The Brewing


After 18 years of continuous sobriety my wife started drinking again.

Not being able to adopt the baby was the final straw in a haystack built over a lifetime of trauma that sealed the deal.

18 years.

We have been married for over 13.

Simple math.

I had never seen her drink alcohol.

Now I have.

To say that there will be a rough road ahead is an understatement.

But, I said “I do” to ALL of the cliche vows that go with being married and I’m sticking to them.

We met in sobriety. I didn’t marry her because of it.

I love her and will do whatever it takes to help her.

Except, drink with her.

The storm is brewing, another change on the horizon.

Damn, this life.

The Choices


Its mid week…..

Under normal circumstances that would mean planning out the weekend in advance.

Grandkids.

House chores.

Anything else that cant be crammed into the workweek.

BUT NOT THIS WEEKEND

My younger than me wife has a getaway from friday through Sunday.

She said- I’m spending the weekend with my people. What are you going to do?

I said- I will spend the weekend with my people as well.

She looked at me quizzically and said-

You have people?

I replied- yeah, me, myself, and I.

I may just get off work, sit on the sofa and stare at the walls the entire time.

Might teach the dogs yoga.

Might learn to play the bagpipes.

Or

Might just relax and recoup and
Rejuvenate.

The world is my oyster for 48 hours.

Mmmm..

Oysters…..

Disclaimer-not me or my wall

The Rules of Engagement


He walked out of the bathroom of their small 1 bedroom apartment and out into the main room, where his girlfriend of over 6 years sat and filed her nails.

He knew it was time to finally ask her. He couldn’t take the what if’s that ran through his mind anymore.

He had to be straightforward and direct. Confidence was the key.

She looked up at him as he walked into the room and smiled.

He returned the smile and approached her as his hands began to sweat.

“Honey…I need to ask you something…” He began as he faced her.

“Ok.” She kindly replied.

He glanced at the floor, knelt down on one knee and placed what was in his hand on the floor next to him.

He looked up at her lovingly, paused, smiled and began,

“Eve…would you…”

Her heart began to race before he could finish. She jumped up and exclaimed,

“YES YES OF COURSE I WILL MARRY YOU!…I need to call my Mother…she doesn’t think you are good enough for me….never has…..but it doesn’t matter now…we are getting married!! I need a dress….we need to start making plans…O….M…..G…bridesmaids…how many? What color for their dresses…we need to learn a cool dance like those ones on the youtube! Wait…wait.,,.before I do anything.. I need the ring….where’s the ring?….PUT IT ON MY FINGER!!”

She said as she stuck her left hand out while continuing her happy dance.

He looked at her bewildered, stood up from his kneeling position and replied,

“I…I…I don’t have a ring…”

“No ring? What do you mean no ring? Don’t you know the rules of engagement? I NEED A RING!” She answered.

“I wasn’t asking you to marry me….” He began as he knelt down and picked up what he had placed next to himself and cautiously continued,

“I was gonna ask….would you please remember to put the cap back on the toothpaste after you use it….it gets all crusty and then SHOOTS out without warning.”

As he spoke he handed her the tube with the crusty top.

She looked at it and replied,

“Toothpaste crust? Then why did you get down on one knee?”

He looked down and pointed as he replied,

“My shoelace is untied.”

Retrieval from the archives of good2begone.

Framing The Johnson’s


I have always been amazed at the lengths people go to in order to get some.

How the evolution of dating has progressed from what it was to what it is now is quite perplexing to me.

I have been out of the dating scene since I began courting my wife over 6 years ago.

We don’t believe that dating others is very good for our relationship. We found each other and have no need to search any longer.

It really works for us to concentrate on each other. It avoids LOTS of uncomfortable conflicts…..and lawyers.

Anyway,

At some point, during the advancements of mobile technology, someone came up with the great idea that sending pictures of their johnson would be awesome.

And a new thing was created-

The penis pic.

I’ve read about them in blogs and news stories and such and wonder…..

Is there a glamour shots for this?

