Last night, the temperatures plummeted to an irritating 51 degrees. In Texas, this is damn cold. Yes, I'm a predictable whimp who craves hot chocolate during *wicked winter months. Noting I was out of cocoa, I sluggishly poured into my favorite tight jeans and artfully arranged my French beret on top of my blonde hair. The beret was red like my coat. This is not a coincidence.
I struggled inside my SUV. I struggled because it was an irritating 51 degrees and the vehicle was cold, kind of like my love life. I drove eight miles north, meandering on a narrow country road. A buck dodged in front of me. I slammed on the break, pushing my palm on the horn. "Effin' *mating season!" I arrived at Barnes and Noble Bookstore, home of flirty geriatrics and out-of-shape mommies armed with baby strollers. B&N makes the best hot chocolate. I ordered mine with an extra delicate cloud of whipped cream on top.
With cocoa in hand, I curiously strolled the relationship book isle. A baldheaded dude in an obnoxious orange 'Keep Austin Weird' T-shirt eyed me. He smelled of cologne and too much. He stunk. We exchanged glares, then he darted to the cookbook isle, leaving me alone in the love/romance isle. This isle is where losers go seeking out knowledge to either enhance or just land a friggin' love life.
There were relationship books on how to be a better bitch and how to be a better lover. I suppose I could be a bitch in bed, maybe that would land me a love life. I thought about it for a few moments before moving on to the next book entitled: 'When Duct Tape Just Isn't Enough.' My eyes lit up like a horny, geek boy watching porn for the first time. Wow, duct tape improves the romance? I asked myself, as I reached for the book with semiconsciousness excitement. I nervously looked around for that baldheaded dude. I did not want him catching me reading about duct tape. Gawd, how gross, I thought, thumbing through the unexpected love manual.
This so-called romance book written by Popular Mechanics for quick fixes for everyday disasters was misfiled in the love/relationship isle. Disappointed, I squeezed the book back on the shelf between sex and marriage, and trudged out the door. I sipped on my hot chocolate, it was cold.
* Freeze-your-ass-and-tits-off cold.
*Horny Texas bucks chasing after Bambi on narrow country roads.
Atyrau - Day One
I visited a camel farm approximately 15 kilometers from Dostyk Village in Atyrau, Kazakhstan where I stayed during my vacation. I will explain Dostyk in another entry. Most people just can't hop on a plane and vacation in Atyrau. First, you have to be invited by the government and have lots of paperwork or you will be turned away at the airport.
There were 600-700 camels roaming the desert. Zaru is an 85-year-old camel herder. She owns 120 of the 600-700 camels. She milks (I believe) all of the camels twice a day and has been doing this since she was 12. Her hands are like bricks. Her skin showed deep canal-like lines. She cries. And, the sun's rays have branded her tears within those deep lines, a permanent reminder of the harsh life and cruel heat. I didn't get to meet her on this day. But, was shown a beautiful mosaic picture that my step-daughter's husband created from photos he had taken. I wanted to meet her and think everyone who visits Atyrau must. In fact, it should be listed on some kind of tour guide.
One interesting photo-op that stood out on the camel farm was an ancient cemetery. We took photos and had a picnic.
The ex-pats who work for TengizChevroil live comfortably in nice homes at Dostyk, which is a secured gated compound. Residents have drivers. During my visit, I had a polite man named Zhanboolat drive me and my family to the camel farm. He spoke some English, but mostly Russian. He tried to teach me Russian, and I tried to teach him English.
Zhanboolat has been a driver since 1999. I knew this because he wrote the number '1999' in the sand with a stick. He wore a smile and a gold tooth. My first Russian word he taught me was 'choo-choo' meaning 'train' as he pointed to a train moving slow in the distance. It was hauling oil from the TengizChevroil field.
Then, a camel spit on me.
Popeye's Chicken is predicting record profits as legalization of medical marijuana has now reached 13 states."We're building 250 locations within stumbling distance of the marijuana distribution centers in a project called 'Operation Munchies' rendering our company literally recession proof," said CEO Carl McLamb.
Customer reactions have been overwhelming. "It really cut down on the commute, plus, what was I saying?" said one customer who wanted to remain anonymous. "I used to have to drive like a really long way to satisfy my munchies. That really sucked. Hey, you gonna eat that?" said another customer, who forgot his name.
(written by Austin Girl's 26-yr-old stepson)
CONFESSION #5: Fat
Bastards are stuck in the 80s. They are love-struck dogs hopelessly obsessed
with donning Ray Ban’s and watching “Risky Business” in their white boxers.
This warped obsession occurs when the parents have left for the evening and
they have nothing better to do but raid the refrigerator and piss on momma’s
brand-new carpet.
And, Fat Bastards’ dreams are always the same. Instead of going home, they dream of sneaking to their neighbors’. They ring the doorbell, but nobody answers. The door opens. The shower is running, so they wobble upstairs to check things out. Then, they will see the bitch.
