You win, Google Ads

I have been bested by Google Ads.

A few weeks ago I posted an entry that I felt sure would draw the strangest content in the ad space on this site that I could possibly imagine. I used words like "hot queef injection" for chrissakes. In case you don't know, Google Ads actually reads the content of your site so that it can post ads that are relevant to the stuff that your readers are interested in. I figured that writing about stank poon and hot queef injections would really put that engine to the test.

Nothing really came of that post, and I was actually a bit disappointed. You see, I don't actually have more than a handful of readers, and none of them ever apparently click the ads on my site - I've never made a cent off of the ads. I really just included them on the site for my personal entertainment, to see what sort of crap pops up depending on what I write.

Yesterday I wrote a poignant mind dump about underwear, winter vs. summer, and cold butt cheeks. I was just writing what was on my mind, not even really thinking about how Google Ads would read it.

Here's what came up:

I don't recall saying anything about numbness, fingers, or certainly Raynaud's Phenomenon, but apparently Google Ads got numb fingers from cold buttcheeks. Interesting.

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

?????

I can be eloquent when I write, but that doesn't make me British - I mean really, knickers?

PPP + SM = Hot Sex

LOL, Purple Passion Pole. That's what I'm calling my johnson from now on.

And a woman's holiest of areas is the Squish Mitten.

EDITOR'S NOTE: I can't take credit for Squish Mitten, I heard that on the radio earlier. PPP is all mine, however, but I can't believe nobody's not thought of it before. Nothing shows up on a quick Internet search though.

What do voyeurs see when they look in the mirror?

Sometimes when I'm getting ready to leave the house I think "I might go commando today - I'll bet that would feel sexy". Turns out that because my boy parts are on the OUTSIDE, it doesn't feel sexy so much as it feels chafing, especially in jeans. Or things poke out in places that decency dictates they really shouldn't, scaring small children and making women feverish. So all in all, it's not so much a sexy time experience, but more of a hassle and inconvenience.

Too bad too, because feeling sexy has so much potential. Damn you women, you can wear anything anywhere anytime and it's sexy. Guys: not so much.

Then again, it's hard to feel sexy when it's 19 degrees outside and snowing. Unless, of course, you roll around in the snow and get all wet and cold and then come inside and sit in front of a roaring fire on a bearskin or sheepskin rug, buckers except for some nice clean socks, and let your pink butt cheeks warm up and dry off in the warmth of the room. That feels like sexy time.

At least, it does to me.

I love the feel of cold skin under my hands. It makes me feel all swoozy inside. Cold buttcheeks? The best. Not sure why, but it's a great feeling. It's not a sexual feeling, I just love soaking up the cold with my hands until it's gone - the whole transference thing is just neat-o to me and the feeling of the cold skin is so cozy. Sometimes when I'm skiing I'll take my hands out of my gloves and cover my ears with them, just to soak up the cold. It feels good to me - not in my ears but in my hands.

Conversely, it's hard to feel sexy when it's 100 degrees and humid out, but it's certainly easier when you're not overweight. There was a time when I was not my current svelte self, and just thinking about anything warmer than room temperature would make my hands sweat. Now that I'm in shape and lean, I enjoy hot weather more. And to be sure, there's probably nothing more sexy than lying naked on a bed with your lover, both of you drenched in sweat - her hair matted back against her head and your hand leaving a glistening trail as you run your fingers down her back. Truth be told, this is sexy whether the heat is from the summer's sun or from an overactive heating unit in the bedroom, but there's something about that time of day in the peak of summer as the sun first hides behind the horizon, the sky turns all orange and pink, and the air starts to cool slightly.

That's the time of day when the birds start to quiet down, the crickets and frogs haven't yet started their nighttime symphony, and the roar of a match lighting a cigar and the clink of ice cubes in a glass of scotch seem to resonate just a bit more clearly when you are sitting outside wearing just boxer shorts and soaking up the evening humidity. The shadows are drawn long and wavering over everything, making you see things that aren't there (or perhaps helping you see things that you otherwise couldn't).

Winter will roll through soon, trailing Spring in its wake, with Summer not far away after that. It won't be long now before we will be able to enjoy being outside, instead of just running through it as quickly as possible, leap-frogging from a heated building to a heated vehicle to yet another heated building. Soon, those of us in the unforgiving Northeast will be able to step outside without strapping on boots and bundling up, and everything we do will feel just that much more sexy and relaxed.

So mazal tov, Winter; happy journeys to you. Please don't be offended if some of us aren't here next time you come calling - it's not personal, we just don't really feel like we have all that much in common with you any longer. We simply don't like how you make us feel so unsexy, and how you keep us from connecting with the people and landscapes around us. Others may look forward to your bounty of cold and white snow, but some of us would rather avoid all of that if possible. Instead we would rather be able to appreciate on a daily basis that one time of day when the long shadows of afternoon and nighttime dance together around us in a warming embrace. Or the sexy feeling of walking outside wearing almost nothing - and feeling the healing warmth of the sun on our body and face.

