LIFEGUARD HIERARCHY

When it comes to lifeguards in this world, I have found that there is a hierarchy.  You have the Baywatch California lifeguards who are hand selected, go through rigorous testing, and are professional and vigilant.  Then you go down the food chain a little bit to the YMCA pool lifeguard who is still fairly professional, requires a good swimming ability, is semiannually tested in basic water safety as well as CPR and basic life saving of some sort.  After that is the local neighborhood outdoor pool lifeguard.  This may be an actual full time employee position or just a local high school/ college kid summer job.  Minimal training in basic CPR and pseudo swimming ability is all that is really required.  They may or may not be in the best of shape, as this is not a primary job of theirs, and professionalism is dependent on their (GAFF) “Give A Fuck Factor”.   If they GAF then that’s good; if they don’t GAF, who’s gonna call them on it? 

Then you have THIS GUY…. whom I noticed today.  This is the bottom feeder; the tape worm; the primordial ooze of the lifeguard hierarchy.  The Motel outdoor pool lifeguard.  This guy was a real winner.  I saw him and had to stop my car, pull over, roll down the window, turn off the radio and devote my full attention to understand him.  He was magnificent.  Overly tanned, good sized gut but not necessarily fat just, portly, I guess is a good word.  He had “taught fat”.  If you don’t know what that is, then next time you’re naked in front of the mirror jump up and down; anything that flops like a pancake or keeps jiggling when you stop is NOT taught fat.  Taught fat feels and acts like the hard casing on a Honey Ham; its fat just not flabby fat.  Anyways, you fuckers got me on a tangent explaining taught fat; back to the Motel Pool lifeguard.   So, standard red lifeguard shorts, he ACTUALLY had the white sun tan lotion just on the nose (I shit you not), and he was sifting the dead leaves, bugs, cats, and other foreign objects out of the 15 FT by 8 FT pool with that netted pole sifter thing.  Now this is at 1130 in the morning on a Sunday.  No one’s gonna be in that fucking pool, guy!  Who are you planning on guarding that a sign that says “No life guard on duty, be careful” couldn’t take care of?  No one is the answer.  He was sifting that pool for himself, to quench his honey ham gut after a long afternoon of getting even more unnecessarily tanned.   This guy had the most meaningless of the lifeguard species’ jobs.  Was he gonna watch anybody; save anybody's life; keep someone from drowning in the 3 feet of motel pool water?  What can I say…  I was in awe of the bronzed Buddha, so, of course, I immediately reserved next weekend at that Motel  and will soon enough get to experience the uniqueness of this guy, myself; this lowest life form on the aquatic life savers totem pole….the Motel pool lifeguard.

TECHNICOLOR MIDGETS

Do you remember those ball pits, like they had in places like Chuck E. Cheese’s?  You know, it was an open pit filled about 3 to 4 feet deep with hollow plastic colored balls.  You’d jump in through some orifice suspended above the pit and sift around amongst the balls, pretending to drown in the balls (not meant to be a joke but still funny), swimming in the pit, hiding from your friends, and just generally carrying on.  Well, as fun as it was…..there’s a dark side to the ball pit.  About 2 years ago I was part of a South American country to country tour promoting my Exotic Cheese Company (it’s a side project I’m doing just for fun).  My partner, Carlos, and I had just wrapped up a long day of meet and greets with the local businesses in the area and decided we wanted to go out and blow off some steam. 

Of course, this isn’t the first time I’d been to Ecuador so I wasn’t looking for the usual tourist spots…I wanted the seedy underbelly; the good stuff.  So, Carlos and I go to this spot he knows about.  He says to me “El Rusto, have chu ever been to a cock fight?”  [ME] “I would ask which version of the noun COCK you are referring to, but in either case the answer would be YES.”  [Carlos] “Well, El Rusto, chu have no seen nussing yet den, I haf for chu something muy especial!”  [ME]”Oh really, well Carlos, you have me intrigued; lead the way.”  After a short period of walking through corrugated steel walled corridors that flowed through the various shanties we came upon a rusty steel door. It had been painted a brilliant red once, long ago, but was now faded and corroded, and you could hear faint howling and garbled sounds just beyond it.  [Carlos] “This chit makes eh cock fight seem like a tea time partee wit chur leetle niece.”  Carlos thrusts the door open to reveal a large room with a pit in the middle that is completely surrounded by tiered benches.  On-lookers are placing bets and screaming from upon the benches into the activity in the pit below.  The pit was filled to the brim with colored plastic balls.  “Is this a shitty Ecuadorian Chuck E. Cheese’s knock off?” I said to myself.  There are two ropes leading into the balls, which were secured to cleats just outside of the pit.  I was trying to figure out what all the screaming and shit talking from the bleachers was about, as I couldn’t see anything amongst the balls.  At that moment I heard a loud shriek come from within the ball pit and a tiny fist, cut off cleanly, still clenching the dagger it was apparently holding, came flying out up into the crowd.  The crowd suddenly went silent.  One of the ropes then snapped taught against the cleat.  A man came running up, untied the rope and hauled up what was attached to it.  It was a dwarf, sweating profusely, with blood, which was not his own, covering him. 