So passionate with the ‘Love on a Real Train’ scene, Fat Bastards actually refer to themselves as ‘Joel’ and fantasize about Rebecca De Mornay, Porches and Guido the Killer Pimp. Why? Cuz, Fat Bastards rule!
http://www.confessionsofafatbastard.blogspot.com
Confession: I was drunk on tequila while hiking in Costa Maya. I came across an evil-looking temple and decided, 'what the hey, where's my friggin journal. 1826 words
LEGEND OF THE BLACK SERPENT
A NOVEL BY AUSTIN GIRL ©
IN EACH OF US LIES A LEGEND
PROLOGUE
THE BLACK SERPENT
Darkness. Ominous darkness. His wickedness encased me like a cold coffin. He’d been stalking me for seven days — the mysterious man whose face was shielded by the night sky. His boots — I shuddered the first time I heard those cowboy boots shuffle across the cold, hard stone of the ruin. They were python with a medium box cut toe with a two-inch riding heel and a decorative vamp. With every step, they made a distinct click. He never took them off; he wore them all the time. It was as if the boots were an extension of his lengthy legs.
The mysterious man had intolerably good looks that he wore with a memorable swagger. Both were breathtakingly seductive with promise. And that promise was fulfilled when he sated my every desire. He bequeathed beauty, youth and sexuality. These gifts flooded me with unshakeable confidence; in fact, I bathed in them. And, after I’d absorbed them, I radiated a power unattainable by human standards. But tonight under the hot canopy of The Kingdom’s eerie jungle, my shadow, my stalker, my follower has come to collect. He has come to collect a debt.
The Dagger. His dagger — a symbolic vessel to an evil world, lied dormant inside his hiding place. Sheathed inside his black oilskin duster for isolation and maximum protection, the blade alone measured twenty-inches in length with a full ten pounds of tempered steel. On the gold handle gleamed elegant and intricate carvings that reminded me of a complicated road map leading to a final destination. The blade too was decorated, sporting a symbolic crest — the Serpent — the Black Serpent. The Black Serpent snaked down the blade’s center until at the blade’s tip, the Black Serpent’s jaws spilled opened, revealing a dark world where evil ruled.
The Rubies. The Rubies set as the Serpent’s eyes were a beautiful deep rich red hue as intense as they were desirable and hypnotic. Their brilliance penetrated the darkness, casting an eerie light in the blackness of night. The Rubies could see where no mortal man’s eyes could see. Like their owner, the Rubies roamed the night, scanning for souls. They were his eyes — Da’Vari’s eyes. The Rubies paused their restless sweeping when I came into view, the stones glittering with excitement as if this scene had become all too familiar. The Serpent was alive. And, it became clear to me that the dagger was Da’Vari’s soul. Da’Vari’s dagger held powerful secrets to an evil world.
The Diamonds. Princess-cut white diamonds lay on the Serpent’s forked tongue. The tongue exploded with a sparkle as rare as the diamonds themselves. I could see them even when Da’Vari was in silhouette, stoking a fire that burned behind me. The air was clouded with thick dark smoke. Gripped tightly in his left hand, the Black Serpent dagger hissed as the flames burned and grew taller. Da’Vari flung stones with the dagger’s tip with the gentle ease of a calm whisper. The Serpent’s diamond-encrusted tongue bathed in the flames with passion and zest as if it were quenching an unpredictable hunger. The Serpent’s eyes — the Rubies — seemed to glance in my direction. I sensed that if I stared in the Rubies long enough, I’d experience unbearable pain and suffering. The Rubies were the windows to hell: my hell.
In the firelight, my reflection shone on the Serpent’s tongue, reflecting off the diamonds. My reflection danced on the diamonds, serenading me. My heart raced when I glimpsed my provocative and disturbingly beautiful vision: superbly wavy golden-blond locks cascaded below my tiny waistline. There — deep-lashed eyes the hue of blue topaz, creamy, silky skin as luminescent as a pearl. My lips pulsated and trembled. I rubbed them and wondered if time had disappeared? An artic chill enveloped my body, my thoughts as I shivered and trembled in my red couture chiffon dress. With every move, the form-fitted gown made it difficult for me to breath. Why am I wearing an expensive formal? I felt weak and tired. I needed sleep.
Suddenly, an intense sting penetrated me as Da’Vari turned my way. He had thrown his dagger in my heart. Agony shot through my body. The pain felt like six thousand scorpions at once were plunging their pinchers into my most vulnerable organ. As I began to fall in and out of consciousness, I heard a hiss — the Black Serpent’s hiss — as the Black Serpent Dagger lodged inside me — devouring and feasting on my soul. His master’s deeply disturbing voice ripped through a seemingly vast lonely desert of my darkness. “Sucking chest wound. The worst kind. Life’s way of saying slow down,” Da’Vari laughed.
To regain a hold on consciousness, I focused on my breathing, painful and labored as it was. Gulping down the sinful air created an abyss of dryness deep in my throat. I coughed, swallowing my own spit for nourishment. Have I gone to hell? Blood dripped from my hand as I raised it. I stared in horror before licking them. Blood. Fresh blood. I licked my fingers to soothe their ache. Oh, I still feel -- no, I’m not dead yet I thought. A full moon beamed its light on the ruin. The dagger shut its Ruby eyes as I probed my surrounding quickly for water to quench my compulsive thirst. A droplet of blood fell off my lips. It traveled down the side of the stoned wall. I turned my head in the same direction. I leaned over the fifty-two-foot ledge of the ruin and watched in sheer delight as my blood landed in a pool of natural reservoir of water. Water.
My eyes lit up like a full winter’s moon as I witnessed my droplet of blood crashing in the water below creating a wave. “You have the key to The Kingdom, Jessi.” Da’Vari said. His sinister voice rang with a violent echo. His words controlled me. He controlled me. I returned to my captive state. I returned to my dark place.
