Post Birthday ©

Another birthday gone and I am only half paralyzed.
Not bad, I guess.
As I have gotten older things have/had to change.
When I was younger I’d go out for a good time.
It was usually a quiet dinner by myself and then out to meet friends, maybe hunt me down a nice cuddly pair of tits or two to snuggle up to for the night but, as I got older, I started getting a little slower.
Fucken out of shape too.
I used to party for days, weeks on end but today, I chase a cab ten feet and pass out on the bench half way there.
Then wake up with my shoes missing.

30 years ago my friends and a couple of family members were a major part of my life.
Most of us had grown up together and were like family.
Growing up on the streets watching each other’s back created a bond between us all that’s been strong for all these years.
We all ate at each other’s parents place.
Most spoke three of four languages because of that.
I spoke Greek, Italian, English, Yugoslavian and some French by the time I was ten.
My parents were having problems understanding English, just think how fucked up they were when they send their kid to school to learn English and he comes backs speaking Italian instead.

Many of us went to jail together.
None of us were ever organized but when one of us had an idea the rest went to jail with him, HA HA HA
Ah hell, what the fuck are friends for if not to get in trouble with.
That’s how our parents got to know each other so well.
From bailing us all out all the time.
They’d meet in court and sitting the crowd waiting.
You could tell they were talking about us.

My father: “Tha sou gamiso to hristo get tin panagia (I’m going to fuck your Christ and his mother)”.
I could never understand why Greeks swear like they do.
Maybe they spent to much time with the sheep, who knows?
Fuck my Christ and his mother.
What kind of a fucken threat is that, I have Christ, and his mother?
May explain why all the food in the fridge disappears so fast.

Fuck my Christ and his mother, hmmm
Well if it means me getting fucked then, they’re yours, what can I say.

Buddy’s father: “Porka Madonna, Sto andando scoparlo voi piccola scopata della figlio voi” The holy mother is a whore and he is going to fuck the little whore that she gave birth too.
WTF is that?
I never had Chinese friends Growing up but if I did, I bet their fathers would be in court swearing. “I’m going to fuck Budda’s Momma “.

It’s almost like our parents only got laid when we fucked up and Mary, mother of Christ is what their woodies desired.
Except the Greeks, they fuck em both then go to church on Sunday to give a donation.
At least they got us out of jail.

The years have taken their toll on the old crew.
Some of us still see each other on a regular basis but there are only a handful left and each year the number gets smaller.
It looks like a scene from the Sopranos when we all hook up.
We sit and reminisce about some of the shit we got away with or an adventure that went totally fucken wrong then worse only to finish perfectly as planned. HA HA HA

Why I didn’t end up spending half my life in jail or in a fucken grave I have no fucken idea.
Lucky, I guess.

I remember when buddy showed up with Julio Iglesias limo once.
It seems he had just stolen it from the venue he was performing at.
Half of the fucken car was in the laneway and the other half was in the middle of the bloody street because it was so long.
He grabbed some beers and some hash then took off to pick up a couple of chicks he said.
I told him there was like, two limos in the whole city so I didn’t know how long he would last driving the thing around before the cops caught up with him.
He told me not to worry and took off.

The next morning I went across the street for some smokes and the news paper and as I was reading it on the way back the front page has this piece about a car chase that went through two provinces then ended up with a man driving a stolen limo launching it and himself off the end of a pier and into a lake.
He was last seen swimming off into the sunset from the sinking ship before it to disappeared into the darkness.

Our kids cringe when they hear some of the things we got into.

Women have always been a major part of my life for some reason.
Never really had to chase a woman.
One of my mentors in life once told me, never chase a skirt because you might catch it and if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do with it but if you sit there quietly on the bench the little bird will fly over to see if your friendly.

The guy was 79 when he died with his cock dripping cum out of his 29-year-old girl’s mouth so he must have known something.
You listen and learn to your elders they say so I figure if you ignore them long enough, eventually they will come over wondering why you’re ignoring them.
Beats going out there and making a monkey out of myself or spending piles of fucken money like some of my friends do.
Cheaper to pay a fucken hooker sometimes if they added it all up, it would also help if they went after someone closer to their age and not 40 fucken years younger.
I had a 20-year-old last year tell me she could make my pulse race and blow my mind away.
I laughed at her then told her my EX has been doing it for 30 years.
Every time she opens her mouth she drives me nuts and want to shoot myself in the head.
One of my biggest regrets is not having fucked her up the ass, dry.
Just once to cover the ass fucking I’ve gotten over the last twenty years.

This I what I do after my birthday, I reflect on bits and pieces of the past.

Every year it gets harder and rougher.
But I push on.
Every day is a new day with it’s own trials and tribulations.
And I look for the answers
There will always be pain
I will fight through it
And also love
If you seek and accept it

Looking back on the whole shit pile, it reeks but it’s my stink and I enjoyed crapping it all out but not all of it was that bad.
When I was about 3 I got my first hard on when I shoved a butter knife into a live wall socket.
Ok maybe that was bad.

At the age of 8 my mother caught me practicing how to open bras with one of hers strapped to the radiator.
I’m still trying to figure it out 40 years later.
Come on someone; make a fucken remote for fucks sake.

Screwed my French teacher when I was 15
Failed French that year too, hmmm
Long story

Dated a cop once.
Another long story
We broke up because she always wanted to cuff me and I never knew if she was on duty or not.

Most of you know about the nun.

I coached a bunch of 5-7 year old hockey players once.
One of my favorite memories.
I had this little fat kid who couldn’t skate for shit.
All he did was fall down so we made him the goalie and he lay down inform of the net the whole time with his stick stretched out for the other player to trip over.
There wasn’t a single kid out there who could raise the puck off of the ice anyway.

I refereed a few ball hockey tournaments.
There was one team that was so broke they couldn’t afford goalie pads so their goalie duct taped the cushions from his couch around his legs.
I kid you not.
It was fucken virtually impossible to score on the guy because the cushions blocked the whole goal
The next year it had to be printed out in the rules clearly that ONLY, goalie equipment was allowed.

There’s more, heaps more, the good, the bad, the ugly and the chicks with the big tits of course.

Ah well until next year then.
Oh, would you like to see what I got for my Birthday?
Follow me but let me warn you that people shop according to my personality.

