Archive for October, 2005

sniff

Posted by Daddy Rhon on October 22nd, 2005

YO! Where my peeps at?

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Christine is having *another* Femme weekend away. Her and M are in a casino right this minute playing craps! I have always been a loner at heart, but I am actually feeling kinda lonesome tonight. I lost my best friend a few months ago (he didn’t die or anything — just one of those turns in the road) and all my other Butch buds live so damn far away. I gots no one to play with. :(

So… I finally watched Casablanca tonight, and then turned off the jets in my hot tub and floated around in the middle of it, just watching leaves fall in the night.

Gas prices

Posted by Daddy Rhon on October 21st, 2005

That 3-cylinder Geo Metro is lookin’ real sweet now, huh?

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Abusive husband

Posted by Daddy Rhon on October 20th, 2005

Dang. I kinda made casual friends awhile back with a neighbor at the end of the street. A tiny, sad and frail woman in her 60s. We talk about our old houses and kinda caretake a bit for the handyman who lives in her back house. Bonded a bit over an old neighbor lady who died recently, clearing out her house, thinking about maybe buying it. Talk on the phone now n then. Easy stuff like that.

I got home from dinner, stomped on outta my pickup and tried to stand tall in my boots cuz I could spot a faraway figure headed my way in the dark street. Well, it was only the neighbor friend. We yakked a bit about nothing and then I said, “Hey, you ok lady? You seem a little blue.”

At first she just hinted that she fought with her husband again. She has told me this several times before and kinda laughed it off. But this poor women began to break on down. Man, apparently her husband has been abusing her for 40 years. The reason she was out tonight barefoot in the street was because he beat her about the face, swung her by her hair, and told her he was going to slit her throat. She said she has hid this all of her life because she is ashamed. She fell on her knees bawling.

Don’t you just fucking hate that shit? I lived in a duplex once with a poor girl who twice climbed through my window in the middle of the night just to save herself from her monster husband. He was huge and scary and crazy, but what else could I do? Makes me wish I really could stand taller in my boots, like 12 foot tall.

Anyways, I told her the usual stuff… she didn’t have to put up with that, yak yak. I also told her she could knock on my door anytime.

:( Just wanted to share cuz it upset me.

Why do they call it ‘PMS’?

Posted by Daddy Rhon on October 18th, 2005

Because ‘Mad Cow Disease’ was already taken.

Best smoked turkey… evar!

Posted by Daddy Rhon on October 18th, 2005

Ok, this is one of my secret wonderful things.

There is a quaint smokehouse not far from Dallas that has been doing turkeys the old fashioned way since the 40’s. Greenberg Smoked Turkey doesn’t have an 800 number; they still don’t take charge cards, and you only have to order once to have credit for life. These folks will smoke, ship, and then bill you later with an old-fashioned little postcard. These are honest turkeys, not genetically-enhanced 25 pounders with huge legs and ginormous breasts. In other words, ain’t no kinda parsley gonna ever make a real smoked turkey look Norman Rockwell-ish on a platter, but I do guarantee you won’t find a finer flavor. The Greenberg family hickory smokes their birds for four days until they are mahogany on the outside and pink all the way through. Then they ship these birds all across the states to those in the know.

And now you know.

http://www.gobblegobble.com/

Romanesco

Posted by Daddy Rhon on October 17th, 2005

About to plant fall cabbages in my garden. This perfectly beautiful fractal thing is called a Romanesco cabbage. Sharing this random tidbit with the internet cuz 10 years of tidbits annoy my wife.

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Toe lickin’

Posted by Daddy Rhon on October 17th, 2005

This exchange appeared in the 15 June 2005 installment of “Ask Leslie,” an advice column written by librarian Leslie Potter for the Hays Daily News in northwest Kansas.
______________________________________

Q: I hope you can help me with a problem I have with my godson. Last summer he visited me for two weeks and plans to return in July. When cleaning out the room he stays in, I found an unfinished correspondence to a chum of his in his hometown. In it he says he [is] going to our local pool to “scout out some camel toads.” (I believe that’s what it said, he had spilled iced tea all over the desk when writing it, and it damaged a lot of papers.) I’m concerned he is doing drugs.

I tried to look for camel toads in a drug book, and I didn’t find them, but I found references to some type of frog or toad that people in another country lick to hallucinate. I don’t want to approach him on this until I have more information.

He is a good boy in middle school whose parents do not even drink. Please let me know what camel toads are and how I might be able to tell if he is smoking, taking, or licking them.

Perhaps I should have talked to his parents, but I don’t want to jump the gun. Is this something the local authorities need to be alerted to in order to protect other patrons at the pool or surrounding area? A concerned and uninformed reader

______________________________________

A: The spilled iced tea did a number on the toads, so my younger, hipper coworkers tell me. What he undoubtedly wrote was “camel toes,” a crude euphemism for, well, too-tight pants worn by females.

The good news is that the expression has absolutely nothing to do with drugs. It has everything to do with why teenage boys go to the pool in the first place.

Robert Johnson’s Crossroads

Posted by Daddy Rhon on October 14th, 2005

standing at the crossroads,
believe I’m sinking down…

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High school fist fight

Posted by Daddy Rhon on October 13th, 2005

The first real fist fight I ever got into?

This biggo girl in the locker room said, “Why the fuck you lookin’ at my friend, boodagga!?” No way would I ever peep at her ugly ass friend, but nevertheless, it was on. Punches flew as we rolled on the concrete floor, and half naked girls ran from the showers squeeling with glee. Finally the coach blew her whistle. We both got expelled. Three days off from school. Fuck ya’ll, like I care. On her “day off” she was run over by a car and killed.

After the rage and adrenlin, you feel oddly close to someone once you have bashed them in the face. Man, I felt so guilty that she died.

wtf???

Posted by Daddy Rhon on October 13th, 2005

— Might not be work safe

http://www.rent-a-dildo.com/howitworks.htm

and check out this official notice…

http://www.rent-a-dildo.com/notice.htm