.avatar.yuku.com/thehawkeyehotspot "tucsonhawk(d)'s Avatar")
...is better than no sex....wait, or is that even a bad day fishing....oh thppppt!
Submitted for your disapproval, and I will leave out the naugty bits. There is a happy ending, or shall I say two "happy endings" to this story. With Farf's recent chinese google fetish, it seems my usage of "happy ending" is apt in the first case.
I hope none of you become ill but, it beats eating dog penises.
I recently signed back up for Match.com again. As you may recall I did so first when living in California and, after 6 resulting dates, learned that I was more or less paying for the equivalent of waterboarding torture. They were more like intense job interviews, well, all except for two in which one gal had lied about her age and another was accomodating, but too "not attractive to men at all, sir." to quote a Monte Python vinyl track that referred to a man and a dog.
So, I hooked up with some gal from tiny town Iowa who liked to talk dirty. So dirty, in fact, that I felt she might be a professional, or at the very least, a man who got his jollies chatting with other men.
Mind you, this was Match.com and the chatting is sending emails back and forth. She wanted to go to Yahoo Messenger, which was another red flag in my book of what NOT to do online.
My brother was also wanting me to get Yahoo as he has a webcam and he mentioned that we could talk over the internet free of charge. So, I got it.
Well, by golly. The gal shows up in my Yahoo chat list and goes to town with her filth. I tell her to stop, and she tells me that she is so happy that her daughter's TB test came out negative and that she will be alone tomorrow (yesterday) because said daughter will be in Des Moines with her boy friend. She wonders what I will be doing and I mentioned the Hawkeye game, and then warning number 560 showed up: Is that Iowa State, she asked?
The woman has never posted her photo, she said, because she has no digital camera and photos make her look fatter than she is anyway....reason 561 to back away from the computer.
She then writes filth like a good professional. I don't smoke much, but I had to write "hold on" and went across the street to buy a pack of Marlboros, just to get through this. As the Wizard said to Dorothy, I was petrified.
She continues, I also start boozing. I then realize what a pathetic figure I've become, resorting to some chat room with someone I do not know just to read some erotic chat. Not only am I petrified, I find myself helpless. Glad this doesn't cost me anything, but will it in the long run? I ain't going to bite, I say to myself.
At about 2AM, after three hours of this @#%$, I decide that it is time to shut this sordid thing down and go to bed. Afterall, I had to rise and get ready for the Hawkeyes, which meant having breakfast and then heading down to the Okoboji Grill to watch it. I resist buying cable.
She then asks: Well, what are you going to be doing tomorrow; I'm going to be all alone? I respond, I'm coming over there to "blank" your brains out. She says that is fine and gives me directions.
You might want to look away, boys and girls, but as I mentioned, happy endings all around.
I hadn't been on a life-threatening adventure since I married my third wife, so I thought I would take it on, especially since it was Illinois we were playing. I drove the hour over there, listening to the Hawks sputter and thinking that this was indeed a good idea. Just before I arrived at my destination, we exploded for 21 points. Hmmm, I thought to myself. Might wish I had gone to the Okoboji for the second half.
I knocked on the door of the public housing apartment, against my better judgement. The answer came and my first thought was to run and hide but, at my age, I thought it better to be a man and face the consequences of my previous evening's poor judgement. I walked in and she said she needed to finish her makeup. I knew there was no makeup in the world that could take care of the extra 100 pounds or the missing tooth. And she had the gall to ask me about the fact that I have more gray hair than the photo in my profile.
Then, I saw the widescreen TV. If it is one thing that folks on public assistance have, it's a fine entertainment center with 100's of DVD's stashed around them.
While she went to the bathroom, I thought "this is your time to run, boy." But, there was that TV. I asked, "do you mind if I hijack your TV and watch the game?" I didn't wait for the answer, I went right to the game and tried to forget the situation I was in. It worked, for a while. She had the Country Music Channel on--another reason to run like the wind.
