Monday, January 27, 2014

ROBBLOG #525

This ROBBLOG is called- “How Come”?
 
How come Americans believe Justin Bieber is American? Not that I really care, they can have him- for good.
 
I watched a You Tube video of a US Music Awards show recently. I wonder how come Americans think that they are the only country in the world that have done the right thing and allowed gay marriage in what- 11 states? What about the fact that gay marriage is legal in many countries such as here in Canada, in Spain, England and France? Doesn’t that count? The whole world doesn’t think "American" you know.
 
How come it never knows when to stop snowing?
 
How come Hugh Jackman gets the whole package- good looks, muscles, a nice smattering of hair on his chest as well as ability to act and sing?
 
Ahhhh...Hugh Jackman. A pretty picture.
 
 
How come that rap song- “Same Love” is so big? It's still rap and when the guy doesn't talk-rap on the recording, a girl- who at least can sing, chortles the chorus. What's going to happen to rap music 20 years down the road? Are people going to have fond memories to hold on to when they think of a rap song?
 
How come it’s rumoured that Stephen Harper and the Harperites have purposely devalued the Canadian buck? Is it because he has us- the taxpayers, to foot the bill for his mini-vacations to the Holy Land under the guise of “leadership”.  Does anyone in Israel really care about Canada or does any country Harper gives 150 million dollars of our money to care?
 
How come blood is thicker than water?
 
How come assholes exist? No, I don’t mean the ones we poop from…I mean the other kind.
 
An Human asshole up close. Don't touch!!
 
 
How come the women who comparison shop and show flyers advertising the same product at a lower price at another store, don’t shop at the other store offering the lower price in the first place. Why do they stand in front of me in my line at Wal*Mart? Do they really do something with the money they save or just buy more cigarettes and booze?
 
How come I have such a dim view of these shoppers?
 
How come people who smoke those electronic cigarettes don’t realize they are still inhaling crap into their lungs with every puff?
 
How come the people driving in front of me never signal?
 
How come cell phone companies lock their cell phones and if we want to unlock them it costs us 50 bucks? Apparently, it’s to protect us and them from fraud?
 
How come people got the brilliant idea to commit fraud in the first place?
 
How come a warm, beautiful place like Hawaii is 9 hours away- by air?
 
How come Brechin is only 15 minutes away- by car?
 
The Hawaii vs Brechin debate rages on.
 
 
How come Rob Ford is still in office? How come someone- anyone, can’t do something about it? What are they afraid of?
 
How come Stephen Harper is still in office when a minority of Canadians voted for this party in the first place?
 
How come I can’t think of any more How Comes right now?
 
 

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

ROBBLOG #524

Kalvin Newhard was a nerd who lived in Mega City.
 
At least, that’s what some of his friends thought him to be.
A big, chunky nerd.
Kalvin didn’t believe he was a nerd.
Kalvin also didn’t think of himself as chunky.
It was probably just the vest sweaters he regularly wore that made his appear that way.
 
True, Kalvin worked in a little, out-of-the-way bookshop called Printed Dreams but still, Kalvin didn’t feel like a nerd.
However, the complete truth was a matter of fact.
He looked like a nerd although some folks thought Kalvin Newhard looked remarkably similar to Clark Kent.
 
Kalvin wore big, black-rimmed glasses and his thick, dark hair was brushed back off his forehead and lacquered with Brilliantine.
Lots of Brilliantine.
Kalvin thought Brilliantine on his hair was cool.
 
Kalvin also thought he looked especially cool in his Brazen Boy underwear he had purchased at Doolie’s Department store, just down the street from Printed Dreams.
Brazen Boy kept him in check.
Held him firm but not too tight.
Tobey Maury, Kalvin’s favourite action hero and actor, had told a talk show host that he wore Brazen Boys- they were very comfortable.
So, Kalvin thought what’s good enough for Tobey is good enough for him.
He felt secure in his underwear choice.
He understood Tobey Maury’s meaning of the word “comfortable”.
 
 
 
Tobey played Actionman in the movies and Kalvin was smitten. Gossip rags rumoured that Tobey Maury was Gay. It didn’t matter to Kalvin, although he had to admit that he did like watching Tobey on screen what with Tobey’s huge biceps and all straining beneath the thin layer of latex covering his skin.
Anyway, just because he wore a superhero suit, that didn’t make Tobey a homosexual.
Much like himself, Kalvin didn’t think Tobey was a Nancy-Boy but the proof was in the pudding or at least in the Brazen Boys underwear.
 
