Is That a Snow Globe in Your Pocket or Do You Just Want Me to Butter Shake It Up?

Well, people, you can now rest assured.  All is well and safe in America.  I have holiday traveled and not only was I not inconvenienced by any waiting or fondling, another snow globe smuggling was thwarted.  Also, an elderly lady and not me was x-rayed.  My declining to be x-rayed fell upon only slightly irritated ears.  I was told I was lucky I wasn't chosen over someone's great grandmother, else I'd have been manually searched.  He said it with such a threatening tone, I wanted to challenge his authortiah, but apparently neither my uncool haircut, my Black Friday fat pants nor our mutual complacency riled up the kinky exchange.

In other shocking news, there was pot on Willie Nelson's tour bus, but don't worry we're safe now.  That's just Willie doing his part to manually roll back the George Bush Tax cuts on the rich.  Speeding tickets for Ferrari drivers, tax revenues from diamond ring polishing services and mink stole repairs are at record levels, so pretty soon we working class peons will be trickled down upon, you can be sure.  Snow globe moguls are only a blip in the well-oiled machine suckling the teats of our earth and Jack Nicholson dry.     

Tell me, anthropomorphized Jack (the name my mother would have given me were I a boy, incidentally, same as my grandfather's), what happened to us?  Have we lost our edges, we two?  Things that aren't supposed to be round are round.  When did we fictitiously become curmudgeonly and stuck in our ways? Besides the fact that you are an alleged bazillionaire and three-time Academy Award winner who dated Angelica Huston for 16 years, we're like two peas you and me.  We need new haircuts.  We need new looks.  Trainers.  I'll report you to "What Not to Not Not Wear" if you report me.  Pinky swear with a cherry on top.     

Jack and I, well, not Jack, but I haven't had too much difficulty staying sober these past several years, but with the news of this new menace on the streets, I'm a gonna hafta bump up my security level to red this holiday season.

Whether it be from short stacks of pancakes or blow-job slumber parties, lock up your daughters and be on the look out for these jivetalkin' breakfast treats:

Alcoholic Breakfast Products Coming Soon...
  • Absolut™ Frosted Flakes 
  • Captain Morgan's™ Oats-n-Such
  • Kahlúa™ Grahams
  • Bacardi™ Frozen Daiquiri Waffles
  • José Cuervo™ Breakfast Burritos
  • Jägermeister™ Instant Breakfast Bars
  • Bud Lite™ Egg White Omelettes
  • Michelob™ Wry Dry Toast
  • Jimmy Beam™ Sausage Links
(Scientists I just made up recently discovered that bacon made from alcoholic pigs packs a real punch, so beware of that, you know.)

Next time...MacGuyver Maneuvers That Are Sure to Get you Frisked!

Go forth and spread the Whipped Lightning™ or the Greased Lightning™.

Greased Lightnin' + Born To Hand Jive
Uploaded by abbalistener2003. - Explore more music videos.



Zombie Robot Hottie Bitchez

I am mindnumbingly tired and this is what I have to show for it.  The pic.  Not too bad.  Were I $40 richer, off work, not tired and picking my kids up right after work, I'd also have some sort of asymmetrical/punk/ and or mod haircut to show for it, because because.  As it stands, there's this popcorn and terribly banal conversation that I am aggravatingly (to myself) engaging in here at work.  Really, I don't give a shit about where you go wash your car sweet person who I have little in common with.  I'm just waiting for you to get off your break, so I can watch more Christeene videos to relive last night's Tranarchy.  It was delightful in the most delightful way.  Be warned, the videos are wonderfully awful.  I must say they are far better live, too.

A musician I really liked a lot was Queen Kinz.  Seriously. Also, there was a hamburger meat performance that involved eating hamburgers out of bras and panties and all sorts of stored areas.  Did i mention my friends deemed packing the only appropriate accessory for a tie and waxed on mustache.  Otherwise, I was just my same 'ol everyday self.

Do I have anything to add?  There are pears, and like I mentioned the popcorn and the tiredness and there was one cup of coffee.  I found 2 RedBulls to be a suitable replacement, when there wasn't Kombucha, for alcohol.  It was nasty and syrupy, so the flavor fooled me.  Plus.  Caffeine.  Lots of dancing was had or done or waged or whatever.  My legs are sore and I'm crushing more than I was then wasn't on my dance partner, but you know there was a lofty thought about how I would write about how that shit's in me.  How I'm oh so grateful to have more inklings of what I want rather than more drive to discover what I don't want.  Still, it's vague and seemingly unattainable and in that secret bullshit way already perfect just like it is.  You know the drill.  Still, my faux mustache begged riders (sic) and a different haircut.  The night was hot.  And fun.

Now, it's feet on the ground time.  Or, at least sleep time.

