A Dilemma

For the few of you who follow my blog I'm sure you've noticed there's no real structure or format here. I don't write about any one thing and I'm sure as hell not consistent with updates, but if you enjoy my occasional rant that's great.

I'm writing at this moment because I find myself in a moral dilemma and I thought perhaps some of you might be willing to give share some feedback, thoughts and opinions.

As you may have guessed, or figured out by now, my Mother has terminal lung cancer. Caused by her 25+ years of smoking. She is currently in stage IV and has been given less than seven months with proper treatment, and less than two without.

Since her diagnosis she has refused to quit smoking, or even make an attempt to quit. I have bought patches, gums, lozenges and even electronic cigarettes. Most she never even tried, not even once.

Although I do all the shopping for household supplies and groceries, I have refused to buy her cigarettes because of my objections to her continuing to smoke. Not only do I believe that it will continue to do her harm, but the doctors have been very clear that it can (and most certainly will) interfere with her chemotherapy treatments causing them to be less effective.

Because I have refused to purchase her cigarettes, she has been making her own little trips to the corner market to buy them on her own. It isn't a far distance, and I think the walk is generally good for her, as well as the incentive to smoke less if she knows she has to make the effort to go buy them.

However over the last few weeks she has become less and less mobile and I'm beginning to worry about her safety and well being on these "little trips" she takes 2-3 times per week.

The question I pose is: Do I continue my protest in buying her cigarettes, based solely on principle, even though it might mean she could hurt herself on one of her walks? She's going to smoke anyway, should I just give in and buy them for her?

I'm thoroughly confused, any insight would be helpful.

Sometimes You Just Know

Back in April I wrote a post about not feeling right, that something was wrong. But I couldn't find what it was. I was happy with my life, work, Zoey and my family.

I hadn't thought about it until just now. A few weeks after that feeling overcame me my Mother fell terribly ill. She tried to shake it off, but eventually went to the hospital and was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer.

Just goes to show you... sometimes you just know.

A Fantasy... for her - Part 1

"He'll show" I tell her.

My beautiful, petite little Asian sits at the table in our hotel room sipping her Jack and coke, wondering when he'll arrive. I love watching her nervous excitement before we play, especially the way she bites her lower lip. It always makes me smile.

She met him earlier in the night at our usual club.

We had arrived a little after 10pm, which is perfect for us because it's right as the last of the dinner crowd is leaving, and the open the skylights to allow smoking in the lounge area.

We ordered a round and checked out the scene, usually there are one or two girls we both like, and she tries to pick out at least one guy.

I had gone to the restroom and while I was away a stranger had asked for a light. I saw her chatting with him, I didn't want to frighten her new boy toy away so I waited and watched for a bit. They talked, smoked and he ordered her another drink, a lychee martini to be precise.

He looked very promising, around 6'1 with squared off features, well dressed, but not the typical douche bag club type. She touched his arm, then whispered something in his ear. He nodded his head and a smile drew across her face.

"What did she ask him?" I think to myself. Her hand waves me over, she knew where I was the whole time.

As we make idle chit chat about the Lakers, other local hot spots and whatever other topics we can think of, I still can't help but be curious about what she asked, and what his nod meant. Soon I realize her right hand began to rub just above his thigh. She looked me straight in the eye as she felt his cock for the first time.

I knew what she wanted, and what I wanted. Two men satisfying her every desire.

Throughout the night she continued to flirt with him and feel his cock. I teased her cunt whenever she would turn her back to me. The people around us seemed to fade away as we got more into each other.

Finally I made the suggestion that we retire somewhere more comfortable, a hotel a few blocks away. Everyone agreed and we set off on our way.

Now looking at her I can only hope he arrives soon, she's far too anxious. Suddenly a knock at the door comes and she rushes to great him. She can tell he's hard already and needs to get off first before we have some real fun.

Before he can say a word she drops to her knees and tugs at his belt. In seconds his thick cock is down her throat. She's an expert when it comes to satisfying a mans most pornographic desires.

Slowly she slid her hands up her body until they were cupping her tits, her fingers finding her pierced nipples, rolling and pulling on them while she sucked his cock.

