The Mikuni show 07.

Yes, yes yes...
I should be doing other things today.
Jacket and helmet taunt me no longer!
I went to the Mikuni calender show down in Long Beach CA today.
The temp was nice for July, but finding my way around that city was a bit of a ball ache.
Cops were out in force pulling people all over. The city had those electronic signs all over flashing the warning that if you had an illegal pipe on your bike you would be cited!
We waited in traffic for nearly half an hour. That part was not too bad as I could see one of the stages in the show grounds that had a bunch of strippers dancing like crack addicted epileptic whores! It was funny.
Realized how old even the new Harleys look, and how the only cool Harley's are sportsters done up as racer/rods!
After the show we took off up PCH and wound up cruising Sunset back home, and passed a few bikers we had passed when we left Long Beach.
All in all it was a nice day, Something I have been hurting to have for a while now.

Old Harley's.

Old Harley's never die...Er well they really do. But it takes 5000 miles on the clock and twenty years sitting in the same spot uncovered.

Fair warning.

Three events in my recent past have had a huge impact on me.

The first was the birth of my son.
becoming a father has been the most rewarding thing I have done.
It could all just be biological, chemicals in the brain to make dad's feel good around their children. I really don't care.
The point is that my little man is the most important person in my life.

The second was being diagnosed with skin cancer.
Yes it was preventable, and no, I did not wear a hat every single time I went outside.
But the point is that in the space of a few months I have gone from having a small rough spot on my nose, to having strange lumps come up under my skin.
Strange lumps that have now had me see three doctors, each one a specialist only to be sent to see the next. I am now waiting to get to see number four.

The third was hiring on with the T.S.A.!
Yes it is a shit job, with a whole lot of shit people, but it is the few gems that make it good, and the mass amount of face to face with strangers that has helped me emerge from my shell and deal with people.

Now I said all that to say this; Life is too short to spend not being direct and saying what you are thinking. Fuck whats proper! What happens if I die while waiting to have the chance to speak my mind?
We should all be living like we are on borrowed time. No one knows how long they have, or how long anyone else has.
Say what you have to say now! Ask the questions, Fight, Love, Laugh, Cry.
Enjoy each moment, we have so few.

Ever want something you cant have so bad it hurts?

Ever watch as some one else gets it instead?

Got this can at work, soon to be the coolest catch can this side of the Pacific!

T.M.I., Anyone?
I have a story from my past to tell.
If you do not like blood, pain, or lurid detail do not read this.

When I was a young man filled with lust and bad intention I had a girlfriend whom I loved very much.
Now she was a bit of a "sleeper", to look at her you would never know just what she was capable of until it was too late.
Now the whole point of this is she was prone to a bit of bragging about her oral skills, And I do not mean public speaking!
So one day we are at her place, and as celebration of her having gotten her braces removed that week, she had made her intentions clear; I was going to be blown harder than a Caribbean island in a hurricane!
Now this is all good and well.
No really it is, I love this sort of attention, and to my mind, if a girl is loving me to the point that she wants to do it, who am I to stand in her way?
Now we were in her bed, and it is late afternoon, and I was on my back with my eyes closed, just lost in the most perfect moment.
I was loving it.
She was doing her thing and I was just feeling my nerves fire and feeling as all the hair on my head prickled...Oh it was grand.
Then something new happened.
You ever have a rubber band snap when you are stretching it?
It was just like that, only the rubber band was on the end of my penis!
Then it sort of went numb.
"hey Babe, you got to stop for a second", I said.
She looked up at me and as I slid out of her mouth a thin stream of blood crossed her lips and it was at that moment that I knew something had gone horribly wrong!
"What's the matter?" she asked, Looking like a vampire unaware of the scene unfolding in front of her.
I did not answer, I watched as a stream of blood squirted from the end of my knob and made a dark stain on her sheets.
I watched my pulse and realized I was in trouble.
Grabbing my bit I squeezed it hoping to stop the bleeding. It stopped and I could see a jagged cut that went from the top of my knob, to the bottom edge.
"OH GOD, OH SHIT!!!"
Then she saw the blood.
"Is that blood?" she asked.
I was already out of be running to the bathroom, thinking about all the fun I would be having in the emergency room if I could not get the bleeding to stop.
I was a dumb ass, I wanted to stay the hell away from the hospital, and all the questions that could only be answered one way; Why yes, it was in her mouth, Thanks for asking!
I found gauze under the sink, and some paper medical tape.
It was not long before I had used the gauze and tape to patch my knob.
I was lucky, who knew that trauma causes E.D.? My "fix" held and I healed up.
Turns out the orthodontist left a single band around one of her upper molars, and it had got me.
To this day, I still have to both laugh and cry at how fast that experience went from good to horrid.

Trash House Part 2.

So here is the updated photo of the trash house.

the ply wood has moved to the inside of the window, the lawn is all dead, heaps of garbage all over the property...

So I got a look at the kid with the big fucking mouth today.

I almost felt bad.

...almost.

I see him come out of the house, and Wifey gives me the heads up; That's him!

I watch, the way you watch a car accident. This kid is a fucking mess! He comes shambling out of the house. He is skinny and tall, his movements are sort of rubbery, His head, His head is about the size of a small cantaloupe!

I want to laugh, I want to cry. I do neither, I just stare!

So it seems that we are getting threats from the shallow end of the gene pool.

Trash House.

Yes, it's the asshole's again!

How do I put this without sounding like a racist fuck?

Should I even care?

I know that in nice White middle class neighborhoods people cringe when they see the first Mexican family move in. The fear is that they are going to get a bunch of criminal slobs living next door to them.

And in most cases they find that the family is just as middle class and anti slob as they are.

But this is in East Los Angeles, and these are slob mexicans moving into a mexican neighborhood and fucking it up!

The last time I wrote about these fuck wit's was when they moved in and in less than a week crashed into the front of our car, and said nothing! Pretended it never happened!

We could not prove a thing and wound up just bending over and taking it.

Then a couple of months back the shitheads moved another family in with them!

So now it seems someone had a visitor with a stolen car visit, and this person had the driving skill of a crack crazed cracker in a toyota with three bald tires.

in short, the crack head pulls into the driveway using the back end of our car the same way you use one of those mushroom things on a bumper pool table.

Shoot, bounce, onto the hole!

Again, all is quiet, no one owns up to anything.

...almost, One (of the many) kid comes out of this house to stand on the porch and yell at my wife because she told him to get off the car. The little BASTARD was sitting on it, and felt that being asked to get his little lice ridden ass off some one else's property was an offence.

So my wife and some of the other neighbors were standing in shocked disbelief as this little asshole proceeds to yell at my wife, and threaten her with violence, and even has so few brain cells as to shout;"Watch what happens to your car next!"

It goes without saying that we have files a police report.

But still, what the fuck?

Freedom, Plain or toasted?

I found this sign in the L.A.X. parking lot...

We should be looking for one of Bin Ladin's boys hanging around the airport with a bag of pop corn...