The Art of Seduction in the Cyber Age

     I remember when we were about 13 or 14, my best friend and I brilliantly came to the conclusion that it'd be a great idea to go down to the local drugstore, and take pictures of our penises in one of those little photo booths.  No, no, no... this is not the beginning of some scenario straight out of a gay porn.  We just thought that it'd be funny for each of us to take our own individual turns taking the pics, after writing something that we considered clever on our penises,and distributing them at school, although I can't recall to whom.  Knowing us, we probably would've slipped them into the lockers of some girls, or most likely posted them where they'd be most likely to be seen by the largest audience, and hence provide the most shock value for our buck.

     So, we were on our way to the drugstore, and when we were about 2 blocks away from it, I suddenly realized, that it would be best to show up well prepared.  And when I mean well prepared, I meant boner in hand.  Well, not "in hand" literally, because that kind of "in hand" was what I was looking to avoid.  What I meant was, we wanted to display our full potential, and it would've been calling way too much attention to ourselves, if we were sitting in the booth for a few minutes, waiting for inspiration.  So we sat down on the sidewalk curb, each of us alone in his own thoughts, and in our mind's eye, leafing through the pages of our own personal catalogue of fantasies.  For some reason, it took us much longer than you would think.  I mean, at age 13, my biggest problem lay in getting a boner to go away, not in getting it to show up.  In my reading class at school, I usually was still sitting in my desk a few minutes after the sounding of the bell that signaled the end of class.  My teacher would be frowning with her arms crossed, and I'd be saying "I'm just trying to finish this chapter.  Do you mind?!"  Without fail, during the last couple of minutes of class, I'd be distracted by the girl who sat 2 desks ahead of me.  She was plain looking, slightly built, and slightly abrasive.  But for some reason, that was all it took for me to "salute" her.  So I had to think of something totally unrelated or something repulsive to make my boner go away. 

     After a while, my friend and I both felt sufficiently prepared to walk the final 2 blocks to the drugstore.  But when we walked in, I realized something that we hadn't taken into consideration.  The curtain on the photo booth didn't go all the way to the floor, and in order for us to get our "junk" in the shot, we would've had to have stood on the little stool (the kind that you sit on, not drop in the toilet) with our pants down around our ankles.  Realizing that such a scene would've been hard for store employees or shoppers not to notice, we had to abandon our plan.

     Young people don't realize just how good they have it these days, with the variety of methods that technology had made available, that facilitates taking and distributing pictures of their naked parts.  I can't help but wonder, if in a few years, I'm going to find myself pointing out to my nephews just how good they have it.  Undoubtedly, this will replace the kind of stories that people used to tell, that went something like:  "When I was your age, I used to walk to school, 5 miles each way, barefoot in the snow!"

     These days, we have web cams, camera phones, and digital cameras, all the stuff that an exhibitionist needs to feel that every day is his or her birthday.  And its not just for exhibitionists.  For some, sending erotic pics is a legitimate from of flirting, something that can take a budding relationship to another level, or spice up a long term one.  A couple of months ago, I jokingly text to my ex-girlfriend from Jr. High, to send me some naked pics.  We're strictly platonic friends now, and have been for a long time now, without any flirtation involved.  Nonetheless, she replied, "You first."  After I confirmed that she wasn't kidding, I shrugged my shoulders and thought, "Why not?"  We exchanged both pictures and compliments, and I couldn't help but think how ironic it was, that it was years after we had stopped dating, and on a whim, that I would see parts of her that I could only dream of at age 13.  And I owe it all to the advancement of technology, which helped in making people feel less inhibited about how they feel about sex, and their bodies, while also increasing the access that people have to each other.  Then again, I'm sure that secretly, the increased ability to send and receive "junk pics" is a main reason that these technological advances came into being in the first place, right?

