Back from Jersey. Spent time in Princeton helping Chantelle (new wife, WIFE!!!) pack stuff and do some exploratory home shopping (because I just may move over there) and then we went to A.C. for a nice little honeymoon romp. Then its back to Princeton, then its back home here. Chantelle is stll in Princeton wrapping things up but Daddy has used up ALL of his vacation/sick leave so he's got nothing but work in his future for next YEAR.
And the new WIFE (just typing that feels both horrifying and awesome) has already laid down the first edict. I'm not allowed to gamble anymore.
Seems I suck at blackjack when I'm drunk... and I ain't exactly rainman when I'm sober either. I'm barred from the tables, which is sort'a depressing seeing how more then a few dealers at Foxwoods know my name and what sort of drinks I like.
Anywhoo, I have a block of time tomorrow evening and plan on dedicating it to YOU, my nice, patient, eager readers. Big post coming.
Thanks for your support. I miss you little creepfaces.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
Yeah, it's been a strange week for me
Only on two days notice? Usually, I'd wait a week to let the "every-so-often" folks check-in, blink twice, and then sweat it out for a few days.
Nah, just roll, n***a. Just roll.
Celebrities spotted over the last 10 days: Bruce Willis, Yoko Ono, Donald Trump, Cheech Marin, Brook Shields, and the black chick from the PussyCat Dolls.
I've been to New York before, lots of times, in fact... but always with fellow rubes and never with actual residents as guides.
So needless to say, I didn't do my traditional top of the Empire State Building gawkfest.
You ever walk the streets of NYC on Christmas day? You get blocks and blocks of dead empty streets, then you turn the corner and there is a legit mob of Japanese tourists snapping pictures and making general squawking sounds among them, then its blocks and blocks of nothing again. Then more foreign tourists. And homeless people will tell you to smile more.
There is commerce being done in New York, even on Christmas. At night many, many black men will tell you blonde jokes and then expect a tip for their comic set.
So, I've been into New York, and hung around for a few days. But this past week I saw another side. And felt a different vibe.
And I got married. I now have a wife. She has a husband. We're, like, a package deal now. She's here right now. Say hello, babe.
Hi there everybody! My name is Chantelle and I am looking forward to talking to you all. Now I have to go unpack some more. Chris can fill you in on everything. I'll get more involved once we're settled. But for the record, I'd prefer to take the name "Hyatte" rather than what he stuck me with. Blaaa. Too many vowels.
And there she is. Pictures are forthcoming.
Anyway... before we decided to go for it, before I even saw her, there was something else.
(Note: I assure you, I was nowhere near as smooth and every bit as dorky as the following might lead you to believe)
I don't even remember which day it was, exactly. It wasn't a weekend, that's for sure, but I was in a club where they served no alcohol and I was talking to a woman. It was late but I wasn't tired, or thirsty. I was mellowed out and just talking.
The girl, early thirties and in perfectly normal shape, perfectly normal face with rusty-blonde hair spilling not much farther past the shoulders was named Kayla, but it was a fake name. Not a stage name, just a fake one. She and I talked for over an hour, at least, about me, about her, about the Yankees, the Red Sox, her family, her ideals, my family, my ideals, my bird, her Scottish Terrier, and sex.
I gotta say, it was a good week for me. Two women in one week who took an avid interest in me and actually wanted to get to know me. It was a pleasant change of fucking pace.
So, we talked some more. She asked where my friends were. I looked around and decided that they are "somewhere" here. I knew how to get out and hail a cab, if abandoned. I wasn't worried.
She asked me what I was doing there. I told her it was someplace I always wanted to check out.
She nodded. "You're a nice guy," she said. "I can trust you, yeah?"
"Oh, I'm rotten to the core, darling," I said. "But I'm just chilling here."
"No you're not," she said. "But you've been hurt, I can tell."
Well really, who the fuck hasn't. I nodded.
Kayla looked around the club. She was dressed in mostly leather. A lot of people were. I wasn't.
"Can I trust you?" She asked.
"I don't know," I said. "That's up to you."
She laughed. "Good answer."
"What's up?" I asked.
"We've been talking all this time and you were clear, open, and harmless,' she said. "Do you want to party?"
I laughed. "Why not." I wasn't really horny,and the mood wasn't very romantic, and I really wasn't thinking about fucking her... and IT WAS A QUESTION I ONLY GET WHEN I'M IN A TIJUANA STRIP CLUB. It was my smoothest answer possible.
"Well, would you fuck me without taking off any clothes and with very little penetration? Would you be cool with that?"