NOT Comcastic

I have been without internet access at my house for over two months now. For those of you not in the know, I am an IT professional, so as frustrating as this might have been for anyone in this day and age, it was doubly (perhaps triply) so for me. I've neglected my blog, a lot of work, and my friends (apparently we've become increasingly connected via the Internet). This should all end shortly - the electrician I hired to move the power from the side of my house to the outside of my new garage has finally started work this week (apparently the holdup has been with the power company), and once he's done I will be able to call Comcast and have them come and fix the problem.

I can't wait. I've been suffering from "Power Outage DOH Syndrome" (PODS). You know, like when the power goes out while you are watching TV so you go "Oh well, I guess I'll just surf the Inter-DOH!!! Oh well, I guess I'll just play XBo-DOH!!!! Oh well, I guess I'll just do the laund-DOH!!!!!". My whole house is connected to the Internet, from my TiVo to my XBox to my various computers. I live and die in a connected world, and lately it feels when I'm home as if I've mostly been dying.

So what I've done it avoid my house. Which sucks, because I like my house and I like my stuff. I've spent a lot of time at Starbucks (I never want to see a latte again), Borders, and Dawn's house (not complaining about that one AT ALL, FYI), using the Internet at those places (but only to do the most basic things I need to do to get by at work since the home comfort factor is missing). The timing couldn't be worse - I have been more busy at work lately than ever.

Boo hoo, it's been tough.

I'm at my dad's house right now (he's out of town) using his internet connection and drinking his beers and smoking cigars in his kitchen. So that's actually better than if I was home - I don't smoke in my own house (it stinks, but he won't notice since he's got a pipe perpetually hanging out of his mouth).

I've like to say that this has all been Comcast's fault, but I can't really blame them for not wanting to mess with their cable - it's been draped over my new garage, tangled with the power lines this whole time.

But now it's almost over, and I can return to some semblance of a normal life, for better or worse. I'll post again regularly, keep in better touch with my friends, and simply be home more.

That will be then, but this is now, and I'm tired and not feeling very creative and want to go home and go to sleep, so that's all I have to say about that.

When Life Hands You Chocolates...

Forest Gump Says:

Life is like a box of chocolates - you never know what you're going to get even now that they print the little map on the box cover, mostly because it's really hard to tell which way is up and you end up taking a bite of the nasty hard-ass caramel one when you think you're getting the soft chocolatey one. The lesson here being: bite gently to make sure what you're getting is what you want, otherwise you might end up with a broken tooth and an unwanted taste in your mouth.

Shit happens, and usually it happens when you think you are putting your best foot forward. Don't ever stop putting your best foot forward, but seriously, do pay attention to where you are stepping. There might also be a pretty flower under your tread.

I'm not a smart man... but I know what love is, I just don't always know what to do with it. Fortunately, with true love, you don't have to be perfect as long as your intent is pure.

Lieutenant Dan - ice cream. Mint chip please. kthxbye.

Word to Your Mutha

Pardon me, but I would query about a parlay with your female parental unit...

My Lime Jello

If I know I'm going to eat at a really nice restaurant (you know, the kind of place that serves lime Jell-O), I'll starve myself all day leading up to it. Not completely, I'll have a bite of a snack here and there, but more just to tease my belly and make it REALLY WANT the meal that's coming later that night. This way, when it finally comes I'm SO hungry that I take my time and enjoy every scrumptious morsel. Try it sometime - this really takes every bit of the dinner from the salad to the appetizers to the main course and even dessert, and makes it the most delicious thing you've ever tasted. This way, I find I thoroughly enjoy my nice meals, even if I don't get dessert at the end.

I like to trace the outline of things by hand before I fill them in with watercolors. Sometimes I go outside the lines, but sometimes that means you find something that you didn't know was there. This is key - if you spend too much time doodling what you know, you are missing out on everything you don't know.

Stank Poon

I've decided that there is a wild animal that lives only in the mountainous regions of West Virginia called the feral Stank Poon. It's about the size of two housecats fucking (regular sized ones, not fat-ass ones), has long-ish matted dirty-grey / brown hair, a flat tail, and two pointy buck teeth which it uses for gnawing through mailbox posts. It sleeps hanging by one paw from tree branches, makes a gutteral moaning sound (not unlike the sound a fork makes when you "accidentally" drop it into a running garbage disposal) when fornicating, and has been known to drop from trees onto the unsuspecting heads of hikers just to steal their trail mix.

And in case you've ever wondered what the sex act of farting into a woman's vagina is called, it's a "Hot Queef Injection".

Your move, Google Ads.

