Last Weekend In Madison

Coming into this weekend I was less than excited. Nothing quite beats a weekend stuck in your apartment doing work on a computer, right? Turns out it was a bit more fun that originally speculated.

Friday night I was ready to go get some food and didn’t want to fight the crowds at the brewery, so I went the Russian restaurant that is located in the same strip mall. The place is pretty great too. The food is entertaining enough, but the service is exceptional. Not in the normal “How may I help you?” and “Can I get you another drink?” kind of way, but in the “Hey, that waitress is smokin hot!” kind of way. Friday night was exceptional in that I was the only person in the place. That means that I get conversation throughout dinner and my beers don’t ever run dry.

Little background for you: The place is run by 3 individuals. Alex is the cook/owner. Yana is the waitress/hot piece of ass and is pretty much married to Alex. Oleen is the Mexican from LA that is NOT down with working hard (duh).

After getting my first beer I ask Yana where Oleen is, so that I can give him some shit about the Celtics destroying the Lakers.

Yana: He doesn’t work here any more…

Turns out the guy actually quit before getting fired. I take back anything I said about his lack of ambition. He really took some initiative there.

Once Alex got my order and went back to start working on it, Yana started pouring shots for us. We had a few before dinner and at least one to follow, plus a few beers on top of that. Towards the end of dinner I told them that this was my last trip out here and that I didn’t know where I was going next. Alex immediately starts to grab bottles (obviously vodka) off of the shelf and offer them to me for my superior patronage. Not being a hard alcohol drinker, I politely turned them down. So the next offer was for them to take me to the Dells and show me a good time. This was my last weekend here so I decided what the hell and agreed to the trip. The plan is to meet at the restaurant at 9pm, go out there for the night and come back in the morning.

For those of you that don’t know about the Dells (I assume everyone that doesn’t live in Wisconsin or Illinois hasn’t the foggiest), it is a city based entirely on cheap touristy attractions, namely waterparks. If you have ever been to Daytona, Honalulu, Tee-shirt/Tattoo Land [The] America, you know what I’m talking about. You can only be offered the same shirt/towel/croc sandal with different colors before it all just seems like the same thing (read: future jizz rag…something to catch your population paste when you are out feeding the geese). I hadn’t seen the place, and I was going to take this opportunity to at least set my eyes upon it.

I get there at 9 and watch some UFC while the two of them close the place down and change out of their work clothes. I got to watch Spencer Fisher punch his way into my wallet and take the money that I had on Stephens. We are now ready to go, Yana had time to change her clothes and once again I’m left desiring to bang somebody else’s girlfriend. Sweet Jesus she was looking good. She takes off early for something she had to do in town while Alex and I get into his 2002 Beamer M3 and hit the road.

[Insert from Keev’s “Important Rules To Owning And Driving A Fast Car]
…and for those reasons alone you must modify your attitude to fit the vehicle instead of attempting to mold a steel/aluminum structure to become who you are. Simply put, shop wisely. The number one attitude change that must be made at a bare minimum is boosting your pride to match your horsepower. If the driver of a 300hp STi gets into the front seat of your 333hp M3, make sure that you pride yourself as a fast driver and put the effin pedal as close to the floorboards as possible without spinning those high end rubber composites. Man cannot live on bread alone. He must accelerate.

Although I think that car is bad ass, the 2006 STi with AV mods is still much cooler in my mind (AWD for heroes, two tires spin for zeros). Haven’t been in a ‘06 M3 though…

When we get to town, Alex gives me a drive by “what’s what” of the place and then shows me where I’ll be staying. Sure as shit…I’m not staying at the same place as them. Who knew? It is a small one room apartment (read: single wide trailer divided into 3 rooms) right at the end of the Dells “strip”.

Alex: I’m going to drop you off at a bar and come back and clean the place up.

Me: Are you sure? I can help you out.

Alex: No, this is your time for…relax.

Me: Ummm…ok.

He drives me down to a bar called Das Boot (sure as shit they have boots! I half expected to sit down next to Barry Badrinath and Landfill), introduces me to the barmaid and heads back to the apartment. Knowing that I didn’t want to wake up on the side of the road naked and covered in blood next to a dead deer again, I opted to skip out on the boot and just have a pint. The fight night was just getting to the main event, so I sat back and watched Kendall Grove win back the money that my other fighters tried to squander away.