She emerged from the washroom and I made conversation with her while watching a lackluster Iowa team pretty much crawl along, and an Illinois team with a QB with a Howitzer for an arm throw the ball to anyone who cared to catch it, usually an Iowa player.
With the game mercilessly over, she talked and talked and talked using phrases like: I seen; do you like bowling and stuff like that there; I don't do that no more, my brother is hooked on marijauna; I haven't worked for two years; men online think I could be dirty for a living; migraines keep me from working; I've been in five car accidents, I do Tae Bo...
Three hours had gone by and I was desperately searching for a way to get out. And at that point, I didn't care how naughty she was; I had to go.
I got my opportunity when the guy across the street was trying to move his camper out of his driveway and my car was in the way. I quickly ran outside to help, thinking this would be the gateway to a quick exit. I returned with my stock in trade line: Well, dear, I really need to be going, only to hear her back in the bathroom, spraying perfume. I got that feeling that I wasn't off the hook. My shoes were on, I was standing at the door...gave her a little hug....
And she says...looks like I'm not going to get that action, eh?
And I, trying to be polite and exit said something like "only if you want to." I thought she would back down and let me off the hook, but no. She said, yeah, I want to. So I said something stupid like, "OK, you lead the way."
Ladies and gentlemen, what transpired after that is something no man should ever have to endure. I kept my eyes closed and I assume that, after this episode, I could do Shakespeare with no trouble. Outside of my pelvis being slightly crushed, my fertile imagination managed the rest.
I got out of there intact. I really didn't need to lock my wallet in the glove compartment, but I thought it would be prudent. End of story.
The passed week, I chatted back and forth with another woman who would not post her photo, but did describe herself to me. She wrote that she wouldn't let her identity be known because she is so well known in Iowa City and has trained a national champion horse. She has a good job.
Then, she offered me a ticket to see the OSU game with her next Saturday.
Now, that is what I call going from the outhouse to the penthouse in a matter of hours.
I'll be at the game Saturday, her treat. And that is what I call a happy ending.
JOE...er, I mean Tucson....
Submitted for your disapproval, and I will leave out the naugty bits. There is a happy ending, or shall I say two "happy endings" to this story. With Farf's recent chinese google fetish, it seems my usage of "happy ending" is apt in the first case.
I hope none of you become ill but, it beats eating dog penises.
I recently signed back up for Match.com again. As you may recall I did so first when living in California and, after 6 resulting dates, learned that I was more or less paying for the equivalent of waterboarding torture. They were more like intense job interviews, well, all except for two in which one gal had lied about her age and another was accomodating, but too "not attractive to men at all, sir." to quote a Monte Python vinyl track that referred to a man and a dog.
So, I hooked up with some gal from tiny town Iowa who liked to talk dirty. So dirty, in fact, that I felt she might be a professional, or at the very least, a man who got his jollies chatting with other men.
Mind you, this was Match.com and the chatting is sending emails back and forth. She wanted to go to Yahoo Messenger, which was another red flag in my book of what NOT to do online.
My brother was also wanting me to get Yahoo as he has a webcam and he mentioned that we could talk over the internet free of charge. So, I got it.
Well, by golly. The gal shows up in my Yahoo chat list and goes to town with her filth. I tell her to stop, and she tells me that she is so happy that her daughter's TB test came out negative and that she will be alone tomorrow (yesterday) because said daughter will be in Des Moines with her boy friend. She wonders what I will be doing and I mentioned the Hawkeye game, and then warning number 560 showed up: Is that Iowa State, she asked?
The woman has never posted her photo, she said, because she has no digital camera and photos make her look fatter than she is anyway....reason 561 to back away from the computer.
She then writes filth like a good professional. I don't smoke much, but I had to write "hold on" and went across the street to buy a pack of Marlboros, just to get through this. As the Wizard said to Dorothy, I was petrified.