    Although that kind of communication can be nice on occasion, thankfully for me, it hasn't killed my ability to communicate in other ways, namely, verbally or through writing.  Unlike some of those people that I hear about on the Craigslist personal ads or dating websites, particularly the guys.  It seems that for some, emails containing conversation are out, and penis pics are in.  What the hell is wrong with these guys, to think that sending pics of their junk to strangers is a totally acceptable way to communicate?  Who taught them that stuff?  Is it that they just received  bad life skills advice from their Dad when they were growing up?

    "Son, if you ever find yourself in a position where you're at a loss for words... just whip out your penis." Is the teacher asking you a question that you don't know the answer to? ... Just whip out your penis.  If you're having dinner with your girlfriend's parents for the first time, and her Dad asks you what your plans for the future are... Just whip out your penis.  If you're on a job interview, and your potential employer asks you what you can bring to the job... Just whip out your penis.  When someone asks you what Uncle Pete gave you for Christmas, or when you try to volunteer with the Big Brother's program, and they ask you what would make you a good Big Brother...Yeah...You know the rest...

SHE SHOULD BE THANKING ME...

     Some people may have felt disgust with Kara Crabb's article "Pee in my mouth" which was posted on Vice.com (and reposted on tumblr.com), which advocated the use of one's own urine as a health aide, including gargling with it because it supposedly made a great tooth whitener.  Of course on the other hand, there will also be those who get turned on by such an idea, as well as the handful, who in the interest of science and discovery, will then consume vast amounts of fluids and test the theory on an unsuspecting friend who is passed out on the floor from the previous night's beer bash.

    But as for me, I just felt a little relieved.  A few years back, while visiting my then-girlfriend, I got up from where I was sitting and was about to head to the bathroom.  I had only gotten a few steps, when my girlfriend stopped me by putting her hands on my chest.  She then began undoing my belt as she dropped to her knees.  Now I was faced with a dilemma?  Go to the head... Or get some head?  I'm a guy, so that was an easy choice, especially since my need to go to the bathroom didn't feel urgent.  About 30 minutes later, just as I felt I was about to climax... I realized that I was wrong.  In that one second I had left to think, I realized that I should've made a quick bathroom stop after all, so I wasn't as surprised as she was, that instead of cum, she got a mouthful and faceful of piss.  After the first couple of seconds of shock and surprise, she tried putting her hands up to block the stream, but it just caused it to spray in her eyes and hair.  I apologized profusely, while holding back the strong urge to laugh hysterically.

     Although it's not like I wake up some nights in a cold sweat after having nightmares about that incident (she probably does), I still think of it from time to time, and I feel a little twitch of guilt about it.  Well, after I stop laughing of course.

    So thank you, Kara Crabb, because now I see that I don't have to feel a bit of guilt, because now I realize, that whether I had cum or pissed, really, she should be thank me, because all I would've done, is to help whiten her teeth.

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Ouija and Me

     It's always interesting to see the various reactions that people will have when you mention playing with a Ouija board.  Some will consider it a game of harmless fun, while others may wet themselves at the very idea, and still others may try to wet YOU, yet still be intrigued with the idea of possibly making contact with the spirits of the dead.  Myself, I've only played a few times, and my first experience was when I was 12.

     It was on a Saturday night, and I was going to spend the night at my best friend's house, as was one of our other friends.  We had gotten called in from the park across the street, and I really didn't want to go outside, mostly because two chicks had just started making out at the park, and that was the first time that I had ever seen that.  Of course, it could've been the 100th time that I had every seen that, and I still wouldn't have wanted to go inside.  But we all went inside my friend's house, where his parents were, as well as some of his relatives and family friends who were visiting.  Soon, my best friend's mom suggested that we all play with the Ouija board.  I had seen one in the movie "The Exorcist", but I had never seen one in real life, let alone played with one.  I said to my friend, "Whoa! Is your mom serious?!"  He nervously  answered, "Yeah..."

   So his mom brought out the Ouija board, explaining how it was used, and saying that a spirit would answer any questions that we asked.  I was both curious and a little unnerved at the same time.  Would it really work?  Would we really be in contact with the dead, or an evil spirit?  Would everyone find out that "I" was the one who had overflowed the toilet?