Maybe just not brushing my hair for a while would be better than cutting it.  Really, I don't think about this shit, usually.  Also, I don't usually blog two days in a row or cuss this much (ok, I do that), but I'm in this super lazy ass mood.

What I am going to do right now is request requests.  If you have a certain honey that you want me to write a story about or your annoying boss or co-worker or father-in-law or a certain something you wish would happen or something you like to think celebrities or you should make happen, but you know it never will, leave a message and I'll see if I can't write you a little ditty about it.  Maybe even a poem or song for your honey.  This time's free and all you have to do is send me a little semen or sweat in a bottle.  It's that easy.

So, go for it, because as it is, that's all I have.  La la la.  I mean it.  Seriously.  Bye.

Ok, here's a robot video I'm saving for Snaggletooth (who has long grown out that name).  It really should be performed to one of Queen Kinz's songs.  Pretend.  Pretend.

Plus, request already.

Amazing Robot Dance! - Watch more Funny Videos


Are We High Enough For This Yet?

Fortunately for me and some lucky male and/ or female security personnel, I will be flying over the Thanksgiving holidays.  Unless the new TSA body scans involve a free breast cancer screening as part of the new invasive Obama-care socialist programs, I will be opting out.

I know.  I know.  You think I care about not undoing all of some of the avoiding irradiated food you think I've been doing.  You think I'm standing up for my right to party and not to be violated.  Or, you know me better and you think I haven't been felt up in some time and this all sounds kinda kinky.

I've been squirming to be handcuffed, you know, and what better way to make that happen than to put my new vibrating bullet in me cunt while I recite The New and Improved Texas Pledge™?  If they insist, I can take it out and remove the batteries.  Picky, Picky.  Actually, I've never managed to get tha little sucker past the gatekeeper before I keep it put, but that's neither here not there.  It should be easy enough, getting manhandled by a stranger, right?  I'll just plan to take an extra seven hours to travel, 'cause you know that when they meet resistance, they like to make sure to show you who's in charge.  I told you they're kinky.  I'm looking forward to it.  In fact, I plan on moaning.

In other sweltering news, I shall be drawing a mustache on myself to attend this event this evening.  This will be my first make-up purchase in several years, a black pencil thing, but I see it as an investment.  Oh, I wish I had a vest.  Also, I technically have a week off teaching, though there are only 10,001 -1 related things I need to be doing.  You might expect a post from me sooner than later, but that's really on you if you want to raise your expectations.

Which reminds me.  Regarding politics, I'm apathetic over here.  People aren't going to learn until they learn, and they're not going to learn.  Except me, of course.  Why yesterday, I learned how to remove semen stains (when someone gave me this awesome book).  A little too late (see that there double meaning:  I have four children and I'm going gay for the holidays).  Really, prevention is best here.  Swallow that shit, bag it up, or avoid it all together.  That's what Miss Manners says anyway.  When will we ever learn?   

I'd settle for unlearning even, people. 

Let's find a video, shall we?

Hi I'm Carl from Jack Tew on Vimeo
I'm being video surveilled as we don't not speak.  I'm sure we're all the safer for it, especially me.


Does this Job Make Me Look Fat?

Good morning.  Would you like a donut?  I see you're eating a donut.  Would you like another donut?  I see you don't have a Sausage McMufflin.  Do you need one?  I see you're eating a Sausage McMuffin.  Would you like a donut?  Don't worry.  I ate an apple and there's no doubt that drinking a cup of hot chocolate now is worth not picking back up the coffee (and milk) sauce every day, right?  Can you feel me?  Really, it's easy.  There's more of me to love and I'm slower.

This has been a week.  A week of meeting a very fetching lady, having my two boys be sick, being scoffed at by Dr.'s because there's whooping cough at the school where I teach and I took them to see him/ her (examining/ attending) when they were virtually well again, just to be sure.  I cleaned my van, which may sound like a tidy little chore you do here and there, except it took me an hour and a half or more.  Ten year olds were mocking the (un)cleanliness of my van.  It was bad.

On the second day I kept my sons home just to clear them with a Dr. before sending them back to school, we had a cleaning party and my apartment is feeling pretty nice.  I just have a no man's land closet, and a corner filled with papers from hell mostly from my student teaching last year, but other than that and the closet door that's propped up in my sons' room, it looks great.  Well, there's the ironing pile on the ironing board in the dining room right to the left when you walk in the door, but it's hardly noticeable if you don't look that way.

I've also been cooking this week.  It started with herbal teas and that turned into an apple pie.  And, with apple pie, one must have a dab of vanilla ice cream and then whole mouse cookie scenarios must ensue.  There were all those veggies from the CSA (community supported agriculture farm (thing)) I must cook, lest they be wasted.  Kale, a turkey burger with locally grown lettuce, a couple turnips with butter.  It's all good.  Only the fried and slightly burned eggplant was too much.  I actually threw some away.  Bad fake cop.  No donut for you (only because they're all gone now).

