An Intimate Encounter... TRUE STORY!

I was nervous. My pulse was racing. I knew she was going to be back soon.

The price was already negotiated. Money had exchanged hands. I was not happy about that fact, but there was really no way around it. I was in need of her "services".

The room was small. Private, but small. The bed was small. I was very nervous now. It was going to happen. I needed it to happen. The apprehension was palpable.

When we talked to her before she left, she asked the right questions. She showed the right amount of empathy. She knew that I would rather not be in the situation I was in. There were some genuine smiles and the slightest flirtation. We both were aware of the interaction about to transpire. And again... She was already getting paid... Now it was just time to do the deed.

My mind raced about how I would react. Would I be immediately gratified? Would I be hurt? The questions were spewing forth from a mental Gatling gun. I had to steel my nerves, rein in the queries and  understand that it would be more "something done to me" vs. "me doing something to someone else"... It was inevitable - Agent Smith style! Was not a normal day, that much was assured.

I heard her knock on the door... Wait the appropriate three seconds and then enter. Her "uniform" was the epitome of utilitarian... It could get messy, but I knew the act itself would not take long... The build up had gone on too long...

She was carrying the tools of her trade, her implements of relief... She smiled and told me to undo my pants. I stood, and worried about losing my balance, looking the fool...

"You don't have to take them off, but slide them down...", she said. It was not a request... she commanded it. She was in full command of the action. She was the Mistress of The World at that moment. My resistance was futile. It would be of no use to negotiate any other way what was about to go down.

I slide my jeans down, exposing my flesh.

The next command came without preamble or hesitation.

"Lean over the bed. Place both of  your hands flat on the bed."

I did as I was instructed... Bracing... Breathing...

The next sensation was cold and wet, as she "prepped the area"... It wasn't long now. Mere moments.

I felt her hands touch me... More forceful than gentle, her grip was methodical and well practiced. Yet there was a caring aspect to it... I completely trusted her and what she was about to do...

She asked, yet did not ask, "Are you ready. You will feel this..."

And then she was in...

The act is one I knew I would never completely, 100%, enjoy... I so desperately needed it though... It was as if the act had become vital to my continued existence... It had been too long...

Before I knew it... She was done... She withdrew as gracefully as she had entered... A true and devoted professional... I could feel the lingering effects of her penetration...

I swelled with pride that I did not cry... I did not wince... I did not let her know how much her actions had effected me.

I pulled up my jeans... Thanked her... "Manners maketh the man" and all...

The nurse left, having given me my Cortisone shot...

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Last week, on Sunday, when I do my blog, my Bronchitis was raging... I was bed ridden and feeling miserable as shit. It was no bueno.

You fucking perv, (which I love ya for being!)

d

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Dammit, Gym

About 3 or 4 years ago, I instituted a regimen to prolong this "living" thing. Not being as young as I once was, I am not out to kill myself and if I miss a day, I am not going to punish myself or feel bad. I am doing this to try and be a little better than I was yesterday.

I do not love going to the gym, but when I find myself saying, "Yes, Pestering Little Girl, ambushing me outside the Kroger, I would like to buy some Girl Scout Cookies!", it is almost a necessary evil. I do find myself enamored with most things evil. Seriously, Tagalongs are fucking heroin from Satan's personal stash.

I am not the foremost expert in gym etiquette, but a few things have made themselves apparent.

Different Gyms, Different People

In my area, there are a plethora gyms to choose from. Well... Let's first get some terminologies straight... There are gyms, fitness centers, and the runner up to "Globo Gym" from "Dodgeball".

I started going to a Bally's back in the day when I was still married. The staff was what one would call "Phantastic"... Meaning if you paid, they were attentive, if you did not, they were phantoms. That did not last long. I do not even remember what the per month fees were. They closed down a couple of years ago.

After losing about 118 lbs in the divorce (that was what she weighed, I think), I joined Lifetime Fitness. This place had everything. Ev. Er. Ree. Theen. Gah. Indoor pool, outdoor pool, two basketball courts, rock climbing wall, racquetball courts, steam rooms - dry and wet - with eucalyptus infused mist, spa, salon, food court with daily menus, free towels, spin cycle room, aerobic/zumba class room, Yoga studio, Day Care Center, and, oh yeah... some weights and stuff...

More like a vast phalanx of cardio machines... A myriad Nautilus contraptions, laid out in a very OCD friendly manner, and the smallest area seemed appropriated for actual free weights.

The place was palatial and the cleanest gym I have ever been too. You never once sniffed and thought, "Hey... reminds me of a High School locker room... Perspiration and desperation.". The staff was seriously very much on top of their game. They were always moving and busy, cleaning, maintaining, and very helpful - especially if you were a female, in your 20's, hot, and not there accompanied by a guy.

The main reason for the cleanliness and amenities, is that the dues at this place were nothing to sneeze at. Eighty bucks or so per month for the "Gold" level of a single person membership does seem a pittance for all that is included... Problem was, I didn't use any of that other shit. I went in, hit the machines I needed to, and tipped right out the door when done.