One day as Kalvin was sorting through several boxes of used books filing them carefully on the appropriate shelves, he had a magnificent idea. Why couldn’t he be an action superhero just like Tobey? Kalvin raced to the research section of the book shop and began to scour through books and periodicals looking for information on how to be a superhero. It was lucky that Tuesdays were slow days in the book trade and hardly anyone came through the book store door that afternoon.
 
Kalvin made notes and sketched various versions of his superhero self on unlined sheets of foolscap. He was pleased with his etchings but he lacked an action hero name.
He thought about it for many minutes while sipping on a glass of Gatorade, when suddenly- out of nowhere, it came to him.
Beefy Man.
Although his friends thought of him as chunky, Kalvin always considered himself to be a little more beefy than chunky. He knew he had respectable, arm muscles. In fact, he had noticed them bulging that very morning as he removed the lid from a new jar of peanut butter.
 
Kalvin liked the thought of being Beefy Man.
The more he thought about it the more he liked it.
The more he liked it the more he knew it was the perfect name-
Beefy Man.
It rolled off the tongue and conjured up warm thoughts of a tough, manly fellow who fought for the little guy, erasing crime from the streets of Mega City.
 
Later that day when the shop was closed, Kalvin went to Doolie’s Department store. He ran excitedly up two flights of stairs to the bath and linen department. There, Kalvin looked for the biggest, reddest bath towel he could find.
Finally, there it was- a beautiful, all-cotton, bright red bath sheet.
Kalvin unfolded the sheet, holding it up in front of him. It fell from his chest to the top of his shiny brown loafers. Kalvin took the bath sheet into the nearby washroom and wrapped it around his neck, tying the ends in a big knot at his throat.
He looked in the mirror.
As fabulous as it appeared, he stood in a quandary, staring at the almost super hero in the mirror.
He knew that something wasn’t quite right.
It must be the sweater vest and his glasses.
Kalvin thought some more while staring at his reflection in the mirror.
It has to be something else.
 
Of course it was something else!
The towel made a great super hero cape but it was the rest of the clothes he was wearing that was all wrong. Quickly, Kalvin removed the towel from his neck and shoulders and stripped out of his clothing. He stood naked before the bathroom mirror.
He looked at his nakedness.
Not half bad.
A handsome patch of chest hair covered his pectoral muscles.
Kalvin flexed his biceps.
Nice!
He had an idea.
He tied the bath sheet around his neck once more and made an impromptu pose, like one of the bodybuilders he had seen on the cover of the exercise manuals back at the bookstore.
Kalvin was amazed at how good he looked.
No, not just good.
Hot!
Even his manly bits seemed pleased.
Truly he was Beefy Man ready to fight crime where it was rampant. One look at his fine, beefy physique and the criminals would high-tail it but fast!
Beefy Man didn’t need earthly bits of cloth and leather to prove who he was.
No, Beefy Man would be born into the world of crime-fighting with nothing but a red bath sheet and his manly physique.
He gathered up his clothing and shoes and dumped them into the waste basket nearby. He ran out the washroom door and rushed to the stairs. His heart was pumping. His penis slapped back and forth against his thighs as he ran down the stairs to the street level.
 
As fast as he could run, his sturdy legs carried him across the lower level of Doolie’s.
His body felt free.
Unbound. Unleashed. Unfettered.
 
Customers screamed and hid their eyes from the powerful site as if they weren’t worthy to gaze upon such a remarkable piece of magnificence.
Kalvin was pleased.
Out the door of Doolie’s he ran.
He stood proudly on the sidewalk- naked and oblivious to the many people in the street.
Some yelled.
Some ran away to safety.
The brave ones stood and gazed upon the sight.
Kalvin’s penis had stopped flapping as he flung the red superhero, cape-like bath sheet over his right shoulder.
He stood naked, feet a manly distance apart and placed his large fists on his sturdy hips.
He could feel a warm breeze caressing his bits.
He looked down and realized he was standing on top of a subway grate.
 