I looked at her for a while. "So It's my prom night all over again?"
She laughed. "You know where we are, right?"
"Sure."
"And you know what happens here, right?"
"Sure, Nic Cage made a movie about it."
She didn't stop smiling. "I have this thing, my husband doesn't know about it."
I looked at her.
She stopped smiling and looked at me point blank. "I like to come here and have strangers torture me."
I did a pronounced double-take. "Mom?"
She laughed harder. "You're funny."
"Daddy tries," I shrugged.
"Want to find a room and party with me a little? Help me out a bit?"
"How much?" I asked.
"Nothing. It's free love." she said. "But you have to promise not to go psycho on me."
"Scout's Honor," I said.
"And you have to stop when I say the safe word."
I laughed, and yes... it was a nervous laugh. "That won't be a problem, honey."
She stood up and took my hand. Her skin was really soft.
"Come on," she said.
And we went into one of the club's many, many private room, filled with shit I've only seen in the deepest, darkest, grainiest porn videos.
Yet, everything was extremely clean. They kept bottles filled with cleaning fluid all over the place. I wondered if they had locker rooms and showers, but was afraid to ask. I didn't want to look like a tourist.
I did everything she asked me to do, and things she didn't. I tied, slapped, paddled, twisted, clamped, pulled, yanked, squeezed, and ordered. I knew rough, I just didn't know hardcore. And fuck you, I didn't know a damn thing about pervy.
She came twice, the second time pretty hard. I didn't come at all, but for a few moments there, it could'a gone.
And that was my first, and more than likely last visit to a New York fetish club. I don't remember the name or where it was located... on the corner of something and something with a number. I think it was in the Village.
And the safeword was "Madonna". Apparently, she's still an icon among this crowd.
***********
So then.
Why not?
I've known Chantelle - my WIFE - on(line) and off for the better part of a year. There was the occasional phone call, a lot of chatting, and a lot of near misses and almost hits. She was involved, I was involved, she WASN'T involved, I was... holding onto something. She was... understandable and cleaning up her own messes. We talked cool and hung cool and for ever we were a fun little sidebar during our lives.
Then I came upon this New York trip and dropped the invite. Chantelle is from Jersey. We decided to quit talking about it and actually do it. I was ready. For the first time ever, I was ready.
Truthfully, I doubted she would make it. I had burned and had been burned lots of times before. Not that it mattered, I had friends to hang with anyway, and this awesome city which is perfect to visit for a week. Whether we met or not, I'd have lots to do.
But Chantelle is no coward. She showed up at the place on time. The place was Elaine's. She wanted to meet there because she's a nut for Woody Allen. Go figure.
We met at 7 on Monday night. We stayed until 1:30 and went to my hotel room loaded and laughing and really having a good time.
Guys, I was at my best with this girl.
And I let her crash on the bed. I took the sofa. I had to go to work (training) the next morning (Spic & Span: Friend or Foe) and.... I dunno, I just wanted her to feel safe.
On tuesday I told her to hang there, or go home, up to her. If I came back and she was gone, it would be okay.
She was there when I came back, and she ordered room service and had it ready for me, and she went shopping and bought me some stuff.
And somewhere in there I fell for her... and people, this does NOT happen to me on a whim. I have loved exactly 4 girls in my whole entire life... and two of them were a complete waste of my time. (no, not YOU)
Chantelle wasn't a waste of my time. This, I know.
And so, because... because... motherfucker, because I've never gone on impulse alone, and because I had known the girl 36 hours and we already finished each other's sentences, and because we have the same ideals, ideas, sense of humor, timing, laziness, wit, and because she might just be my other half. I proposed.
And because... because... because she saw something in me that says I'd never hurt her, or stop loving her... she said yes.
We just knew. I just know.
I'm too old to be swept up. I'm too old to not think everything through. And I'm too old to be waiting on a pipe dream that never gave a fuck what I thought or wanted. And because the former Miss Chantelle Jordan of the Jordan family of Princeton, New Jersey is beautiful and smart and classy and noble and so, so, so NOT full of herself. And because I'm NOT too old to know a great thing when I see it. We ran to Princeton and met her Mother and Brother. And we filed for a marriage license. And we bought rings.
And we got married.
And that is another story for another time... but a fascinating one.
And now I have a wife. 28 years old. Small c-cups, strawberry blonde hair, amazing lips, amazing smile, and fearless.
And I'm in love.
And I'm happy.
And really, my friends, what else is there to say?
I know you have a bunch of comments, and god dammit, I want to answer them all in a rapid fashion... (and please, a little respect to my new wife. She is reading these and she will log on and answer, and she's been reading me for a long time so she knows the drill... but a little respect, please) and I should answer a bunch...
