Centerfold

When I was a teenager, every now and then my buddy Doug would get a hold of one of his dad’s old Playboy magazines. These were special times, because we were curious, and had new found hormones surging through our young bodies. This was a way for us to learn about the female anatomy, and to dream about “getting lucky” one day. Being a Catholic, I of course felt guilty about this, but then being a Catholic, I felt guilty about almost everything. I reconciled this by reasoning that maybe hell wouldn’t be such a bad place to spend eternity after all. My young body, and dirty mind were not to be deterred by such trivial things.

As I got older, and actually had some experiences with women who weren’t two dimensional, girlie books lost their appeal to me. I figured there was no reason to get all excited about something I couldn't hold, fondle, or inseminate.

I guess I am different from most other guys. Pornography seems to be very interesting to the average guy. It must be, it is everywhere! One cannot surf the internet, or even read his e-mail without encountering a pop up ad, or spam, telling you of some great porno site, or where you can buy on-line Viagra. Hell, the average guy would not even own a computer, if it were not for all the free porno sites!

They say sex sells, and it must be true; not only for guys but also for the ladies. Every magazine, excluding the professional ones, use sex to sell themselves. My step son subscribes to a muscle car mag, and every car picture, has some nubile young lady laying on, or posing suggestively next to the car. While standing in line at the cash out in the grocery store I saw the latest Cosmopolitan, and they had no less than three articles on sex (that new “S” stroke looks interesting)! Everyone is totally preoccupied with sex.

Personally, I am no prude, and I like sex as much as the next person; but it seems to me that everyone is forgetting the most necessary ingredient for good sex…love. Sex is always better when it is done with someone you love, and respect.

Negotiating Love

Love when you are young is a special thing. There is lots of exploring, and lots of passion. Love is exciting, and it is spontaneous. You have hooked up with the most lovely girl in the universe, and she lives just to please you.

Then, you do something stupid; you marry her.

Sure, the first couple of years there are still some steamy nights, but after seven years, and a couple of kids, things tend to change. You find your wife is no longer frothing at the mouth to get mounted by you. This is when you realize you will spend the rest of your life negotiating for love.

My brother has been negotiating for love many years now. His best tactic is to tell his wife that if she doesn't want him to get prostrate cancer, she has to let him keep the workings workable...if you know what I mean.

My brother's method works because he has a wife that gives a rat's ass about him. Very rare.  Most of us married guys have to negotiate much harder for their love. Here is an example.

"Come on honey, it's been three weeks." "I haven't felt well. You only think about yourself." "That's not true honey, I brought you home some Chicken McNuggets yesterday." "Yeah, but they were cold." "Come on honey, you know I love you, and will always take care of you." If you did you would show it." "Name it honey, you've got it!" "Well, a trip to Olive Garden might get me in the mood." "Ok, ok Olive Garden it is, but you promise when we get home...." "Well there is one more thing..." "What is it my goddess?" "Clean out the cat box, and take out the trash."

As Rodney Dangerfield would say, "It's not easy being married!"

The New Adventures Of Wilbur the Pig Chapter 10 "Teen Pig"

Wilbur has always been his own pig, which means he has always been stubborn, and difficult to handle; but now that he had all these new hormones coursing through his body, he became even harder to handle. I’m sure any parent who has raised teenage children, can relate. Wilbur at the tender age of one and a half was now an obstinate, spoiled teenager.

When we first moved into our new home, it took Wilbur all of one day to decide that the large walk in closet in our bedroom would be his bedroom. This was very cute at first. Every night around 7 p.m. we would say “its bed time Wilbur”, and he would get up and make his way down the hall to our bedroom. He would (and still does) walk into the closet and close the door behind him with his snout. This was not a problem for me because he would go all the way to the back of the closet, and fall asleep. But like most teenagers, Wilbur got big, and lazy. He no longer could be bothered with walking all the way to the back of the closet to sleep; instead he would close the door, and fall asleep right behind the door. This would really irk me because at 3:30 in the morning I would try to get into the closet to get my clothes, only to find the door barricaded shut by a 300 pound pig! Not only that, but barricaded by a 300 pound, very grumpy when woke up by having a door continuously slammed into his ribs, pig. You would think that after getting woke up in this manner a few times, Wilbur would adjust, and sleep in the back again; but no, not Wilbur. Finally I got tired of fighting with him and started laying out my clothes the night before.

