This hike is a tough one. It can get pretty muddy, with sections so deep you sink down to your knees. There are also places where the trail actually angles down toward cliff edges. It's about 2.5 miles to the first tunnel, which is almost a mile long. There's supposed to be a second tunnel after that that's less than a mile, and it's supposed to bring you out to a beautiful waterfall.
It's an all day hike through mud, darkness, rain, rivers, and mosquitoes.
So when Machu Pichu emailed me that we're either doing this hike, or going on another one with the Sierra Club, I decided to try this tunnel hike again.
Here's the pics. No story. Too tired to think of one.
Bamboo Forest with bugs and mud up to your shin.
Nice view.
I was wet already from the rain and the bushes, so I decided to jump in. MP suggested I keep my clothes on.
Yes, it was muddy.
Found the tunnel.
Prepping. Needed to get out my flashlight.
And tabis she never used.
The first section of tunnel was cool. Almost a mile long, and you can see the light at the end, but it takes you 30 minutes to get there. This section had us ducking.
Nice river on the other side.
Apparently we got close to the second tunnel, but we just couldn't find it.
I met Indian Girl on December 28 or 29. One of those days. She had just moved to the island and was looking for friends to show her around. You see, she has the kind of job that takes her to strange places where she gets really physical with clients, and sometimes even have them naked. So she was going to be here for 3 months and wanted to enjoy herself.
At first I was shy. A bit quiet. But later I started opening up, and we started hitting it off like gangbusters. In fact, we liked each other so much, that we have one of those high school girl-like pacts. If she's not married by 40, I have to inseminate her. Now whether it will be through direct injection or a turkey baster is still up for negotiations.
I've been practically all over the entire island with IG. Tons of beaches, all the tourist spots, several hiking trails, etc. We've also been to many restaurants, to the detriment of my wallet. We're pretty much close enough that we know about each other's sex lives. Heck, she knows, from my experience, not to point a man's loaded weapon at his own face. Dangerous.
But now she's leaving at the end of the month. Machu Pichu and I have been telling her to come back on a new contract. IG has been telling us to go visit her... but I think she's going to end up in Hicksville, Shithole. I think an Asian guy like me would stick out worse than a skinhead in a synagogue.
As part of the events leading up to her departure, IG, Machu Pichu, and I, planned to have dinner at a fancy restaurant. IG was going to get ready at MP's place after work, and I was going to meet them there at 4:30 PM.
At 4:00, I was out of the shower, clean shaven (top and bottom, haha. Don't ask.), and getting dressed, when my phone rings. It was MP on IG's phone. "Hey, we need you to pick up some alcohol on your way over."
I got to the grocery store's booze section and I called MP back. "I'm looking for the Boone's Farm, but I can't find it." MP had me searching high and low, not because she's a control freak, but because I suck at wine selection. I had to read the labels of hundreds of bottles. She ignored me, then randomly chose some brand she heard of. At the checkout, the cashier made the guy in front of me donate to Muscular Dystrophy. When it was my turn, she tried to give me the money. WTF?
I got to MP's place and I found 2 tipsy women. MP poured me a glass of wine in a huge glass meant for lushes. I then had to stand in the bathroom while IG and MP applied makeup. I felt like a Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. I did get to witness a makeup accident that turned MP in to a reverse blackface. Luckily she got it sorted out without taking another shower, which would have taken another hour.
"Just rub it off with a dry towel," IG suggested, "I do it all the time."
"You mean the towel I used to wipe off my naked body last time I was here," I asked.
"EEEEWWWWWWW!"
Yeah, thanks. I get that reaction a lot when women think of my naked body.