This was THE fitness center for the neglected housewives of men with LOTS of disposable income. It was a status. It was the Mega Church you go to, in order to network and be seen... You rarely saw a workout ensemble without new color matching expensive sporty shoes.

And for the record... Ladies... If you have a nice ass, and you have the word "Juicy" written across it... I am going to read it... and have an impure thought or twelve.

So, I was commiserating with some co-workers, and one mentioned that the Gold's offered a City Employee Discount. I stopped by to investigate, and the price was a quarter of what I was paying at Lifetime. So, I cancelled Lifetime and joined Gold's, now known as "Impact Fitness". Oooh!

This is a GYM. It has one or two of the niceties of Lifetime, but on a smaller scale. It is a GYM first, fitness boutique second. Again... I know my routines, I know my machines. In and out, like a duck mating.

The staff is very quick to welcome you upon entering, and salute you when on the way out. One lady took the time to know my name... Nice. The trainers look like they served time! Huge.

Some of the people here are some die hard meat heads. Huge biceps and bac-ne (back acne - sign of steroid usage), Also, there seems to always be a concentration of the senior citizens... Old bastards everywhere... A constant, visual reminder that "Shit... I gotta keep doing this or I end up like THAT!"

Okay... Here are some basic rules when at a gym...

Use and Move

Unless there are at least four of the same, IDENTICAL machines, always be thinking, "There is someone waiting to use this machine." I am doing the tried and true 3 sets, 10-15 reps per set on the machines. In between the sets, I rest for about 50 seconds to 1 minute. Each set takes about 20 to 30 seconds...

TIME FOR MATH!!! I am on a machine for about 4, maybe 5, minutes... Call it an even 6 minutes for preparation - Wiping it down with the gym's provided wipes, configuring the machine, and wiping it down when done with that station.

In all the bays of equipment, they have digital clocks... with a second counter. Huge benefit if you are trying to be considerate and not dilly-dally on the station.

Some people are fucking texting "War and Fucking Peace" on their phones between sets. I watched a lady text while sitting her more than ample ass on the squat machine... and while I did the lat pull down station, biceps station, and triceps station... She maybe did a set... That would be, on the outset, of 18 minutes.

Text later. Move heavy shit up n' down now. Mkay, Pumkin?

Couples

Ugh. Just fucking ugh. I understand you are wanting to bond and stuff... But come on... At least set yourselves up to take up different two machines at the same time, versus just both of you gang-banging on one...

She gets done, he has to reconfigure for him... He gets done... She has to reconfigure... Horseshit. Triples the time it would take a considerate person to be done and move on.

And why the fuck would you want to workout with a person you are involved with? I have seen some of the faces I make when working out... I do not someone, with whom sex is on the line, to see said face, unless in the middle of the aforementioned sex.

The couple that lifts together, stays on the machine I FUCKING NEED TO FINISH MY DAMN WORKOUT longer.

If I were to ever be involved with someone who wanted to workout with me, I would tell them... "Here are the machines and order I am going to hit them... Please stay out of my way."

I am not at the gym for social hour. I maybe say five words the entire time I am at the gym, usually consisting of, "Are you done with this?" while pointing to the machine I need to use.

Know your limits

The biggest fun is watching someone do something wrong and them getting hurt because of it. Think "NASCAR". People not knowing what a machine does or how it is used... Good viewing...

In my gym now, there are two rows of about twenty cardio machines a piece. The back row is elliptical machines and Stair Masters. The front row is comprised of treadmills with a path between the rows. The most dangerous part of my cardio workout, is walking past the row of treadmills in front of me.

There is usually some guy, trying to impress a female trainer or other patron, has the incline set to "Fucking Mt. Everest" and the speed set to "Usain Bolt".

I envision me, all happy for having done my workout, walking by and this douche monger slipping and shooting at me like the fleshy cannonball that he is... Bones snap, extremities entangle... and I curse and proceed to let this person know, in no uncertain terms, the status of their impending doom...

Sweat and Aroma

Wipe down the machines when done. Six words. How hard is that? Apparently, quite difficult. It is 9 times out of 10, the old people who are the culprit.

Part of me gets it... "I am old and gonna die soon... I could give a fuck about wiping down the machine." They should have t-shirts made that say that very thing... I will sponsor!

I don't know what aroma the Elderly employ... a mixture of Ben-Gay, Old Spice, and Polydent maybe... but damn is it pungent... I guess to mask "decay" it would have to be.

Another group of people that frequent this gym are of Asian heritage. I am voting Korean, mainly because of the Kimchi.

Kimchi is a cabbage dish. Kimchi is a staple in some ethnic diets.

The reason I know it is Kimchi is because in the USAF, there was a guy who had Kimchi almost everyday.

I was in my mid-20's then so my "tact" and "elocution" were not as honed. My abhorrence to the olfactory offense came out in a less than stellar manner... "I could dig up a dead, maggot infested hooker, who was skull fucked by a syphilitic hobo, with an 'undetermined' rash, and hit a raw sewage line... and that smell would be infinitely more pleasing to my nostrils than that shit you just microwaved."

