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The Worst of All Possible Vaginas - Violent Acres
It looked like an octopus that had been crushed by a hydraulic press, or perhaps raw hamburger someone had thrown on the floor of a barber shop and picked back up. Only it was worse than all those things because it was phlegmy and gooey, and just by looking at it you could feel its horrible clinging texture. It was the texture of rape and invasion, of penetration and soiling. It was Heather’s vagina, and she was wantonly shoving her entire fist in and out of it licking her lips at me. I would have thought that a woman that fat would never have been able to crawl up on a desk and spread her legs open that far. I would have been wrong.

Bob The Anal Fissure
After lurking about in the wings the required 2 months I have felt the need to tell you about my anal fissure Bob.

Things have finally stabilized in my house.

My sister has started doing Weight Watchers with her daughter. I hope that they’re able to make the change in their views on food. C. is 12 or 13, and is probably tipping the scales near 150. Her mom, though, was the same way and suffered mercilessly at the hands of her peers. I wonder why she allowed that to happen. What is it in her that didn’t remember the embarrassment and shame of being mocked and ridiculed? In any event, it means that there will be more salads, fruits, and vegetables in the fridge, and that’s a Good Thing(tm).

My relationship with GF is in a good place, though for a bit she was getting the worst of it from both sides. PR woke up and saw the mistake he’d been making, and I was in the position of not being able to determine my/our status. My first instinct was to cut and run, and I very nearly did just that in Tellico. We talked all night that night, and I convinced myself to just chill out and see what comes. It was probably a good decision, as I think our relationship is in a better place than it was, even at the beginning. I have a better understanding of her situation, and of PR’s role, and of her wants and needs, and of her boundaries. In the process, I’ve had to ask and answer a number of those same questions of myself. Introspection and self analysis are not strong points in my psyche. I’ve been told “Get out of your head. It’s a dangerous place to go alone,” so it hasn’t been easy. I’ve spent more than a couple nights sitting on the couch, guitar in hand, letting my feelings come out through my fingers. It’s not a very effective method of quantifying things, but it seemed to work, and I got a couple new songs out of it. This also qualifies for a Good Thing(tm) rating.

JC is doing very well in softy-ball, and we decided to join the local B league travel team. It’s going to slurp up more time, but that’s ok - it’s fun to be out there with her, and she’s doing a good job. I’d like for her to take more of a leadership role, but I get the feeling that she doesn’t have the confidence for it yet. Maybe now that she’s one of the strongest players on the team, if not -the- strongest player, it will happen naturally. I’d love to see her leading by example, and that is, I believe, within her grasp right now. Players and parents cheering for my kid definitely chuffs me up. A Good Thing(tm)

The Deb has been getting a lot better. She’s catching herself doing the things that I’ve been talking to her about (interrupting, not listening, being rude and demanding, etc., etc.), and sees things from my perspective more. I don’t know if she will ever change enough for me to share my life with her again, but I do love her and care for her. She’s been getting the negatives from her friends - “He’s going to screw you! He’s going to run off with all the money! He’s going to sell the house and you’ll be homeless!” and we’ve actually been able to talk about it rationally and effectively, and i think she believes me when I tell her again and again that I’m not. If I were going to, I would have already done it. Who knows… after the kids are out of highschool, maybe we’ll get back together. perhaps without the strains of that, we’ll be able to start something… I’m not counting on it, but I’m not counting it out, either. I’m taking a “Wait and See” attitude, and that’s a Good Thing(tm).

JA… I simply don’t know what to do with her. I think that I may have gotten it through her head that she’s been fucking up, and that she’s made her life harder than it had to be. She’s still got her Hispanic boyfriend, but he’s kinda growing on me. He’s not such a bad kid (especially in comparison to me at that age). Of course, he’s still trying to nail my little girl, and so I may have to kill him, but not today. He’s not that great in school, but some of JA’s traits are rubbing off on him. He isn’t a very good reader, and never read for pleasure. JA seems to have changed some of that. They went to prom last weekend, and while we were waiting for JA to come downstairs, I asked if he was buying dinner, or if I was. Of course, I was. I didn’t have cash, so I went to the restaurant, and talked to their waiter. they’d already ordered their entrees, so I paid for it, and got them a piece of cake to share for dessert. He asked what he should say, and we agreed for him to just make it up. So he gave them the cake “on the house,” and then told them that they “won a drawing of all the prom couples” and that their meal was free. I think it made a special night even more special for her, since she’s still talking about it. A Good Thing(tm)

Over the past month or so, since GF resumed relations with her primary relationship (PR), I’ve been in a quandary. It’s been a very difficult time, as I’ve tried to figure out a number of things - first and foremost: “What do I want?” A close second has been, “What do I need?”