First and my favorite, not that I didn't love it all but I am a proud Canadian and just love watching our Canadian teams play hockey and win of course.
This is an official Winter Olympics hockey jersey, complete with fight strap to hold my pants up.



I got this great zippo lighter.
It's one of my favorite lighters and have owned one for as long as I could remember.
My last one broke during the summer and was very happy to find this one wrapped up on the coffee table in the morning.



I got this real cool pendant carved out of water buffalo horn.
As you can see it has a wolf on the top and a Celtic symbol on the bottom.
I water buffalo horn from Thailand with a carving of a North American wolf and a Celtic symbol.
I'd say it's a small world wouldn't you?
Eagles and wolves are the two animals I associate with the most.
On the jersey above, in the center of the maple leaf you will find twin eagles.
I have always been a lone wolf but free as an eagle until the time comes and the pack needs me.



I love Sci-fi.
I am a Trekkie and have seen the original series over a thousand times and still watch if it's on but I do watch other series as I am also a HUGE Stargate fan.
Over the years I have accumulated hundreds of vhs and dvds of movies and box series which i enjoy watching with friends and family.
I think it's up to 1500 in total so far, half of which are sci-fi and still growing with this next item I got.
I started collecting Farscape episodes, specifically the Starburst edition which are not fucken easy to find.
So far i managed to get my hands on almost all of it but for the last season which is in three box sets.
4.2 brings me one set closer and two away from completing it and when I find 4.1 and 4.3, and I will, I will sit one weekend and enjoy the whole thing without any damn commercials or "To be continued" at the end of an episode.

Doctor Who is next.



The next item, well.........OK I like hats.
I have about 120 of them upstairs in their own dresser that I have accumulated over the years from the places i have been to or places friends have gone and brought me one back.
I have worn some of them but most are for souvenirs like my Broncos back to back championship cap and my X-files cap.
Reminders of a piece of history.
This one though.......Every time I look at it I feel like I should have my pants pulls down to my knees for some reason.
Shiney gold thread on black.
Love the eagles on the front.
I could wear it at least once.
Around the house......



This.......well
I am who I am and I guess......ok.......HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!!!
That's what went through my mind when I opened this one up.
I guess I can use it to make a broach or something, pendant to wear around my neack maybe.
Where's Inia, If I can';t find her, Frick you up next.

So that is what Walker done, did and got for his birthday.
51 years old.
A little slower but just as hungry for pussy as ever, if not more.
Life is crazy and I love every minute of it.
Good and bad and in the end, when the cake was all gone and the lights were down, I was snuggling up to a cozy set of tits.
Why change a good thing.

Have a nice day

Walker




sniff sniff

Where did I put that lighter?

It's A Mad Mad Boob Shaped World ©

That’s right, it’s a mad, mad, boob shaped world with a frozen nipple on each end to keep us suckling on her while she fucks us from both ends and they wonder why we’re all so screwed up.
I just happen to live in the middle of it with the rest of you in the bowels of society where the strong get used, the weak get fucked and the rich can’t count.

It’s here in the middle of madness we find what keeps us going, booze, drugs and baggy clothes to keep us concealed from the truth.
During the day we battle to keep up with everyday living and many of us barely scrape by or at least present the illusion that we are but no matter how bad off we get, we tend to find a way to blow off steam.

Right on the tail of D1s birthday I had another, the Ex SIL’s on the 19th and my brother’s on Saturday the 20th.
She showed up on Friday, have I mentioned she is unique in her fashion sense?
She showed at the door wearing a black mini skirt, yellow stockings, white blouse black velour jacket, a black pillbox hat with a black veil and black gloves.
My take on that, to each their own.
She loves what she sees in the mirror and that’s what matters to each personality.

I offered her a couple of drinks which she initially refused but took one later.
The kids came to wish her a Happy Birthday and then she took off to see her mother.
Probably to be called a whore for what she was wearing HA, HA, HA.

After she had left I went to the barbershop for a trim.
Trim I said.
Not what I got.
Seems trim in Lebanese means pretend you’re an Apache and scalp this pale face fucker sitting in the chair.

I spend most of the time undercover, I get more things done that way without having to stop to talk to everyone who knows me.
Most people usually move out of my way when they see me coming not even the ones who know me recognize me as I pass by them.
When I’m in any department store I get first-rate treatment and if I get lost, I just turn around and ask the security guard stealthily following me where I am.

I like looking scruffy, I’d grown my hair again down to my shoulders and I shave when I feel like it which is every, who the fuck knows, 5 days.
So I look like a caveman by the end of the week.
Couple that with the fact I am a fair size person, no one wants to bump into Grizzly Adams as he is walking down the sidewalk but even that is now an illusion.

I have lost 100 pounds and have reached the lightest weight that I have been in the last twenty years.
Not that I am a lightweight at 235 pounds but I don’t let it show that much because I have layers of clothes on me.
In fact I have gone down from a 52 to a 40 but my hoody makes me look the same as I did at 335.
Comfort comes first and baggy is comfy.

So because everyone always sees me like this, they aren’t used to seeing me any other way so when I want to go out to have a fun time I just get cleaned up and I am a different person.

It really bugs out my mother.
She can’t understand why I just don’t stay the same.
Ummm, because I like being comfortable and that’s the look that does it for me.

Once she attacked me with a frying pan because she thought I was an intruder sneaking into the house after I cut off 32 inches of hair that day and removed a full beard.
She hadn’t seen me clean in ten years or more.
My father says, “It must be a full moon, you look human”.
Don’t you love family?

The problem is I get into more trouble when I get cleaned up.
I get into less trouble when I look like a demon from hell.
My kids say I look like a gangster when I wear my suit, a biker in my every day clothes and confused in my bathing suit.

So this barber chops off ALL my curls instead of an inch and I end up looking like a marine instead of what I used too.
After the haircut I go to my mother’s who was shocked to say the least of my short hair.
My father was being his kind self.
“ I see you bought razor blades”.
“Yeah I got my hair cut”.
“Going to piss Inia off, she likes wrapping her legs around my neck and grabbing me by the hair to grind my face into her pussy”.
“What”?
“I said the back of my neck is cold now”.
My parents are deaf, especially my father.
He was watching the Haiti earthquake and as the camera panned the devastation a few days later the announcer said “Hope has died”
My father heard the Pope has died and thought that was the Vatican in ruins.
He called my uncles who in turn called all the other deaf relatives and friends they’ve known all their lives and by 6pm, Bin Laden was named Secretary General of the United Nations.