Kalvin didn’t mind, he just pounded his broad chest and yelled out once again-
Beefy Man is here!
Fear not!
…Yes. That sounded good. Very much like an action hero!
Fear Not!! Beefy Man is here at your service- he shouted once again yet much louder than all the previous times.
 
Kalvin took off running down the street- barefooted and bare-assed.
It felt good.
He was making a difference or rather Beefy Man was making a difference.
Soon crime would no longer run rampant.
 
About an hour later, as the late afternoon sun was setting behind the downtown buildings, Kalvin Newhard was placed in a police van and driven swiftly away to the Mega City Police Station.
 
The End.
 
 

Thursday, January 16, 2014

ROBBLOG #523

I can’t think of much to write about these days- what with this awful month of January and all.
 
However, my purpose here is to entertain you- the reader of this Blog, so I think I had better get to it- hadn’t I?
 
Now, I can’t do a balancing act nor recite poetry because you can neither hear nor see me.
No, I will just have to impress you with words or a story.
Now, let me see……
 
Well…
 
There once was a Woodcutter by the name of Nathan. Nathan lived in the woods in a cozy, little cottage made of wood- since he was a Woodsman. He built the charming cottage by himself in an open meadow within the woods. Nathan was very strong and had huge biceps because of the woodcutting and other stuff that he did- almost daily.
Many people- both manly men and willowy women, who lived in the neighbouring village considered him hot! Now, some of the other “stuff” he didn’t do every day but he did do it most days and there were even some days when he did other “stuff” three and four times.
 
Now, about two weeks ago, Nathan went to bed at his usual time- about 930 ish. Nathan as I mentioned before was very strong. He was also very, very handsome with a cleft chin and a profuse patch of wiry hair on his chest.
He would be quite the catch.
Nathan as I mentioned before was a beefy, brawny man. He stood about 5 foot 9 in his bare, athletic feet and always slept in the raw.
That means naked.
He liked to air his pores at night. He also liked to unfetter his man-parts, letting them flop about all night long- unencumbered.
To put it quite plainly Dear Readers- Nathan liked being naked.
Some days he would even chop wood while he was naked- that’s not only dangerous, it’s a story for another time and place!
 
 
 
So, Nathan trotted off to bed after brushing his teeth and taking a long, hot, soapy shower with Mr. SpongeJohn. That’s what Nathan called his “shower glove”-
Mr. SpongeJohn.
 
Soon, after climbing between the cool sheets- made from 350 thread count Egyptian cotton, Nathan fell into a deep sleep. He slept for several hours.
 
Much later, he woke finding his arms flung uncomfortably above his head.
Nathan knew he never slept with his arms above his head….although, sometimes when the morning sun spread its welcoming rays across the bed, he would kick off the covers and lie there letting the sun caress every inch of his powerful, naked Woodcutter’s body.
 
Nathan knew he was awake but his head felt a little fuzzy. His right arm seemed to be asleep even though he knew he had to be awake. The arm started to tingle- just a bit.
 
He felt different somehow. It didn’t feel like he was lying on his familiar, soft, memory foam mattress tucked between 350 thread count sheets. He lifted his head to the right and saw that he was lying flat on what appeared to be a piece of warm, dark-coloured, granite. He tilted his head forward and looked down his stocky Woodcutter frame through the thick, black hair that covered his muscular, barrel-shaped chest.
At once he could see he was still naked.
His size 12 feet were bare and he could see both ankles were bound by what appeared to be thick, dark-coloured, leather straps.
The straps were irritating his leg hair.
 
Yes, not only was Nathan a Woodsman but he was a hairy Woodsman.
That was a plain and simple fact- very hairy indeed- from the top of his head to the tip of his furry toes.  Onlookers frequently made the same observation when they saw him swimming in the pond at the edge of the village.
He didn’t mind.
He liked being hirsute.
Somehow it made him feel like a manly man- confident and comfortable in his own hairy skin.
Nathan chuckled to himself - better that than a pale-skinned, eviscerated chicken like some of the other guys who swam in the pond.
Yes, to be sure, Nathan trimmed occasionally with his Phillips Body Hair Trimmer just to keep things looking neat and tidy but right now, the ample hair on his legs and ankles was the reason for the slight discomfort. Hair burn- he thought.
 
Looking above his head he could see that both wrists were bound by the same leather straps as his ankles. His right arm still tingled with numbness. He curled his beefy arms and flexed his bound Woodsman Wrists as much as he could and soon some of the numbness abated- yet the leather thongs still held his thick wrists firmly in place.
 
