THE MAVERICK LIFE

TAKE A RIDE INTO THE MIND OF A LATIN MAVERICK WHO ALWAYS GRABS LIFE BY THE HORNS.....

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

I WANT TO GROW YOUNG...

I want to live my next life backwards:

You start out dead and you get that out of the way.
Then you wake up in an old age home and feel better everyday.
You then get kicked out for being too healthy, and enjoy your retirement and
collect your pension.
Then you begin your career and you buy a mansion on your first day.
You work 40 years until you're too young to work.
You get ready for High School: drink alcohol, party, and you're generally
promiscuous.
Then you go to primary school, you become a kid, you play, and you have no
responsibilities.
Then you become a baby, and then...
You spend your last 9 months floating peacefully in luxury, in spa-like conditions -
central heating, room service on tap, and then...
You finish off as an orgasm.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

WHEN ANIMALS ATTACK...

When a person is born and raised in the city, they're not usually accustomed to the wonders of nature and the creatures who roam the forests and fields of untouched habitat. Naturally, when someone who is raised in a concrete jungle crosses paths with this mysterious animal world, mayhem can ensue.

Missy, a friend whom I mentioned in a previous post, found herself in a hostile, violating situation two weeks ago. She decided to stop and have a bite to eat by a local park to soak up the beautiful day... but had no inclination as to what awaited her as she embraced her mastication with salivary slurps of delight...

With the sound of sinister violins fiercely playing in the background, an ominous rat-like creature approached Missy with the appetite of a ravenous wombat with an intense stare. Startled and repulsed, Missy instinctively clutched her food and screeched in the appropriate manner. Without expressing a single flinch, the demonic, famished creature-of-the-night did not react despite the waving of Missy's arms and her numerous kicking gestures. The squirrel continued to approach her with a satanic agenda. With food in its sight and no intention on backing off until it secured itself a french fry, this squirrel maintained its ground and it INTIMIDATED. What could have ended in a fierce struggle between sharp claws and Gucci shades, ended up commencing in a peaceful parting... the fluffy-tailed wonder became distracted by another unsuspecting hapless victim...

(after Missy threatened it's family and suggested dialing 911 of course...)

With an equal amount of horror and repulsion, my haggy Denise had a similar story regarding crossing paths with an animal. Before I divulge into that madness, I must inform my readers that Denise tends to be horrified of anything that is not human. Insects in particular have managed to alter her being and send her into a wild frenzy filled with anxiety, timidity and terror. Many a times I found myself responding to Denise's gravely screeches only to find a phlegmatic, non-threatening ladybug. This time though... I must admit, my hag's ear-piercing reaction was warranted:

With her fear of non-urban animals in mind, Denise was driving in her car when suddenly the car ahead of her hit the brakes and skid to a sudden halt. As she gained her composure, she noticed a moving object crossing in front of the vehicle ahead of her and asked her boyfriend what just happened. Before Rodney could answer, my hag noticed what looked like an unusually large rat with a long, thick tail scurrying slowly and arrogantly, as if it could care less that it almost caused an accident. With a foreboding fright, Denise locked eyes with what she later learned was a POSSUM. She asked her boyfriend what it was (again) and kept asking why it was in Brooklyn. Her agitation and despair soon transitioned into the vomit-inducing nausea she later felt. She continued to explain that the creature hopped onto the sidewalk and walked up the front steps of an apartment. It might as well have turned around and gave her the finger...

Why couldn't all animals look like gerbils.
(Insert gay joke here)

Saturday, May 16, 2009

A FISH CALLED... UM... I'M NOT SURE...

I consider the responsibility of raising a child the equivalent to climbing Mt. Everest with a flat-clawed hammer and a wind breaker. The task of raising a human being not only horrifies me, it also sends my X and Y chromosomes into a panic in which my sperm set up shop and refuse to exit my testes. Now, the last thing I want to do is repulse any of my readers. I truly don't mean to sound like an ogre. I just cannot fathom the thought of raising a child without the sudden urge of suicide crossing my mind.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been contemplating the thought of raising something which would be far less taxing on my psyche in general. Something that won't cause my neighbors to call Social Services on me regarding my parenting techniques. Ladies, gentlemen and trannies, I've been thinking about raising a fish. Now I'm sure some of you may be thinking, "I thought the last thing a gay man would want is to be near fish..." but I assure you, I never did mind the thought. Fish are quiet (no annoying crying when they are hungry), they don't require the annoying word some people like to call attention (I have push-ups to do dammit), and most of all... fish don't poop in the form of mud slides (microscopic worm-like poop I can handle). I guess the only comparison a fish might have with a possessed little child is the fact that they require a name. Here is where I'm a bit stumped and am asking for your help. I've come up with an exquisite list of contenders and I have to narrow it down to one. These are the names I'm considering:

1. Scallywag
2. Fishyface
3. Liverlips
4. Narcissus
5. Wanda
6. Harmonica Sunbeam
7. Gill
8. Mascara
9. Edward (as in Twilight)
10. Fishy Pussy

Now... I must mention that last winner was the brainstorm of my haggy Denise. Never one to disappoint with her assistance from hell, I've listed it as possible choice #10. My sister Natalie suggested that I not only get a fish, but that I get it a partner in crime. "The fish will become lonely" she said. I guess she's right. My only fear is that they will become mortal enemies and just simply not get along:

For what it's worth, I'm going to take a dive (pun intended) into the parenting waters with the notion of raising a life in the safety of a tank. Encased in glass, this little creature doesn't have to worry about getting run over by a truck because I somehow forgot to hold its hand. This little creature doesn't have to worry about the times I've forgotten to feed it because I decided to text incessantly with a friend, telling them how proud of a parent I am (fish can eat left-over residue from their pebbled rug). Most of all, this little creature doesn't have to worry about me giving it a swift back-slap when it acts a fool. I can handle the noise of little bubbles. After all, I'm not mean...

Sunday, May 10, 2009

LOST IN TRANSLATION...

Right back at ya sexy face...


Why thank you... thank you very much...


The lesser-known cousin...


Don't be a mobile moron...


Be a Lastaman...


You've been getting chubby around the fingers again...


Pillaging at its finest...


Mickey and his damned messages...


Keep your dog hydrated and he will return the favor...


I remember when I came out to my mom and told her that I was unbalanced...