As I sat there in the chair D1 came down then walked into the kitchen and said “Hi”.
Then took a better look at me and said, “ Oh it’s you”.
Great, I am a passing thought now.
See, I got MORE respect with long hair.
The SIL had called earlier and told me where my brother surprise birthday party was and we should be there no later than 7:30 pm.

7pm D2 and I walked out of the house and drove to the bar.
D1 was working and would show up after work.
This is the first time the kids have gone out with me to party outside of family functions so they don’t know what I am like or how nuts it can sometimes get around me.
As soon as I got to the bar I walked in and there was my brother just inside the door and directed me downstairs to where the party was going to be held.
So much for surprise I guess eh?

We went downstairs where I found eight women sitting around the table pounding back buckets of beer and shooters.
Oh yeah, going to be one of those nights I thought to myself.
I walked in closer to the table and the SILs jaw dropped.
The SIL has known me for seventeen years now and has seen various stages of appearance that I have been in but never like this.
She also has never seen me at this weight either so when she looked up, it took a couple of blinks before she realized it was me.
Her oldest daughter had to take a double look.
What I know is that I didn’t have to take a double look at the boobage spilling out of the tight dresses being worn at this table.
Four sets of DDs and four Ds leaves little room for beer.

The SIL waved me over to a chair in the middle of all the bliss and I opted to send D2 to that chair and sat at the bar right next to them on a stool.
Now these people are my brother’s friends.
Most of them know me as his brother but other than that they know little more than the rumors of what others have picked up here and there.
I like my privacy, what can I say.

As 7:30pm rolled around people poured into the private room and for every guy, two women came in most wearing dresses two sizes to small and bras stuffed with their plastic surgeons latest masterpieces.
Yes, I was in heaven, “A Jack Daniels and a Guinness bartender please”.

Now you got to understand, Walker loves women in every aspect and not because I have two daughters.
I have always been that way.
When I look at a woman, I look at her as a work of art and when we talk, she steps out of the portrait to come to life.
In a space of minutes I know enough about her to know how to break down her defenses for a smile or maybe a laugh.
From there it becomes a party.

This party was a lot different than D1’s birthday party as D2 was beginning to notice.
For one, this bunch drank more and a different variety of booze with the bankroll to back it up.
There were about fifty people and the waitresses were running around with pails of five beers in eat to every table depositing them and hauling back the empties.
This is how it started and in about an hour it started escalating to mixed drinks and shooters.

D2 came over and said she was tired of 7-up so I told her to order what she wanted and to put it on my tab.
She looked at me saying she was underage.
This is a funny place.
She is 18 and can’t drink in Ontario and five minutes away in Quebec she can drink all she wants.
I called the bartender over and ordered her a drink them passed it to her and told him to put her drinks on my tab and he said nothing.
She scurried back to the boob factory.

Now this group is a lot older than the previous party D1 had and we have experienced a lot more and lots more of our innocence over the years so we tend to be a little more forward and I, I am the worse.
I tend to be blunt and say what’s on my mind and I don’t taper it off for anyone but I do try and be as polite as I possible can when I’m talking about the valley of the dolls.

As I was sitting there I heard an “OMG”.
“Is that you Walker”?
“You look great without those curls”
She grabbed a stool and plopped right next to me.
Then to my right another of the wives of my brother’s friends spotted and recognized me then came over.

By 8:30pm I was sitting with twelve women and drowning in tits and booze while my brother and his friends pounded back an endless supplies of shooters.
Fair deal I guess.

His friends like it when I entertain their wives it keeps them from seeing how much they’re drinking but what they don’t se is their wives charging copious amounts of booze on their tabs.

Frank came over to find his wife holding her mouth with both hands as not to laugh out her teeth as she was laughing so hard and she doesn’t have false teeth.
He was happy to see his wife was having such a good time he bought me a shooter and told me to keep up the good work.

“No problem Frank”.

I gave him the thumbs up and a wink before I turned back to his wife, “So Frank dove over the corner of the bed while naked and whacked his balls on the bed post, that’s just fucken hilarious”.
“ I know, I know but what was really funny was that he covered them with mayonnaise after.”
“He said he read someplace that it helps to keep the swelling go down” and she burst out laughing hysterically again.
“He has problems with the swelling down there already, HA, HA, HA”.
This is why I hang out with the ladies; it’s way more fun.

As I was sitting there my SIL yelled out at me complaining that I didn’t come over to sit with them and some of the others voiced their complaints too.
I countered that I sat where I sat because it was a better vantage point to be able to look down their tops prompting all of them to look down at their cleavage.
Then some adjusted their dresses so I could get a better view.
That’s when the SIL yelled out Boob contest.
D2s eyes almost popped out of her head when she heard that.

They lined up at the bar and my SIL popped hers out, she likes doing that a lot, then lined them up with each of the others to see whose was nicer.
D2 didn’t know what to think HA, HA, HA.

That’s when the SILs sister showed up and hoped on my lap.
The SIL looked at her sister and said “Sorry, you don’t qualify because ummm you don’t have any”.
Which is somewhat true.

Her sister looked at me and said, ”Hmmm, you’re not fat any more and your haircut makes you look real good, much younger”.
“You know I just got divorced” wink.
“ I plan on getting fat again”

After a few more shooters a raging boob debate broke out in my corner as to eligibility of implants in this competition.
The SIL was dipping her hands into everyone bra and pulling out a massive tit to show that there wasn’t really any difference between the real and fake.
Then she walked over to this one woman and I KNEW, this was going to be interesting because this lady was packing medicine balls.

There was no way I could see this happening but I got to give the SIL credit, she tried.
She was down this woman’s top trying to haul out this huge tit out of the small opening of the dress, which was close to her neckline.
I mean the SIL was crawling down this poor woman’s top with her right leg up and foot in the other’s armpit for support.
In the end the best she could to was yank on her nipple.

I’m telling you, it was one crazy Boobfest.
I have never seen a larger group of women so obsessed with tits and I thought I was bad.
D1 walked in after work to find the men in one corner coaxing my brother to down more shooters while the SIL with the Over The Bra Gang were in the other corner judging the gravity portion of the boob competition.