After about 30 minutes and enough time for 2 bachelorette parties of Midwest’s greatest grass grazers to enter the place, Alex and Yana show back up. We go to the upstairs of this place and place some darts and pool in what appears to be a great depression era bar. The place was empty except for the 3 of us, so I started to rally the troops a little and get the party moving. I was able to get them to try out two other bars. Sadly the cliental of those places is ugly women and women that don’t speak English. If an attractive individual walked up and I would start talking to her, she would give me a strange look and then start to talk to Alex or Yana in what I’m left to assume was some sort of playa-hater tongue.

Around 12 or 12:30 A&Y decided that they are going to head home and go to bed (they had to work in the morning), and I was left to make a good time for myself.

Turns out I wasn’t on point with my solo skills. After a few beers and failed attempts at engaging anyone in conversation, I went back to my room, smoked a bowl and put my head down for the night. In the morning I got up, had a wake’n bake, then caught a ride back to Madtown with Yana.

I give the whole experience a B+. Normally it would be a lot lower, but at least I wasn’t catching my man butter in the apartment for the 24th consecutive hour. I was living it up…Wisconsin style.

On Wednesday I head for the mountains (of Busch…beer), and we’ll see what my new adventures will entail.

My Office Space

I've been meaning to write all sorts of really funny things. Sadly, I've been swamped here in Madison.

That was not a pun pointed at the absurd amount of water that is covering vast quantities of land out here.

SCCREEEAAAACCCCHHHH....BLAMMO

As Gus Chigguns would often times say “I’d be more worried about the coyotes!” Sadly, Gus was an old time’in son of a bitch that doesn’t know the first thing about the madness of Wisconsin.

Tsaoism takes a stance against support of superstition, paranormal, Jesus and Sigfield and Roy. Any type of thoughts or lifestyle modeling that is based in fear or profit based hype-mongering has little room in a tsao based life. This isn’t to say that I disregard any beliefs that I don’t readily understand. It is just that I spend very little time thinking about these things or the proposed repercussions (read: Hell or being eaten by a tiger). So when I tell you that I had a bad run at traveling on Friday the 13^th, please understand that I believe that this was purely a statistical inevitability.

Went to my favorite Russian restaurant Thursday night, but left my card at the place. So at lunch the next day, I had to make a run to get it back. Ran inside, gave the guy from LA some shit for the Lakers losing after having a 24 point lead on Boston, then jumped in the car and headed back to work. About a mile down the road we were going by a big beer truck that was parked, and as we passed I noticed that a driver of a Dodge Stratus was not looking at us and pulling out into the road quite quickly in our direction. The driver of the car I was in made a last ditch attempt at getting out of their way, but there was nothing to be done. Two high school girls had us in their death grip and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

Her front end nailed the back passenger side tire with enough force that my sunglasses took a trip from my face to the feet of the driver. The driver and I seemed to be fine, so we pulled into a nearby parking lot. Moments later the girls pulled in as well. They got out and the Dodge driver apologized to my driver and, after assuring nobody was injured, they started to exchange insurance info. As for how the cars faired, I’d say the bigger Yukon XL held its own (read: won) against the Stratus.

Being a blog conscience individual I immediately got out and took pictures. Being a humor conscience individual I immediately sent a text to Anonymous_Blogger:

Me: If you get hit by girls in a car, is it okay to hit on them?

AB: If they don’t have insurance they have to have sex with you.

A cop shows up and starts to get everybody’s story and personal information. I don’t remember anything except that the girl said she was 15 years old. FUCK

Me: I might want to wait a year. They were born in ’93.

AB: Go for it you pussy.

I assume that my Lawyer told him to say that as my brother and I haven’t been giving him much work recently (read: money). Nice try, but you are going to have to get my money the old fashioned way: Get me drunk enough to make terrible decisions.

The long and short of that little tidbit is that for the first time in my life I was not pleased with the results when two underage high school girls smacked my ass. I guess there is a first for everything.

