4.27.2005

Not Very Practical...

...but a damn good idea.

I figured out a plan to quit smoking, thanks to my tree huggin' bestest bud. If at each time I had the urge to smoke I got laid instead, quitting the cancer sticks would be a positive, enjoyable process. Think about it:

- great exercise, so the dreaded "I quit smoking" weight gain wouldn't happen
- plum tuckered out afterwards, so I'd get plenty of beauty rest and let my body begin to heal the awful, awful damage I've inflicted upon it. (plus, I like naps. Bonus.)
- MUCH more enjoyable than lighting leaves and inhaling them. I dunno about you, but I'd take the horizontal mambo over a ciggy any day.
- my flexibility would grow by leaps and bounds.

The downers?

- currently, I smoke a little over ½ a pack per day. So we're talking 10 - 12 "self-help" sessions in a 24 hour period. Youch.
- inconvienent in public places (yet intriguing...)
- who in their right mind would be willing to be at my beck and call night and day?
- probably wouldn't get much accomplished during this. besides sex, I mean.
- condoms would get expensive.
- I'd probably have to take up smoking again to normalize my sex drive.

Too bad it's not practical in the least. I could sell it and make a fortune with Crack Monkey's "Go Fuck Yourself Off...Cigarettes: A Guide to Kicking the Habit and Hitting the Big O Simultaneously" (tm)

picked from the vine by sv @ 8:01 AM |

4.26.2005

I Love People With a Sense of Humor


Copyright Dallas Morning News
Originally uploaded by crack_monkey_.
As a follow-up to this post (which will have a picture for example when I frickin' get around to it), I found this tasty tidbit on MeFi today.

The Dallas Morning News either has a new layout editor with a fantastic sense of humor, or the old one has wised up a bit on what's funny as opposed to disrepectful.

Either way, it's an excellent chuckle.

picked from the vine by sv @ 3:26 PM |

4.19.2005

The Escort Chronicles, Part I

Just for you, Nick.

Prompted by a "well, I'd read about THAT!" last week while imbibing some Old Whisky River, here are a couple of the, shall we say, interesting things that make work so special.

The resident purveyor of all things sex related (I work in a very alternative place of business*) loves to tell stories that are out of left field. I visit him every so often to get a good dose of what-the-fuck? . Here are today's grand slams:
  • Male transvestite paid for said good from the company all in quarters. We're talking at least the equivalent of 15 rolls of quarters, here.
  • Three ladies decided to bend over at the same time to reveal to that they were going commando under their skirts. In front of an open window.
  • Dude with *diamonds* in his front four teeth. Seriously. (Much more disturbing story to go with it, but we're all about rainbows and puppy dogs here on the Swinger.)

One could really just set up a lawn chair across the street and have great fodder for a TV sitcom.

*Which is neither a.) a "call center" b.) a whorehouse or c.) a street corner.

picked from the vine by sv @ 11:26 PM |

4.12.2005

Banging Head Against Wall

Ok, I know I said I was going to take a break, but I'm so damn frustrated and I'm looking for insight...(and I need to vent).

Fellas, please tell me something. Imagine this: An ex of yours whom you emotionally tortured over the course of your three year relationship tells you to fuck off and to never contact her again. Repeatedly. 5 years pass, and you contact her through her work's website and ask if you can see her again for old time's sake. She politely (but firmly) replies "no" and asks for something you still have of hers which is near and dear to her heart. You can't find it, so she tells to to forget about it and that both of you should go on your separate ways. She tells you she's glad you're doing better, but that it would be best for all parties involved if you both stayed away from each other. For good.

Pop quiz, hotshots: What do you do next?

a.) You ignore her request and email her again.
b.) You ignore her request and stop by her office.
c.) You never bother the poor girl again. After all, you made her life a living hell. The least you could do is respect her wishes.

If you answered "c", good for you. Captain Obvious doesn't have to bitch slap you in order to get a point across. Unfortunately, I've dealt with both "a" and "b" today.

I need advice. How else can I tell this guy to quit. effing. bothering. me? The reserve of vocabulary for this situation is draining quickly, and I'm afraid I might start screaming strings of profanities in both English and Italian while using broad hand gestures and turning red in the face.

Maybe ignoring him is the best bet. But really, suggestions would be very much appreciated.