It seemed obvious that he must have been the victor in whatever was going on down there in the depths of the balls.  The other rope was hauled up and what was left of a midget came up, limbs dangling by just the tendons and pieces falling off, and quite clearly dead.  [ME] “Carlos, what the fuck is going on here?”  [Carlos] “Eese fucking meedgit fighting El Rusto! Keep watching; my favorite fighter is coming up, El Gaupo eez heez name.”  

 El Gaupo is a primordial Dwarf which, if you don’t know, aren’t exactly very imposing looking as they are considerably smaller than even a dwarf.  Don’t let the looks deceive you though, El Guapo is a beast. They pitted him up against a full grown Laron Syndrome dwarf.  I thought for sure El Gaupo was gonna get fucked up as Laron’s don’t usually have the disadvantage of disproportionatly short arms and legs, as many typical dwarfs do.  They both jumped into the pit, disappearing into the balls; you can imagine the terror running through each of them as they sift through the balls unable to see anything.  They were completely covered by the balls.  It’s like hunting a panther through a dense Technicolor jungle hoping your reflexes are faster than its when it pounces on you.  Suddenly, a loud howl erupts from the pit!  A thick constant spray of blood comes shooting out of the balls and just like the sprayers at the Bellagio in Vegas, swayed back and forth and all around.  The howling continued to get louder and louder until a loud crack of what could only be the femur of one of the contender’s legs is heard.  Then another bone crack, followed by sheer terror screaming.  Then, when we could barely handle the blood curdling howls a moment longer, came a loud hacking sound and gargling.  Then complete silence.  Once again, the rope went taught.  They pulled on the rope and out came El Guapo!!  He was completely soaked in blood, intestines, brain bits; you name it, he was covered in it.  He had the Laron dwarf’s full head by the hair in his left hand, followed by nothing but the full spinal cord attached to it, which he had, apparently, ripped out with his bare hands.  They tried to pull the Laron dwarf’s body up, but the body must had been in such bad shape that the rope had nothing to attach to anymore.  So, Carlos was right, Technicolor ball pit midget fighting blows cock fighting, of either kind, out of the fucking water.  Next time you're in Ecuador ask around, you just might get to experience a Technicolor Midget fight of your own, I highly recommend it.

I CAN SEE YOU

Ghosts creep me the fuck out, but it’s not for reasons you’d think.  I would say that I am not, particularly, scared of ghosts, although I can’t say for sure.  If I woke up to one rattling chains, moaning, and drooling ectoplasm above my bed I’d more than likely run away screaming like a little bitch, leaving my wife and child to be possessed or whatever it is that ghosts do.  I’d come back with a priest and some flowers later and fix the situation.  My biggest problem with them is their creepiness.  I imagine that all my dead relatives are around me at all times as ghosts just meandering around seeing what it is I do all day.  It’s like trying to read a book with someone resting their chin on your shoulder and breathing heavy.  It’s fuckin’ creepy.  I imagine that some little cousin of mine, that died in a car accident, somewhere, is standing there in the bathroom watching me make crinkle faces trying to shit out last night’s Jalapeno meat loaf surprise; or my Aunt Suzie, who was a preschool teacher, discovering that I like to trim my ass hair in the sink mirror (See post: Amazonian Ass Hair on Arbor Day, 27jul2011); or that my dead great- grandmother is watching me when I jack off in the closet while asphyxiating myself with a shoe lace.  I sit there masturbating and crying “I’m sorry grandma-ma, I’m sorry!”, and she is just looking at me in shame, shaking her head.  It’s really unnerving cause on one hand….I’m gonna jack it, ghost or no ghost, it’s gonna happen….but on the other hand…. If my religious belief structure is right, I’m gonna see all these people who have been watching me my whole life from the other side, after I die.  Can you imagine going to the afterlife and your dead uncle Marty saying:

“Boy, what in the hell were you thinking shoving that fluorescent light bulb up your ass, in 2007, while you jacked off?  You didn’t think that shit was gonna break!?” “Maybe if you weren’t so stupid you wouldn’t have had anal leakage for the next 37 years after that.” 

