«« The Sway of Aphrodite »»

A new day, a quiet sunrise, new successes in the footsteps behind me, expectations ahead as I jogged through the sand. Then, a nerve cycle after I sensed her ...

"Would you care for a muffin?"

I stopped and smiled. "Funny, eh?" And she stood there, stealing my line smiling, naturally, shattering reality with the god awful naturalness of it -- in the shortest, tightest, most incredible purest cotton cheerleading outfit mankind has ever seen. "Nice skirt."

"Like it? Wore it just for you. Some would call it an obsessive image."

"They would be fools. It was appropriate for you to wear that during dodgeball, and Melissa was an actual cheerleader."

"I know, perhaps I am anticipating another audience ... I sent her to you, long ago - you probably didn't know that. But we can talk about that another time. Your dream was well done, an effective way to say what you felt, while keeping the core of things hidden."

"A lot like you, Your Babeness."

And she started to strut ... "We're always ready ... and ready for some ruffin'! .. Come on down here and have yourself a muffin!!!." And her hips swayed, and her skirt lifted, barely always staying just below her sweetness.

"♪ ♪ ... ahhh but ain't that America, you and me? ♪ ♪ ... ", I sang. And she swayed and spun, and swayed and pranced, and swayed and swayed. "♪ ♪ ... ain't that America, home of the free, baby? ♪ ♪ ... " The way she did strut. And she swayed, prancing. And she swayed, never quite naked, never quite clothed ... and she swayed. She swayed and swayed. "♪ ♪ ... little pink houses for you and me ... ♪ ♪".

"I like you uplifted also. Your turn."

I paused, then stood erect, my left hand raised: Hear O Islanders, thou shalt not honor the female traveler. The female in your midst who says "I want to explore my sexuality." is most assuredly not a submissive. Verily, verily thou shalt not follow this idolator, for she shall certainly lead you astray."

She smiled ... and started to sway. "She is a lie, she'll make you really wussy. When all you want is to taste my eager ... "

I remember little else after that.

Time passed ... then I remember again laying on the beach with her.

"How's our little .Jeep Beach Buggy doing?"

§


To Aphrodite, with Little Surfer Girl playing in the background.

tgd

... after doing an upgrade for the Tomahawk Control System on the USS Connecticut, the crew gave me space as I went down the ladder, dropping one deck off the bridge. I U-turned, heading to the bow to make one last diagnostic on the weapons themselves. Keeping my head down as a long haired civilian should, my pony tail under my blue Navy cap, I moved through the corridor mindlessly until I opened the hatch to the forward torpedo room and ...

... found myself in a bright floral draped pastry shop. "These aren't cruise missiles", I thought, quite sensibly. I was surrounded by shelves and shelves and display cases. Topping all of them were muffins: blueberry muffins, bran muffins, chocolate chip muffins, cranberry muffins, whole wheat muffins, oatmeal muffins and more and more muffins. Heading toward the command station, next to the secondary fire control console there was one angled wedge of blueberry pie. Sweet Melissa, a mythical yet real cheerleader from my single digit very very boyhood, stood by the fire control station. "I'd like that pie, the blueberry, please." "No, sorry, that one's taken - there's a ship sinking party at twenty two hundred. Would you care for a muffin?" Ah yes, I thought, more pirates in the area. Those parties are fun. I moved further forward to tube #3. "We're always ready," Sweet Melissa started to chant, kicking and strutting, "and ready for some ruffin. Come on down here and have yourself a muffin." And out of habit, I looked over, and she smiled her coy knowing smile, knowing how sweetly idiotic we found really bad cheers. I turned away, happiness in my grin. Sitting right above a Mk-48 torpedo was a small shelf and above that was Sweet Melissa laying long and cheerleader like as her straight blond hair fell, showing its length, and on that glass and aluminum shelf there was a wide thin section of Welsh brown sugar batter and raisins, topped with a cinnamon glaze. "Better, I'll take that raisin and cinnamon thing." "Sorry, 'x' (my name, which you don't have clearance for)", Sweet Melissa said, "that one's taken too. Would you care for a muffin?" Knowing this wasn't a UK sub, and therefore a UK pastry shop, it was stupid of me to ask, but I asked anyway: "Do you have any fruitcake, a nice square slice of that?" "We ran out of fruitcake yesterday, after the missile launching on Iran," Sweet Melissa said with her usual kindness. "Would you care for a muffin?"

I turned and left the pastry shop, stepping through the massive thick hatch, balancing myself on the circular, brushed aluminum handle, then walked to the stern toward my bunk in the narrow submarine corridor. Two reactor crewman passed me, single file. "Hey 'x'," one of them said. Now in my baffles, I heard the other say, "mmmm, muffins today!". I turned to port, needing my bunk desperately.

tgd

There's this chick, she's got a sitcom on NBC, and her name is Whitney Cummings. And, if you like them thin, then she is a beautiful woman. She started out guesting on Chelsey Handler's (Lately) show (which on its own is a bad sign), did one key standup bit on a celebrity roast, and that was enough. When you look like her and have some type of comic timing, that is enough. Roseanne needed to be actually funny and hold your interest. But when you look like her ... yeah, yeah, the world is unfair.

So I was just flipping around between innings of The Series, and I watched for like 5 minutes, mostly, I'll admit, because she is very easy to watch. But there she is, a beautiful woman, repeatedly saying the most ugly, stupid lines from the most predictably mundane point of view. Guess what? She's against marriage. Who would have guessed? She thinks women should propose marriage to men: oooo, criticizing traditional sex roles, how cutting edge! She's into kinky sex, but not simple affection. Wow, surprising, huh? So you wonder, seeing that much beauty with that much ugliness, when is karma (or perhaps Aphrodite herself) going to exact some smackdown vengence upon her? There are quite literarlly millions of women who would die to look like her - and this is what she does with it? Have these people not heard of The Furies? There is so much energy tied to beauty today ... round it goes, and round it shall return. What cha gonna do, brutha ... ?

Just wondering. And as I've been off the directly sexual topic of late, thought I'd wonder out loud. Again, if you like them thin (and boy, is she ever), you should check out this chick: long limbed, erotic hips, graceful face, dark hair, china doll skin - a fine assed specimen.

A huge beach buggy update concerning my Jeep is coming shortly. Till next time, be well.

tgd

( waiting 20 days for my car registration documents )

... hey, yeah, Mr. 'X', I just got off the phone with the dealership. I have your documents right here ...

So you have them?

Yeah, been sitting on my desk since last Wednesday. I'm gonna mail 'em out to you tonight.

(I have no response.)

Yeah, the dealership told me to hold them here.

(The dealership has been telling me they've been calling SINCE last Wednesday, asking where the documents were.)

Yeah, was just saying to Gladis this morning we should find out what's going on with this registration. They told me to hold them.

Well, can you FedEx them to me and bill the dealership?

I have no way to FedEx anything.

(He's a notary, and he has no way to FedEx?)

(Again, I have no response.)

Listen, you just hold tight. You'll have your registration soon. Stay in touch.

(click)

I need to kill a notary. Is there an app for that?

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