The rest of the day didn’t fair well either when I got stuck in the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport for quite a few hours after all the airport watering holes had closed and eventually got into billings around 1:30pm.

Saturday the 14^th was much nicer.

She Will Go By The Name Bukkake

Like I've stated before, I've spend a fair number of hours on the interwebs. Many times I assume that the online vocab that I've acquired is fairly universal. If I say "So I got tired of watching WOW at this NOOBS house, so I went to find some STRANGE, found nothing, JEOK instead.", I pretty much assume that everyone is on the same page.

Turns out that is not the case.

I recently got the raft I ordered and have been pining over like a beaver pines for a pirates false leg. The thing is even cooler than I had imagined (and I had daydreamed the thing up to the point where it was a Spanish galleon with 24 guns to a side). We got a mild break in the shitty B-town weather and took it up to the Stillwater for its maiden voyage. Sadly, with no 3 Thieves on hand, I christened the boat with the next best thing: Banquet beer.

My first go at being captain on my very own boat went quite well. At 12'6" the boat is a lightning fast dart (even when overloaded). We were unable to successfully surf any waves, but got into some nice holes and got wet (I could say that a million times and still smirk each and every time). Even on the smallest waves (not to imply that there is anything very large on the Stillwater), we were taking faceshots. Normally we would refer to this as simply "getting wet", but we were donning dry tops and dry suites, hence faceshots. By the end of the trip we all pretty much felt like bus station stallions taking hot shots for meth money.

With this strong image fresh in our minds, we concluded that the boat could only reasonably be named one thing. Ladies and Germs, I give you Bukkake (makes me wonder about the traffic these references will bring to my blog)


As with all things that I take very seriously in my life, I made sure my Lawyer was present for legal purposes. Coors owes me money! That can would not break for the picture.

Time For A Shift In Social Paradigm

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Five Finger Discount For Backdoor Beauties

As of late, I’ve found that I’ve been giving a lot of sex advice. The advice covers a pretty broad spectrum too. I give it to girls as well as guys. Everything from which toys to get, commenting on a position, cougar hunting techniques, to how to enjoy anal sex (I don’t know, I just do…). I find that I really enjoy giving this advice. First off, I get to sit back and think about sex for a while, and who doesn’t love to do that. Secondly, it forces me to evaluate what I’m thinking about and try to explain the reasoning behind why I do what I do, and it forces me to organize my thoughts a bit. But more importantly than any of the other reasons, it allows me to maintain an erection for the better part of my work week. Any one of us can have a boner/wet vagina when you are sitting in front of the computer with your dick/vagina in/surrounding your hand/fingers, but I can do it all week long in a trailer full of dudes that are constantly pissed off about work and their spouse that no longer touches them sexually. It is sort of my workplace “boner zen”.

The long and short of it all: Keep those questions cuming!

I took some time the other day to write the following proverb that sort of sums up a lot of my advice: (read: My mother sent me the following…thanks mom!)

A young boy traveled across Japan to study with a famous martial artist. The master asked him what he wanted. The young boy told him he wanted to be the finest martial artist in the land and asked how long he had to study. “Ten years, at least,” the master answered. “But what if I studied twice as hard as all your other students,” the young boy responded. “Twenty years,” replied the master. “Twenty years! What if I practice day and night with all my effort?” “Thirty years, “was the master’s reply. The boy was thoroughly confused. “How is it that each time I say I will work harder, you tell me that it will take longer?” the boy asked. “The answer is clear. When one eye is fixed upon your destination, there is only one eye left with which to find the Way.”

Observation. I think it is one of the most important aspects of life. By observing your surrounding instead of focusing on the prize, you are simply allowing your brain the time and energy needed to create patterning. This is just simple associations that you constantly make in your everyday life. How do you know that a ball is going to come racing back to the earth once you release it towards the sky? You have seen the pattern before. You may not have ever thrown a ball in that exact spot, but your brain makes the association with previous throws you’ve observed, whether it was you or somebody else that threw the ball.