There was also another problem with Wilbur sleeping in our closet. For some unknown reason, Wilbur decided that the rug in our closet wasn’t comfortable enough for him to sleep on anymore. Wilbur’s remedy for this problem was to pull down any clothes he could reach, off of their hangers, and then sleep on them. He would also pull down any blankets, comforters, and towels he could reach on the shelves. The result of all of this was that our closet floor was always littered with what were once clean clothes, and bedding. Wilbur was becoming a nuisance of the first degree, and neat freak Rhea was at her wit’s end.

But the thing that finally drove Rhea over the brink was Wilbur’s urges. You know which urges I am talking about, the same urges that all teenage men have when testosterone is introduced into their system; the urge to propagate. Since Wilbur didn’t have a female pig he could cavort with, he started to hump the furniture. This was not good! Wilbur could not be left in the house unattended without something very bad happening to the beds or the couch.

After cleaning up after a couple of Wilbur’s conquests Rhea had had enough. “As of today, Wilbur is to be an outdoor pig!” Rhea exclaimed to me one afternoon. “I am not going to clean up after him again! I can’t take the mess, and I can’t take the smell! Our whole house is starting to smell like a barn!” She was right. All I could do was nod to her and say “you’re right dear.”

So it was, Wilbur was to be an outdoor pig. He was banished to the back patio, and back yard.

Later that night Wilbur began trying to open the back door so he could go to bed. I said to him “Sorry old boy, but you have really done it this time; mommy has put her foot down, you will have to stay outside tonight.” I closed the door tight so he couldn’t pry it open with his bottom teeth, turned the light off, and went to bed.

The next morning we woke up, looked out at the patio, and we were horrified. Wilbur decided to show his displeasure of being banished by throwing a temper tantrum over night. The back porch looked as if a bomb had gone off on it! All the patio chairs had been knocked over or off the porch. The gas grill had been toppled off the deck, and my little refrigerator had been knocked about causing it to open scattering beer cans. He had also trashed every plant he could reach.

I went into a rage. “So, you want to throw a temper tantrum do you?!” I bellowed at Wilbur. “I’ll show you a temper tantrum!” I went at Wilbur with a rage he had never seen before. I came at him kicking and swinging. “You son of a bitch!” I yelled as I tore into him. Wilbur had never seen daddy this angry before, and ran as fast as he could away from me. Wilbur went to the far side of the yard where he watched me warily as I cleaned up his mess.

We were in a quandary. It became obvious to us that the lady who sold him to us knew what she was talking about when she recommended that we get Wilbur fixed. Now what were going to do?

Next: Wilbur gets a “girlfriend”

Negotiating Love

Love when you are young is a special thing. There is lots of exploring, and lots of passion. Love is exciting, and it is spontaneous. You have hooked up with the most lovely girl in the universe, and she lives just to please you.

Then, you do something stupid; you marry her.

Sure, the first couple of years there are still some steamy nights, but after seven years, and a couple of kids, things tend to change. You find your wife is no longer frothing at the mouth to get mounted by you. This is when you realize you will spend the rest of your life negotiating for love.

My brother has been negotiating for love many years now. His best tactic is to tell his wife that if she doesn't want him to get prostrate cancer, she has to let him keep the workings workable...if you know what I mean.

My brother's method works because he has a wife that gives a rat's ass about him. Very rare. Most of us married guys have to negotiate much harder for their love. Here is an example.

"Come on honey, it's been three weeks." "I haven't felt well. You only think about yourself." "That's not true honey, I brought you home some Chicken McNuggets yesterday." "Yeah, but they were cold." "Come on honey, you know I love you, and will always take care of you." If you did you would show it." "Name it honey, you've got it!" "Well, a trip to Olive Garden might get me in the mood." "Ok, ok Olive Garden it is, but you promise when we get home...." "Well there is one more thing..." "What is it my goddess?" "Clean out the cat box, and take out the trash."

As Rodney Dangerfield would say, "It's not easy being married!"

Centerfold

When I was a teenager, every now and then my buddy Doug would get a hold of one of his dad’s old Playboy magazines. These were special times, because we were curious, and had new found hormones surging through our young bodies. This was a way for us to learn about the female anatomy, and to dream about “getting lucky” one day. Being a Catholic, I of course felt guilty about this, but then being a Catholic, I felt guilty about almost everything. I reconciled this by reasoning that maybe hell wouldn’t be such a bad place to spend eternity after all. My young body, and dirty mind were not to be deterred by such trivial things.




As I got older, and actually had some experiences with women who weren’t two dimensional, girlie books lost their appeal to me. I figured there was no reason to get all excited about something I couldn’t hold, fondle, or inseminate.




