Checking Out The Check Out Girl

checkout girl

There are still some things that I believe are done far too early in the morning for human beings to be doing. Weekly shopping in the early morning is one of them.

I almost always forget something. Half the shopping list or the list entirely or my wallet or whatever.

Its too easy to be overly critical of people as well as over-analytic of anyone.

The “brand new” grocery store located conveniently a few miles away with their 14 or so check out aisles, but only having 4 of them open. Two of them express lanes for 12 items or less.

Grocery store math is stupid. Especially before 10:00 AM.

And high above all of the check out people stood someone wearing the name tag of Kaitlyn.

She was directing traffic both of customers and check out people the same.

A rather tall girl with her 1960’s glow with her eyeglasses that reminded you of a young and sexy librarian-type Julie Newmar. With her mid-back length fish bone braid cascading over the fronts of her shoulders that changed sides periodically as she moved her head about, looking in all directions.

She pulled me into the nearest check out lane and then moved out of my way. The smile was brighter than the morning sun that was giving its presence of the day. Although both tooth AND gum were present.

But no matter… I saw it. I tried to avoid it. I attempted to ignore it. And failed miserably before I was using terms of endearment with her and other female counterparts within a fifteen foot hearing area.

Little Miss Julie Newmar was loving it as her smile kept growing with each little “sweetheart” and “honey” that came stumbling out of my mouth.

One girl came to pull the shopping cart closer to the counter. Another offered assistance to take the items out of the cart and on to the  counter. Little Miss Julie Newmar stood at the end with her smile, and now she was playing with her braid.


And I knew it. Now that I had her attention, what was I going to do with it. My own attention had to be given to the check out girl at the cash register and not necessarily the check out lane supervisor.

As more and more attention taken away from Little Miss Julie Newmar and was given to the girl checking me out…. I could sense a deflation about to occur.

I looked up and over again and I was painfully correct. She had hopped on over two aisles down and was giving assistance there. I was stuck with a gal who failed in comparison but was nice and kind nonetheless. Especially that early in the morning.

As I was given my receipt and change, she returned and I had not noticed. She stuck out her hand and kept it hanging in the air. Clearly a high five was desired by her. But I was going to go for the “high five plus.”

I moved away to make room for the next customer with my grocery cargo and reached up and took a hold of her hand and didn’t grasp it too tightly but enough to let her know that I was serious and meant business.

A couple of more “sweethearts” and “baby dolls” and then I heard those final last words of “Have a great day, sir.”


I felt like the deleted audio of Darth Vader yelling out “NO!!!!!!!!!!” from the inside.

She released her hand from my grasp and skipped away.

Hanging my head in defeat I aimed for the front door to sit there and wait for my transportation until I was interrupted by someone who was waiting on the opposite side of the store near the café.

I told my colleagues of what just happened and they reminded me that I never seem to be able to get the finish.

So I went back into my wallet and grabbed as much loose change at random as I could pull up.

Candy and snacks I went and bought. Little Miss Julie Newmar saw me in line again and asked “Back again?” to which I said “For you? Yes!”

After a good twenty seconds of her getting picked on by co-workers, she asked me to walk with her. And when it gets to this point I NEVER find it to be pleasant or good in the end.


Going into the back of the store in the area of office cubicles, she threw her 1960’s style of eyeglasses on the table and then looked at me with fire and seduction.

That was definitely a hint I took, and grabbed a hold of and refused to let go.

A maddening session of making out burst into flames with moaning, breathing, and tongues. My hands exploring her body and deeper exploration around the warmer areas of her body’s canvas which took longer in duration.

Forgetting to lock the door the two of us were interrupted no less than two times but only for mere fractions of seconds as the person intruding realized their error and backed out of the room with imploring apologies.

After the last interruption I looked into her soft blue eyes and with a commanding yet low and soft tone told her “Give me your all.”

She had to push away my intrusive hand as she began to undo her zipper I gazed over the top of her head that was now bent down and stared at a clock noting the time. Her heat very apparent on my palm. And then I began noticing the clock and that was the buzzer before the game winning shot was given.

I halted production of anything further saying that I did not want to my ride ….. unless she wanted to give me a ride home at the end of her shift.

She offered a series of making out sessions and possibly more in those offices as long as I stayed in there the entire time while she worked. The disgusting and closing factor was that she would not be off of work until 4:00 PM.

