mockable.org

Funny story.  There was a certain evening in SF where I met a gal at a pub, who was quite amorous, & we took the block and a half stroll to my place.

We tumbled on my bed, and after about 30 seconds of violent mashing she was safecracking my jeans, and once she dialed in the code, she went to town.

An epic BJ…slobbering with full hand action and twisting of the mouth on different angles. She knew her dicks, that was for sure. So of course after about a minute of this treatment, like any dude that doesn’t have a Van Nuys area code,  I blasted.  I was drunk, but wasn’t THAT drunk – she had just played Fur Elise on my beef whistle, and a standing ovation.

Now here I was, the buzz of many beers and an epic orgasm floating through me, and this gal is leering at me for more.  I knew I didn’t have another one in me, but I felt obligated to try. I pushed her over and diddled her for the required amount of time when I got the salute from LF Jr that we were good to go.  Message not received.

I had what I like to call a ‘medium bendable.’ We weren’t ready for action, but we were doing tired calisthenics.  She was no virgin, so she could receive a summer sausage if needed.

Bottom line, I folded my cock in half and jammed it into that slathery mess.  She moaned approval…so I kept at it. But as my boner unfolded, the sex became impossible.  When I put my half-mast self  into that canyon, there just wasn’t enough friction to keep Junior alive…that whore…totally her fault.

So she left unsatisfied – and I went into the living room and played PGA Tour Golf with my roommates and smoked bowls.

FTW

In the interest of being green, I am recycling some old news.

Some people were born with greatness coursing through their veins, destined to be someone remembered for generations. Then in times of adversity, some people have greatness thrust upon them, as they rise up to the challenge and untapped traits of heroism emerge.

And sadly, there are occasions when people in leadership must courageously reach forth to grab the brass ring of greatness on behalf of others, but instead they fall face first into a rescue boat. Such is the tale of the internationally recognized coward, Francesco Schettino, Captain of the luxury liner Costa Concordia.

We all know the story. Captain Schettino led his ship a little too close to the rocks, where it was subsequently gouged and capsized. And in lieu of going down with his ship, the good Captain “tripped” into a rescue boat (as did other members of his commanding crew…I guess Italians are better known for loafers than topsiders) and left 17 passengers to drown on his sinking ship. Talk about chicken parmagiana…(ba-da-ching!!)

Which is surprising, because when doing some research on the subject, I came across some old video of Public Service Announcements that Captain Schettino did for a small Italian TV station. Ironically, the Captain was dispensing emergency safety tips that people should follow given a few hypothetical disaster situations.

With the help of my friend Giuseppe, I was able to translate and Americanize these PSA’s for the good of the citizens of the United States.  Here is a transcript of the PSA’s, which I transcribed in a terrible Italian accent for added realism. Enjoy and be safe!! 

EMERGENCY SAFETY TIPS FROM CAPTAIN FRANCESO SCHETTINO 

PSA#1:

Saluti! I’m Fransceso Schettino of-a the Italian navy with-a an importante safety tip for-a you. If-a you evah in-a hospitale, and-a disgruntled former employee come in-a with an automatic weapon and starts-a shooting up-a the place, here-a what you should do. You find-a what floor-a the nursery is-a on, and then run-a to the nursery. Take-a all-a of the newborns, stack-a them all-a up around you, and-a you make-a baby fort. Cry and make-a the mewling baby noises too, so-a no one knows-a you inside-a the baby fort until-a the shooting is-a over.

Buona fortuna!!!
PSA#2:
Saluti! I’m Fransceso Schettino of-a the Italian navy with-a an importante safety tip for-a you.  If-a you evah at a Furr’s Cafeteria in-a Florida when-a they issue-a hurricane warning, and-a you automobile won’t-a start, here’s-a what you do.

You find-a the weakest, most-a frail old lady a-sitting in-a powered wheelchair, and-a you throw her on-a the floor, then-a you steal-a the wheelchair. Now-a remembre, it’s-a most important to find-a the weakest, frailest one, because-a they are-a the least likely to-a maybe hurt you. You might-a want to kick-a her in-a the hip-a few times until it-a breaks to make-a sure she don’t-a come after you.

After you steal-a the wheelchair, you drive it to-a the parking lot, and-a you use-a the battery from it to start-a you car. After you start-a the car, you take-a the battery from-a the wheelchair, and-a you put it in-a you trunk. You do this-a for two reasons: Uno- you might-a need the battery again to start-a you car, and Due- the old-a lady with-a the broken hip, she can’t-a chase after you.

Buona fortuna!!!