I guess I am different from most other guys. Pornography seems to be very interesting to the average guy. It must be, it is everywhere! One cannot surf the internet, or even read his e-mail without encountering a pop up ad, or spam, telling you of some great porno site, or where you can buy on-line Viagra. Hell, the average guy would not even own a computer, if it were not for all the free porno sites!




They say sex sells, and it must be true; not only for guys but also for the ladies. Every magazine, excluding the professional ones, use sex to sell themselves. My step son subscribes to a muscle car mag, and every car picture, has some nubile young lady laying on, or posing suggestively next to the car. While standing in line at the cash out in the grocery store I saw the latest Cosmopolitan, and they had no less than three articles on sex (that new “S” stroke looks interesting)! Everyone is totally preoccupied with sex.




Personally, I am no prude, and I like sex as much as the next person; but it seems to me that everyone is forgetting the most necessary ingredient for good sex…love. Sex is always better when it is done with someone you love, and respect.

Pop, What a Happy Sound

It's Friday...TGIF and all.

Throughout this great country of ours, one sound reverberates around it: POP! That's the sound of a beer bottle or can being opened. Let's face it -- we Americans like to drink. Come to think of it , so does everybody else! Let's see, I know the Irish do, the Germans, the Russians, the Brits, et al. Drinking is the one universal thing we can all agree on (unless you are a real devout person). We like to do it. I've already freely admitted to you that I do. Hell, I took up running 18 years ago (but now I shuffle) just so I could drink the beer I wanted without weighing 300 lbs.

Why is alcohol so popular? Well, for one thing, it tastes great. Nothing like a good cold one after work, after mowing the lawn, after sex, after the last one...There's nothing like a good cold one after your last beer. That is the problem. Beer-liking is accumulative. After a while, any excuse is a good excuse to have a beer.

So God, in his infinite wisdom, gave us a reason to not drink...work. Let's face it, if we were all rich and affluent, and didn't have to work, we would all be drunk all the time! Since God invented work, most of us have to be semi-moderate about our consumption during the work week. The people who haven't learned to be moderate are the ones we walk around on the sidewalks on the way to work. Liking something is one thing; being controlled by it is another.

The problem with all drugs is the temptation to do them exclusively -- and to hell with everything else. Not real good if you have a wife and kids counting on you. When I was a teenager, my Dad told me (over a hangover), "If you can't handle your booze, don't drink it!" Good words to live by.

Yes, it's Friday; you probably had a killer of a week. Have fun, but know when to say when.

(Wow, that was one difficult post... Now where did I leave that bottle opener?)

The Eternal Quest For Strange, and the Silver Platter

There is a lot of hoopla going on about Tiger Woods and his indiscretions. I personally don’t understand what all of this hoopla is about. Face it, Tiger Woods is a rock star; he is rich, handsome, and popular. Tiger is in the enviable position of being able to have any woman he wants…enviable to the average guy anyway.

All guys (or at least 99% of them) are on the eternal quest for strange; and ALL guys are susceptible to being offered strange on a silver platter. Considering Tiger’s position he has been rather tame. I know his wife is hurt, but she should talk to the ex-wives of Mick Jagger, and other rock stars; they would be glad to tell her that it all comes with the territory.

Unlike women, men are not used to having members of the opposite sex offer themselves up to them on a silver platter. When a guy has achieved enough money, fame, and looks, that gorgeous women willing throw themselves at him, he is literally like a kid in a candy store. “I’ll have one of these, and two of these at the same time…” you get the point. It takes either a very strong man, or one who is very happy at home to resist this temptation; and few of us are either one.

To all of you ladies out there that has a mate: if you are not making sure he is very happy in the bedroom; you are a fool. Every dog has his day, and one day some woman will offer what he wants on that proverbial silver platter. You can take care of him now, or swear and call him names later when he cheats, or dumps you for another woman.

To all of you guys neglecting your mates: you are even bigger fools. If your wife is not happy all she has to do is go to some bar and offer it to some guy on a silver platter; it won’t take long before she finds a taker. You can pay attention to her now, or pay (literally) later.

Let’s face it most of us are weak in the face of temptation. To be strong we need to be smart enough to stay away from places where temptation lurks, and we need to maintain a loving, caring relationship with our mates.

Centerfold

When I was a teenager, every now and then my buddy Doug would get a hold of one of his dad's old Playboy magazines. These were special times, because we were curious, and had new found hormones surging through our young bodies. This was a way for us to learn about the female anatomy, and to dream about "getting lucky" one day. Being a Catholic, I of course felt guilty about this, but then being a Catholic, I felt guilty about almost everything. I reconciled this by reasoning that maybe hell wouldn't be such a bad place to spend eternity after all. My young body, and dirty mind were not to be deterred by such trivial things.