So while the girls got ready, and continued boozing (I stopped due to headaches), we just chatted like little girls. We talked about the usual things. You know. Sex, clothes, jobs, that kind of stuff. The two girls were also lamenting the fact that since they got to know each other, they've been gaining weight. They sure as shit did not like it when I explained that since meeting IG, my waist has gone from a 34 to a 31, and my shirt size went from L/XL to M/L. They did say that I better not get too skinny lest I end up looking like Riley. They also said that Riley is kinda cute, but needs to get some kind of personality, and needs to grow a pair so he can actually converse during dinner. I just got my dog's balls removed, so I guess he can have those. They were shocked when I explained that Riley rarely shuts up when he's out with the guys.
"I bet they not going bring my Pepsi. They always forget my Pepsi. You see that? The guy didn't even write it down. They going forget it. I never get my Pepsi," said Riley all through an hour long lunch ad nauseam.
Since I was the one who drank the least, I got chosen as the driver. It was like a scene out of Animal House. We all piled into my Yaris (chicks dig fuel efficiency). I swear I could hear some crazy frat boys yelling, "to the Food King!"
We got to the BeachHouse. It's a restaurant right on the beach in the Poipu area. Decent food with nice atmosphere and an incredible view of the sunset. Since MP was a concierge, she was really on the ball and FAILED TO MAKE RESERVATIONS. But no problem. We got there just a few minutes after they opened for dinner, which means we got one of the few tables that were up for grabs. IG and MP immediately started with the alcohol. I was the tea-totler designated driver, so I had a virgin Lava Flow.
We were drinking and talking, and we took over an hour just to order our food. IG's drink tasted like vomit, so MP, of course, said something to our waitress Christina, and got IG a new drink. When our appetizers arrived, the sun was nearly setting, so we went outside and took a bunch of pictures. We beat the tourists out there since they were waiting for the sun to touch the water. So basically, we kind of looked stupid in front of people we will never see again. Isn't that fun?
Then we went in and started on our appetizers. Then the sun reached the water and we went out again. Sucks for the people by the exit. I think IG actually bumped a guy each time we went in and out.
Our dinners were not bad. My entree came with asparagus. I guess my pee smells bad now. IG had fish. She always has fish. She likes fish. But, is that fish fishy? She doesn't like fishy fish. Her fish needs to not smell fishy. It also has to be really cooked fish. She doesn't like raw fish. Raw fish is too fishy and smells too much like fish. No surprise then that she thinks I'm gross because I like to go down on women.
But back to the dessert. IG and MP both had orgasms from the first bite. That put me last in the race again. Fuck. IG wanted to take one of the desserts under the table. When Christina came around to check on us, the girls were like, "could we be left alone?" "Oh God! Oh God!" "Don't touch me. Don't touch me." I, on the other hand, was just munching away. Sometimes it takes me hours to finish a meal.
After two and a half hours in the restaurant, we were ready to leave. When the valet pulled up with my car, I paid the guy and proceeded to get in. MP stood by the passenger door with her hands on her hips and a big smile on her face. "Um, hello? Door?"
"WTF woman? You think this was a date?"
IG cracked up then kindly opened the door for her date.
The original plan was for us to go to Tree's Lounge. However, that bar was a bit far from where we were, so we went to the jazz bar Stevenson's Library. The jazz bar is located inside the Grand Hyatt, and when we got there, I wondered out loud if my friend Lauren was working at the front desk. This would later bite me in the ass.
The bar was dead, so we just had a beer each, talked a bit, then left. As we were leaving, I was looking at the concierge. I was thinking that MP could try for a job there since she doesn't like where she's working at now. The girls thought I wanted to hit on the concierge. When I tried to explain that I wasn't going to hit on the concierge, they then thought I wanted to hit on the girl at the front desk. Sigh. Women.
Back at MP's place, we downloaded the pictures we took on IG's camera to MP's computer. Of course we were all crowded around this one tiny laptop, like girls at a slumber party, trying to see the pictures. Then we sent them to my email.
Now comes the freaky part. I ended up looking at pictures of cocks with IG and MP. It's not something guys normally do. I mean, if looking at cocks would make my lover (female. Nice try you assholes.) get off, then by all means, I'm for it. But you don't normally look at cocks with your girl friends. And it was all INDIAN GIRL'S fault! Dirty, dirty girl. She told MP about the cock pics on craigslist, so MP wanted to see them.