I mean…you can’t just take a picture of your penis and send it to random women and expect that to work.

I suggest, to those who choose to take this path of mobile meat and greet, to take the time to do it right and showcase more of yourself when you are showcasing your manhood.

Here is how you could let her know that you are not just a penis but also sophisticated and artsy-

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Or…

Despite your small stature, taking charge is what you do!

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Or…

Let her know your stylish side by representing your manscaping skills-

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Lastly when all else fails, show her you are not only manly but have a humorous side as well.

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Good luck in your dating adventures.

And remember,

Nothing really ever gets deleted.

Pieces Of Time


I spend my time wading through the flooded hallways of a mind that used to be busy intersections of order and discipline, that are now quiet and in disarray.

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The important tasks and goals of yesterday have been overtaken by a tsunami of new importance with less structure and no defined lines.

My existence in the scope of what was, has a different focal point to what actually is.

The effect of almost losing my life…again, has caused a shift in what it takes to maintain a life that is worth keeping.

How long will that someone watching over me continue when I continue to disregard the ticking of the timepiece?

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Tick tick tick tick

The house of cards built over years has become 52 card pickup within the blink of an eye….

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A wave of the arm….

which is now stapled and bandaged to the torso, that houses the heart and soul of one who is ready to embrace the reason of being.

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Tick tick tick tick

I spend my time wading through the flooded hallways of a mind that used to be busy intersections of order and discipline, that are now quiet and in disarray.

The silence and calamity of what is has become a deafening symphony of time wasted in the years of was.

Tick tick tick tick

I have no more time to waste.

It’s time.

Life awaits.

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The Shoe In


Pretzels have consequences.

I should have known, but living in oblivion had made me oblivious to the obvious.

Asking my wife to fetch me twisted goodness after finishing her workout, while I kept the couch warm was my undoing.

Here is how the conversation went…

Her-

“When are you going to start preparing for that 5k your company is sponsoring?”

Me-

“Meh..I’m in tip top shape, dear. Preparation is for the unprepared. I’m basically a machine. All I gotta do is flick the switch on, and it will be go time.”

Her-

“I think your machine is full of crap and needs a tuneup. What’s it gonna take to get you motivated?”

Me-

“Look..dear….I don’t have running shoes. I have Chuck Taylor’s. And although they are rather stylish and tre chic they are not for running. With the kids back in school money is tight and…”

She put up her hand and said

“Shh..”

Then reached into her purse and pulled out a wad of cash, flipped through the bills and tossed me a couple. She smiled and said,

“Take that and get you some running shoes…and while you are at it, pick up a pair of running shorts so I can watch you as you jog by me.”

She then smiled a sly smile, gave me a wink, and sauntered out of the room.

I looked at the cash and replayed her statement in my head and thought

“My wife is my fitness pimp. I feel so cheap.”

On the plus side, I got some sweet kicks.

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Puma Whirlwinds

’80’s style.

Time to flick the switch.

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1st run in about 7 years…..completed without the aid of police sirens behind me.

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It’s gotta be da shoes….

The Bonecrusher Confrontation-The Stepdad Chronicles


I previously wrote about catching my 16 year old son having sex. I came home early from work and….

HOLY NAKED TEENAGERS, BATMAN!

For that post click “here

After my wife returned from work. We sat him down to have a little chat.

The following will be what was said.

Followed by what I wanted to say….but because I am a mature adult I didn’t say.

What was said-

I really didn’t say much. I can hold my tongue about as well as a snake. I pretty much stayed quiet with my arms crossed and disgusted scowl on my mug.

You know…like a parent who catches his kids doing something that he was caught for when he was a kid but had to look like he is shocked and appalled.

Yup….that was me.

My wife, on the other hand, is 100% parental problem solver. She works 8 hours a day in a prison. She hears excuses and complaints from gargantuan male felony offenders all day long and counsels them.

And…

She is my stepsons Mother.

He fears his Mom more than death itself.