Me, I snuck out for a smoke to get away from the insanity.
As I stood there one of the SILs daughters friend came out and stood next to me.
She was wearing a dress that was a couple of sizes to small and her tits were spilling out all over the place.
I am sure the SIL’s tugging at them earlier didn’t do her bra any favors either.

She came up to me and asked for a light and I gave her one.
It was fucken cold out and she was half naked.
I wanted to give her my jacket but at my age, I get colder faster and at her age, about 20, it only makes her nipples stand out more.
She was huddling closer to me so hide from the wind.

“I’m moving to London”.
“Huh what”?
“I’m moving to London tomorrow”.
“I see, well I hope you like it there”.
“ I hate it”.
“Then why are you going there”?
“Because I don’t have a choice”.
“We all have a choice”.
“Well I don’t”.
“Maybe you’ll like it there once you get used to it”.
“ I doubt it, it’s full of old nerds”
“Last time I was there some old guy hit on me, he had to be thirty”
“Thirty year old eh, yeah that’s ancient”?!
“You know you’re cute and funny”
“I’m fifty, technically I am dead and buried according to your standards”.
“You’re not a nerd”.
“Did I mention I plan on getting fat”?

Tossing the smoke away before it was done I went back downstairs and found a crowd of people, men and women in and around at the men’s washroom door.
D1 was standing in the back of the pack so I asked her what was up and she said her uncle was in there getting sick.

Pushing my way in I found my brother’s ass end sticking out of one of the stalls and I could hear him heaving out hundreds of dollars of booze.
And people wonder why I smoke.
One joint and I am off and running for about three bucks.

A couple of minutes later he emerged a little greener than the yellow he went in looking and he stared in my direction and said, ”Why are your tits hanging out”.
Huh, what the fuck is he talking about and I turned and standing a little behind to my right was the SIL with the globes half out and half in her top.

After about another hour of this and more MORE drinking from everyone including my brother I decided I had enough beer and tits for the night.
Besides I was hungry for pizza, my favorite food when I am drinking and D2, who BTW had a buzz going because she drank a couple of Jaeger Bombs and a few other drinks.
So I called ahead and ordered the pizza so it would be ready for pick up when we got home and it was.
For the rest of the night or morning if you watch the clock, I ate pizza and listened to the kids going “Did you see such and such or such and such did…..”

They were surprised on how people acted and how much they drank but they both said they had a good time, as did I.
Three birthdays and one left on Friday where I know I am going to have a personal; and private boobfest of my own with Inia for my birthday and with that.
See ya when I sober up

You all have a nice weekend.
.
Walker

March Madness ©

March is one of the busiest months around here.
I thought Christmas was bad.
Three birthdays…..four.
Then there is March Madness and just around the corner there is Easter.
One thing I will say though, it’s been a Boobacious month so far and I know it will end with a big BANG.

D1 turned 22 the other day and asked if she could throw a birthday party and if her father would make some of his dips.
So I told her I would fork out for her birthday party and make everything she needed.
Sex and cooking, what I love to do the most.
Pay taxes is the least.

For those of you who haven’t been reading that long, D1 is new to the party scene and drinking was something she never did before.
Sure she has a sip here and there but not in the scale as what was going to happen.

The first real party she went to last year she came back puking all over the place.
She would have made Linda Blaire proud.
After that day I sat her down and explained booze to her an its ups and down.
There is a right way to drink and on certain occasion there is a proper bad way to drink.
The worse way to drink is to mix sweet and gross together.
That only gives you a colorful rainbow of swill to project across the room and down your friend’s wife top as she is giving him a tittie shot causing him to deposit the last beer he drank and the nachos he ate in the one-ounce cup nuzzling between her twin mountains.

After explaining all this to her, my niece showed up and put a shot glass that was tied to a long beaded rope around her neck then told her she had to have a shot with everyone that walked through the door.
20 people walked through the door in the space of an hour.

Me, I was upstairs in my room with Inia on the laptop, my bag of herb, some water and the TV on.
My room is well equipped with everything I need usually.
The kids are scared to go in there.
Between the erotic artwork on the walls, drug paraphernalia, sex paraphernalia, clothes scattered all over the place, plants and the cat rolling around on the floor high on what every he’s chewing she doesn’t want to see anything, NOTHING she says.

So I was barricaded in my room while D1 and her bunch were downstairs.
After about two hours I got hungry and I have made a lot of food for the party so I went downstairs and found them all in my kitchen lined up like drones around the wall.
WTF?!

OK, I see this party needed a little umff.
Especially this one chick with the big boobs.
They looked so sad hanging there so I went to the fridge and pulled out a tray to help lift up their spirits.

I had made fifty two-ounce margarita and wild cherry blueberry bomb jelly shooters for them with a special four ounce one for D1 that she was spoon fed by the end of the night.
Along with the jelly shooters I dropped a bottle of tequila and another of triple sec on the table and told them I wanted to hear some fucken noise then gave D2 the camera and told her if the one with the big hoots got drunk and popped them out, to get me a picture and headed off to my room with my plate of food.
Yeah, yeah I’m training my kids to get me T&A pix HA HA HA!!!!!!!

About thirty minutes later my niece was trying to break down my door to have a toke with me but I told her I wasn’t in.
After she left I opened the door to loud pounding music and went downstairs and found them jumping up and down like monkeys in the TV room.
In the kitchen, there wasn’t a single jelly shooter left.
D1 was staggering blind all over the place with the shot glass still hanging around her neck.

The party went on until about 2am when everyone started clearing out and D2 came to my room to tell me it was safe to come out once more.
D1 asked if one of her friends could sleep over at my place and I said it was fine, she could use the spare room then she left and went home.

I walked into the kitchen and chesty smiled at me and thanked me for letting her spend the night.
I told her it wasn’t a problem and went up stairs to my room to collect my laptop and plate to move back down to the TV room.

AS I was cleaning up and heard something behind me and turned around and Chesty was standing behind me at the foot of the bed.
Ummm ok, I asked if she needed something and she said she was looking for D2’s room.
I stepped to the front room of my bedroom and pointed down the hall and told her that was D2’s room.

Now, before this all happened, D2 walked out of the washroom and say Chesty walk into my bedroom and let her mind run away with her.
My kids are nuts about Inia and they aren’t happy when they see another woman hit on me and seeing her walk into my bedroom made her uncomfortable and ran to her bedroom.

