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Sunday, April 10, 2011

108 The Secret Of The Violin Position

This part was published on 4/10/11.

When I went back to work, I found that Essy and Jonah did not show up for work there ever again. Later, each time I would come across Essy in the future of my work in the food service industry in Fuckno, (which means: fast food jobs) I never got the chance to ever come across her again. Nor in her.

But there were other ladies in this new gourmet burger restaurant franchise, and one in particular held a sudden liking to me, because of the rumors.

Her name was Glinda, like a good witch, and we discovered the violin position. She bewitched me. You know that her folks must have thought it was a good joke to name her that, and of course, she never tired of hearing references to The Wizard of OZ.

Yeah, right.

She came up to me on the patron floor to instruct me to put three tables together for a large group, and then she slid a tiny piece of paper into one of the low front pockets on my dark blue apron. Her hand brushed my penis accidentally.

I looked at her as she walked away, and noticed that she had dyed brass hair, really big hair. This chick was quite fond of hair spray and the sort of "teasing" method used to pump up the volume.

Of her hair.

And of men and boys around her.

She was a tease.

She was also the telephone reservationist, among other jobs she held at that place. She was a bit of a tart, you see. She was not reserved at all.

Yup, Califuckmenow bright blue eyes, startling blue eye shadow, fire-truck-engine red lips, and full, curvy hips. She walked away like a duck, with pigeon toes. Her butt was amazing to follow with your eyes, and begged to be grabbed, hands full of fleshy delight.

This would be interesting.


You simply must play this song while reading what I have to tell you about the Violinist.

Glinda had put her phone number into the front right pocket of my bussing apron, and I checked it out in the galley. She got off early from work each night, because reservations are usually not made at the end of the evening. Eventually, her job became downsized, because there was always a line at the front door, and folks would get pissed at others cutting through the line to have instant access to this new, "hot" gourmet burger joint.

But while she was there, she had a reservation for me, and this was at her apartment.

She had a big brass bed, which was the style back then. It was the 80's, my friend.


Everything in her apartment was black, like the rug, the coffee table, and her skin color. Her skin was as smooth as melted chocolate. There were also a lot of brass stripes: in the rug, in the coffee table, and in my head.

Her walls were pink.

It began with a deep kiss, and it ended with explosions.


I lied down on top of her between her wide open thighs. That moment is one of the best in your life, ya think? A whole new world awaits you, and the best thing you can do is to savor the first entry, and then you just might go along for the glide.


She put her thigh down, the one to my right, and she pulled me to lie down across it, and I did, propping myself up on my right elbow.


I must have raised my eyebrows, because she said, "Shhh. Follow me."

I did. Wouldn't you? She was now the Conductor. Cool.

Well, she then used her other leg to pull my left leg up on top of it, the one she was using to do this.

Umm, Ok?

With her hands, Glinda pushed my right leg down underneath her thigh.

Great. Now my right knee was under her knee, and my left knee was on the top of her hip.

But check this out:

She glided me into her loveliness.

In this way, I could use her thigh between my legs to control her as I wished, and pump into her as I wanted.

I could even keep her from having too much of me enter her, and therefore tease her, hungry for more, and squirming, writhing, in her hunger.

The best thing of all was to tease her in this way: Rub the little man in the boat with the tip of my oar, and "lick" her inner labia with it until my right thigh under her honey oven got wet.

Well, an interesting thing occurred.

As I entered her secret world from a bit above, the shaft of the only member of my club glided over her clitoris. The left side of my shaft played her strings like a violin.

A woman can be played like a violin, evidently.

She was the Violin, and I was the Violinist.

Gawdamn son.

I learned something new.



Good morning. Open your eyes for some coffee. How about chicks with Steve Buscemi eyes?

Breakfast coffee for you, from some badass Canucks in Afghanistainmyshorts.. Swearing loudly.

Breakfast simply must include eggs. Here are some interesting recipes for those wonderful oval orbs that come out of chicken asses. Yum.

Speaking of deviled eggs, how identical are identical twins? Huh.

Speaking of devils, here are ei8ht grisly archeological discoveries, to give you the willies.

Speaking of hot things from hell, how about a grilled cheese jalapeno sammich? Yumm..

How to understand how our human brain works. Pretty cool.

Interesting facts about other organs in your noggin: ears, teefs and tongue.

Shexxy dancing, but this is safe for work. Sorry.

Last one for you. Beat Poem by Tim Minchin. Storm, in a short movie. Good day buds.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

OK, one more for ya. Richie is going across the sea. Be safe.

Play nice with the dolphins, big guy.


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