And I Like To FuckSo, the suggestion was made after I posted my poll — favorite sexy roll play — I was asked about "female fantasies."Wow. That is a really deep subject. Because, for one, I can't speak for "women."I can speak for "woman."And that is where the wheel goes off the road, boys.The things that dwell in my heart and mind, the things that excite or 'turn me on' ... well, they don't exist in the heart and mind of another woman.Sure, are there "cross over" ... yeah.Things like, "being attentive," "listening," "hugging," ... etc. Many, many women will say - over and fucking over - that they matter. But do you guys listen? No. Fuck no. This is why when a woman finds a man that does - oh, it is on. We grab him and cling.Do we like "bad boys" ... yes. Yes we do. Until we grow the fuck up. Then we like "bad boys, that really aren't".We like it rough ... sometimes.We like it soft ... sometimes.We like it long ... sometimes.We like it quick ... sometimes.We like it ... sometimes.
Getting Older Is A BitchI am so bored, I Youtubed Fleetwood Mac's Rumors album ... can it be called an album if it is on Youtube?Whatever.I'm awake at 5 a.m. on the East Coast and that is just stupid.Israel and Hamas are back at war ... or has that ever really stopped?A huge typhoon is hitting Japan. They named it after an anime character I think.My eldest daughter is awake and acting silly. She cracks me up. So much like her father, I think.God, I love Fleetwood Mac ... they should never grow old. But it happens.The fluid of life, leaks, from our pores and slips to pavement we once played Hopscotch on and rode bikes with baseball cards in the spokes.We had roller skates and rolled with wind in our face.And Stevie Nicks was so beautiful.She twirled and twirled and twirled, and we wanted to be caught in the breeze of her skirts.Our dogs sleep. Our cats sleep. Our fish sleep.The awake hours never find me. The sleep hours make me move, like a gentle ghost, to and fro in this old house, as floorboards