He looked about and saw torches gently flickering at each corner of the slab where he lay- constrained. Orange-hued flames gently danced across his tanned stomach and thighs.
Actually, Nathan was tanned all over, you know, what with chopping wood naked sometimes.
He wasn’t cold as he lay there.
The air temperature in the room and that of the slab was warm and comforting. It was dark except for the flickering light from the torches and a rather large candelabrum- that held a dozen or so candles, standing a short distance to the left of his unclothed frame. At first Nathan thought he heard Liberace playing “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria” from the Sound of Music but alas he was mistaken.
The room was quiet.
 
Nathan, as I mentioned before, felt comfortable in his nakedness, so he didn’t find his predicament upsetting in the least being tied to that slab in a comfortably warm- yet darkened room. He wondered how he had been brought to this place. Who had tied his naked Woodcutter’s frame to the granite slab and why had he not resisted?
 
At present, Nathan laid there in all his glory, pondering the situation. As he did so, he felt a strange movement of air nearby and saw a shadow moving through the flickering candlelight. Although he could see no one, he sensed a presence. Someone or something was standing or perhaps sitting just outside the boundaries of his peripheral vision. A minute or two passed.
Nathan’s muscles strained from beneath his leather straps as he tried to free himself.
He had to pee but struggling was useless. He was bound tightly.
 
How good he must look- he mused, tied naked to the slab. If only someone had the wherewithal to snap a photo or two with his smartphone but alas Nathan realized he wasn’t wearing the jacket where his Smartphone was safely tucked away in the inside breast pocket.
 
Suddenly, as Nathan lay there looking all good and musclebound, he felt a soft, gentle brush across his manly hardware. He looked down once more, through the wiry, dark hair covering his beefy chest, then down even more over his tawny mid-section towards his privates.
There he saw a rugged hand holding a large, red feather which was tickling his manbits…
 
 
The End.
 
 
 
 
 

Thursday, January 9, 2014

ROBBLOG #522

What am I doing these wintery days?
 
Feeding the squirrels… mostly.
Our furry little black or brown friends scurry up to our window every morning. They stand in the cold, white snow with little front paws clasped to their chest- like the church lady.
Patiently and hopefully, they wait until I go to the pantry to grab the big bag of Planter’s Peanuts- in the shells.
 
I open a window where I’ve taken out the summer screen and lob a few handfuls of peanuts towards the bird feeder- also outside the window. These days our feathered friends seem few and far between but our squirrel friends are there most of the day. The squirrels grab a couple of nuts and scurry back to one of the huge maples trees a few feet away. Some days a chipmunk or two- living under the north side of the house, drop by to grab a nut or two. I usually throw non-salted peanuts in their direction- out of the shells of course.
 
It’s kind of fun watching them run about but I can’t figure out how they stay warm on bone-chilling January nights.
Body fat, I guess.
 
Blackie in Summer
 
Like the birds they need to eat on cold days to keep warm, so I help them along by feeding them several times a day. When I’m not there shelling out from my window, they help themselves to the bird feeders.
 
From time to time a quartet of doves comes by to eat seeds from the screened feeder bolted to the top of the feeding station pole but few other birds. Chickadees come occasionally as well but I think all the squirrel action shoos the birds away for the most part.
 
I can’t stop feeding the squirrels now.
They look for their winter feedings to survive, so I need to keep it up.
 
It’s not such a big deal.
Seven dollars and forty-nine cents buys a big bag of peanuts up at Wally World and that’s good for a week- maybe two. We do get a lot of pleasure watching the squirrels frolic. Our cats- Dickens and Doyle, do too. They like to lie across the back of the leather chair at the window watching the squirrels romp about. It gives them something to do on cloudy, cold afternoons. Keeps their puddy minds active.
Gives my husband and me something to watch too keeping a couple of old pharts entertained!
 
We’ve even noticed different personalities within our squirrel family. Some are shier than others. Then there’s the big black fellah- Blackie, who can climb onto a bird feeder no matter how high we hang it.
He’s quite the acrobat.
 
So, that’s how we spend some of our winter time.
Watching the wildlife, while wishing for the hot days of summer and all for under 8 bucks a bag.