 I’ll have to deal with that shit for eternity!  Would that be considered hell, then? 

HOT ROMANIAN TWINS (PART DOUĂ)

(Conversation continued from Part One)

[ME] So, I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around this.  Let’s say Ioana is giving her boyfriend a BJ?  What are you doing, Stefania, while she’s doing that?  Are you playing fucking Scrabble or something?  I mean seriously!

[Stefania] Well, I have always enjoyed playing the flute and the saxophone.  It’s actually the perfect time for me to practice my music as I can’t do much else.

[Ioana] Yeah, and when Stefania is playing her music it’s almost like me and my boyfriend have our very own soundtrack and Stefania gets time to practice for her recitals.

[ME] Well, what if..um…Ioana’s boyfriend…isn’t…..how should I put this?.... accurate.  I’d think that’d wreck your concentration a little bit, Stefania, not to mention fuck up your hair.

[Ioana] Sometimes it happens; we’ve come to accept it.  Besides, Stefania’s boyfriend couldn’t hit the side of a barn if he was 4 inches from it. 

[Stefania] he he he, that’s true…

[ME] You’re telling me that while Ioana is BJ-ing her boyfriend you are jamming away with your music, completely oblivious to what’s going on 2 inches from your nose?  You know girls; I have to tell you….this shit blows my mind.  I mean you say you don’t feel each other up or anything sexual like that but what about in the shower? Ioana, you have the right arm and Stefania has the left arm.  I’m sorry, but someone is rubbing titties and someone is rubbin’ coochy, there’s just no way around that.  You can’t tell me that there ain’t some tinglin’ goin on, some thunder down under when you soap each other up in the shower….you know what I’m sayin’?!... It’s like when I play that game THE STRANGER where I sit on my hand until it’s numb, then jack off, it’s like someone else is doing it.

[Ioana] You’re stupid Rusty, but alright I admit it, I HAVE felt up Stefania while she was asleep a couple times…

[ME] jack pot….

[Stefania] Ioana! How could you!  If you were feeling me up in my sleep then what about all those times you said your nipples itched and you needed them repeatedly pinched?  Was that….?

[Ioana] Yes, Stefania.  I’m sorry.

[Stefania] Well, I guess it’s okay…it WAS kinda fun, I suppose….

[ME] Are we about to get it on?

[Ioana and Stefania in unison] Shut up Rusty!  I think it’s time for you to go, now scoot!

Alright, so I’m a little off my game when it comes to these Siamese Twins but I have another set of twins that are even better than these two chicks.  She’s / They're crazy; she has one body but two heads with each side of the body controlled independently by its respective head.    Stay tuned for that one…… 

GOLD DIGGER

I’m gonna defend a normal human practice right now that is, not only, misunderstood but even considered shameful in some places.  No one wants to admit that they do it or have done it, but we all know it happens.  People have been doing it since the dawn of time and they are doing it at this very moment.  Picking their noses; that’s what we are talking about.  Look at you, so curious while reading, yet now you cringe and go “Eeeeww.”  Who are you to judge?  As Stone Cold Steve Austin once said, “Let he who is without Sin, cast the first stone.” Whether you are a thumb-index clipper or a 3 digit deep excavator we’ve all done it in some form or another.  My wife always says to me “That’s nasty Rusty! Why don’t you just blow your nose?”  I suppose if I had loose illness boogers then, yes, a napkin and blowing my nose would suffice.  My rebuttal to her, however, is usually “What am I suppose to do about the calcified crusties; the petrified boogers; the stalactites and stalagmites of snot; or the thin sheets of beef jerky mucus that are firmly attached but have a slippery coating so it takes like fifteen swipes to get it out a’ there?”  “Well, what about THEM Miss ma’am?!”  To that expert argument she knows she can never win and just rolls her eyes and throws me a small bottle of hand sanitizer.  Pah! Hand sanitizer?  Is this a joke?  I throw it, immediately, at the nearest cat to me with full intent on inflicting as much minor damage to it as possible. 

