The trip to Costco over the weekend was a particularly heavy one because we let our stores fall so low. $200 there equates out to a LOT of stuff. Not to mention the stuff my dad bought.
The nice employee boxed our stuff up but used a rather large boxes.
It was heavier than I could have should have lifted – and once I heaved the biggest box up out of the cart and twisted to toss it into the back of the car I had that pause… that.. “Oh shit – that was REALLY heavy.”
I didn’t think another thing about it… Until later that night when right side of my back just below my shoulder blade started to vaguely ache.
It’s progressively gotten stiffer and more achy through the week – leaving me last night too uncomfortable to play XBox Live and walking around with a slight Quasimodo posture.
I’m not in unbearable pain… Just really uncomfortable…. and that’s nothing compared to the discomfort over worrying that I’m going to wind up like my father… in my mid-fifties with a fucked back and permanently jacked-up on pain-killers.
I’ve never been able to discern between other people’s wisdom and self-fulfilling prophecies.
More than one person told me on my birthday: “At 33 you’ll start noticing the aging process.”
You can’t prevent the inevitable – but damn it – I intend to gracefully kick and scream the entire way.
I’m not blogging – I’m looking for ibuprofen.
“what did you just call me?”
I’ve been a fan of webcaming since back when hardware and bandwidth could barely support the technology. I owned a copy of a program called SeeYouSeeMe back in the day… More aptly named: “SeeYou,SeeMeSpank”.
My sex drive has mellowed since hitting my 30s and having two incredibly sexy partners keeps me satisfied in the nookie department except for one aspect, (at least for gay sexuality and or that of textbook scorpios)… The aspect of “STRANGE”.
I see it as fidelity maintenance. Instead of being tempted by realtime interactions – here’s an outlet which enables me to safely and noncommittally interact with relatively anonymous fur balls in games of genital show and tell.
There’s also something ego gratifying about having men sprawl themselves on their bed and shove things in their asses for your entertainment.
Though my cam-antics only seem to happen a couple of times a month anymore… I have a small stable of “regular” camera buddies which of course expands and contracts as new folks come along and the old ones move on.
Which brings us to the actual observation and thought which provoked the need to not-blog about this.
Guys have started calling me “Daddy”. It happened a couple of times earlier this year, which I just dismissed with little thought. Now it seems to be a regular salutation instead of “mr. monkey”…. “bear”… “buddy”… “fuckin’ pig bro”.. or the other silly things folks will frantically type one-handed while tossing off on camera.
I REFUSE to believe that I exude that much masculinity – nor do I think I’m that demanding… oh alright – so maybe I’m a little bossy in the sex department… but … but…. “DADDY?!?!?!”
It can’t be an age thing because one offender is ten years my senior. Or is it a tiered system and I can expect my card to come in the mail any day now.. Will the “daddy card’ entitle me to discounts at Steak & Shake like the ARP card does?
I’m not even really sure what I’m being neurotic about here.
Now shuush boy, Daddy said he’s not blogging.