Chesty thanked me and headed down the hall to D2’s room and knocked on the door and after opening it she slipped in.
Personally I think Chesty is gay, I could be wrong but I see her grabbing a lot of the women in a personal manner so I figured she was going to hit on d2.
So I went downstairs to watch TV.

In the morning D2 came downstairs as I was making breakfast and said, ”OMG, I saw her walking into your bedroom and thought, you know what I thought so I locked myself in my room”.
“Then there was a knock on my door and when I opened it she comes in and asked me if she could ask me a personal question”.
“I’m thinking, OMG she wants to ask me permission to sleep with me dad”.

She bent down and said………
I’ll leave the rest to your imagination
I'm to busy writing my next post, "It's a mad mad boob shaped world".

Have a nice day

Walker

Somethings Never Do ©

As the years go by things change but not all things, my ex mother-in-law for example.
She used to call me and still does, the devil.
She has a love hate relationship with me, she loves to hate me and I give her enough fuel to do it without really trying hard.
She’s one of these old world Russians from way back when the Czar was around and has a stanch way of thinking.

I still see one of my ex SILs, she’s like the scapegoat of the family and likes coming here to say hi, vent or to ask me something.
So we were sitting on the couch the other day.
I was stoned, she doesn’t do almost anything.
Clean as a whistle.
Maybe a drink on a special occasion.

So she asks me…….”Do you think my mother liked sex”?
“HUH”!?!
“Do you think my mother liked sex”?
“How the fuck should I know and WHY do you want to know”.
“You got a weird fetish or something”.
“NOOOOOOOOOO”?
“You just know everything”
“No I don’t know everything and I sure as hell don’t know that”.
“It’s just that she always calls me a whore and I haven’t had sex in over 20 years”.
“Tell her that”.
“I did and she said I was a whore because I married a black guy”.
“I see, tell her he was a black Russian”.
“She won’t believe that”.
“She’s 87, she’ll believe anything and what does this have to do with your mother liking sex”.
“When I asked her if she liked sex she told me she didn’t like sex and in fact hated it”
“Well she must have liked it a little because she had 5 kids and you just don’t get pregnant with each time you do it”.
“That's right she did”.
“ I mean she must have had sex ten times for each kid”.
“Wow that is a lot”.
“ Huh, I do that in a month”.
“What”?!!!!!!
“Well yeah, didn’t you when you were married”?
“No, we did it maybe ten times then I threw him out”.
“Maybe you should have kept him a little longer then”.
“Fuck that I am happier without it and him besides i found out he had another family in another city he used to go to on those long business trips”.
“To each their own I guess”.

We did a little more small talk before she up and left.
I don’t mind her coming by and we get along considering most of her family would like to see me dead.

A couple of hours later she shows up here again unrepentantly
“Oh my mother is mad at you and thinks you are the son of Satan”.
“Huh, what the hell are you talking about”?
“Why would she think that now”?
I haven't spoken to the woman for twenty years.

“Well, when I got home I picked up the phone and called her to tell her that she is a liar and she liked sex”.
“And I told her that I asked you and you said that she must have had a lot of sex to have had five kids over the years”.
“fuck…..”
“You didn’t have to tell her I told you”.
“Well I wanted to know because what you said made sense”.
"If she didn't like sex then why did she have so many kids"?
“What else did she say”.
“She said you were a perverted sinner”.
“So she didn’t say anything bad, whew that’s a relief”.

She stuck around for a while and said she had to go to her mother's to help wash her back because she was to old to reach.
As she said that, a memory popped in my head.

“Yeah, she likes taking sponge baths I remember”.
“That’s right, how did you know”.
“Remember when she used to come to town when I was still with your sister”.
“Yeah”.
“Well, she used to stay with us and one day I went to the washroom for a piss and there she was at the sink with a huge tit in her hand , washing it with the other”.
“OMG, what did she say”.
“Oh she didn’t see me, I quickly stepped back out the door and ran for my eye drops”.
“It’s obvious you didn’t take from your mother side of the family”.
“That’s fine by me”.
“I have enough problems with what I have without having to drag around another twenty pounds strapped to my chest”.

Soon after she was up and out again.
This is what a typical day is like around here.
Everyone one knows the kids are at school or work and they stop in all the time during the day.
Sometimes twice like the exSIL.
The doorbell ran and I opened it up.
Make that three times.

“I am going to start charging you rent if you come this often”.
“I’m sorry but I thought I should tell you”.
“Tell me what”?
“That my mother is real mad at you”.
“For what now”?
“For lying about seeing her boobs”.
“Why the fuck did you tell her I saw her boobs for and I wasn't lying, how else would I know she takes sponge baths”?
“Because I wanted to know the truth”.
“What truth, she didn’t see me see her”.
“You just wanted to stick it to her for calling you a whore for all those years”.
“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter any more”
“She said she doesn’t want me to come by any more because I am a whore for hanging around with a bastard like you”.
“Gezz, what next”?

The phone rang and I answered it.
It was my ex.

“Uh huh”
“Yeah, yeah”.
“Ok”
“Yeah she’s here”
“It’s for you”.
“Hello”.
“What”?
“Is that true”?
“NOOOO”
“Really”?
“Wow”.
“Ok’”
“She said she went to my mother’s after I left and she gave my sister all the pictures of your kids and told her they were the spawn of the devil and didn’t want pictures of the bastards in her house”.
“You’re kidding”?
“No, she did”.
“What can I say……want some peach schnapps”?
“………..Yeah sure, why not”.

Some things never change

Have a nice day

Walker

CHhickEERS!!!!!! ©

What do I write for St. Patty’s Day.
I mean I got to say something…..
Inia says, “put up the damn picture and come tell me how many ways you’re going to fuck me”.
Damn Irish redheads have a one track mind………………….it’s St. Patty’s Day not St. Inia’s Day.
St. Patrick tossed the snakes from Ireland.
Inia grabs it and doesn’t let go.
Which make it a little ACKWARD when going for a piss.
You ladies think guys can’t aim but you haven’t seen a drunk Irish redhead holding it and aiming for the hole, I mean bowl.

I remember as a kid forty some odd years ago as I stood on the sidewalk with my mother watching a parade going by.
My mother new to this country didn’t really know what it was about which meant neither did I.
We stood there watching various floats go by.
It was reminiscent of the Santa Clause parade, which we had just had three months earlier so me being a kid I thought that this was it again.
It was my second ever parade so it could have been a rerun in my little naïve mind.