Just so you know picking my nose is like a ritual now.  I look forward to it, and go at it with zeal.  I have the “Five finger swipe.”  This is where you start with your index finger and pick and swipe, then continue one after the other with all fingers in a row.  The pinky is the smallest and since the bigger fingers have done the heavy excavation and breaking free then the pinky, as it is more precise, can pick and scoop in detail.  The thumb comes in at the end as a nostril rim wipe.  Now, of course, if the first five finger swipe didn’t succeed, then the process begins again.

Sometimes I’ll do the “Jab, Hold, and Pull.”  It’s a pretty bold method mainly used for those slippery/hard sheets of snot stuck to the walls that won’t come out.  Using any finger you thrust it at the booger sheet and press into it, you hold your finger there (this allows time for the mucus to fill into your finger print grooves giving a solid lock like Velcro), then you gently pull and the entire sheet should come out firmly attached to the finger tip.  Voila! Then do clean up with the Five Finger swipe.

See, you’ve learned that you are not alone AND you’ve learned some new techniques to boot.   Aren’t you glad you read this post?

HOME MADE VIDEO USING MSPAINT (just for fun)

HOT ROMANIAN TWINS

I know I’ve never told you this, but I used to be ONE of TWO Siamese twins.  Yep, you heard me right.  Weird hu?  Well, fortunately we didn’t share any vital organs as we were joined at the genitals sharing only ONE penis and three testicles.  My brother Dusty, as fate turned out, got the short end of the stick, literally.  Let’s just say that Dusty was able to get his wife pregnant but had to use a Medela breast milk pump and a turkey baster.  So, anyways, we were fortunate, but for those Siamese twins connected at the head, hip, rib cage, or any other non-surgically operable part of the body….what is their life like?  Haven’t you ever wondered?  Hell, I AM a fucking Siamese twin and I’m curious! So you DEFINETLY should be!  So I hooked up with a set of Siamese twins online who happened to live in Cluj-Napoca, Romania.  After the long flight, I landed and met them at a local eatery, had a few kürtös kalács, and got to talking.  Their names were Ioana and Stefania.  Both girls were connected at the head (side of the temple both facing forward for the most part) and connected at the ribcage.  I was curious, so I just started asking questions:

[Me] So, when you get horny what happens?  Are you allowed to get each other off?  ...because you ARE sisters but technically you COULD also be considered the same person as you share a brain, a heart, a lung, and a breast.

[Ioana] Shut up Rusty, that’s gross, we don’t feel each other up.  If we want to masturbate we just do it on our own, but not to each other.

[Stefania] Yeah, I’ll just put on my IPOD or watch a movie while she does her thing.

[Me] Really?  Cause that’s kinda hard to ignore, even your peripheral vision would have to catch a little bit of it.  Plus, what if Ioana gets really saucy and starts climaxing?  You’re connected at the fucking head and chest! Her undulating would totally fuck up the Danielle Steel novel you’re trying to read or the ending of your True Blood episode.

[Ioana and Stefania in unison] We just make it work; let’s move on to something else.

[Me] Alright, what about men?  You both are definitely two hot Romanian chick(s) so have you ever, you know, hooked up with a dude or dudes?

[Ioana] I have a boyfriend right now and he…

[Me] Whoa, hold the fuck on.  You just confused me.  So, if Ioana has a boyfriend, that she fucks, doesn’t that technically make him YOUR boyfriend too, Stefania?

[Stefania] Not if I have MY own boyfriend, which I do.

[Me] Uuuuuhhhh……soooo…… that’s like a quad-way in the bedroom.  That’s fucking awesome! Are they tag teaming, switching places, is it like a relay race and they hand off the KY jelly when they switch?

[Ioana and Stefania in unison] What do we look like Rusty? We aren’t sluts; each of our boyfriends has sex with their own partner.

[Me] Of course, of course.  I’m sorry.  How absurd of me to even think something like that.  Alright, well then….. which one of your boyfriend’s shares the middle of your three tits?..........

Side Note: There’s more to this conversation, I just had to cut it short…. until next time.