A Baseball Gender Question

As I begin writing this post, I am sitting in a pub watching a baseball game. Indeed, I'd rather watch the snow melt, but I have time to kill while my kids are at a rehearsal, so here I am. One of the broadcasters just mentioned what a shame it is that the tradition of baseball is not being passed on by parents to the younger set. That's right. It's our fault that the younglings have no love of the diamond, the struggle of hitter v. batter, chewing tobacco, and steroids. Soon all will be forgotten. I have one question. Why should we? OBJECTION!!! Yes, this is a sex positive post, your honor. If the court allows me some leeway, I suspect my reasoning for this will be clear. I promise, your honor, at no time will I refer to the [Read more...]

The Best Kiss

Author's note: I really don't write enough humour anymore...I apologize in advance, and though the initial attempt was to take this week's prompt seriously, I failed. They once said that the kiss of Buttercup and Wesley blew away the top kisses of all time. Hogwash! This is vanilla propaganda, at its worst. The best kiss, though. It, of course, happens only once and causes us to spend the rest of our lives attempting to recreate that moment. I invite you, dear reader, to picture a half-full parking lot bathed in sunshine on a frigid day. I in my parka, and her in her cap, we had lunched and moved outside from the pubbish restaurant towards our vehicles. Knowing we each had to return to work, it seemed to be an event [Read more...]

Eight Minute of Pink

Press play... Pink, she thought as she studied it. It had taken a long time to finally have this chance and she needed to make sure that she took this opportunity and ran with it. Her chin rested on Marcus' thigh as she sat back on her knees. High black boots protected her knees from rug burn; she had learned that lesson the hard way the last time she had tried to do this. Her brunette hair held in a tight ponytail that bobbed just above her shoulders. "I stood in this unsheltered place, 'til I could see the face behind the face..." Peter Gabriel crooned quietly from the speakers, nearly drowned out by Marcus' snores. With the tip of her right pointer finger, she ran it along the seam that held the pink lunar-looking surface [Read more...]