So I am watching all these green and white floats going by with brass bands and clowns staggering up the street.
Years later I found out they weren’t clowns but off duty cops.
I realized that the last parade the floats were red and white and there was only one man with a red nose.
All these men today had red noses.

I didn’t understand much at two years of age but I did understand some things like when the dancing girls bounced down the street with their legs kicking around and their boobs bouncing here, there and every where I got hungry and understood it was time to eat.
My mother shoved a bottle in my mouth.
Wasn’t the same.

The people were cheering as they ran in the street to dance among the various bands marched down towards them.
Everyone was happy.
Wasn’t really the same as the last time they did this I thought to myself.
The first time they gave candy and today it looked like they ate all the candy and were going nuts in the street.

It was at the end of the parade I realized there was something wrong when a horse passed pulling a buggy behind it with a little man dressed in green with a white beard.
Huh, I guess Santa fell on hard times and had to downsize.

Years later I figured out that Santa wasn’t a Leprechaun and there were two different holidays.
I also learned that when Irish eyes are smiling it’s going to be a wild one.


Happy St. Patrick’s Day

CHEERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh and heres the pictur…………………………ave a ic ay Wakr

Rim Shot ©

It’s been crazy around here lately
It’s not enough I have to deal with family.
This week was about making sure both girls were on birth control and what kind.
Explained to them that jumping up and down doesn’t keep you from getting pregnant but may be the cause of it.

Trying to get my father his driver’s license.
That’s a whole post(s) in its self.

For the last couple of months I have had my own health issues to deal with which I have kept to myself.
I’m not a sharing person when it comes to some subjects.
I hate sympathy and pity so I do my best not to post issues to generate them.
I am sure I can find other ways to generate comments and ways to get into trouble without that.
It’s all good for now, nothing missing or growing where it shouldn’t be and I am 2008 pounds lighter.
The ton off of my shoulders and the eight pounds I crapped out after that stuff they made me drink.

I went for a barium enema a couple of weeks ago.
Not something that is overly pleasant to do but I highly recommend it.
Since that day my ass has been so regular my brain is in shock that it can actually think a little clearer.
I don’t know if it was having a hose shoved up my ass then inflating a balloon on the end of it so that it doesn’t pop back out or the ten gallons of alka seltzer they filled me up with that’s made me this way.
Personally I think it might be my ass being scared shitless that it might happen again.

I went to the hospital and was greeted by an Asian doctor.
She looked like she was about twenty years old.
Why do Asian people look so young?
I mean you meet some and they look like they’re thirty and you find out later they’re 135.

Now this lady was right off the boat.
You can tell by her prominent accent.
So she tells me what they are going to do and takes me to a small changing room then gives me a couple of those hospital gowns.
The she tells me to strip down and get into those as she closed the curtain then left.

I need a haircut and why do they have a mirror in that little closet they call a changing room.
Maybe they want you to have one last look at what you used to look like before they are done with you.
A few minutes later she came back and brought me to the room where they were performing the procedure but along the way we stopped at a washroom.
There were three of them side by side.

The doctor knocked on the door and asked the person inside if they were OK and a loud fart escaped from the grill on the bottom of the door.
I looked at her and said, “I guess that’s a, yes”?
She smiled at me then led me into the room.

There was this stainless steal table in the middle of the room with machines and gadgets all over the rest of the room.
So this is what a cow feels like on that last walk.

She told me to lie down on the table and to turn on my left side.
I started getting on the table and it was fucken COLD.
Finally settled on the table in the position she wants me in she comes up behind me and tell me what she is going to do.

“I am going to put this in and licksome”
“What…lick what”?!
“What”?
“What did you say”?
She holds up a thing that looks like a dildo which is attached to a hose running off into the wall and waves it in front of my face.

I’m thinking, great, the hospital has a central Vac.

Now I am a little deaf.
I blew my right ear out on a trip to New Zealand so I don’t hear so well and she had this strong Chinese accent.

“What did you say again”?
“I am going to put this in and licksome”
I look at the technician.
Oh yeah, I was in a room with three women, a technician to take the x-ray, the Asian doctor and a nurse.

The nurse is kind of laughing.

“What are you going to, lick”?

I mean given the proper circumstances, like if I wasn’t there looking for colon cancer which is a hardon killer and the fact that all licking privileges are spoken for by Inia then it might have been something to consider.

I look at the nurse for some help and she said that she said “She was going to put that in my rectum”
I looked at the doctor and said, ”You’re going to put that up my ass”

The doctor, with a big smile on her face nodded her head up and down “Yes, in anus”.
Oh yeah she could probably lick real damn good with that head movement I’m thinking.

“Yes I know, that’s why I came here remember”.
“Yes, anus”.

Oh boy…….

The test itself involved me being spun around like being on a carnival ride with this long garden-hose anchored to my butt by a dildo with a head the size of softball while being pumped up first with the barium and then air.

The whole time the technician and nurse were telling me I was doing great.
I don’t know what the fuck the doctor was saying.
Probably, “Pump up the VOLUMN" in broken english.

It took thirty minutes before they were finally done and extracted the umbilical cord attached to my ass.
The nurse then walked me out and led me to the middle of the three washroom stalls along the wall.
She said I could stay as long as I want.
Stay?
I was ready to go NOW!!!!

I decided I should wipe the lubricant and what ever else was make my butt feel slimy but didn't need to go and if I did, I would hold it until I got home.
Tearing off a yard of hand towels from the dispenser I sat down on the toilet.
I have no idea what happened.

It was sudden.
The second my butt hit the seat I erupted like I never had before.
I mean I had to take a deep breath to keep from passing out from lack of oxygen.
It just kept coming tearing the sound barrier to pieces and to make thing worse I wasn’t alone.
That’s all I could hear from the toilet to the right and left of me.
The Flatulist Symphony performing, “Bum on the run”.

Fifteen minutes later I thought I was done and stood up.
Then sat down again.

When the lady to my right finished, she was there before I even went in, everyone started applauding.
I was there for about thirty minutes and when I got up the water was whiter that white.
Hell I was crapping out albino turds for three fucken days.
That was weird.

The doctor called the next day to tell me everything came back good.
So that ended that little episode, for now.