I said no. I asked for her contact information. She ignored me. I reached for her by the arm and asked again. She shook her head while she straightened herself up. It wasn’t going to happen. And then she said she would daydream of what could have been before she left me to survive on my own to get back out into the grocery store and back to the café where my neighbors were still waiting for transportation that was en route apparently.

I was successful in killing another fifteen minutes of private stranger paradise. And my streak of “not finishing” continues to this day.


March 14th



Has anyone else heard about this so-called “holiday”? Does anyone actually ever go with the flow… so to speak … about this event??

Steak & Blowjob Day is “celebrated” on March 14th which is exactly one month after Valentine’s Day. The point of it (as far as I understand) is that the woman cooks her man a steak to eat (or whatever he finds favorable) and then gives him a blowjob in a physical and sexual expression of her love for him since he drained his wallet buying her all kinds of gifts one month before for Valentine’s Day.

Basically it is a reciprocal event. Assuming that “eating steaks and receiving blowjobs” are what men like the most out of life.


So the man spends his money on his woman to show his love for her on Valentine’s Day. The woman then returns the favor exactly one month later by cooking for her man and then giving him head.

What a trade off!!

My question still remains: Who follows through on this day in March for their man? Who gives their man that special treatment on that day? And are they doing it because it is Steak & Blowjob Day or are they doing it because they give a shit about their man and want to show affection of the utmost severity?


Are you willing to go “All the way” for your man in your life one exact month after Valentine’s Day, March 14th?

I have only heard about this event as of lately. And since my so-called discovery of the day, I’ve not had anyone to pull this off. So another Steak & Blowjob Day has “cum and gone” (yes I did that on purpose) and I’ve not a woman to reciprocate with.

So I guess I will just have to be handy with myself and cook some macaroni & cheese….. for myself.

Let me know in the comment section if you celebrate this day or what your thoughts are on this being an actual holiday.

Waitress Woes



The past week has been such a blur. But a very happy blur. I honestly cannot complain much.

The only set back I had was when I went to a bar to watch a band play live that I follow. And I found this absolutely cute chick serving drinks at the cash bar of the venue. Her smile and her upbeat and positive attitude was more than enough to get my attention. Not to mention the whole snag that they have by using terms of endearment towards customers.

After the band played I kept thinking about her but I didn’t have the guts or courage to turn a round. Finally I convinced myself into it. I talked myself into at least saying hello again and introducing myself and see if she would give me her name. After all, it was SXSW Festival, people were having fun, the mood was wonderful.

It worked. She smiled and we traded introductory pleasantries. Shook hands and everything. Then she was off to serve another drink or get someone change or something.

We caught one another singing to the songs playing over their speaker system as the next band on their tiny stage was setting up. It was all good and fun.

I turned around one more time after feeling the rush of courage to ask her for a photograph only to find her face hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. She complained of it being bright inside because the windows were wide open and the sun bearing down on the venue.

It almost threw me but I still was able to ask if it was okay to take her photograph. She agreed to it. Then I told her that what I really wanted was a photograph of her and I together. And thought I had screwed up. But she agreed to that too.


Like I said, everything and everyone was in a great mood. There could be no harm in taking a photograph.

Two snaps were taken. One of her with the sunglasses on and one without. I finally found a piece of paper trash on the floor as the next band started to rock out the place.

I wrote down my name and asked her to find me on Facebook. I gave her my cell phone number and suggested she text me. And then I wrote at the bottom of the note that I was looking for good friends.

I have no idea whether or not this woman is single. But there was no way that I was going to find out if I hadn’t done or said something.

I handed her the note and then I left, fearing that public rejection. I also felt like she may or may not throw away the note that I just gave her right in my face so I said farewell to her and earlier I had promised that I would return to the bar at another time and she sounded happy. But I think that’s just common club talk.

I got home and then the following morning I worked on getting those photographs that I took of the band that I was there to listen to uploaded on my computer, as well as the bar maid. I was totally excited about that!

And then I messed it all up. I ended up doing the wrong thing and then 60+ photographs of the day’s adventure were deleted and gone and there was nothing I could do to retrieve them.

Since then, I’ve been half tempted to go back for two reasons:

#1- Because I said that I would.
#2- In hopes to take another set of photographs with the bar maid to replace what I lost.

But SXSW Festival is over. The mood of happy fun stuff could be more than finished. But that’s just random garbage running through my head. And would she actually be that willing to pose yet again for photographs?