These are not easy questions for me to answer - for a long time, the answers didn’t matter, so I didn’t think about them. They matter now, and I’ve been struggling to quantify the answers. These are multifaceted problems, and the answers have not been readily apparent. Part of the problem is my own, and part of the problem has been the acquisition and assimilation of data relevant to what’s possible. Why does what’s possible play into it? I’m not sure, exactly, but I feel it’s necessary to know. Maybe it helps me decide what’s tolerable. If the reward outweighs the pain, the pain is just the price you pay.

GF has been very patient and tolerant of my position, and has been very respectful of privacy issues. While it hasn’t made the acquisition of data easy, it’s certainly reassuring.

The truth of the situation is that we have no more future now than what we had on day one. What I don’t know now, and didn’t care about then, is what that future is.

I made it clear in the beginning that I would not interfere in her PR, and I’ve reiterated it since, and I’ve stuck by that. What has been difficult for me to accept is that the spot that I was occupying has, from my perspective, been squeezed by PR’s return to the ‘daily scene’ after a 7 year absence.

I don’t know why I have a hard time accepting it. Perhaps because the space I occupied on my own I now share. I know that she has a great capacity for love, and she is able to ?compartmentalize? these things. I know that there are boundaries, though. I feel as if I must know where they are to make my decision, but I know that they cannot be enumerated like a laundry list.

Ultimately, I have to decide if what she is willing to offer is enough. Do I want someone to live with? Because that isn’t an option. Is that a deal breaker?
Do I want monogamy? That’s also not an option. Is -that- a deal breaker?

My indecision stems from the unknown; what I know, however, is that this will ultimately end, and that eventually, I’m going to be hurt. The Yin and Yang of Love demands it. The greater the love, the greater the hurt.

Last weekend, I met up with my lady friend in Wheeling, WV, to do some riding. The roads right around St. Clairesville are just superb… for the most part.

I left on Friday, with rain almost a guarantee. Since I don’t have rain gear, I was hoping to make do with my leather work gloves and some nitrile to keep my hands dry. Before I had gotten too far, however, I realized that my plan was not going to work, so I got off the highway at Hagerstown, and find a Wal-Mart. I figured they’d likely have something in the hunting displays that would work well. I was wrong. All their hunting stuff had sold. After browsing around for a bit, I ended up deciding that a pair of jersey gloves. They fit under my work gloves, and turned out to keep my hands reasonably warm.

I was getting a might peckish, so I went to Roy’s

Now, if you don’t have a Roy Rogers Restaurant near you, you don’t know what you’re missing. They used to be fairly ubiquitous in my neck of the woods, but after Hardees pillaged them, they’ve been reduced to just a few locations. I, honestly, had forgotten just how good the Double R-Bar Burger is. A delicious cheese burger topped with deli style sliced ham. Good golly, but they’re tasty. So tasty, in fact, that on my way back from WV, I stopped at them again.

With some yummy in my tummy and some warmer gloves, I was ready to get back on the road. I made it about an hour from there before it started raining. Fortunately when I had stopped for gas, I put the rain cover on my tank bag. This being the inaugural run with the tank bag, I was really hoping it worked out. But I should start at the beginning…

The bike wintered in my living room, as I wanted to be able to work on it at my leisure, and in relative warmth. That plan worked out pretty well. I spent more time cleaning it than I had on any other bike I’ve owned. By the time spring rolled around, it looked pretty good.

Rule 5 states that you shall not work on your bike the day before you leave on a trip; however, since I had no other time to do it, I was up until 4am Friday morning fixing all the crash damage. I got everything back together, for the most part. Some things, like the tail section, were out of my price range, so I put back all the pieces I’d saved and used packing tape to hold it in place. I got the cluster back together, but somehow lost a bulb, so I’ll be taking that back off. It used to be an absolute showpiece of a bike… Now, it’s, honestly, a bit on the rough side, and unfortunately, I don’t see having the money to return it to it’s glory anytime soon. Ah well. It was nice while it lasted. anyway…

I got started packing when I got home from work on Friday. I had wanted to leave from the office, but after only 4 hours of sleep I decided that riding to work wasn’t a good idea. Of course, when I got home, I got sucked into other things as I was trying to pack. I finally got everything into a backpack, and was heading out to the garage to get my bungee net, when I noticed the Joe Rocket tank bag that I picked up used 2 years ago. I had never installed it, and since I was already running behind, I figured, “Hey! Let’s take a look at it!” Sure enough, it’s a magnetic bag, with a single safety strap… I checked it out, and it looked like I could fit everything I was trying to bring into this thing, and bonus, it’s got a rain fly, so I took a chance on it and it worked out perfectly, with plenty of space for my clothes and sundries, and with the rain fly, everything stayed perfectly dry.

