I wrote a novella. It’s about 100 pages. It’s called Perry the President.

Perry the president

But on a sour note, there is a chance that you’ll end up wanting to cook a lot what you will see. In a years time you might gain anywhere from a Brando to an Orson Wells by next year.

Gojee

First off, getting home to collect. Which is a nice way of saying jerking off into a cup, happens. It’s there and it feel clinical, which for some odd way makes it very hard to make the collection happen. When I finally was able to collect, I got a cramp in the cup hand in my chest. Which made it fun to shift gears.

Oh and you all of a sudden have this urge to wash your hands. Just in case you have see anyone. You wash more than usual. You’re scrubbing like you’re going in for surgery. You can feel flesh starting to peel off.

The entire way to the lab, which is on the other side of town and in my head, I have this split screen of a countdown for an hour before the swimmers, if there are any die out. This is now the beginning of rush hour traffic down a road that is notorious about being a five mile traffic jam.

The other roads are at least six.

You have to weave in and out of traffic to not crash into anyone and not look like you’re speeding around so a cop won’t pull you over. Which gives this great Q&A about what’s in the bag. Because the moment they see that, it’s hand on the gun while you’re explaining that you don’t have long to get this to the lab to get tested to see if you can’t have children anymore. If they die before hand, you have to wait another 3 days before they can see another sample you need to produce.

Which starts the whole damn process again of having to worry about the clinical nature of the whole thing and/or another cramp in my pectoral muscle.

There is also a chance that the cop is a freak would want to test the sample just in case it’s some new form of meth/crack/coke/etc. There are people like that. They just like fluids.

By the time you get to the lab for a drop off you calmed down a moment. You’re just going to walk up to the window, drop it off, you don’t want to throw, no one wants jizz tossed at them, and then walk or preferably run of you tossed it.

Instead you get there and there isn’t anyone at the window. Actually it’s counter with a clip board to fill out a quarter page of information and a phone that says to use it to get someone to collect.

I have to ask people in the next window what time it is, because for once I didn’t bring my phone, which now operates as my sole time telling device. Which is awkward because they know what I’m doing. You can see it in their eyes. They can’t help but help you because you look lost and confused.

The phone isn’t answered by a gruff woman. It’s answered by a very perky woman. And when she stops, takes off her gloves, I hope, and comes to collect my sample, she’s about as perky as she was on the phone. She’s all smiles. Blonde hair in a ponytail and a bluetooth headset so I can assume she doesn’t have to get jizz on the receiver of a phone.

She takes the sample like she’s taking a lunch that you’re giving her. There is no hesitation. Just a smiles and perkiness.

She asks about the doctor. She says the wrong doctor, commenting on how she sees a lot of his patients. I half wish there was a doctor named Spooge or Jezz. Just so I can hear her say that she sees a lot of Spooge or Jezz.

The 13 year old in me is laughing. The 33 year old me is hoping that she can’t see the 13 year in me.

She took it away and just perkily walked into the back room telling me that I should hear back in 48 hours.

I left the office sort of sad that nothing happened. I really wanted something to happen. Anything. A fluidaphobic lab tech grabbing a bag full of jizz with total distane. What might be a fluid vampire licking their lips with that greedy look in their eyes.

But instead it was nothing. And I Charlie Browned my way home.

With a sore pectoral muscle.

I’m a few months late in my cover.

]]> http://caseyontiveros.com/2011/08/05/doughnutwatcher/feed/ 0 http://caseyontiveros.com/2011/06/17/voltron-2/ http://caseyontiveros.com/2011/06/17/voltron-2/#comments Fri, 17 Jun 2011 17:30:54 +0000 admin http://caseyontiveros.com/?p=536 There are new cartoons for kids that are ripping on our childhood. For instance, there is a new Voltron cartoon out. I hate to be the to say this, but it isn’t half bad. Take into consideration that Voltron was monster of the day that the Lion force had to battle with the same formula. This new one takes the multi-arc strategy  to storytelling.

Plus they added kids.

I know, I know. Fucking kids. Yes, they have kids. This isn’t for you or me, it’s for children and this is their Robin. A way to view the show’s continuity from a relatable point of view. Voltron is pushing three decades. Most kids haven’t heard of Voltron unless their parents introduced it to them. It would be their gateway drug like it was for most of us into Anime.

My six year old has  watched the show from Netflix & Hulu. He knows the show. He’s familiar enough with the show to starting humming the theme on occasion and then start the transformation chant. You can expect that someone with a background of the show, he’s want more of the same. Reject change and just want the show to be the same damn thing over and over again.  He likes the new one too.

It’s easy enough for him to get and plot lines are pretty simple. There are two sets of bad guys now. Lotor and Galaxy Alliance both want Voltron destroyed. Both for different reasons. One for a simple reason & the other for a reason that made Lotor’s seem nobel.

There is an upgrade to all the tech in the show. New deux ex machina devices for all the cast members.  The lions all retain their look with some rendering. But the space of the cabin areas does seem too great. Minor quibble, this is Nicktoons so there is a budget and there will be recycling in a way that the Japanese will call excessive.

But really my six year old likes the show. Even the music. We’ll see how long that last.

Under the same delusion, we were all the coolest person to walk the face of the earth. Even with our collection of Star Trek comics in folder that we could read at a moment’s notice. We were cool and there was a good chance that we were going to see boob now.

My belief that men really are stupid (it varies from moment to moment, but we are stupid) stems from this idea that we peak mentally when we reach 13 or so. Oh sure, we get cars, mortgages, children, bills and jobs, but once you peel all that away, we’re still horny little middle schoolers who get excited about seeing cleavage and side-boob. Almost as much as seeing the real thing.

Of course this makes women crazy (it also varies from moment to moment), because they hope that beneath all of complexities we give ourselves, that there is something besides the giggling, horny  middle-schooler who’s trying not to be obvious about looking down a shirt of some random girl as they pick something up. We aren’t so it makes them crazy because we’re so damn stupid.