"See? Have you ever seen a cock that curved down like that," IG asked.
"I have. But this one doesn't look like it's curving like that. It just looks like he isn't fully hard yet," MP replied.
"I don't know. I've never seen one like that. Might be kind of weird," said IG.
"I was with a guy whose cock curved downwards like a C," MP proclaimed.
"How the hell would that work? How would you have sex," IG asked.
"Well, when we had sex normally, it would be pushing into me on the bottom-side. But if I turned around with my ass in his face, it would work better... felt pretty good too," said MP.
"WTF!? Hello? I'm still here. Awkward!," Nonwheezer said with his hands held palm up, shoulder height in the universal WTF pose.
OK, so on to the pictures. My fingers are getting tired of typing. I posted a preview of a few pictures to my nerd group before going to bed and these are the replies I got when I woke up.
Minnesota Girl: Man, Hawaii is beautiful!
Lecherous Old Man: Twin peaks everywhere.
SUX IT Guy: IG could make a good living doing pr0n, IMO.
So here they are. Captions follow the pics.
I just got lei'd! And I didn't have time to finish putting on my pants.
"My drink tastes like vomit," said IG in a cheerful manner.
I came here one time and I ordered this drink and the setting sun shone right through it. It was beautiful. Hic! I think I need another.
Guess what these are. Never leave your camera unattended when you go to the bathroom.
Nonwheezer. "Oh, he looks good in this pic." Thanks girls.
OK, stand there. Now move 6 inches forward. Turn your head to look at me. Now smile. (MP micromanaging IG)
Wait. I think I have the flash setting wrong. Let me try this... click. Oh, hey. It came out pretty cute. (Nonwheezer)
Machu Pichu, Nonwheezer, Indian Girl
IG tends to be prim and proper sometimes. I could have sworn I heard her say, "you touch my ass and I'll kill you."
Contrasted by MP, who tends to have a higher blood alcohol content.
Riley and I had about two and a half hours to kill on the mountain so we decided to make yet another mtb video. God knows my mtb videos are sooooo popular. They get literally hundred of hits on youtube. (sarcasm)
I bet if I got video of those girls in boyshorts that we saw earlier, the hits would go through the roof.
OK, so lately I've been stuck trying to find good topics to write about. It doesn't help that I've been busy with serious work during the week, as opposed to my usual goofing off. Although I have had a bunch of little mini-topics, such as Valtrex, come to mind, I couldn't find one nice, juicy topic to really sink my teeth into.
And that was a lot of commas.
Oh well. I guess since I don't have the big hits, I should write some little ones to keep you two entertained.
Today was our district's History Day contest. History Day is an annual contest that revolves around large, involved research projects. Students choose a topic that relates to a given theme and create a project based on what they learned.
There are essay categories.
Multimedia.
Performances.
And display exhibits.
So students pick something they want to learn more about. They sift through secondary and primary sources. They learn the techniques of historians, or they at least learn some skills that would come in handy in college.
That's what the brochure says.
The reality is a bit different. You get a bunch of whiny kids who have to be forced into this assignment. You pull your hair out because students can't seem to connect two and two together and can't pick a topic that actually relates to the theme.
"You mean marijuana can't be a triumph in history?"
You also get frustrated since students can't even use an encyclopedia. They lack the wherewithal to even find secondary sources. You get blue in the face explaining what a primary source is, but they still draw a blank since it wasn't on MTV (a crap station geared solely to sell crap to teens).
You give them a couple of months to collect primary sources since none are available on this island. You explain to them that they will need to request some sources by mail, and it could take weeks. In the end, your students wait until the last few days to do the project. This is even after you set up deadlines for each part of the project.
But, you can't fault the students for being late. In today's fucking hippie tree-hugging-equivalent world of education, due dates aren't important so long as the kids get the point. You gotta accept the late work with a smile even though we're supposed to be creating self directed learners according to the state's education policy.
