7 posts tagged “sex”
First of all for those of you that I don't exchange email or a little Instant Messaging with, I have officially re-entered the restaurant world and with it the life. I have been away from it for somewhere close to five years, and after a craigslist post, a few emails exchanged with the Chef I am enthusiastically jumping back into that world.
I can't stress enough that before anything else you do in your life you must pick up a copy of Kitchen Confidential by one amazing man who goes by the name Chef Tony Bourdain. I will tell you one thing very honestly after reading this book roughly eight years ago, and that is that I felt that I was reading my own life and that this was the person I wanted to grow up to be. His intelligence and ability are unrivaled in my mind. His honesty about the world that all restaurant workers sink their teeth into it without parallel.
That being said, I have joined back up into the union of the alcoholic, sex addicted, cuss every other word new pirates of this world. I can't wait to be burned, cut, bruised and have this world not know what I did to make their meal. I understand that it's uncomfortable for some to think about the people hidden away behind those swinging doors, I personally am amazed by them and have missed everyone of them dearly since my departure.
There is a comfort in a kitchen for me, there is a sense of being home. I become reborn there, I become what anyone whom has ever loved me has ever known, and somehow still can not tolerate.
I see the world in a different black and white.
These are your tools.
These are mine
Even through the simple events of watching this new restaurant come to life, I am watching parts of myself dormant for so long come back to the surface as well. I leered at the wait staff with lust, I figured out who in the kitchen I am better than, and who is better than me. I calculate what I have to do to procure the skills I need and the interest of things that interest me.
No restaurant is different, everyone is always the same. I am the same again, and have given everyone I work with a different name. It interests me that my best friend in this world, someone whom I admire a great deal, when she heard me talking about my day and pouring over the details reached out and hugged me as if I had just been born. It interests me that I have been so stubborn to stay away from my passion for so long.
How? Because of this girl...
I was out there with yesterdays post, asking for things to write about, and pleading with those that read my posts here on VOX to tell me what they think about. I received a number of good suggestions, and plan on getting to them all, but the conversation that I had with my friend of Google Chat, was just too fun to pass up.
Especially since I had just had a similar conversation the night before (with someone else), we were a little too tired to have the conversation again in the morning. The conversation(s) that I am speaking about revolved around penis size.
What Dodie asked me to write about was, "Does size really matter?", the mistake my dear old friend made is that she did not specify the size of what. Big mistake my friend, I adore you,I wish you well in your marriage up and coming, but don't ever leave me an open door to sneak through,you will end up embarrassed. Please forgive me.
Let's start with penis size, that is a main concern among the sexually active of our world. How big is it? Is it big enough? Is it going to rub me in just the right spot?
These are valid questions for a women to ask in modern society, every one is due there turn on the ferris wheel of spectacular orgasms... especially women so often denied such joys. There has been vast research into penis size, there are complicated charts hoping to summarize the needs of a woman and also make men feel so so sad inside.
The problem is that men have also perpetuated this. Men compare themselves to other men, out of both insecurity and bragging rights. What you see in a locker room in junior high can either give you massive amounts of self confidence or scar you for life. Why can it do this? Because men wear their organs on the outside, didn't you go to health class? Damn public school system is dumbing down my readers.
This is where things are unfair in the world, this is where things don't quite measure up, and I hope you excuse that horrible pun. Men are allowed to be judged by their reproductive organs ( don't try and pull any breast arguments on me here ) while women are not. Has anyone ever considered that maybe the girl that complains about some man's small penis isn't being quite honest or accurate, but maybe under her well chosen clothes and Victoria Secret whatever she has a huge vagina? I've encountered this in my life, some times people just don't fit. Maybe you were really busy in college or you are built for someone else's dick.
Is size really important?
Yes Dodie, yes it is.
I hope despite my post today that more people will offer suggestions to me, I enjoyed the challenge, I thought about penises all day long (not particularly enjoyed). I called up old girlfriends and asked them to measure their vagina's with various household items, and after I was done enjoying my sick abuse of power, I measured my penis, compared notes... and figured out why all of our relationships ended.
It is because we just didn't fit.
I wish everyone luck in finding the one who fits.