Cold on a motorcycle is different than normal cold. Cold on a motorcycle is like being being beaten with hammers made of ice. It rained on me from Frostburg all the way to St. Clairesville, but I made it. I had to stop once for fuel, and to let my hands warm back up. All I can say is that hand dryers are amazing. I must’ve spent 10 minutes just hitting the button again and again… after drinking 5 or 6 cups of coffee, I was finally warmed up enough to get back at it. When I finally made it to the hotel, it took a 30 minute hot shower before I felt human again.

In the morning, we got some breakfast and headed out to ride. I let her lead since she’s plenty fast enough on the straights, and not slow in the corners. I followed her around all day, and it was great. I know there was at least one road that Ryder and I went on at the Sternwheeler Festival, and I recognized some of the turns. She took me to a park on that road that Ryder didn’t, and where Ryder and I had made a U-turn, she took another road that took us by Zwick’s Park, where a(n) (in)famous picture of another maggot - Joey - was taken after his adventure in the woods with someone else’s Super Sherpa. He and the bike came out of the woods with sticks and vines dragging, looking like the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

We’d been out and about all day, and the sun was sinking when we got onto a road I remembered. As we made another turn, she waved me by, so I could take the lead. After a whole day of riding, my skills weren’t feeling quite as rusty, but I wasn’t going to push my luck. Since she was going 25, I sped up to 35 and passed her, then slowed back down for a turn. I went into the turn, and was starting to roll on the throttle when *wham* I’m on the ground.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuckfuck!

I ended up laying on my stomach, facing the wrong way, on the edge of my lane, about 15 feet from the skid marks. I got up and walked over to the bike, which had stopped running, and turned the key off. I got it upright before she got over to help, but I was on the wrong side, so I needed help putting the kickstand down. Once that was taken care of, I could take a look at myself to see if I was damaged. My right hand hurt, and that’s about it. Going back to the bike, I took stock of the damage. A new dent in the top of the tank where the bike slid into a street sign, and a broken right front turn signal. Upon looking around, it’s probably a Good Thing(tm) that it hit the street sign… otherwise it would have gone down into a 30 foot ravine.

I started trying to figure out what happened. I went back to the turn and found the cinders that I’d washed out on, and they told the tale. While in the turn, I hit the cinders in the middle of my lane, between the cage tracks, and both wheels slid. When they hooked up, it high-sided me. My gear performed flawlessly, though I wonder if my hand would hurt less if I’d been wearing ‘motorcycle’ gloves. My new to me Aerostich took some light damage, and I got a scuff on my boot.

Which brings me to the title of this post: It Could Have Been So Much Worse

This seems to be the MO of my accidents. I get hurt, a bit, and damage happens, but it could have been much, much worse. Some examples:

I fell off a 15 foot roof. I cracked a rib, and broke my ‘fibular head’ - a non weight bearing bone in your leg. they don’t cast it, and you can walk without pain. According to my buddy, who’s an EMT, if you fall from 15 feet or more, they call the chopper for you. I got a ride in a Miata from a friend. No huge damage.

I crashed the ZRX when the throttle stuck and I looped it. the gear took damage, and the bike took damage, but it was very repairable. All that happened to me was a dislocated shoulder.

I stabbed a machete into a tree and ran my hand down the blade, severing 7 tendons, 3 nerves, and 3 arteries. The surgeon said that if I’d done this a year or two prior, I would have lost use of my hand. it took a while to heal from that one.

A buddy and I flipped a car end-for-end into a 10 foot ditch. I had sore neck.

Same buddy and I crashed into a car mid air while hill hopping. I had bumps and bruises. He was driving both times, by the way.

I crashed the ZRX on gravel in an intersection. Minor damage to the gear, minimal damage to the bike. I drove it home without a clutch lever, and didn’t hit a single light red. I should mention it was about 15 miles in Northern VA.

I could go on, but you probably see the point. Things go wrong, and I end up getting hurt. But really, there are so many times where it could have -easily- gone so much more wrong.

So I will put her back together, and ride her again. I’m leaving for Tellico on the 18th.

A neat compilation of slo-mo videos.