She continues, I also start boozing. I then realize what a pathetic figure I've become, resorting to some chat room with someone I do not know just to read some erotic chat. Not only am I petrified, I find myself helpless. Glad this doesn't cost me anything, but will it in the long run? I ain't going to bite, I say to myself.
At about 2AM, after three hours of this @#%$, I decide that it is time to shut this sordid thing down and go to bed. Afterall, I had to rise and get ready for the Hawkeyes, which meant having breakfast and then heading down to the Okoboji Grill to watch it. I resist buying cable.
She then asks: Well, what are you going to be doing tomorrow; I'm going to be all alone? I respond, I'm coming over there to "blank" your brains out. She says that is fine and gives me directions.
You might want to look away, boys and girls, but as I mentioned, happy endings all around.
I hadn't been on a life-threatening adventure since I married my third wife, so I thought I would take it on, especially since it was Illinois we were playing. I drove the hour over there, listening to the Hawks sputter and thinking that this was indeed a good idea. Just before I arrived at my destination, we exploded for 21 points. Hmmm, I thought to myself. Might wish I had gone to the Okoboji for the second half.
I knocked on the door of the public housing apartment, against my better judgement. The answer came and my first thought was to run and hide but, at my age, I thought it better to be a man and face the consequences of my previous evening's poor judgement. I walked in and she said she needed to finish her makeup. I knew there was no makeup in the world that could take care of the extra 100 pounds or the missing tooth. And she had the gall to ask me about the fact that I have more gray hair than the photo in my profile.
Then, I saw the widescreen TV. If it is one thing that folks on public assistance have, it's a fine entertainment center with 100's of DVD's stashed around them.
While she went to the bathroom, I thought "this is your time to run, boy." But, there was that TV. I asked, "do you mind if I hijack your TV and watch the game?" I didn't wait for the answer, I went right to the game and tried to forget the situation I was in. It worked, for a while. She had the Country Music Channel on--another reason to run like the wind.
She emerged from the washroom and I made conversation with her while watching a lackluster Iowa team pretty much crawl along, and an Illinois team with a QB with a Howitzer for an arm throw the ball to anyone who cared to catch it, usually an Iowa player.
With the game mercilessly over, she talked and talked and talked using phrases like: I seen; do you like bowling and stuff like that there; I don't do that no more, my brother is hooked on marijauna; I haven't worked for two years; men online think I could be dirty for a living; migraines keep me from working; I've been in five car accidents, I do Tae Bo...
Three hours had gone by and I was desperately searching for a way to get out. And at that point, I didn't care how naughty she was; I had to go.
I got my opportunity when the guy across the street was trying to move his camper out of his driveway and my car was in the way. I quickly ran outside to help, thinking this would be the gateway to a quick exit. I returned with my stock in trade line: Well, dear, I really need to be going, only to hear her back in the bathroom, spraying perfume. I got that feeling that I wasn't off the hook. My shoes were on, I was standing at the door...gave her a little hug....
And she says...looks like I'm not going to get that action, eh?
And I, trying to be polite and exit said something like "only if you want to." I thought she would back down and let me off the hook, but no. She said, yeah, I want to. So I said something stupid like, "OK, you lead the way."
Ladies and gentlemen, what transpired after that is something no man should ever have to endure. I kept my eyes closed and I assume that, after this episode, I could do Shakespeare with no trouble. Outside of my pelvis being slightly crushed, my fertile imagination managed the rest.
I got out of there intact. I really didn't need to lock my wallet in the glove compartment, but I thought it would be prudent. End of story.
The passed week, I chatted back and forth with another woman who would not post her photo, but did describe herself to me. She wrote that she wouldn't let her identity be known because she is so well known in Iowa City and has trained a national champion horse. She has a good job.
Then, she offered me a ticket to see the OSU game with her next Saturday.
Now, that is what I call going from the outhouse to the penthouse in a matter of hours.
I'll be at the game Saturday, her treat. And that is what I call a happy ending.
JOE...er, I mean Tucson....
Chairman of The Faction