Have a nice weekend

Walker

The Pill ©

I’m getting old and fate is getting some payback.
I shouldn’t be bitching, a lot of parents go through some of the shit I'm going through.
Among my friends and family I am somewhat of an anomaly when it comes to raising kids.

I have my own rules, some that are hypocritical to some of my views but I believe in bending the rules on certain occasions.
I know over the years I have bent more than my share.

Some of my friends think I’m nuts and try to give me advice.
Advice from a bunch of guys who have never had to take care of anyone other than themselves and they’re doing a piss poor job of that, so I don’t think so.

My family thinks I have no idea what I am doing.
Who does?
Most of the time we wing it and hope everything works out.

My friends and family think I should raise kids with an iron fist.
Yeah…my father did that and look where that got me.
I remember the beatings that were meant to teach me.
Only thing it taught me was it hurts but after a while when I closed me eyes I felt nothing and I took that with me for many years to come.

Violence has been part of my life from almost the time I was born and for many years after when I lived in it.
I wouldn’t want to dish that out on my kids.
I didn’t like it so why would they?

I don’t believe it’s my job to raise my kids.
I believe it’s my job to guide my kids along the way to adulthood and eventually independence by letting them raise themselves.
We put the tit in their mouths when they are babies until they can one day hold a fork in the hand.
Then they can feed themselves while you have your dinner with everyone else for a change.
In time they will make their own food and you may even get a morsel thrown at you once in a while.

When they first moved in with me my friends and family said, “You wild womanizing days are over”.
“You now have two daughters to think about”.
They went on to tell me that I have to act a certain way so that they could learn how to act properly.

For about three months I tip toed around my kids acting like someone I didn’t know.
Part of me was here but part of me wasn’t and I felt uncomfortable in my own skin.
I mean I enjoy life.
I like going out and enjoying the day.
Go shopping; check out the women while walking around.
I love women, always will and enjoy some of the sexual banter we throw around while waiting in line somewhere for our turn to pay and get out.

Fuck, I rather ask the old lady in front of me at the bank if her nipples get harder in this cold weather than stand there like a dummy sniffing the bengay in the air.
She said yes.

I’ve always been like this with people.
I speak what’s on my mind and some people get shocked at first if they don’t know me but usually I have them laughing so it doesn’t matter what I say.
To stop being that way, wasn’t me.

After a couple of months I sat here thinking about what was going on and questioned who I was and am.
I had locked myself up in the house and rarely ventured out.
There were lots of problems to work out, mine and the kids problems but I wasn’t getting anywhere.
The old Walker would have done it all but this new Walker was falling behind.
It was like my confidence was gone.
I was sputtering around like my father who used to disappear when women’s issues came up because it was a woman’s business and should be dealt with by women.

My kid needed tampons, what should I do, take her to my 80-year-old mother and tell her to take her to the pharmacy to get her tampons.
Last time my mother bought pads they were those Kotex pads that looked more like a life preserver than a menstrual pad.

So I decided I was done with not being myself and off I went to get her tampons.
You don’t have to be a stranger to deal with life.
Issues will come up and the only way you can deal with them is head on and as yourself not someone you’re not.

When it comes to personal matters I want to talk straight up with my kids from an equal position not a dominant one.
The last thing I want is to tell them what to do but I will offer an opinion for them to use as they wish.
I don’t make their choices for them.
I listen to their questions and give my opinions on what they asked me about and that’s all because if you tell them what to do and it goes wrong, then it’s your fault then the only thing they have learned is not to trust your judgment.

By letting them make the choice on their own with the information they have from you and other sources they get to make a logical decision.
One that they can be happy they made and pat themselves on the back or only themselves to blame if it doesn’t pan out.
It’s part of the learning process I believe.

I stood in front of this huge wall with all sorts of tampons and pads from 100 different companies.
For light days, heavy days, sports, thins, S, M, L, XL, roll of bounty.
I stood there for about an hour looking.
I was a man standing in front of the tampon section of the pharmacy reading the back of every fucken box so as to make sure I got the right one.

I didn’t know what to do in this situation.
It’s not like I can stand there until a woman that’s looks like the same size as my daughter walks up so I can ask her what size tampons she uses so I can get the same one’s for my daughter.
Probably get me arrested.

So after all that time, I went with the nice looking box.
Kotex Sport Tampons.
The box looked cool but what size do I get.
I mean she is a tall kid, about 5-10.
It could be like shoes.
The bigger you are the bigger your feet are.
So I get the large and go home.

When she gets home from school I gave her the box thinking she would be happy but no, she freaks out because they are to big.
I guess its not like shoes.
Ok, Ok I didn’t know.
Gezz, I tried but you know, it’s all a learning experience so a month later when I am shopping I buy and box of mediums.
See I learn.

When she gets home from school I surprise her with them.
She freaks out on me.
What the fuck, what now?
Well it seems that because she wore the big ones for a month the medium size ones are too small now.
“So what does this mean, it’s my fault your pussy stretched”?
“Yes”.
“Great……….”!!!!

That was a year ago.
Since then a lot of things have changed.
The girls think I am nuts.
Their friends think I am cool and D2 is comfortable enough with me today to come up to me and says, “I need birth control”.

FUCK!!!!!!!!!
How big is “THAT” wall going to be.
Better get my reading glasses out.

This is what happens when you buy the large tampons instead of the medium ones.

I didn’t freak out.
She’s 18 now and I rather know what she is up to and safe rather than in a lot of trouble so next week I will see if I can get an appointment with a youth councilor at the young sexual health clinic so she can choose a form of contraception.

Some fathers would freak out about this I guess.
I didn’t.
I expected it to happen some day and I am happy she trusts me enough to come and ask for help before something happened.
I like to think that this is the way to raise kids and I hope she can raise hers one day to trust her.

Maybe I am weird, who knows.

Have a nice weekend

Walker

Believe ©

Well, they are over.

The Olympics are gone almost as fast as they began leaving many fulfilled and happy while others with a sense of something, unfulfilled.

The motto of these games for Canadians has been “ Believe”.

I think that’s perfect especially for Canada.

Most of the time we are a quiet people.

We mind our own business and stay out of everyone else’s unless we are needed.

In times of war we were there before most others began thinking about it yet we don’t wave our flag around pointing out that fact.

In times of natural disaster we rush out immediately to help our fellow man but we do our best to play it down and disappear without notice when things once more look good.