I had given her my contact information, showing that there was a definite interest in her. But she never contacted me. And I don’t know why that is, and I am not going to ruin my brain power trying to figure out why women won’t talk or contact me.

She probably has no interest in me. And that is actually okay.

I wanted to go back the next day but my apartment manage made his case that it seemed desperate.

Now the question is SHOULD I go back, at all???

What do you think? Leave your opinions/comments in the comment section below.


Banging Like A Rock Star



I love how it happens whenever I go out to a club to listen to live music. One can never really know what is in store for them with other bands that are on the bill. And I firmly believe that is why you sometimes hear “Stick around for _____.” And honestly, you never know, you might like the music ahead and after the bands you are there to listen to. 

It seems to happen to me every time I go out. I end up liking ONE MORE band! 

But last year I got stuck on a band from another country. And they had come back to town only this last September. I had hoped that they would remember me. And the lead singer (female) kind of remembered. Her dates were wrong but she remembered where. 

I hung out with her and her entourage and band for much of the night and spoke to a few of them in Spanish as best I could. And then suddenly it turned into an invitation to continue the party at the hotel. 

Well one thing leads to another and I’m staying with the lead singer all night in her hotel suite and it was fabulous. Next thing I knew the bonding of flesh and sweat commenced and the trading of fluids was in great supply. All freaking night long. 

I was amazingly still awake when the sun rose. So was she. Drinking our hearts out with Tequila and other liquor. I’m surprised that we didn’t throw up on one another. 

I was given a taxi home and she paid for it. I begged her to come back to town and I was promised that she would with a wink in her eye and a smile. 

Freakin’ red flags!! Those winks have got to go. OR someone needs to give me a class on what exactly winks mean and what they are exactly meant for. 

But I returned home to actually find her on Facebook in which I thought was a miracle and a half!! And she added me to her Friends List. And I backed off some and watched as she’s spent several months in either New Jersey or New York playing in venues there. 

Tonight I was a little different. I brought the EP that I was given in September and had her autograph it. I took photos of her and I together and then she had her people take more photographs of her and I together. And then I started to speak in Spanish to her which was a surprise. She thought that all this time on Facebook that I was using a translation website to be able to speak to her in Spanish. 

Umm. No.

It got loud and I ended up buying one more t-shirt from her merchandise table. More photographs were taken and then we took off to be alone because the bar was too damned noisy. 

As it turned out… the setting was just private enough that we returned to our previous activities that we engaged in last September. Almost as if we never stopped. We did have to begin over again, and that was fine by me as I watch her sink to her knees before me to begin with. 

I slammed the brakes on the wheelchair and just let be what was going to be. And then we finished with our usual swap and then some kissing and light making out before she screamed “AWWW SHIT!! STAGE TIME BABY!”

She kind of just left me there and I composed everything back to the way it was and settled back into my own clothing, which was the original t-shirt that I received in September. But now with the new one, I wore both of them at the same time and in the photographs I look horrendously fat. 

Not fair.gutiarThe band after her crawled into the bar and I was curious about them as well. So I figured I would stay for the two acts and then split and get the hell out of downtown at night. 

The second band she was so cute with her pigtails in her hair and her grossly faded out dyed red hair. As a matter of fact, I think I counted four different shades of color for her hair. 

Before she even got up on stage, before the first band that I originally came to see got on stage, I rolled on over to THEIR merch table. And tore it up again. My poor fucking wallet to a huge hit tonight. ($30 for a fucking t-shirt. Really?)

And then during the last number of the band that was on stage at that time, we had to yell in each other’s ears to communicate before rolling back down that same hallway that I was just in. 

I couldn’t tell you for sure, but I THINK that’s where the restrooms were. Or at least in that general direction. I just know that’s not where I had just come from nor was it where I was going with this pigtailed cutie. 

I would touch and acknowledge her existence before me and it triggered something because she sank to her knees as well before my slick athletic pants was ripped off my bony legs.Sylvia_Saint_003

Two musicians, two lead singers, two girls close to my “height” when I am in the wheelchair. Two consenting women going after it in one night. Then after all of that I crawled out thought I had to be the luckiest piece of shit on the planet. Or at least in town. 

The original lead singer kept engaging me with her eyes while on stage. The pigtailed gal did not look at me while on stage at all.

I actually gave the original girl a dozen red roses and she lost her mind. She just didn’t know what to say, except to give me a hug. Her entourage was looking on. So I guess that there was nothing she could do, even if she wanted to do something.

