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Year: 2012

Return of Biscuit Boy

“Hey, I remember you.”

I stood in the grocery store aisle quickly scanning my brain to connect the face to a name.

The short guy speaking to me definitely looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure from where.

“You used to eat Hardee’s for breakfast all the time and get a biscuit,” he added.

Oh my God, it was Biscuit Boy.

Even though I knew him from the drive-thru at Hardee’s, the truth was that I did not go there all the time for a biscuit breakfast.

But, a guy I worked with did.

Several years ago, we would share rides sometimes.  On the days he drove, he would usually go through the drive-thru for himself.

For more years than I can count, I have eaten the same thing for breakfast almost everyday (special occasions aside): a bowl of oatmeal and a Granny Smith apple.  And I always have it at home.

So, I never ordered anything at the window.  Not even when the drive-thru clerk would lean out,past my co-worker, and pointedly ask, “Don’t you want something, too?”

I always ignored the flirt, and said, “No, thank you.” But more times than not, we would drive away and still find an extra biscuit in the bag.

That’s why we always spoke of him as Biscuit Boy.

And I ran into again after all these years.

“We’re just bound to keep running into each other,” he said the three or four times we passed each other throughout the store.

That may have been a flirt.  I don’t know.  I would like to think I’m still at least worth a biscuit.

[ fin ]


Help, I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get F*cked


I don’t know what is being sold.

Power tools?


Life Alerts?

But the model in his “sexy fall,” posed among the spill of screws, cracks me up.

I guess like how cats always land on their feet,

Bottoms always land on their bellies.

Magnum For Your Pleasure


I was mostly a good kid.

But like many teenage boys, I engaged in some dick-head behavior back in the day.  Especially when it came to girls.

It was sort of a “thing” then to see how much you could get a girl to do for you.

Would she cook for you?  Vacuum out your car?

Some guys made their girls buy them cigarettes or snuff.

I didn’t smoke or dip, but if we were gonna get busy, I would try to get girls to buy rubbers.

And every once in a while I would succeed.

I actually got a small kick out of watching a girl try to discreetly slide a box across the counter or mumble the word “magnum” to the clerk at places where you had to ask for them.

You know a girl is into you if she’ll buy you Magnums.

The same goes for a fella.

At close to the five year mark now, The Attorney and I have eliminated that need.  So, I was surprised Friday night when he said he brought Magnums with him.

But there they were.  A box of three, individually wrapped in foil.

Magnum ice cream bars.

I’m not a big ice cream eater.  In fact, I almost never finish even a small carton before it gets freezer burn.

But I have been obsessed with Magnum frozen treats ever since somebody on Twitter1 turned me on to them this past summer.

I didn’t even think you could get them around here.  I have not been able to find them in a grocery store.  I know they started in Europe, so I figured they were only in major cities in the U.S.

But, The Attorney apparently found them at a grocery near his place, and remembered how much I had talked about want to try one because they looked so damned good.

And they are.

So. Damned. Good.

He bought the Double Chocolate.  Chocolate ice cream, wrapped in chocolate fudge, wrapped in Belgian Chocolate.

It almost defies description how good it was.

It was so good that it didn’t matter that I hardly eat ice cream, and that when I do it’s vanilla.  I was so good that generally the only kind of chocolate I like is Hershey’s.

It was almost as good as the thank-you sex that came beforehand.

[ fin ]

  1. I wish I could remember who. 

Pedestal Pusher

In one of the last few posts I did on “West of Mayberry,” I had a self-discussion (which is pretty much what all my full-on posts are) about how fair is it to expect someone to uphold a standard that you placed on them.

Anybody who was a regular reader knew that I was referencing my relationship with The Attorney.

Ever since, it’s been gnawing at me to figure out why I had sort of put him on a pedestal.  It didn’t come from him.  It was totally my doing.  He just is who he is.  If I imagined him even greater, then that’s my fault.

Whatever the reason I did it, I realized that it’s something I have done before with important male figures in my life.

I did it to my daddy.  I did it to my brother.

I pushed them both up onto a pedestal, a place that, in hindsight, neither one was ever really comfortable being.

And they both fell.


And neither one was able to climb back on again.

My father couldn’t.  And wouldn’t let my brother.

I realized that when the Attorney slipped, even just for a moment, it scared me that he was going to do it to me, too.



The fear was so deep in my bones that I only knew anger to protect myself.

I regret that now, because he needed my support, not my judgement.

Maybe it will come to me one day as to why I tend to make gods, idols, and heroes out of regular men. But as long as I continue to build pedestals for them, I have to be ready and willing to help shore them up when they wobble.

[ fin ]

Mickey’s Milk


Who knew Mickey liked to do it raw dog?

I don’t know if this is altered or not.  But I’m hoping it’s for real and  that some ad man from the 40’s or 50’s simply made a poor wording choice.  Or even better, had a devious sense of humor.

Johnny Stats


I ran across this old movie promo material on Porncake.

Seems, I could have pretty much measured up to old-school Tarzan, Johnny Weismuller.

We are the same height and weight, and most of our measurements match or are pretty close.

He’s a little bigger in the chest1, neck, and legs.

But I think I can make up for it in the loincloth.

  1. my chest measurement is more back than pecs anyway