Silence to recommence in 5...4...3...2...1...

picked from the vine by sv @ 11:25 AM |

4.10.2005

Have Bocce, Will Picnic; Have Questions, Will Go on Hiatus

The first spring picnic was yesterday. Food, sun, friends and relaxation. And puppies. And cat naps on a blanket under a tree. And bocce ball.

For those not well versed in 2000 year old Italian lawn games, bocce is a mixture between bowling, horseshoes, and croquet. The smaller ball (hereby dubbed "the golden snatch" by our circle) is thrown first, and then the larger balls are tossed or rolled to see who came come the closest to the snatch. Sounds boring, but the nuances are a hoot - the good rolls, the bad rolls, knocking an opponent out of the way, the jokes that stem from it all. Great fun on a Saturday afternoon...I'm so glad the group made it out.



In other news, I think I'll be taking a blogging break for the next week or so. Every time I log in to write something, it ends up being too personal, so I log it into the real life journal instead. I can talk about sex, peanut allergies, doctor appointments and weird smells here on the Swinger no problem, but the real things that are on my mind have no place being here. I've too many adult questions and quandaries and whatnot, and that makes for a boring blog, which is not the direction I want to take this sliver of my life. Plus, there's a fantastic opportunity at work that needs total immersion and focus. ('Cause that's what I do when I get too pensive...I work. It's genetic.) So, I'll be back soon, with a better mood, a clearer head and wacky stories. Miss me. ;)

picked from the vine by sv @ 9:05 PM |

4.08.2005

Nuts to That

Through trial and error over the past week, I've discovered I'm allergic to peanuts all of a sudden.

Last Friday morning, I was gently nudged out of dreamworld by an ever-so-annoying itch on my wrist. Imagine my surprise to find out that itch was a red, sunburnish type rash all over my arms, legs and feet. It looked my appendages had been dipped in runny red paint. And yes, it was as attractive as it sounds.

So, I hightailed it over to the doc to see what the hell was going on. I'm not allergic to anything except the usual sniffles in the spring. But, lo and behold, she said I was having an allergic reaction to something and poked me in the buttflesh with a steroid shot. We went over the usual history - what was eaten the day before (my favorite peanut bar, some tortilla soup and a taco), where I'd been (softball, losing miserably), if I'd frolicked in poison ivy, etc. - and nothing stood out.

After getting the steroid prescription filled, I went home to change into a turtleneck (yes, it was *that* bad) and made it to the office. Saturday morning was worse for some reason, but it calmed down for the next few days. Until...

...Tuesday morning-ish, after the nut bar goodness, when I started getting twitchy again. Didn't have one on Monday. Around this time, I started to suspect peanuts were the culprit.

To test the theory, I bought my favorite snack food, honey roasted peanuts, and tossed a few down last night. And sure enough, I woke up looking like I spent 48 million hours in the sun today. Sigh...down the hatch with more steroids. Hopefully it will go away by this afternoon.

Thank goodness the cause has been (semi) pinpointed. If I threw any more steroids down my throat, I'd start looking like Chyna. I will miss those delightful little nutty companions, though. And if peanut butter has the same effect, I'm going to be really pissed.

picked from the vine by sv @ 11:24 AM |

4.06.2005

Como se dice "stowaway"?

After 5 panic-stricken days of "Oh, crap! My passport is expired!", Lil'est Sis and the moms miraculously renewed the passport in Houston without any red tape to speak of, shoved on a flight back to Dallas, and caught her remaining connecting flights to Italy. Lil'est Sis arrived safely yesterday into the welcoming arms of Ye Eldest & Wisest Sis. (Her bags, however, did not arrive. Yet.) As of now, I'm sure they're dodging tourists at St. Peter's and packing for their side trip to Prague.

Befanas. ;)

picked from the vine by sv @ 11:31 PM |

4.04.2005

R.I.P, DMN

And in other news, the local daily paper will be needing a new main news layout editor soon. 'Cause it really wouldn't be that difficult to notice that there is a "Sex For Life!" ad directly across from the Sunday news coverage of the Pope's death. Or so you'd think. A third of me wants to laugh, a third wants to cry, and the last third just wants to shake my head and softly say, "Wow."

picked from the vine by sv @ 9:19 AM |