I arrived home a little while ago from running an errand for a friend, and have been staring at my computer ever since. I prefer to write six days a week, and today I am finding myself struggling. I explored some unfinished projects, I stumbled through about one hundred websites, and flipped through the news of the day. None of these paths have given me anything interesting. The next step I take when stuck is to start looking through correspondence with friends, perhaps in there someone said something that could inspire me. It has worked before, but today it did not.
I moved on to looking through blog's and websites of both friends and strangers alike, and that is where I found todays offering.
I am going to ask a question... and expect you to answer with questions. It is a scientist that I am copying.
Usually I find that sort of exchange pretty annoying.
Me: "What time is it?"
You: "Why do you need to know?"
Me: Because I need to know if it's time to hit you in the face with a frying pan, just answer the damn question!"
anyway...
I am at a point that I want to know what people who stop by and read this blog think about.
I am asking for you to propose a topic or just ask a question of me. I propose no limitations. Anyone who has been reading here for more than a week knows that I quite often change theme from personal to silly to creative writing. What I am looking for, is for you dear reader to challenge. I stress again that there are no limitations, and assuming I get asked more than one question or presented more than one topic, I will start with my favorite and work out from there.
Here are a variety of ways to get in touch with me.
#1 comment on this post, I read them and almost always reply so start there.
#2 Email me. I check that about a million times a day.
#3 Facebook. This is a link to my fan page, I only have eight and I am one of them. There are discussion boards and communication avenues abound so join up, stroke my ego and ask me a question.
I look forward to the challenge of standing up straight in the face of your proposals and look forward to hearing from you
So here it goes... What do you want to know? .
I think that if anyone were ever to take the pornographic out of their life, they would live the rest of their life very disappointed. The world needs the dark, sick and the twisted. I look at men sitting alone in a coffee shop and wonder if they are wondering if they have any children they don’t know about, and I think that deep down they wish they did. It is proof that they existed, without any of the burden.
Life without the train wreck and
lacking the twisted bodies would be boring. I think that peace on Earth and
good will toward man is a good reason to go on living, but the desent of man
into depravity is what makes it all worth watching and reminiscing.
God is supposed to remind you that you are alive but the devil is the one who keeps it all going.
You can not have the light without the darkness. You can not have only what you wanted to see. You will avert your gaze at the chalk outline on the sidewalk, but inside you are taking pictures of the stains.
When you admit you have a basic animal need for blood, and vengeance and suffering only then will you appreciate what is on the T.V.
Of course I know... I am in a new place and everything is new, but not all of it can be shown. Some of what there is to be seen is subtle and needs to be pointed out.
A fine example for today would be Helena Bonham Carters house.
It was relatively standard of a house you would expect for an actress like her. It was square, neat and well manicured. The windows were darkened but the shades weren't drawn. It was mysterious, normal and easy to miss.
As we paused and I tried to sneak a peek, the door flew open and Helena started to scream. It was guttural noise at first, but developed into words, "You know what you want! Bring your skinny ass inside!"
Needless to say I was shocked and feet were poised to run, but Ethan chimed in reassuringly, "Lucas it's alright."
Jamie spoke up, "This is normal now.", and I looked at the dog only to receive a look of confusion that surely mirrored mine.
Of course I was dumbfounded!
What the hell do you think!?
Standing on a sidewalk under the Tucson sun with two friends, a dog and what felt like Helena Bonham Carter screaming only at me. Ethan placed a hand on my shoulder for comfort while Jamie took my elbow to guide, "It will all be easier to explain once we get inside."
I didn't argue and only managed to mumble, "Is she yelling at me?", no answer came from my companions and the damn dog still had glassed over eyes.
Up her walkway we went and Helena quickly ushered us inside. I don't suppose she looked any more or less a mess than she does in any of her films, but she never made eye contact and kept muttering lines from her movies. My gut was telling me to run away as Jamie pointed at Helena's couch and Ethan started to explain...
"Her career isn't everything that she had hoped, she is caught in a type casting, and no one can see her in any way than a Fight Club light.
"I don't understand,..", I started to say as Ethan was starting to talk again.
"Everywhere she goes young men ask her for the Marla." "They want that rigorous reckless fuck she had with Tyler Durden." "It started to wear her down."
"She fucks for money now..." , said Jamie.