But I think that even before all of this I probably should find out whether or not she has a significant other. That probably would have been the best thing to do. All I know is that its too late now, for the both of them. They both had a taste of me and I had a piece of both of them, and I took my fill of both.

The rest of the week, I probably won’t be as lucky at all. But shit… considering how long its been? I’m not complaining. 

Belle Knox Story Is Boring



So allow me for a few moments of your reading time and your life to address this “Duke University Porn Star” that has been going on and on and on recently.

Miriam Weeks, aka Belle Knox, is a teenager who is attending classes at Duke University made the decision by herself to do porn films in order to pay off her school. She did so quietly and anonymously. Until one of her classmates recognized her in one of her roles. And then here we go with the blackmail and the death threats and whatever else there was that was just both uncool and unnecessary.

So she came out … on her own …. that she was the infamous Bell Knox of the adult porn industry.

Sounds like to me, she pulled her own plug on this one with that decision she made. single_117-647852IMG_2432

Ironically while I was researching for this post I had found a few scenes from her “adult film career” and its no different from any other woman on camera without her clothes. In other words, it just didn’t do anything for me personally. But then again porn to me is useless. It has no power over me.

And I’m not one here to tell this woman what to do because why do I care? I do not know her and she doesn’t come from my loins nor pays any of my bills. So to her decision to do porn… whatever!

But honestly thinking about this: A college education is actually expensive when you finally get done with everything. Depending on your field and area of study. Now she’s looking at a debt of AT LEAST $60,000 or more for everything she’s ever going to do during her college education.

Someone please tell me. How much money does a female performer get paid in the adult porn industry in the year 2014???? And taking that amount of money into consideration… how many films must Miriam make in order to pay off a debt of let’s just say $60,000??

And so what is she studying? Does anyone know? And so what is wrong with her getting this thing called a J-O-B to pay off debt? Millions of people do so every stinking day.

On a feminist website, Weeks was quoted to say:

“I am not ashamed of porn. On the contrary, doing pornography fulfills me. That said, I vehemently want to have my privacy respected — and I ask that anyone who knows my real name respect the fact that I am only discussing this publicly because it was made a public matter when I was confronted by a fraternity member who chose to tell hundreds of other men in the Greek scene.” 

Okay so let me get this straight. You know you are about to have a huge debt for college. You wanna do PORN to pay for that debt and you do so quietly.

Then someone finds you out. And in an effort to kill the fires…. you OUT  YOURSELF and confess to being the actress in question.

And you want privacy?

Honey, are you looking to have your cake and eat it too? Because if you do, your bound to choke on it. If you wanted privacy, you should have kept quiet. But you chose not do to that.

EVERY CHOICE HAS A CONSEQUENCE. This is yours sweetie!!

So we have yet another story of some backwards chick wanting to do porn to make a flashy quick dollar and who knows if she’s really getting what she wants. I would doubt it, but I’m not her financial advisor nor her banker. And I don’t care.


But this story about college student going into porn to pay for college has been going on for ages and ages and ages and ages… decades upon decades… countless scores of women (and I am sure, men) going into this dark business to line their pockets. And look what it got them???

Others have been successful at it and never once was mentioned in the media. Because they didn’t say a fucking word about it. If you lead on like you don’t care and don’t give in, then we wouldn’t be having this woman flooding our Internet today as we speak.

I am sure that Duke University is just “loving” the attention you just gave them.

Call me when you cure cancer or something instead of having this grand idea of paying for college with a career in pornography.

Time Is Not Enough

beautiful model

Sometimes even eight years is just not enough.

Does anyone remember a time back when the only thing that was virtually around that would be considered social networking was MySpace??

I remember the necessity for having TWO accounts full of “Friends” on MySpace. Mainly because my girlfriend at that time was so insecure that she couldn’t stand the fact that I got along better socially with other women than I did with men.

So in order to have “friends” was the necessity of a second account. And yet I never used that “other account” to cheat or to talk behind my girlfriend’s back. It was just to socialize with other people that I had a common interest– who happened to be female.

But then when Facebook came along, it all changed. And I remember attempting to transplant all of the MySpace contacts over to Facebook. But I missed a few.

One in particular that I was able to take over was from Pensacola, Florida.

And I know I’ve written about that city before but this is a different person and Pensacola is a big city.

