Tuesday, May 5, 2015

.:. My Beach Is Better... .:.

...Beach? Check! Sun? Check! Sun glasses? Check! Beach chairs? Check! Pizza? Check! Her? Need even ask...Check! The simple things in life are all it takes to make my "beach better" than yours. ...


Friday, January 16, 2015

.:. Muse... .:.

...Its like music for my soul. After the mojo simmers down, relaxing on her derriere with bass blasting in my ear, I keep cool off a nickel, while my muse giggles from its tickle. Smell the roses or don't, the choice is yours. To all my Bonita Applebum's, Sonya Mellon-Knocker's, keep me inspire and I'll forever be your minder...


Friday, January 9, 2015

.:. Unicorns... .:.

...Fairy tales,and mysticism. The rare beauty that roams free spirited through the concrete forest. Does anyone find their perfect 10? Their true soul mate? Its so hard to find the one. Gets so hard once you've found the one. Optimism is key while out here in the wild...


Sunday, December 28, 2014

.:. Cuffing Season... .:.

...Cuffing season is upon us.No key required. Her cuffs were made for me. No need to be lashed by the fifth to the head, she's no double-bagger. She's the ladder to these heaux, even when she's got a ladder. Magic stick? Check! Magic hat? Check! How will I perform this trick...


Tuesday, December 23, 2014

.:. Vinyl Floors... .:.

...Boom! Collateral damage happens when declaring war on top of vinyl floors, getting guts ironically felt cool and relaxing. No lemon squeezing off laptops in the kitchen this time :D...


Wednesday, December 17, 2014

.:. Withdrawal... .:.

...Life should be easy but easy can be hard. I sharked my Sheila out her clothes and into something to relax the raw jaw and jilt. She is my butterscotch-chippy-butter-bags cake...


Monday, December 15, 2014

.:. The Art of... .:.

... There is an art to living wealthy and free that I have not mastered....yet. Happiness is just a velvet rope away, and passing that threshold would feel like a money shot. Recounting stories of late night texts transforming into narratophilia,  trade off about high nooners, our lemons and licorice yearn for the moment to taste. When we meet we become lost in face.