So, she voiced her disappointment (for both of us…all I could do was scowl) and systematically stripped him of all technology ever made. All the while, reminding him about his current decision making and lack of respect for house rules, and possible future of child support.

And texted the previously found naked teenage girl…from his phone, to inform her of a few things.

Damn she’s good. So calm…so adult…so not me.

What I wanted to say….

Listen here you little 16 year old pervert….I don’t give a f?&k what you do with your little shaker stick when you are not here…..but while in this house the only time it is to be beyond your zipper is when you shower or urinate. If you want to stick it anywhere near females… use the backseat of your truck like every other teenager has since the invention of the car…find a haystack in one the thousands of farms around here….or better yet…use the girls house. I’m sure her parents would love to find you playing “hide the Vienna sausage” with their daughter. In the meantime, use the Internet for something other than PS3 cheats and dub step dance moves….find some porn sites and go to town on your personal joystick!!! The only people allowed to get naked and have sex in this house are your Mother and I…period. Yeah, let that imagery set in to your sex crazed brain! How would you like to walk in on us? By the look on your face…I would think that you wouldn’t….but go ahead think bout that when you go to bed tonight and remember how great that 39 seconds of naked pleasure was with your “girlfriend”. Booyah!!

I didn’t say any of that. Only because I could also envision the sheer look of horror I would get from my calm adult wife.

And the chance the me having sex in the near future would be greatly diminished.

Mature adult…yeah…that’s me.

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The Sugar Shakedown


Witch Doctors are real.

I know…I know…you probably think I’m poking up the wrong voodoo doll on this one…but it’s true.

My wife visits one on a monthly basis.

He doesn’t call himself a witch doctor..I call him that.

He calls himself a “Nutritional Response Therapist”.

Psst…don’t tell anyone….that’s just fancy mumbo jumbo for witch doctor.

YouTube that term for a video explanation…I aint gonna do it for ya.

It really doesn’t matter what I call him. What he does works. He has helped my wife with various issues she has been having…and they trace back to what she puts into her body.

To get better, she has has to cut out various food items.

-chocolate
-peanuts
-soy
-wheat
-corn
-granulated sugar
-rice
-gluton

to name a few.

I am a supportive husband. I have told her that I would do my best to eat what she has to eat….or not eat, as to not isolate her from the family eating frenzy.

We have become label checkers. Anything that contains the above items in any form is a no no.

Trouble is EVERYTHING contains some of those items.

I need to find a secret black market delivery service that can steathily get me food contraband so I be supportive face to face but can be a gluttonous sloth behind her back.

Or…

Someone who is willing to forge ingredient labels to say they don’t include any of the above listed items.

The nutritional data also needs to be fudged (every pun intended) to inform me that the sugar count per serving is ZERO OR LESS.

Every item I pick up at the grocery store gets snatched out of my paws by wife so she can check the hyper count.

She is the sugar Gestapo.

I. NEED. SUGAR. PERIOD.

(The word period was spelled out for dramatic effect to exemplify the point that I am taking a stand to everyone except my anti sugar wife)

I even took her to a couple of hippie grocery stores that were 80 miles away.

I think one was called-

“Ve Gan Do It!”

Or something along those lines….

You know what these people eat?

No meat….meat.

That’s not groovy.

Here is what I found to illustrate what no meat….meat…is for other sugar devouring carnivores in hiding like myself.

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Tofurky
Trademark

Tofurky is the brand name of an American vegetarian turkey replacement made from a blend of wheat protein and organic tofu. Tofurky is a trademark of Turtle Island Foods, a company based in Oregon. -Wikipedia

It may be the greatest no meat…meat in the history of no substance….substances…

BUT I NEED SUBSTANCE!!!

Please send me donuts hidden in a box of gluton free spinach fettuccini.

They make that you know. I’ve seen it. I’ve not only seen it, I will be eating it soon.

Either that or find “The Good Witch Doctor of the West” for me before the flying monkeys force me into a hippie commune.

I don’t want that to happen.

Patchouli makes me nauseas.