    A few different people tried playing the game, and after a few questions and "answers", my best friend's mom asked the spirit to give us a sign, that would indicate that it truly was a spirit we were communicating with, and the spirit said that we would receive one within 30 minutes.  And oh, yeah...the spirit had identified itself as "The Devil".  I was a little nervous, but still not completely convinced of anything.  In the meantime, my friend's mom then began telling us stories about the supernatural, that she claimed either her or her friends had experienced.  Then, after about 25 minutes... the lights in the kitchen began flickering on and off.  Now some of us were starting to get a little freaked!  But that was just the beginning.  My friend's mom that got someone to resume playing the Ouija with her, and she then began asking questions like: "Are the boys going to see anything in the bedroom tonight?"  I looked at my friend and asked, "What's your mom doing asking questions like that?!"  He just nervously shrugged his shoulders.  Then she asked, "Is something bad going to happen to the boys tonight when they're sleeping?"  "Man!  What the hell is your mom's freakin' problem?!"  "Ouija, will it happen before 5 a.m.?"  "I swear I've never hit a woman before, but..."  We were starting to freak!

     After a while, since it was late, and the adults intended to keep on partying, we were told to go to sleep.  We kept stalling and making excuses not to go to sleep.  Then we began to ask it we could sleep in the living room, reasoning that if "Ouija" said that it was the bedroom where something bad might happen, we'd somehow manage to cheat our fate.  We were refused, and told that we had to sleep in the bedroom.  Like "Dead men walking" we began to file into the bedroom, dragging our feet.  As we were preparing for sleep, my friend's mom entered the room, and removed the iron, plus any other heavy and/or metal objects, saying, "In case stuff start flying around..." Now we really were coming close to crapping our pants!

  The lights went out, and we all made a pact, that if anything bad were to happen, and one of us was still asleep, we'd leave no man behind.  It was me, my best friend, his brother, and our other friend.  And of course, our imaginations joined our fears, and we started seeing all kind of stuff in the darkness outside, like heads in the tree branches, mysterious shadows, and so forth.  We continued talking about our fears, getting ourselves worked up, and then my best friend said, "Don't worry guys, my Dads in the living room."  To which our friend wisely pointed out, "What's your Dad going to do?!  Beat up the Devil?!" 

     While that might've made an interesting pay-per-view, it never happened.  We all had eventually fallen asleep, although we all thought that it might be for the last time.  I have always been an early riser, and when I was the first to awake, I immediately looked at the clock.  5:05 am!  It was 5:05 am!  It was 5 minutes past the designated time of our doom!  We were safe!  I felt like kissing someone, but being in a room full of guys, that would've been really awkward.  I could only hope that the clock wasn't running fast...

"He AIN'T got game" - Rock RIms Comix

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IF I OPENED UP A STORE...

...I would post a sign that read:  "NO ASSHOLES ALLOWED". 

I wonder how many people would tell their signifcant other,

"Honey... I think you better wait in the car." - Rock Rims; 2011

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"MY BATHROOM DOOR" An Original poem by Rock Rims

    Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven"


Once upon a Midnight Dreary, While I was in the bathroom, weak and weary
I heard a knocking at my bathroom door.
"Who is there?" I did ask, while I was trying to wipe my ass,
"Who is knocking at my bathroom door?"
"It is I", a girlish voice did holler,
"I'll give you head for just a dollar,
So please, Sir, open up your bathroom door."
"If for one dollar you'll do this job,
by all means, come in and Bob on my Knob,
Please my Dear, come in through my Bathroom door."

And in came a girl who I did figure,
If her chest were any bigger,
Couldn't get through my bathroom door.
When she was done, and I had my fun,
I gave her a dollar for a job well done,
and said, "Please, My Dear, go now,
through my bathroom door."
She tossed back 50 cents, and said, "That is all,
I only charge half for an organ so small..."

...And that BITCH took off through my bathroom door!