As I got older, and actually had some experiences with women who weren't two dimensional, girlie books lost their appeal to me. I figured there was no reason to get all excited about something I couldn't hold, fondle, or inseminate.

I guess I am different from most other guys. Pornography seems to be very interesting to the average guy. It must be, it is everywhere! One cannot surf the internet, or even read his e-mail without encountering a pop up ad, or spam, telling you of some great porno site, or where you can buy on-line Viagra. Hell, the average guy would not even own a computer, if it were not for all the free porno sites!

They say sex sells, and it must be true; not only for guys but also for the ladies. Every magazine, excluding the professional ones, use sex to sell themselves. My step son subscribes to a muscle car mag, and every car picture, has some nubile young lady laying on, or posing suggestively next to the car. While standing in line at the cash out in the grocery store I saw the latest Cosmopolitan, and they had no less than three articles on sex (that new "S" stroke looks interesting)! Everyone is totally preoccupied with sex.

Personally, I am no prude, and I like sex as much as the next person; but it seems to me that everyone is forgetting the most necessary ingredient for good sex...love. Sex is always better when it is done with someone you love, and respect.

This article is from my blog "Mike's Common Sense". My blog is a common person's perspective on a variety of subjects; Spirituality, humor. life, and politics.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Michael_Muehleisen

Centerfold

When I was a teenager, every now and then my buddy Doug would get a hold of one of his dad’s old Playboy magazines. These were special times, because we were curious, and had new found hormones surging through our young bodies. This was a way for us to learn about the female anatomy, and to dream about “getting lucky” one day. Being a Catholic, I of course felt guilty about this, but then being a Catholic, I felt guilty about almost everything. I reconciled this by reasoning that maybe hell wouldn’t be such a bad place to spend eternity after all. My young body, and dirty mind were not to be deterred by such trivial things.

As I got older, and actually had some experiences with women who weren’t two dimensional, girlie books lost their appeal to me. I figured there was no reason to get all excited about something I couldn’t hold, fondle, or inseminate.

I guess I am different from most other guys. Pornography seems to be very interesting to the average guy. It must be, it is everywhere! One cannot surf the internet, or even read his e-mail without encountering a pop up ad, or spam, telling you of some great porno site, or where you can buy on-line Viagra. Hell, the average guy would not even own a computer, if it were not for all the free porno sites!

They say sex sells, and it must be true; not only for guys but also for the ladies. Every magazine, excluding the professional ones, use sex to sell themselves. My step son subscribes to a muscle car mag, and every car picture, has some nubile young lady laying on, or posing suggestively next to the car. While standing in line at the cash out in the grocery store I saw the latest Cosmopolitan, and they had no less than three articles on sex (that new “S” stroke looks interesting)! Everyone is totally preoccupied with sex.

Personally, I am no prude, and I like sex as much as the next person; but it seems to me that everyone is forgetting the most necessary ingredient for good sex…love. Sex is always better when it is done with someone you love, and respect.

Pop! What a Happy Sound

It's Friday...TGIF and all.

Throughout this great country of ours, one sound reverberates around it: POP! That's the sound of a beer bottle or can being opened. Let's face it -- we Americans like to drink. Come to think of it , so does everybody else! Let's see, I know the Irish do, the Germans, the Russians, the Brits, et al. Drinking is the one universal thing we can all agree on (unless you are a real devout person). We like to do it. I've already freely admitted to you that I do. Hell, I took up running 18 years ago (but now I shuffle) just so I could drink the beer I wanted without weighing 300 lbs.

Why is alcohol so popular? Well, for one thing, it tastes great. Nothing like a good cold one after work, after mowing the lawn, after sex, after the last one...There's nothing like a good cold one after your last beer. That is the problem. Beer-liking is accumulative. After a while, any excuse is a good excuse to have a beer.

So God, in his infinite wisdom, gave us a reason to not drink...work. Let's face it, if we were all rich and affluent, and didn't have to work, we would all be drunk all the time! Since God invented work, most of us have to be semi-moderate about our consumption during the work week. The people who haven't learned to be moderate are the ones we walk around on the sidewalks on the way to work. Liking something is one thing; being controlled by it is another.

The problem with all drugs is the temptation to do them exclusively -- and to hell with everything else. Not real good if you have a wife and kids counting on you. When I was a teenager, my Dad told me (over a hangover), "If you can't handle your booze, don't drink it!" Good words to live by.

Yes, it's Friday; you probably had a killer of a week. Have fun, but know when to say when.

(Wow, that was one difficult post... Now where did I leave that bottle opener?)
.