Slice of Southern Rock, a Thigh Rolled Cuban & the Lost Art of the Hand Job

Fucking Blogger's having an upload seizure again, so photos are to follow... eventually. Sorry.

Friend of mine returned from the sensual Cuban coast over the weekend, brought me back a few chewy contraband cigars - heard that Castro has his stogies rolled between the inner thighs of a virgin (is that what Clinton was after?), I briefly consider becoming a cigar or a communist and carry on with my day. As the smoke billowed around us I got a hefty nicotine buzz, in that moment it all made sense, all came together, that is until I felt like hacking my lungs up in my lap.

Had another good weekend though, watched the Western Conference finals with the Dark Pig and the Sheep Loving Scotsman, they both brought their bitches with them but left their wives at home ;). Their pooches sniffed incessantly at each others poo puckers which of course prompted as many ass jokes as you can count and only increased as the imported beer began to bubble over into our boy brains. “Do you want to know how I know your dog is gay?”

Earlier that day the estranged gal pal moved most of her stuff out of the house save for a few plants and some miscellaneous merchandise so it was nice to have the boys around, beer batter the world a little bit. I’m anxious to have my life back though – maybe this time I’ll get a chance to figure out who I am before I drag myself back to the alter of apologies for another aggravation assault. Today I had to blow the dust off of the “I’m not ready for a relationship quite yet” line; it’s been a long time since I’ve pulled that one down out of the attic. She said it sounded forced and that I should do what my heart tells me, I told her that once it’s been thawed she’d be the first to know what shape it’s in much less what it has to say.

--

In walked the Dark Pig this past sullen Sunday afternoon saying *“Oink, oink wrunk snort, squeeeeal.”
* “There’s a song I found that you just gotta hear, it reminds me of you”

And so it was that the Pig and I sat on my parlor couch, beer in hand (or hoof) and his new CD on the Xbox 360 seeping from the speakers. We did very much the same thing on smooth summer nights as tawdry teenagers; one of us would have purchased our newest “discovery” disc and would give it an urgent spin for the other, mutually devouring the sounds that would bookmark our memories like sonic cue cards.

This time out it was “The Drive-By Truckers” latest, more importantly a song called “Gravity’s Gone” (give it a whirl below).

As it played we had a discussion regarding the “death of the hand job” being quite possibly attributed to male demand for hummers. He looked over at me after taking a lovingly long swig from his beer bottle and said “I love us” and I think he was right. We talked about how that moment in time reminded us of the suburban basement of his parents house when we were not only embryonic entities but creatures in search of self. Like a good cigar when you hear the right song it all comes together and at the very least for the duration of the song it all makes sense without losing a lung.

As much as we’ve grown over the past decade we’re still pretty much the same guys we always were, only a little more confident… or just too late to change, but still aware of it all just the same. A good song can change everything except where you came from and I'm glad for that.

I also count myself lucky that he didn't ask for a hand job, it would've been sad to see our friendship end over such a small matter.

iPod played "Drive-By Truckers - Gravity's Gone" while posting

Lessons Learned & Lesions Licked

Assuming that you use your beloved blog space as a personal forum wherein you either air your dirty diary, skewer the world with a sarcasm stick or even just casually comment on the state of your life & times – by a quick show of hands, how many of you allow the persons closest to you actually read what you have to say? Hmm, not as many as I thought, allow me to expand on that.

This blogspot scenario started as a pseudo-sexual society experiment and is now nothing but a Cannibal Corkboard littered with my un-distilled mental moonshine, painfully obvious missteps and the secret seasonings I decide to mix into the meat sauce. I never figured that I would have the year I did much less have it documented in such a way, so is it now or was it ever appropriate for those directly linked to the tales I tell to be able to read them? In the past, the most recent resident of the Casa De Cannibal used to be a frequent visitor, now that she and I have officially parted ways like so much Red Sea, is it within my rights to ask her to stop reading me? She’s offered before, not wanting to truncate my creative kinks and oblivious output, I said no at the time but I want my forum back now. I need to be able to say what I want without feeling as though self censorship for the sake of another has more weight than what I really need to say (and no this doesn't mean dragging her name through the proverbial mud puddle).

Most recently we’ve been living separate lives and rightfully so, we’re different people than when we met even from last week it would seem and though we lived in the same house, we more or less just haunted each other. Occupied space at different times and on rare occasions where we did intersect is was hit or miss, hot and cold for the most part. So I have things to say now, outside of “us”, and she’s read some of it, needless to say she was none too pleased nor will she be even though we no longer cohabitate our lives much less the space we shared.