In the end, I found four projects that were acceptable. With some extra work, they could end up being very competitive. I spoke with the students and explained the changes they would have to make. Of the four, only one made the changes. Two waited until the night before the event. The fourth didn't even want to make the changes so they decided they didn't want to participate anymore.
One of the projects still had the glaring error of stating that two atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima. Sigh.
But once again, crazy policies win. Our district is allowed to send three projects in our age group to the state event. Yay for celebrating and rewarding mediocrity.
Aha! But what did I see? One of the judges from a different category came over to speak with some of my students. It seems the judges were interested in the topic my students chose. So while we were waiting for their parents...
Kids: They really liked our project.
Me: Those judges see hundreds of projects each year. There are tons of projects about Pearl Harbor and Hiroshima. The USS Indianapolis is a bit unique.
Kids: Yeah! Woohoo!
Me: How did you guys pick that topic anyway?
Kids: You told us. But we didn't tell the judges that.
Me: What? I thought you guys found it yourselves.
Kids: No.
Me: You sure? I thought you guys found it on the internet.
Kids: That was after you told us about it.
Me: Oh... No wonder you guys had a good topic.
And that was my day. How was yours? Don't need to answer that. I really don't care.
It was a dark and stormy day. I was asked to come along to document a friend's dirtbike practice and perhaps make a YouTube video. My payment was the hope that a certain female dirtbike rider of the tall, blonde persuasion would show up.
I got rained on. My shoes got muddy. I was cold. My nipples were hard. I also ran the most I ever ran since high school. I made the video.
Created a new sportbike video with Lorn, Lauren, and Fonto. I had originally planned to use Brimful of Asha for the soundtrack, but when I viewed the clips I had, I thought it went better to ELO's Twilight.
I was driving home after a bike ride and out of the blue, I remembered V.
V might be considered one of the early unintelligentsia. I met her when I was in college in Hilo.
This girl was a major firecracker. Not only was she really good looking, but she was also funny, and had great self esteem. She did what she felt like doing and if people didn't like it, too bad. I don't recall her ever saying anything negative about another person other than those who tried to make fun of her. Instead of getting you to laugh at people, she made you laugh with her. This made her immensely likable, and we used to look forward to her visits.
She loved acting. I guess it comes naturally when one is an extrovert. However, she really did enjoy it. She used to try and get us to go watch her in various plays, but since we were "above" going to plays, I never did get to see her act. I kick myself now.
Now because she loved acting, she loved being on film. One day she came over and we did an impromptu photo shoot. My roommate put her in various wrestling holds while I snapped off a few shots. It's frikking hilarious when your 6 foot tall roommate has a 5 foot tall girl in a headlock or in a suplex. And the girl played along and loved it. Unfortunately I don't have those pictures anymore. They were stored on 3.5" floppy disks. Remember those?
V was also generous with her things. She once let my roommate her car for a day. It was an older Nissan Sentra (but it wasn't old back then), filled with the requisite items of the typical female car. She had two pairs of shoes, several shirts, a couple of shorts, and an odd number of socks. My memory is fuzzy, but I think I remember something like panties or bikinis.
So my roomie left for the day. V came over in the evening, and my roomie returned. V went outside to get in her car...
"How did my four door become a two door?"
My roommate was the stereotypical clueless surfer dude. He just hopped in the first Sentra that looked like V's car and drove off. The weird thing was that the key actually worked! They returned the car to a bewildered parking lot wanderer.
Like some other unintelligentsia, V would take breaks from hair removal duties. She too would allow her legs to grow a fine coat. Even worse, V would take it one step further. Not only would she show her prickly legs to us, but she would insist, nay force, us to touch them. Touch them we did. We were forced into running our hands across her stubbled shins and calves. It was an experience on the order of a car wreck. We knew it was bad and disgusting, but we could not stop from getting more.