She pulled away from him for a second, to smile at me. I nodded and gave her a smile that assured her I enjoyed the show. She turned back to see a drop of pre-cum at the tip of his cock. His breathing was becoming more labored and she knew that soon he would have to cum.

"I'm going to cum," he warned, her hand moving faster and faster.

"Yes, cum, please cum for me," She begs.

Hot cum shot from his cock covering her right cheek. The next spurt flew into her waiting mouth splashing against her tongue, her lips wrapped around his shaft as she continued to suck him, swallowing his entire load. She let her tongue play over the head of his cock, making him moan and coaxing the last of his cum from him before letting him go and sitting back on her heels, cum dripping off her chin.

To be continued...

To Tip or Not to Tip

I'm a big tipper. Always have been, always will be. As long as the service is normal you'll get 20% from me everytime, and if it's above average I've been known to tip 30% and above. I say this not as a bragging point, but only to set up the fact that I'm not cheap, nor do I typically associate with those who are.

I tip well because my mother worked in the food service industry for many years, and I know how hard she worked. She also worked many of those years in Michigan where minimum wage does not apply to waitstaff and they can be paid as little at $2.15 an hour. At least it used to be that way, I don't know if anything has changed in the last eight years, but I doubt it. That $2.15 an hour went almost entirely to taxes, so people who waited tables in Michigan lived entirely on tips.

Now here in California things are different. All servers are paid at least the state minimum wage of $8.00 an hour. Not much, but certainly better than the former. Although I applaud the state for mandating that servers are provided a better living wage, I wonder if it causes a lower level of customer service.

Obviously if you don't make any money on your paycheck, then you rely on tips. But if you make enough to survive on your paycheck then tips are just "bonuses." Of course most of us couldn't survive on minimum wage, but many students living at home can. Or anyone who just needs money for gas, beer and cigarettes.

I bring this up because the other night I experienced the second worse case of service in a restuarant in my life. I really felt we shouldn't have left a tip, but Zoey and I left $2.00 anyway. It was about 9% of the bill, which is certainly less than I usually leave, but it still felt like too much.

What was so wrong you might ask? Here's the list, in no particular order:

- She forgot my drink, then after being reminded she brought me diet instead of regular

- My drink didn't come until about two thirds of the way into our meal (we had already finished ten tacos we got at the taco bar)

- I never received a refill on my drink, nor was asked, despite it being empty at the end of the table

- She never brought us silverware or napkins, eventually I had to grab drink napkins from the bar.

- She never once said "please", "thank you", or "you're welcome"

- The food we ordered from her was was cold*

So I'm wondering, did we tip too much? Or should we have left the customary 20%? Have you had similar experiences where you felt that you shouldn't have left a tip? I'm really interested in any feedback you might have.



*Typcially I don't blame food quality on servers because there are many factors out of their control that can effect it. However we only ordered chicken nachos. I've worked in a restuarant and I know that a single order of nachos being cold is only because she didn't bring it out on time.

Deliberate Gentle Sex Master (DGSM)

Ok I lied. I can't stop doing these tests, and I think they're fun to post on here. I'm gonna post something more substantial later.


Deliberate Gentle Sex Master (DGSM)

Straight-up. Studly. Congratulations, you are The Bachelor.

You’re an honest, good-thinking guy, and though you’re very sexually active, people don’t perceive you as a male-slut or man-whore or guy-dick-putter-inner or whatever. You have a sterling reputation.

You’re a careful person, perhaps too much so for your friends’ tastes, but girls like that in you. You probably don’t kiss & tell. And you definitely don’t brag. You know you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. It’s as if you believe in monogamy, so long as it’s with lots of different people.

Our guess is that you’ve got some kind of word-of-mouth going with the girls out there, and that in the future, your sex partners will get even more plentiful, and more attractive, too.

You will settle down eventually, and make an excellent husband. You seem like the type who is into the idea of making copies of yourself, so you’ll probably have kids. Bear in mind, meanwhile, this can get expensive.

ALTERNATE ENDING: You will die broke and alone. Vermin will feast on your ragged body for five days before the groundskeeper notices. The thing is, when somebody dies in a public restroom, the natural odor of his decomposing flesh is often masked by the feces smell.