A Rock Rims original poem

V96QT7RUJ6H

RESTAURANT REVIEW: THE ENCHILADAS WERE GREAT, BUT THERE WAS GUM IN THE VAGINA

     There's an ancient Chinese Proverb that say, "If you save a man's life, you are responsible for it for the rest of his life." WFT?!! Are they serious?!! Responsible for the rest of his life?!  That's a hell of an obligation.  I mean, wasn't the whole saving of a life thing the noble and wonderful thing in itself?  Hell, in this country they throw you a parade if you win a hot dog eating contest or acquire more that 300 "friends" on facebook.  And there's no guarantee that the guy who's life you saved, may even "like" it on your facebook page.

     I wonder how "ancient" this Chinese Proverb is anyway.  Somehow I think it came after  the invention of the opium pipe.  And just because the words "Ancient Chinese" are thrown in there, it doesn't make it wise.  And again, that's a hell of an obligation.  Before reading that proverb, my definition of obligation to my fellow man usually involved a courtesy flush when using a public restroom.  And I don't know why they call it a restroom anyway, because some of those people hardly sound like they're resting.

   So I had the concept of obligation fresh in my mind when I was invited by this woman to her place for Dinner.  We had met not long before, and had been engaging in phone conversation, emails, texts, and all with a heavy dose of flirting involved.  She offered to cook me a Homemade Mexican Enchilada Dinner.  So I arrived that evening at her Condo where she and her 5 year old son lived.  I had flowers in hand, a smile on my face, and a pint of brandy for her son's sippy cup in case the evening got really interesting between his Mom and I.  This woman had all 4 burners on the stove going, and the condo was filled with the wonderful aroma of good food, and she was looking pretty nice in her dress.

     While she was finishing the final preparations on our meal, I hung out with her son in his room, playing with his toy cars.  Being a big kid at heart, it wasn't a surprise that we had hit if off so well.  After a while, we were both called to the Dinner table, and I have to say, I was impressed by the spread.  It was an authentic, home cooked Mexican meal of Chicken Enchiladas, beans, and rice.  On the table was great food, sitting on my left was an energetic 5 year old  who I enjoyed spending time with, and on my right was sitting a blonde-haired, blue-eyed busty woman.  What was there not to like?

     The freakin' conversation, that's what.  There's no faster buzzkill for me than spending time with a woman who can't hold up her end of the conversation.  This may sound a little weird coming from a guy, but when it comes to my being attracted to a woman, it all starts with conversation.  Oh, don't get me wrong, it certainly doesn't hurt if the woman is easy on the eyes, and a woman who's confident and unique stands a great chance of getting my attention, but it's good conversation that makes or breaks the deal for me.  Usually that's a woman's complaint, that some men aren't into conversation enough, but believe me, that's not something that's a problem for me.  And oddly enough, the initial conversations between she and I were incredible.  They were engaging, intelligent, diverse, and filled with insight and laughter.  But lately, the last conversations that we had been having right up the the night of this dinner, weren't quite what they were in the beginning.  Sure, she laughed at my remarks, but then again, some people consider me to be quite witty, so that's not unusual.  But I was the one doing the vast majority of the talking.  Again, a bit of a buzzkill.

      Perhaps part of the problem was that much of our communication had become sexual in nature.  Oh, I know, you may be thinking, "How the hell is THAT a problem?!"  Well, often it isn't.  In fact, communication of a sexual nature is great, perfectly natural, and often adds an exciting, enticing, and wonderfully seductive element to the whole dance of interaction between a man and a woman.  For some, communication of a sexual nature is a milestone in a developing relationship, and can often help kickstart a waning one.  And I've had relationships, or probably it's more accurate to call them "arrangements" that were almost purely sexual in nature.  For the most part, it's "been there, done that" for me, so good conversation is more of a priority for me now than it once was, and I've had boring women literally kill my boner at times.