Again we don’t wave our flag around for recognition because it’s not what we are about.

Like the rest of the world we are a proud people.

Proud Canadians.

Proud because, we come from proud people, all of us do.

Most of us come from people whom came here for one last chance for a better life from where there was none.

That’s our strength.

They didn’t come here seeking revenge or riches.

They came here seeking freedom and peace from what they were used too, a dream many had since birth.

Their only regret was those before them couldn’t experience this kind of freedom.

This country and its resources have always been here, way before any human stepped foot on its shores.

It’s beauty lies in its mountains and rivers that are surrounded by lush forests.

From just north of 60 to the North Pole and from coast to coast this country defines who we are.

We just scratch the surface to make us believe that we do but we don’t.

We have learned and are learning not to fight her but to work with her to achieve peace together so that we can coexist in harmony.

Those that came before us dropped their blades in the earth, turning it over to let it breath once more.

Bringing life to where there was none before and were repaid for their kindness with the fruits she provided for them.

It was the plough that united this country, every country.

The blades the bury deep and brought life to the earth.

From Canada’s humble beginning it has strived to live in peace with the earth and all those around us; the natives and our neighbors but when things called for action we stepped up and did what needed to be done.

No country has an unblemished history.

Ideals have changed and people have become more enlightened in matters of humanity.

Maybe because we all have begun to see we are all alike in more ways than not.

We don’t wave our flag for those events either as we don’t celebrate the taking of life but for living it.

A great people are those who weep for their wrongs not cheer for their wealth.

A great people are those who right the wrongs they have committed without shame but with respect.

This is not us but we are trying and getting better.

BELEIVE went out the call.

Every naturally born Canadian believed that we could be great when all the provinces joined to make us a country.

They all believed we could get along.

When immigrants started coming here to start over they believed that life would be better here even though they still loved the country they came from.

Many died trying to find that dream but many more found the dream they sought because they believed they could.

Such a powerful word, believe……………….BELIEVE!!!!!!!

We are small in numbers compared to the size of our lands but what we lack in numbers we make up for in heart and during these Olympics I saw lots of heart from here and from all the athletes representing their countries.

What did these athletes bring with them, hope and a belief that they could win for themselves and their country.

One day they saw something and said, I can do that.

I know I can.

I believe I can.

They believed they could champion their respected sport and proudly parade their colors around the arena for the rest of the world to see who they are and where they are from.

Amazing are the men and women who put in the effort and sacrificed large portions of their lives so that we could be proud to be Canadians.

Proud to call them our own.

To say that he or she lives next door to me or they come from my city/town or country.

We huddle around TVs in bars or our homes cheering them on and scream with delight when they are successful or left shattered with them when they don’t but there is something that can’t be earned or taken away from any of these athletes.

Their pride and the pride we have for them, win or loose because we know that there will be a next time and again we will bring our best game to the table.

Win or loose, they are our children, grandchildren, sons and daughter, mothers or fathers but mostly they are Canadians.

They are the sons and daughter of a proud beginning and a proud people with roots all over the world.

“Believe” said the commercials on the TV.

We did, as our forefathers did when they first came to this land.

We believed that we would give it our best and when everything is said and done, everything will be left in the arena.

Win or lose all our athletes are heroes whether they bring home medals or not for their sacrifices and loyalty to their sport and country make them heroes.

All our champions are as are all the athletes from all the other countries.

To these Canadians we raise and wave the Maple Leaf because this is who we are, this is what we love and how we like to live.

We are polite and gracious whether it serves us or not because that’s who we are.

We will help you up even if we didn’t knock you down and won’t pick your pocket doing it.

We may force you to listen to Celine Dion but that’s not our fault, it was part of the deal we made to keep Quebec in confederation.

We made poutine a national staple.

We dropped our flags and rallied around one of our own when grief engulfed her over the loss of her mother and she bent down and picked it up while still in her grief then leading a charge across the ice waving our flag with pride.

The whole country went silent in the dieing second of the gold medal game when the USA tied the hockey game with 24 seconds on the clock.

Hockey is the Holy Grail to a Canadian.

The goal by Zach Parise silenced a country.

From coast to coast a sure thing because a horror.

The Americans were figured to at best finish fifth but here they were.

Undefeated for the entire Olympics and now on our turf were poised to steal what we live for, hockey.

It’s not enough they won the most medals in the Olympics ever, they wanted gold in Hockey and looked good enough to take it too.

When the puck dropped in overtime the whole country held its breath.

Both goalies made amazing saves keeping both teams still in the hunt for gold.

It’s sudden death and at 7:40 into overtime, it ended.

A roar spread across a nation as a black chunk of rubber slipped between two red pipes ending a long journey that started four years earlier.

Under a pile of red and white in the corner was Sidney Crosby, our Olympic hockey hero.

Hundreds of thousands of people spilled into the streets across the country one more time to celebrate their supremacy on the ice.

Yet in the back of their heads they know.

Times are changing and the others are getting better but for today, we are number one.

This Olympics we had many firsts as a nation.

First time a gold medal has ever been won on Canadian soil.

We not only won our first but we won 14 of them setting a new winter Olympic record for most gold medals by one country.

Along with those gold medals we took in seven silver and five bronze medals for a total of twenty-six medals in all.

Third most in the Olympics and most ever won by Canada at the Winter Olympic games

If that’s not success I don’t know what is.

I watched the games from the opening ceremony to the closing ceremony and all of it was amazing.

From the preparations of the Olympics to the athletes themselves in all the events I watched.

I was impressed by some of the new countries performing for the first time ever as I was with the veterans returning to defend their previous successes.

Some defending their previous glory as others kneeled to a new, younger champion.

We started these Olympics with tears of sadness with the loss of an athlete but found strength with another’s bravery when she skated hours after the passing of her mother then ended it with pride and joy with all who partook in this event as she carried out our flag in the closing ceremonies.

We can’t change the weather or predict what it will be 4 years before the day as we can’t predict what fate will deal us out in the next hand.

All we can do is make the best of what we got and put our best foot forward, the rest is life.

Vancouver threw one hell of a party even while in the throws of a recession and cheers to Sochi Russia where the next one will be held.

I am sure they will also give us a show to remember.

I would like to thank all the athletes from around the world for their efforts and courage in being who they are and believing in themselves.

BELIEVE

Have a nice day

Walker