Her “being in a relationship” curbed anything that I may or may not have wanted. I was just learning at that point in time that sometimes its just better to be friends with women rather than to always go after the relationship and see whether or not I fail or pass.

I was having this light-hearted conversation with Pensacola just last night via Facebook and I didn’t really keep much of a distance. In fact I mentioned that the distance between her and I was too much and that I felt something should be done about it. All of which received no direct response to.

I was taking a risk. I was taking that step to see whether or not I could put my hand in the fire and come out of it without burns.

And then it struck me! She and I had known about each other and had been in communication with one another via MySpace and/or Facebook for nearly TEN YEARS!!

Damn. I don’t think that there’s many people that can claim that. I have a penpal that I am still writing to that got started in 2002. But anything more than that… I don’t think anyone else has survived for whatever reason or another.

Almost ten years with this beauty! Fuck!!

So as I pushed and pushed the boundaries to see where it would land, she began the responses of departure and I wanted to know if I could ask her something.

I asked her for her cell phone number, that way we could use text messages to talk and communicate.


I received some bullshit paragraph as to why and she admitted to having a cell phone and blah blah blah. But the longer it took her to respond to my request … then I knew the chances were greater and greater for being turned down.  And I was.

Incredible, ladies and gentlemen.

I guess even if you have been in communication with someone for nearly an entire decade, it still is not enough.

I had since then attempted to go back into MySpace but those bungholes lost my passwords. So I can’t sign into either of them. Oh well. Do I really need those people that got left behind? No. Because I couldn’t even convert HALF of those contacts that I remembered to Facebook when I was making the change.

MySpace has returned to his musician’s glory in the first place.

And we as a society continue on with Facebook and Google+.



The Rainbow Transition


As I dabble this evening into the beast of Facebook, I’m struck in the face yet again with a certain reality. A particular instance that just blindsides me with numbness and no emotion as I can do nothing but blink.

Back in 1998, I had done what I never thought twice about doing. I met a person from the Internet for the first time in my entire life. A brand new idea of traveling from one state to another state was about to go down.

The visit started out wonderfully. The second day (out of a planned five) however life would intervene. It would for me, wreck the mini-vacation. The first time I ever met someone from the Internet and things just fell apart.

But I still had weird feelings for her. Was this being in love? I know that cared about her as a person. But was this true love and what was going to happen now that things are falling to shit??

The unfortunate thing was that the last day and a half that I was there, I spent it in an Indianapolis hotel. Her family had an emergency and she had to leave. There was nothing neither of us could do.

So the shorter time that we had between us, we grew apart. By the time she dropped me off at the hotel, I didn’t know how I felt. In desperation I told her that I loved her. And she went into panic. But then she relaxed when I told her “….. as a friend. I love you.”

She closed the door behind her and that was the last time I ever saw her with my own eyes.

She was still a virgin at the point that I met her. And yes, I sooooo wanted her. But I never touched her. She pulled away so fast that I wouldn’t have ever been able to do anything. It was just the way it was going to be. But I pulled away further when I would go to the corner store, spend my money on a phone card and call my buddies and tell them how much misery I was in by being in Indiana. My misery however would be because I wasn’t getting out of this trip what I wanted which was a girlfriend.

There would be a long period of time when we didn’t talk. I was frustrated at her for not falling head over heels in love and she was angry at me for pushing it.

Until we both settled down and then I realized that it all had happened for a reason, then we were able to return to our friendship.

I knew that after me, she did meet another guy. She met with him and then started a relationship with him. It was with him that she had lost her innocence and I rumbled inside, knowing that I probably could have been the one and was so close. But….. I also had to decide whether or not deflowering a woman was going to be part of my life and intent or to be friends with someone.

I chose friendship.

She married the guy after the one who spoiled her. She had a couple of children. And she was happy. She was always willing to discuss my life including aspects of whether or not I had a girlfriend or had the hots for someone. She would drill a question into my head after asking it over and over and over again that I sit here and when I think about a particular woman that I am starting to like, I ask myself that question.

“Do you see yourself spending the rest of your life with her?”

It didn’t matter who or what woman was on my mind at that time. It was always that same question.

Fuck. That’s deep.

Since the discovery of Facebook, I added her there. But there’s been little to no communication whatsoever. But her posts have changed. Her profile has changed. There’s no more big, bad, buff hubby. But now a woman.

She’s changed and switched teams to which she plays for.