     After Dinner, we all sat on the couch, and this woman was hugging up on me as we watched tv.  It wasn't my idea to watch tv in the first place, as I would've preferred some stimulating conversation.  But it was her house, so I didn't object to the suggestion of watching tv, but it soon became apparent that the only voices I was going to hear other than my own were going to have to come from the tv.  That is, other than the voice of her 5 year old son, who spent about 90 minutes whining, "I want chocolate.  Chocolate makes me happy!"  Eventually the kid got his chocolate, but I didn't get any interesting conversation.  The woman continued to snuggle up to me, and then after a while, she put her son to bed.  The woman and I then began to make out on the couch.  Even though I wasn't totatally feeling her, we had been engaging in lots of sexual talk prior to this, and she went to the trouble of making me a nice dinner, so part of me felt almost like I owed it to her, plus I thought that maybe if I got a little physical with her,  I might start feeling her a little more.  The kissing and the groping were alright for me, but she was starting to get really hot and bothered, and soon said, "Let's go into the bedroom."  I wasn't exactly sure if that's what I wanted with her, but those really were some damn good enchiladas, so I agreed.  Before we did, I told her that I was going to make a quick stop at the bathroom.  She then asked me if I wanted her to prepare a plate of food to take home with me for the next day.  I said, "ok, thanks."  She responde, "Good!  Now you'll have to come back to return my Tupperware!"  Damn... that chic set me up.

     We ended up in the bedroom, where I found that it was filled with lit candles.  This chic was really prepared!  Having in mindd the fact that I wasn't really sure that I wanted sleep with her, plus the fact that she was already planning to have me return the way that she set me up with the Tupperware, I tried to bail myself out.  "Damn!  You know what?!  I left my condoms in the car!  Hold on, I'll go downstairs and get them."  "Oh, don't worry about it," she said.  "I have some right here."  Damn.  She then opened a drawer on her nightstand, where she not only had condoms, but an arsenal of vibrators and dildos of a wide variety.  Once, a female friend of mine offered to fly me into another state for a few days, where she would be engaged in specialized military training for a few months, in order for us to hang out and hook up.  In one of our phone conversations, she mentioned that she was horny and wished that she had a vibrator.  I told her that I thought that a vibrator should be standard military issue, at least for the women (and I suppose for whatever men who were so inclined.  Not my thing, but why discriminate?) I mean if you're going to isolate them during training, or if they're going to be deployed overseas for several months, wouldn't that be the only humane thing to do?  And I think that someone would make a fortune if they included a vibrator as part of a Special Edition Swiss Army knife.

     Well, this chic who presented me with the condom was well stocked on her toys, as if she was one of those "Prepper Chic" Survivalist extrememists, preparing her bunker for Doomsday.  Non--perishable food, water batteries, candles, flashlights, and of course, vibrating eggs.  All the essentials a Prepper chic needs for survival  So we engaged in more foreplay, and I was really conflicted as to whether I wanted to proceed further, when I reminded myself that I grew up in a Latino family, and I never felt an obligation to repay any of my female relatives this way whenever they cooked me one of their kick-ass meals!  So I started in with the fake yawns, prompting her to ask, "Do you have gum in your mouth?!"  To which I responded, "Uh, yeah, I do.  Why?"  She said,  "Because my pussy feels cool and minty!"

     I stifled the urge to bust out laughing, and I produced another fake yawn, along with an excuse that I hadn't been sleeping very well for the last several days, which was actually true, and that I should probably head home, since I had a long drive ahead of me.  She was trying to maintain her composure, but she obviously wasn't taking it too well  After picking pieces of gum off of her bare breasts, and muttering something about the "female equivalent of 'Blue Balls'", she walked me to her door.  I gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek, thinking of how lucky I was to have escaped this particular dilemma, grateful that in spite of some of the absurd situations I've sometimes found myself in, it also sometimes seemed as if somebody was really looking out for me.  I was feeling like the luckiest bastard in the world, with quite the charmed life, right up to the point where she said with a smile, "Here, don't forget your food, and don't forget to bring back my Tupperware!"

     Son of a...