Now V wasn't just all humor and acting. She could give a guy a major case of blue-balls if she wanted. Like the time she came to visit wearing some loose fitting soccer shorts. She sprawled out on the couch and discussed her underwear habits. Mainly, how she rarely wore them. Those satineque shorts revealed a lot, but not enough. I'm sure it was obvious where our eyes were, but V didn't care. That's just how she was. She knew college guys want to look, and she just saw it as a fact of life. Not a huge production for her.
And don't get me started on AOL. AOL used to be the number one internet craze at the time. I had an account, and V wanted to try out the chat. Of course, with V, nothing was normal. Imagine being a college male with a hot female seated right next to you. Now imagine the female is online describing her fellatio techniques. Yeah, you get the picture.
But even V sometimes needed help. There was one night when it was raining cats and dogs, which is normal for Hilo, when she called asking for a ride. My roommate was either too drunk or stoned to comprehend the message, so I hopped in my truck to go pick her up. When I found her at the 7-11, she was soaked to the bone. She had an argument with her boyfriend, and he kicked her out of his house. She had to walk several blocks through the downpour to the payphone to call for a ride. This was the era before the widespread use of cellphones. I don't think she let the breakup set her back though. She was back on her feet in a few days. She always had a tough personality.
I do thank Hilo for being cold enough to prevent any thoughts of sleeping in the nude. On more than one occasion, V burst into my room before noon to wake me up. What was a surprising and funny situation could have easily become a source embarrassment. I wasn't used to locking my room door when the house doors were locked.
So V, thanks for being one hell of an entertaining human being. You made some otherwise boring college days a bit more fun.
The other day I stuck my camera on my bike's fender. I figured I would look at my lower body as I ride and see if I'm making any major mistakes. I did learn that with my current riding style, I will never safely drag knee on the streets. However, It feels and looks natural, so I'm going to stick with it.
Since I had some video footage, and I was bored, I slapped them together and added music. I uploaded the video to YouTube, but I really wasn't planning on sharing. You only really see from my left butt cheek to my ankle. However, it seems that someone has been looking at the video anyway. I guess I should just post it.
A friend of mine started to ride XC after work for some crosstraining. He's a motorcross racer. Then it spread to my brother and his other coworkers. Eventually it reached me.
I had broken my stationary bike and purchased an elliptical trainer as a replacement. I was never happy with the elliptical. It seemed to work the smaller muscles of my legs rather than the larger thighs and glutes. I felt I was not getting the workout I used to get. So when my brother suggested I join them after work for some XC bicycling, I jumped at the chance.
I started off on my brother's old Trek 3900. It's a hardtail, which means there is no rear suspension. It's harder on the bumps, but with no shock absorber to absorb pedaling energy, it's an efficient bike. I soon wished for more though. I had dreams of being 10 again and hitting some big dirt jumps. I started looking into a full suspension bike of my own.
If you haven't priced mountain bikes, be prepared for some sticker shock. The bikes can easily run up to $4000-5000. And no, you cannot do with a Walmart special for $99. That's like buying a Yugo for NASCAR duties. Luckily, I found an entry-level Haro X6.
The X6 is a cheaper version of the X7, a decent mountain bike. What that means is that some of the parts are a cheaper, lower-end models. However, it sold for only $1000, which is cheap for real MTBs (mountain bikes). It's also an all-mountain type bike. It falls right in between the XC and Downhill archetypes of MTB. The XC bikes usually have about 4" of suspension travel and are built lighter for speed. The downhill bikes are more robust with 7-10" of travel. They're designed to descend mountains and hit anything in their way without stopping. They're also hard to pedal. The All-Mountain bikes fit right in between.
For the past several months, we've been going up the mountain for some real mountain biking. The trails we ride on include fast single-track action, log jumps, big drops, cliffs, etc. I have learned that people older than 18 should look twice before leaping.
Yes, I have crashed many times.
