, 2003 12:20 AM
Post a comment