The Student Becomes the Teacher

I was up on a ladder this morning moving my cable connection off of the new garage I'm having built, and it got me to thinking about trust. Being able to trust the people and things around you is a crucial part of being a person - going through life with the inability to trust anyone would be unbearably difficult, and I suspect would induce various types of psychosis. So, it's inevitable throughout the course of your life that you will place your trust in a person or object and it will fail you.

Fortunately, this morning my ladder did not fail me (despite the fact that I was bundled up against the 15 degree weather and the ladder was resting on some icy snow), but every now and then someone or something that you expect to behave one way switches up on you, and you are thrown for a loop. For example, on Christmas Day my brother helped me move my Suzuki from the shed in my driveway to my dad's garage, where it would be more protected against the elements this winter. Halfway between my house and my dad's the throttle got stuck open, the end result of which was that the bike took off up a windy, hilly road (with snow-covered edges) at a very high rate of speed, and engaging the clutch or rolling off the throttle had no effect. Fortunately, my training kicked in and I flipped the kill switch and coasted to the side of the road. The whole thing happened so quickly I never had time to be terrified.

The bike had let me down. Here was a performance machine, the first I had ever ridden, touted to be one of the best and most elite machines Japan has to offer, and it flat out betrayed me. This bike had taught me everything I knew about driving very fast on two wheels, and suddenly it was behaving like a lesser machine. It did something I never expected it to do - it went back on its promise to always be there for me, to always act in my best interest, to always have my back, and it did something to endanger that which I hold so dear to me.

My first instinct was to question myself. Was it possible that this thing that I loved and respected and trusted really do this to me? Maybe I didn't let it warm up enough. Maybe I rolled the throttle on instead of off. Did I cross a wire in my head and forget which hand was the throttle and which was the clutch?

Looking back on it, I can't see anything that I did wrong. The bottom line is that the bike gave me reason to never trust it again, at least not completely. It reminded me of the cardinal rule that must always be followed whenever you strap on a crotch rocket , and that is to never assume that everything is going to go the way you might expect. Don't assume that the guy in the right lane in the highway isn't suddenly going to drop his coffee on his lap and veer across the blacktop into your lane. Don't forget that at any moment a deer could bound across your path. And never expect your vehicle to be infallible - it was made by humans after all, and therefore is bound to exhibit some of the defects to inherent in mankind.

This won't make me stop riding my bike of course, but it has left a bad taste in my mouth, and I certainly don't feel the same way about it as I used to.

Trust is important, and trust is based on consistency. If you behave in a manner that is inconsistent with the way that you have led others to expect you to behave, then they will lose trust in you. It's as simple as that. And it hurts the most when the person or thing letting you down is something or someone that you have a lot invested in. That you trusted. That you loved.

Bad Mojo Risin'

Everyone knows that Karma is when something bad or good happens to you that lines up with something that you've done. Cosmic payback, so to speak. An example: right after I graduated from high school, I was having trouble getting a job to get me through the summer. I must have filled out 100 applications, with no calls back. One afternoon after dropping off a few applications in Hartford, I stopped at a traffic light off of the highway and a shady pseudo-homeless guy knocked on my window, asking for a ride. I don't know if I consciously decided to give him one or if my door was just unlocked and he just got in regardless, but I ended up driving him home (just a few blocks to the North End, which is not a place for young white boys from the suburbs at any time of day). By the time I got home I had a message on my answering machine (dating myself again) with a job offer at the local Dairy Mart (I ended up working there for a few weeks and then quitting one day because I wanted to go to the beach more than I wanted to work that day).

Karma rewarded me for doing something nice. I was paid back for not having fear, and for doing something selfless.

Mojo, on the other hand, is an entirely different animal. Mojo, both good and bad, is a cloud that descends on a place or a group of people and can change everything that was originally meant to be. Back in the day in the rave scene we used to call this the "vibe". Typically you know right away when you run into some bad Mojo - it's like walking through someone else's fart. I've been in places coated in bad Mojo before, places that give you a bad feeling just from walking into them. Bad mojo isn't your fault, any more than good Mojo is a reward. Both just "are", and they can change everything.

Mojo sometimes just happens, sometimes it can be created. But it's not created in the same way that Karma is created - it's not linked to intent or action. Bad Mojo can happen as a result of the best of intentions. Bad Mojo can happen when people try too hard to have a good time, or when they burn themselves out trying to reward themselves for good behavior. This isn't action that deserves a bad turn, but it can create one.

Good Mojo, on the other hand, is created just as easily. When people that coincide with each other get together, beautiful, wonderful, creative, and spectacular things can happen. Things that shouldn't be possible, that are beyond human comprehension, that defy logic. This shouldn't be questioned - ever. When this happens, it feels as though the stars and moon and sun are all aligned to cast a warmth on your face that feels as though it will never fade.

Mojo should never be ignored. Beware bad Mojo, and embrace good Mojo. Bad Mojo is a sign that something is wrong, and good Mojo is a sign that everything is right.