Also... Kimchi seeps... It exudes from pores... It is sweated out... So, when I walk to the fountain for some hydration and have to pass by the nice group of people on the stationary bikes... The Kimchi Cloud is thick as shit! "I can taste it! I can taste it! I can taste it! I can taste it! BLERG!"

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In the end... It is the same as some many other things... People need to realize that the Universe does not revolve around them.

There are scientific reasons to focus on the reason you are there in the first place. If you wait to long between sets, your heart rate will slow and you will lose some metabolic thingy... Basically your body will go into "cool down" mode.

It is also hazardous to your health because I will be looking at those 16 lb. medicine balls and thinking about pinging one of your thick skull... Unless you are female, in your 20's, hot, not accompanied by a guy, and your ass says "Juicy".

Under my wheels,

d

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No Actual Realities Were Harmed in the Writing of This Blog

Supposedly there is a football game on later, so I should knock this one out... I usually try to hammer out a topic by Wednesday. Thursday and Friday are spent giving some thought. Saturday is polishing and refining the language and flow.

Sunday rolls around and I scrap it and just let this thing pour forth.

I think it was on Thursday I saw a trailer for an indie film called "Creative Control". I was actually doing some work at the time, so I was glancing every so often and mildly giving it attention.

The basic gist is that a company invents some hipster glasses that give the wearer an augmented view of his/her surroundings... Like a "Heads Up Display". You can look at a person and it give you details about them; list of known relatives, last meeting, hobbies, etc.

You could also associate a "virtual skin" over someone. Say, every time you look at your boss, the Hee Haw Jack Ass is replacing their face. Hilarity could very well ensue!

Well, the wonderful main character of the film gets these glasses... He is a stable person by all accounts. Job. Residence. Girlfriend. Friends. The guy's best friend has a girlfriend and our main character has a harmless crush on her. So... what does this guy do... You guessed it... Takes a rendering of his friend's girlfriend and overlays it on HIS girlfriend... So when he looks at his girlfriend, he sees his friend's girlfriend.

Dick move - For a couple of reasons... 1) Just rude... 2) Too easy to get caught. 3) When you eventually DO get caught, you have intruded/trampled on three other people's lives.

The trailers brought forth some questions...

Where does "Virtual Reality", or VR stand now? Where do we stand now? Are we ready for it as a species?

The Technology

When it comes to VR, the next big thing is the Oculus Rift. This is a VR headset and controller combo. Then there is the PrioVR... Which is very much like a motion capture apparatus combined with a VR headset and controller. Then there is the Virtuix Omni, which lets your body take over some of the control...

These are the household options. Consumer level shit. I would be insanely interested in what DARPA has cooked up... What the clandestine operations have used VR for...

One could argue that the since June 18th, 2004, VR has been able to kill. That was the day of the first confirmed deaths by U.S. drone strike. Sitting in an air conditioned trailer in a parking lot in Las Vegas and killing 5-8 people in South Waziristan, some 7689 miles away, is indeed a virtual reality...

So... With one of the biggest technological breakthroughs at our doorstep... What are we doing with in it's fledgling hours??? Sex and violence! As with any new tech... Porn is here to blaze a trail, and this time, without a burning sensation in your crotch.

We, as a species.

There have been deaths from playing online games for too long... It is very troubling, the levels of addiction shown in people playing these games. I spent an night, or four, playing some titles back in the day. I also knew where the fucking pause button was at all times...

Now... These are GAMES we are talking about. Dennis Miller, before he became a GOP ass puppet,

THIS WAS IN 1994!!!!!! Of course, they missed the deadline... And Claudia Schiffer aged kinda well... But you get the point...

If I were able to have a virtual three way with Alessandra Ambrosio and Betty White (DON'T JUDGE ME!!!) - I just might need to have a safety system to limit my time in that world...

Basically... We have no self control... Some do... Some kinda do... Some... Well, let's just say the death toll in the first month would be STAGGERING. The thing is, almost everybody has something that would test those very limits... My Mom might rake virtual leaves til she popped... My Dad would virtually recreate trips he has taken and "virtually" destroy the commuters that have angered him...

What would that kind of competition lead to in a relationship? People already have trouble maintaining relationships in the connected age. I have seen entire dinners with the two parties never looking up from there phones.

Now, throw in a escapism where you are granted god-like authority... No person could compete with that...

Allow me to add another monkey to the wrench... Artificial Intelligence. In Spike Jonze's "Her", Joaquin Phoenix's character falls in love with his souped up Siri. Incorporate that with VR and you have a virtual ENTITY.

What happens when it gets jealous?

Probably the most extensive visions of a world engrossed with a VR was "Ready Player One" by Ernest Cline. Was a fantastic read and the author is about my age, so every cult reference was fully received with glee and a fond mental embrace. You should check it out. Damn good book.

Orrrr... Wait for the movie. Speilberg is attached. Watch it on your Oculus Rift.

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I would end this exercise with the following words... If you find yourself having trouble dealing with the reality as it is, those troubles will not go away when you add the word "virtual" to it...

Running twice as fast to stay in the same place,

d

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Getting Use To Disappointment

Step 1.



See?

d