While we were talking Helena moved from her watchful post and down a long hallway. "What size are you?, I don't think you're a magnum!, You don't look like a magnum to me!"
I didn't then and still now know what to think, and especially shocking was when Chuck Palahniuk came out of the kitchen with a glass of water for me. The water was to sip on while I filled out a stack of forms on a clipboard. Chuck didn't say anything and quickly disappeared into the kitchen again.
It was five pages of waivers, consent forms and an essay section for my description of how I wanted Helena and I to spend the night. It wasn't until this point I realized I wasn't here to witness her particular "crash and burn" life, but was here to have sex with Helena Bonham Carter.
A lump grew in my throat.
I questioned myself instantly.
Would it be like the movie or the book?
Could I wear the yellow rubber gloves?
Is this my destiny tonight to fuck a crazed Helena Bonham Carter?
Well quite frankly it isn't my style to kiss and tell, but I will tell you this I can no longer watch Fight Club or Big Fish in the same way.
* This entry is merely a daydream I had but most of it is true, with the exception of Helena Bonham Carter, Chuck Palahniuk or the part where the dog made eye contact with me.
This is me leering at you across the room.
You are the coffee shop girl… blonde, tall and thin. You have an independent sensibility, and what looks like a red ink dove tattoo.
I am the stick, hovering over his laptop sipping his Mexican Organic.
This is the stuff that missed connections are made of.
This is me being shy.
I realize that the guy in the kitchen putting together sandwiches made from only the most organic ingredients is probably your boyfriend… and will be with you tonight.
I realize I don’t have the independent sensibility to have a red ink dove tattoo.
… but if I did…
I can tell you how it would go.
I wouldn’t have to have courage to ask you out, I would already have confidence… and you would react to that and smile in more than the way you do fishing for tips. I would give you my number and tell you to call me, taking a stand off position and creating mystery. While I do all this, the other coffee house patron eyes would land on you and me. Not holding their breath but biting the lip.
Some would say, “Daring.”
Others would say, “Ass.”
They all would be waiting to hear what you have to say next.
… and so would I…
I would already be turning on my heel heading toward the sugar and cream and you would lean over the counter and say, “You didn’t tell me your name!”
I would say it as a matter of fact.
When you call me, the next day, and we employ the service of a different coffee girl somewhere else, you see a little bit more and maybe I will tell you sweet things… but the fact of the matter is that I want what I want and nothing more. I talk sweetly and smoothly on the road to that path, you give what you can to me… and that won’t last.
We try to make it work, good looking people should be together, but you don’t understand me and I don’t care about you.
I’m just trying to be honest, and save us some time.
I won’t ask for your number and you won’t get mine.
I have been tirelessly searching the internet for things either thought inspiring or really damn funny. I have found neither. I have made a number of redundant discoveries about the internet however and I will list them in no particular order.
1. Stumble Upon will eventually lead you to a cute cat picture.
These seem to have no end to their supply. I personally do not find them cute, amusing sometimes I am not even sure it is a cat.
I did in fact find myself thinking a little bit about joining the evolution vs. creation argument, but I think it's just a silly fight to get into... the answer is pretty obvious don't you think...
I have also considered giving my own speech on God and Religion, but while wandering the internet I took a few tests, and discovered I don't know a thing about anything.
In short I wasted a lot of time today, time I could have spent trying to remember the specifics of the dream that I had last night, the one that woke me up with the only thought that it was the greatest premise for a story ever... and it meant a solid break from my writers block.
Nope, what I have to show for my searching for inspiration is THIS.
Now if you were a little put off when you found out that you are not quite as untouchable as you thought you were in your thought on God, you could always take the "How many five year olds could you take in a fight test.", although that one didn't make me feel any better about myself. I don't think it would have made a difference whether it was a lot or a little. It just felt wrong to take that test. If I want to know how many five year olds I can fight I will go to the playground with a chip on my shoulder and some nasty things to say about Dora the Explorer.
"Cocky Bilingual Bitch"
~sorry just practicing.
If you are looking for discovery or enlightenment, do not go to the internet. Not only will you find cats, games and the strange, but eventually anything you put into a search engine ( any search engine ) will lead to porn.
This has been your guide to wasting time, congratulations you just passed level one by reading this on the internet...
Have a great weekend.