I have a proper date tonight.  Funny how meeting one lady I like made all my bi questioning, fucking around, poly bullshit seem like just that.  Fucking around.  I'm not sure how it'll all go, but I am just glad to have seemingly regained my capacities for unrealistic romantic fancies.  Don't worry.  Romance comedies still disgust me, but my insidious leg shaving has ceased, at least temporarily, as my more dykely ways resurface.  Grrls who dress like boys are hawt and while I like that in the ladiez, it's harder to like that in myself.  Though, The Future President and I had a fairly in-depth conversation about whether or not I am a crossdresser.  Inconclusive, but the magic 8 ball says to check back in a few days.

Well, there were 17.34 more things to say, but being as it is that I've sat on this post right here to this point for three hours now, and have contemplated chucking for a do-over, I'll just post the mother fucker.  I love you or hate you or something.  Best. xoxoxoxoxoxo.  P.S. Call me.  lol,  terrorist fistbump, real disco bump.  Heyyyy, let's do a coming soon list.

Coming Soon and Forcefully...
  • I Licked the Sheriff, But I Did Not Fist the Deputy

That's all.  No wait.  A song. 

Dolly Parton - 9 To 5
Uploaded by jpdc11. - Watch more music videos, in HD!


Typical Quiet Grrrl

Enough of that other mushy stuff.  Enough of not knowing what to say.  Doesn't really matter anyway.  Just matters that I write.  I've been mulling over what sort of extended thing might suit me.  Memoir, novel?  Erotica gone awry definitely needs to happen at some point, but one day last week when my mind was in lala land while I was driving around, I thought about something I heard when I went to see a speaker at UT last month.

That speaker was talking about a writer he had seen speak, Mo Yan, who had written about the history of China in a mocking tone in Life and Death are Wearing me Out.  He was saying that it was hard to pin subversive intent onto him, because the book was written largely through the eyes of reincarnating animals.  I'd love to read it!  It got me thinking anew about perspective in writing.  It got me thinking about the voices I'd feel capable of speaking through.  A child, a mother, a student, a woman, a teacher, a substitute (I think a recent subbing experience was also the culprit in this mental dalliance).  I even feel like I could write from the perspective of a male, especially a teenager, particularly as I begin to situate myself as a seasoned passenger in for the ride as my own boys begin their adolescent reign.

This made me think that writing an adolescent book might interest me.   Maybe I'm not really stunted in still regarding Roald Dahl, Judy Blume, and Jerry Spinelli as my favorite authors.  Maybe, I am well-suited to the genre.  As I have let this idea clink around in my mind, it's started to take root.  I feel so much less daunted by the idea than I do a "grown up" book.  Pretend, humor, simple sarcasm, and absurdity are my strengths.  Would I include sexual aspects?  Maybe basic elements.  Questioning.  Holy fuck, from the perspective of a gay teen.  Huzzah.  Not that I couldn't not not use my own tomboyish ways.  The confusing nature of bisexuality for a teen living it.  Cha ching.

It's in the air I'm sure, and would be written even better by a teen, I imagine, but what about with a little "It Gets Better"  as seen through the other side?  And, do you want to come out at 40? Of course, there are teens that are way more empowered to be who they are sexually than me, but there are many  who I am just like in my own adolescent identity questioning so many years later.  Am I gay? Am I bi?  Why do I like penises one minute, boobs the next?  Where are these blow job parties and can I bring my girlfriend?  See, not too big a stretch.  Plus, drugs, alcohol and eating disorders.  I've done 'em all.

I've got a lot of work to do, and material is gushing into my head right now.  Maybe she'll do Nanoblowme after all (she says again, but in third person this time).

I'll leave you with a video, a song I was listening to yesterday.  Ariane Forster of The Slits died last month.  Most sad.  I just heard this weekend.

Muchos besitos xxxx.


Virtuous Smirtuous

Stunning, striking,
and other words
that conjure violence
as flattery
suit her.
A sharp tongue
and wit that insinuates
pain and survival 
imply a proximal safety 
waiting to go awry.

Misunderstanding the risk, 
my hand imagines
pulling her supple midriff
to my own,
an act
which could only cause 
a clandestine incident
to ensue.
With disheveled hair 
that I could eat 
framing her poignant features, 
irregular smiles as reward 
find my own lips
hungry for a taste.

It's not the normal niceties 
that conjure the sight
of her imperfect teeth, 
but rather my accidental kinks, 
those others find peculiar
or even uncomfortable, 
that bring us closer
to each other,
connect us.

Were it that
it did not end here,
more I could tell you
of love, desire, companionship,
but being in my head
and heart
as it is,
a reality
still not unfurled,
this remains in the ideal,