Now because fear and self-preservation beat my skill and technique, I relegated myself to the group's documenter. The added bonus of this is that I don't get to be infront of the cameras. This is a good thing. I'm so un-photogenic that my last pic was mistaken as evidence for Big Foot.
Enough gilding the lilly. Here is the result of our last two trips up the mountain. Yet another video by yours truly:
PS: I know the unintelligentsia won't see this because clicking links is too much of a bother, but I did crash yet again on this last trip. It was bad enough to knock the wind out of me for a few minutes, and now my shoulder is messed up.
PPS: For those that don't know, the unintelligentsia thrive on my mishaps.
Every hero has a secret identity. Even us "weird" ones. You know, those strange heroes that so-called friends tend not to simply accept, but to persecute and harass. Hey, not everyone was born pretty, or handsome, or talented you know. And, and, and, brains can be kewl too.
Deep breaths, deep breath. Ah, who am I kidding. Like Sockfoot says: women want a testosterone-filled Adonis to impregnate them, but then they want Milquetoast to raise their kids right. I digress.
My secret identity is that of Milquetoast. I spend my days educating the offspring of some pretty messed up marriages sometimes. You see, Adonis doesn't stick around for long. My kind, caring nature lets me build a rapport with kids and lets me be a significant adult to those in need. It's a heroic, yet unassuming identity.
When I am not at work, I assume the identity of Ears. It is my duty to fight/commit crime of the moving violation sort.
29 Oct 06: I notice many people staring at me. Is there another spider on my helmet? It can't be that they're attracted to me. They can't see my face. Or maybe it's the lack of a visual that makes me appealing. Odd.
Several people parked along the side of the road did double-takes. When I pulled in to the canyon lookout, a group of late-20s tourists stopped chatting and watched me park. A lady came out of the bathroom, looked at me, then stopped in the road and stared until I came to a complete stop.
Weirdos. What the hell are they looking at?
Usually on Sundays I have a lot of time. I'm usually waiting for some other bikers to show up. The only one that does show up regularly is a male. It ties in to a theory that I have about only attracting other males.
Anyway, since I have a few hours to kill, I make several runs up and down the mountain. One time, as I was gearing up, a crowd of tourists, probably an extended family, waited and watched me get ready to go. Their littlest boy, a 3ish year old, seemed enthralled by my ears. He couldn't stop staring. So I waved at him as I left. Kids love that crap. It's like when a bigrig blows that airhorn. rawr!!!!
Ears: Cool. The color of these ears match my bike. Scott: Yeah. And they're pretty noticable. I could see them when I passed you. Ears: Hey, they really do their job. And they also do something else. Earlier there was this tall, cute Japanese tourist. See saw the ears and was watching me gear up. I could hear her saying, "kawaii..." (cute)
******Ears' Fantasy Begins****** Asian chick: Sugoi Ears! Marry me and make me an American. I will give you many children and you will die of sexual exhaustion. Ears: (Elvis voice) Why sure...
Other Asian Chicks: Chottomatte! Atashi mo Ears wa daisuke desu! He's mine, b!tch!
******Ears' Fantasy Ends******
White Male Tourist: Hey, nice tail. Cool. Ears: Um, thanks.
WMT: Wow, you got ears too. Those are cool. Scott: Seems cute Japanese girls aren't the only thing they attract. Ears: . . . (pause) You know, this place is why I don't pee at urinals without dividers. Everyone wants to make conversation with me in there. (points at restroom)
*****Update 7 Nov.*****
Try not to leave comments on this blog. It will get deleted on the next update.
So after the farce that was the Fourth of November, Lornette finally got new shoes on her bike. She mounted the wheels back on her bike all by herself. She got wrenching skillz yo. (pinch bolts cough).
Now for those that don't ride, new tires can be scary. They're very smooth and slippery to the touch. They have low traction until they are "scrubbed," in. That means riding on the tires so that the contact patch area becomes rough to the touch. The trick is to not lean the bike over on completely fresh sections. You need to carefully scrub the tires to the edges cm by cm.