But if you don't mind, I want to go be a newlywed for a while. I'd like to go be with my wife.
And maybe use this paddle I swiped from that fetish club.
Nah, just roll, n***a. Just roll.
Celebrities spotted over the last 10 days: Bruce Willis, Yoko Ono, Donald Trump, Cheech Marin, Brook Shields, and the black chick from the PussyCat Dolls.
I've been to New York before, lots of times, in fact... but always with fellow rubes and never with actual residents as guides.
So needless to say, I didn't do my traditional top of the Empire State Building gawkfest.
You ever walk the streets of NYC on Christmas day? You get blocks and blocks of dead empty streets, then you turn the corner and there is a legit mob of Japanese tourists snapping pictures and making general squawking sounds among them, then its blocks and blocks of nothing again. Then more foreign tourists. And homeless people will tell you to smile more.
There is commerce being done in New York, even on Christmas. At night many, many black men will tell you blonde jokes and then expect a tip for their comic set.
So, I've been into New York, and hung around for a few days. But this past week I saw another side. And felt a different vibe.
And I got married. I now have a wife. She has a husband. We're, like, a package deal now. She's here right now. Say hello, babe.
Hi there everybody! My name is Chantelle and I am looking forward to talking to you all. Now I have to go unpack some more. Chris can fill you in on everything. I'll get more involved once we're settled. But for the record, I'd prefer to take the name "Hyatte" rather than what he stuck me with. Blaaa. Too many vowels.
And there she is. Pictures are forthcoming.
Anyway... before we decided to go for it, before I even saw her, there was something else.
(Note: I assure you, I was nowhere near as smooth and every bit as dorky as the following might lead you to believe)
I don't even remember which day it was, exactly. It wasn't a weekend, that's for sure, but I was in a club where they served no alcohol and I was talking to a woman. It was late but I wasn't tired, or thirsty. I was mellowed out and just talking.
The girl, early thirties and in perfectly normal shape, perfectly normal face with rusty-blonde hair spilling not much farther past the shoulders was named Kayla, but it was a fake name. Not a stage name, just a fake one. She and I talked for over an hour, at least, about me, about her, about the Yankees, the Red Sox, her family, her ideals, my family, my ideals, my bird, her Scottish Terrier, and sex.
I gotta say, it was a good week for me. Two women in one week who took an avid interest in me and actually wanted to get to know me. It was a pleasant change of fucking pace.
So, we talked some more. She asked where my friends were. I looked around and decided that they are "somewhere" here. I knew how to get out and hail a cab, if abandoned. I wasn't worried.
She asked me what I was doing there. I told her it was someplace I always wanted to check out.
She nodded. "You're a nice guy," she said. "I can trust you, yeah?"
"Oh, I'm rotten to the core, darling," I said. "But I'm just chilling here."
"No you're not," she said. "But you've been hurt, I can tell."
Well really, who the fuck hasn't. I nodded.
Kayla looked around the club. She was dressed in mostly leather. A lot of people were. I wasn't.
"Can I trust you?" She asked.
"I don't know," I said. "That's up to you."
She laughed. "Good answer."
"What's up?" I asked.
"We've been talking all this time and you were clear, open, and harmless,' she said. "Do you want to party?"
I laughed. "Why not." I wasn't really horny,and the mood wasn't very romantic, and I really wasn't thinking about fucking her... and IT WAS A QUESTION I ONLY GET WHEN I'M IN A TIJUANA STRIP CLUB. It was my smoothest answer possible.
"Well, would you fuck me without taking off any clothes and with very little penetration? Would you be cool with that?"
I looked at her for a while. "So It's my prom night all over again?"
She laughed. "You know where we are, right?"
"Sure."
"And you know what happens here, right?"
"Sure, Nic Cage made a movie about it."
She didn't stop smiling. "I have this thing, my husband doesn't know about it."
I looked at her.
She stopped smiling and looked at me point blank. "I like to come here and have strangers torture me."
I did a pronounced double-take. "Mom?"
She laughed harder. "You're funny."
"Daddy tries," I shrugged.
"Want to find a room and party with me a little? Help me out a bit?"
"How much?" I asked.
"Nothing. It's free love." she said. "But you have to promise not to go psycho on me."
"Scout's Honor," I said.
"And you have to stop when I say the safe word."
I laughed, and yes... it was a nervous laugh. "That won't be a problem, honey."
She stood up and took my hand. Her skin was really soft.
"Come on," she said.