PSA#3:

Saluti! I’m Fransceso Schettino of-a the Italian navy with-a an importante safety tip for-a you. If-a you evah in-a the midwest at-a big shopping mall, and there’s-a tora-nado warning, heres-a what you do. Wait until-a everybody get-a inside-a the storm shelter. Then-a you knock on-a the door, and-a say “hey…I was just-a outside, and-a the tora-nado, she went-a back up in-a the clouds.”

Then when-a everybody walks out-a the storm shelter, you run-a inside, and lock-a the door-a behind you. Then you take-a all-a the blankets, and-a make-a nice pallet to take-a nap. Use-a the cotton balls from-a the first aid kit, to-a stuff inside-a you ears to drown out-a all-a the screaming, and-a crying, and-a begging, and-a beating on-a the door. And if there is-a like effa-4 type destructione, you gotta-a plenty of bottled water to take-a towel bath before-a they dig-a you out.

Buona fortuna!!!

+++

I hope you enjoyed reading these Italian PSA translations as much as I enjoyed translating them for you.

See you next time!!  XO-LF

There's a new store in town.
They sell clothing and that's kind of nice. We haven't had a clothing store in our town for a while now and I've been forced to travel if I've needed to buy something.
While it's true that I hate shopping, I do, on occasion, get the urge to buy something pretty. I want to have something to wear if I ever win the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes.  Shut up! It could happen!

I keep my pretty outfit hanging by the door so if they come to my house and I see it's them,I have time to change into my pretty outfit. Imagine how disappointed my stalkers would be if they saw me on TV looking like a hag in a feed sack? Anyway, I had the urge to go look in the new store and see if there was anything pretty that I could buy.

I walked into the store and browsed for a few minutes, trying to shake off that whole creeped out feeling I get in clothing stores. I know those stick figure girls that work there are not pale because they're vampires but I still wonder if they're going to attack me while I'm trapped in the dressing room and feed on me. Maybe that's just me but it COULD happen...

I spotted a clearance rack and made a beeline to it,finding a cute little summer dress to try on within seconds. That's the kind of shopping I like. Fast, quick and easy. So I headed to the dressing room and smeared garlic paste on the door,(I'm paranoid, so what?)Then I put on the dress. I turned to look at myself in the mirror and almost screamed out loud. I looked like a sumo wrestler wearing a Hefty garbage bag. That's no shit either. It was just plain old scary.
I took the dress off, put my clothes back on and left the store as quickly as possible.

As I stood outside on the sidewalk, feeling disgusted and annoyed, I noticed some ladies. They were all wearing spandex, walking quickly past me toward a place called "Curves". Out of curiosity I followed them, mainly because they could wear spandex and get away with it. There had to be some secret to this miracle and I was going to discover it.

I walked into this "Curves" place and there were roughly five or six old ladies swaying back and forth to loud latino music. One of the spandex women walked over to me and told me it was the senior citizen Zumba class, but the next regular class would begin in ten minutes. I decided to watch, mainly out of curiosity, and because I'd tried this Zumba stuff before. Let's just say it didn't work out for me. I'm not coordinated and Zumba might as well stand for "Zealously Undulating My Big Ass" because that's about all I can do with it. So I figured that if the senior citizen class wasn't terribly complicated maybe I could just take that class. I mean, all I'd seen them do so far was sway back and forth to the music. Even I could manage to do that.
Oddly enough, they were all dressed alike, in white stretch pants with elastic waistbands. They all had the same kind of hair style too. As they swayed and stretched their arms, moving like they were riding invisible ponies, all I could picture was a group of Oompa Loompas doing Zumba. Substitute the green hair for blue hair and it was pretty damn close. Then I began singing the Oompa Loompa song in my head while watching them and I burst out laughing. I just couldn't help myself. It was hilarious and I was powerless to stop.
Everyone in the building was staring at me but I didn't care! I was waiting for Gene Wilder to step out of the back room and clap his hands, telling the Oompa Loompas it was time to get back to work, but it didn't happen. Instead, several of the spandex women asked me to leave.  So I left, still laughing.

I suppose this means I will not be welcomed to this "Curves" place anytime soon. Meh...I'm ok with that. I can't do any of those moves anyway. Besides, Swedish dancing is way more fun and I know how to do that.  Maracas?
Maracas,schmaracas. They got nothing on an accordion. As I'm concerned Zumba can suck it!
You haven't really lived until you've danced the polka to an Abba song played on the accordion, complete with the accompanying fiddles and guitars.

I'd rather be a dancing queen than an Oompa Loompa any day.

As for the pretty dress? I said to hell with it. Instead I'm thinking a Viking look might work or maybe a set of bunny footed pajamas, like the kind in the movie "The Christmas Story". Both are a much better representation of my personality than a pretty dress.

Dontcha think???