I feel that observation is also a key to great sex (I also believe this holds true to all of life, but I want to keep this hardon rockin. So I’m just going to stick to the sex part right now.). It’s so easy to get self absorbed when you are balls deep in a sexy girl. Your brain is spitting out endorphins like a pissed off camel and it feels great to ride that rush (side note: the word endorphin consists of two parts: endo- and -orphin; these are short forms of the words endogenous and morphine, intended to mean "a morphine-like substance originating from within the body."). But until you take time to really observe during sex, your brain won’t be able to make many associations beyond “putting your dick in a vagina == brain morphine and a cock shotgun of man-butter”. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with heading down to the skeet club and firing off a couple quick rounds, but let’s not pretend that that is the pinnacle of sexual activity.

I’ve been spending a lot of time observing during sexy. I pay close attention to small details, and the event(s) that led up to it. When I kiss a girls neck, I’ll feel for goosebumps on her arms, or see if the hair on the back of her neck stands up a bit. I change the speed/angle/power when I’m hittin a girl doggy style and then notice how her obliques and calf muscles contract and relax. This and many other observations are all just part of simple patterning. Every person has there own little buttons that make them click, but for the most part the human animal is pretty easy to predict once you understand the patterns.

Back to my proverb and why I like it so much: Fisting and Anal. I love both! They are also both like martial arts in the story. The harder you go after them with a straight forward focus, the longer it will take you to achieve either. A man that wants nothing more than to blast away on the backdoor of some beauty better know a pornstar with a hallway for an asshole that he can just toss his hotdog down (they are out there, but good luck finding them…for free).

Anal and fisting has less to do with the physics of “can this fit in here” and more to do with the art of pleasure. Taking what we’ve learned about the root of the word endorphin, and apply it to fisting and backdoor love. Endorphins numb the senses enough that sensations that were previously shocking to the system can now be pleasurable.

When I fist I often start by pleasing her whole body. Be it kisses, bites, nibbles or licks, it doesn’t really matter. It just matters that you are starting to trigger all of her senses. Then I spend a great deal of time giving her oral. I switch the majority of my attention back and forth between her clit with my tongue and her gspot with my fingers. Every time I feel her cumming on my fingers and it gets tight, I whip up a frenzy of tongue pleasure on her clit. This will cause her ham-wallet to relax and open up, and like a professional pick-pocket, I give her another digit. I continue this back and forth process, but the whole time I’m observing. Watching her hands grip the bed sheets. Hear her breaths in and out and adjust what I do accordingly.

Anal is the same way with me. I work hard to please. I don’t work hard to get anal (but it sure is hard when working), and when I do it well (read: not blackout drunk), it is a screaming train of O-faces that we both love.

How could I not love it…I’m the conductor!

Back In The U.S.S.R...

Well I’m back to work out in the Midwest and that can only mean one thing: Time to start blogging again. I know I’ve been away for a while and have left my readers hanging. I left all of you poor souls adrift in a sea of misdirection, clinging to any faux-virtue or belief system that the mass media passes off as hip. But fear not, your RSS reader will soon bloom back to bold on a semi-regular basis.

Blogging is sort of like taking pictures. I never want to take pictures when I’m doing the things that I would want pictures of later. When there are events in my life worth writing about, I rarely want to take the time to sit down and jot down my thoughts. All I really want to do is keep licking, wrestling, stroking, paddling or sticking whatever it was that got my attention in the first place. Luckily for you, I’m back in Wisconsin, and that means I’ll be planted in front of this laptop that serves as my work station, memory capturing device and virtual girlfriend for vast periods of time.

I’ll catch you up to speed on the last week of no entries. I flew back into Billings for a bit of the normal weekend affairs. Anonymous_Blogger landed in BIL the next day. Went and got all sorts of wasted down at a bar called Bin 911. Not sure why they called it that, because there is no way you could crash a plane into that place. It’s tiny! Maybe if you were an expert paraglider you could crash into that place, but I’ll bet you get hung up on the sail art thing at the intersection. I’ll check with Male Nurse and let you know what the probability is that you can make it work.

Did some floating, drinking, jiu jitsu, outdoor sex and anal. All things that I really enjoy.

I also just found out that I have a hook-up for the green in Wisconsin. I’m really, and let me just repeat that point, REALLY jazzed about that. I’ll give you an update on the nug quality after I’ve sampled the goods.

Peace and Tsao be with you.