And we went into one of the club's many, many private room, filled with shit I've only seen in the deepest, darkest, grainiest porn videos.
Yet, everything was extremely clean. They kept bottles filled with cleaning fluid all over the place. I wondered if they had locker rooms and showers, but was afraid to ask. I didn't want to look like a tourist.
I did everything she asked me to do, and things she didn't. I tied, slapped, paddled, twisted, clamped, pulled, yanked, squeezed, and ordered. I knew rough, I just didn't know hardcore. And fuck you, I didn't know a damn thing about pervy.
She came twice, the second time pretty hard. I didn't come at all, but for a few moments there, it could'a gone.
And that was my first, and more than likely last visit to a New York fetish club. I don't remember the name or where it was located... on the corner of something and something with a number. I think it was in the Village.
And the safeword was "Madonna". Apparently, she's still an icon among this crowd.
***********
So then.
Why not?
I've known Chantelle - my WIFE - on(line) and off for the better part of a year. There was the occasional phone call, a lot of chatting, and a lot of near misses and almost hits. She was involved, I was involved, she WASN'T involved, I was... holding onto something. She was... understandable and cleaning up her own messes. We talked cool and hung cool and for ever we were a fun little sidebar during our lives.
Then I came upon this New York trip and dropped the invite. Chantelle is from Jersey. We decided to quit talking about it and actually do it. I was ready. For the first time ever, I was ready.
Truthfully, I doubted she would make it. I had burned and had been burned lots of times before. Not that it mattered, I had friends to hang with anyway, and this awesome city which is perfect to visit for a week. Whether we met or not, I'd have lots to do.
But Chantelle is no coward. She showed up at the place on time. The place was Elaine's. She wanted to meet there because she's a nut for Woody Allen. Go figure.
We met at 7 on Monday night. We stayed until 1:30 and went to my hotel room loaded and laughing and really having a good time.
Guys, I was at my best with this girl.
And I let her crash on the bed. I took the sofa. I had to go to work (training) the next morning (Spic & Span: Friend or Foe) and.... I dunno, I just wanted her to feel safe.
On tuesday I told her to hang there, or go home, up to her. If I came back and she was gone, it would be okay.
She was there when I came back, and she ordered room service and had it ready for me, and she went shopping and bought me some stuff.
And somewhere in there I fell for her... and people, this does NOT happen to me on a whim. I have loved exactly 4 girls in my whole entire life... and two of them were a complete waste of my time. (no, not YOU)
Chantelle wasn't a waste of my time. This, I know.
And so, because... because... motherfucker, because I've never gone on impulse alone, and because I had known the girl 36 hours and we already finished each other's sentences, and because we have the same ideals, ideas, sense of humor, timing, laziness, wit, and because she might just be my other half. I proposed.
And because... because... because she saw something in me that says I'd never hurt her, or stop loving her... she said yes.
We just knew. I just know.
I'm too old to be swept up. I'm too old to not think everything through. And I'm too old to be waiting on a pipe dream that never gave a fuck what I thought or wanted. And because the former Miss Chantelle Jordan of the Jordan family of Princeton, New Jersey is beautiful and smart and classy and noble and so, so, so NOT full of herself. And because I'm NOT too old to know a great thing when I see it. We ran to Princeton and met her Mother and Brother. And we filed for a marriage license. And we bought rings.
And we got married.
And that is another story for another time... but a fascinating one.
And now I have a wife. 28 years old. Small c-cups, strawberry blonde hair, amazing lips, amazing smile, and fearless.
And I'm in love.
And I'm happy.
And really, my friends, what else is there to say?
I know you have a bunch of comments, and god dammit, I want to answer them all in a rapid fashion... (and please, a little respect to my new wife. She is reading these and she will log on and answer, and she's been reading me for a long time so she knows the drill... but a little respect, please) and I should answer a bunch...
But if you don't mind, I want to go be a newlywed for a while. I'd like to go be with my wife.
And maybe use this paddle I swiped from that fetish club.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Hold onto something
UPDATE: Home and unpacking and clearing out drawer and closet space.
One thing about married sex is that there is a LOT of it. Jeeze.
The whole story this evening. Posted early Friday morning.
And her name is Chantelle.
********
Still in NYC. I'll be back on Wednesday night.
I got married over the weekend.
For real, my friends.
And, she's WHITE.
One thing about married sex is that there is a LOT of it. Jeeze.
The whole story this evening. Posted early Friday morning.
And her name is Chantelle.
********
Still in NYC. I'll be back on Wednesday night.
I got married over the weekend.
For real, my friends.
And, she's WHITE.
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