So Lorny got fresh shoes on her bike. We head out to Kokee as usual. I had the camera mounted on the bike again, ala duct tape. After a quick side adventure, the purpose of which I shall not mention for fear of retribution, we were off.
Here's the video. Keep in mind that Lorny has NOT YET SCRUBBED IN HER TIRES. Nutcase. The song choice is another story. When we picked up Lornette's bike, she had the Tokyo Drift soundtrack playing. I thought it sounded like a faux jpop techno thing. I figured it would be fitting to use the real thing.
*****Updated 10 Nov*****
Gees. No one gonna help me out? You guys could have caught the mistake on my dates. Gah. Anyway, Since Mel is being a brutish oaf, I guess you can leave comments. Just keep in mind that I can never get the edit thing to work and I am actually reposting this blog as new.
Lorny called me on my cell today. It was sunny and she wanted to play.
Up the mountain, on our bikes we shot. Lorny thought her riding was good, but it really was not.
No matter how hard she tried and tried, Her chicken strips remained over an inch wide.
Changing the subject to her clothes, she showed me the special riding jeans she chose.
The label said it was not a low-rise. It didn't matter as she pushed the waist down to her thighs.
The pants bunched up around her groin, and I could swear I felt a stir in my loins.
She felt herself up and then she checked to see if she had a peepee and if it was erect.
I couldn't believe it, I could only watch; this wonderful exhibition going on at her crotch.
But some tourist came by to ruin the show. What was even worse, one was a big, fat ho.
She was a large one, all flab and big gut. She waddled when she walked, and picked at her butt.
At least the others were skinny and nice. They were friendly and spoke to us twice.
They talked of my ears and said they were cute. See that Lorn? This shows I'm no fruit.
We decided to get pizza and work on Lorn's bike. Brick Oven Pizza, yup, that's what we like.
Lorny tried to order the pizza over the phone. "I like pizza," Ears would crazily drone.
She tried to be serious and kept up her guard, but Ears wouldn't stop. He was a retard.
Pizza for dinner, no need for a plate. Who cares about being thinner, it's time to gain weight.
Lorny did Sally's diner orgasm scene. Her moans were so good, I thought I would cream.
Dinner was over and on to the job. We got a bit dirty and I looked like a slob.
We loosened some nuts and raised up a fork. Lorny tightened things up and double checked the torque.
Then I got stupid and offered an idea. The next time I do that, God, give me diarrhea.
"Since we're here let's do your suspension." I did my best to bring it to her attention.
So once again with wrench in hand; we tackled the bike like we had just planned.
Then it happened. Something went wrong. A simple procedure started to take all night long.
Lorny got angry with fire in her eyes. "I'll kill you, Ears, and no one will hear the cries."
I stepped back and trembled in fear. All I could manage was, "yes dear, yes dear."
I kept working and would not stop. I was afraid that Lorny would pop.
And eventually the work was finally done. "Just in time," as she put down the gun.
Lorn was gleeful and she pulled on her boots. Lucky for me, she forgot our disputes.
She hopped on her bike for pleasure and fun. I didn't even notice, I was watching a bum.
The question remains if after all this clatter: Will the changes we made really even matter?
Given my reputation and the Nonwheezer curse, I probably didn't help, I just made things a lot worse.
But she's happy, as happy as a toy dog. "Now go home Ears, and write me another blog."
Added:
It's a fact that pizza and I don't mix. Eating too much of it give me my kicks. As the dawn's early morning light had shone, I found myself stuck on the throne.
*****Updated 18 Nov.*****
Version 2 of the 17 Nov. video. I didn't like the footage from the old video. I played with the zoom to crop out some things, and it made the footage look slow. For the new video, I readjusted the camera mount and set the zoom back to normal.
And about 20 German tourists nearly mobbed me to check out my ears. Blitzkreig aiyeee!!!
rawr!!!!