Yeah, I work through some of my kinks here, who doesn’t? But seeing as how this is just another avenue of expression, should I not be able to request that I retain that right?

Not fit to shovel shit from one place to another?

Another incredible multi-layered weekend behind and ahead of me, it’s amazing how busy you can keep yourself if you just put your mind to it and/or how much you can alter your path by a few well placed attitude adjustments. A few weeks back I decided to de-evolve back into my former self, my summer self, and keep as busy as humanly possible with as many people as possible. Given the chance, I’d likely just sit about like a can of congealed bacon fat so I made the decision to refurbish my support group, rejuvenate the network of friends into something healthy again and venture forth into the valley of the dolls once more – get my share of Barbie’s along the way.

…and why not?

This cannibal intends to enjoy his time on the single side of the fence, until it looks greener on the other side of course.

On an unrelated topic, this song goes out to the gal watching me write this. She smells really good, is standing way too close and I love it.

iPod played "Diamond Nights - The Girl's Attractive" while posting

Cuming this Weak? Text Sex Without the Emoticons

Just got home, too many tales to tell, will verbalize in due time, once I get my head around what the hell happened.

iPod played "Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots pt. 1" while posting

Resume of Red - The Tale of the Red Headed Teller

Red Week (Weak?) Continues!

Pay day is a happy time for me as I’m sure it is for most folks; coffers replenished with fresh funds and renewed hope that your job is at the very least pulling you ahead in style. It’s also a time for this Cannibal to go pay a few bills at the bank, yes friends, this cash cuddling carnivore has been slow to embrace the online banking philosophy, but I come about it honestly. At any rate, I saunter into the bank with a new shirt, newly shaved head and a mitt full of credit card bills. I take my place at the front of the line and await a financial nymph to call me forward, give me license to proceed with my transaction. A blonde walked her eyes over me as I stood there, I gave a smirk and she shyly turned away back to her customer. Hmm, I hope she’s my teller, ‘cos I’d teller to take me home and ravage me (yikes!). Just then this screaming hot redhead named Susan (it said so right on her left tit) comes out of the back talking to a co-worker, spots me, excuses herself from her conversation and makes her way towards a window workstation or transaction trough as I like to call it.

Dayam! Hang tight and I'll get you a fork.

Way out of my league - incredibly long legs, vibrant eyes and I’m not really a breast fanatic but this woman could make my bookshelves jealous. Sorry young buck, you’ll have to take this one on the bearded chin, yet another chapter in my Resume of Red - "these are not the droids you are looking for". She calls me forward; she’s got a very nice smile – wide with white teeth. I hand her my bills and bank card, she begins to process my request after awaiting my instruction; whittle down some weight from the cards. Her eyes roll over my screen info and she begins to make a few suggestions on flipping me to another plan which is more in line with my spastic spending habits - less fees means more please. Fine by me, save me a few bucks a month and then she applies a few more concessions to my account. Nice girl I think as the conversation continues, she’s most certainly a forward thinking creature, considerate of her clientele. She makes fun of the fact that I’ve signed up for online banking a few times and never once honored or even activated the administrative password with a 24hr lifespan. I say that I work with systems all day and that the last thing I want to do is come home and press buttons. Her smirk grows and she says, “Well maybe you haven’t found the right buttons to push” and quite obviously pushes her cannons toward me (if I were famous I would've autographed them for her - "To Poncho & Lefty, Luv U.C."). I laugh a little uncomfortably. She writes down my new account password on a slip of paper, I half expect her phone number to be on it, but it’s not. On with the show.

She turns back to her monitor and we continue our chat, she says “Oh, you go to Woody’s Taphouse? Which one?” referring to a small chain of watering holes in this neck of the woods. I must have had a puzzled look on my face at this point but pointed nonetheless at the tap house 100 yards from the bank door. “I work there on weekends” she continues, “I’ve never seen you there!” (hmm, scrolling through my transaction history?)

“I mostly go during the week, fewer yahoo's that way.”
“Yeah, weekends certainly have those.”

We carry on for a little longer and then she recaps all the things she’s done for my account and how I should now be able to this and that and then says “anything else I can do for you to make your life better?”
“Free beer is always nice” I mutter, sort of shocked that I got the nerve
“hmm, lucky for you I’ve been known to forget to charge from time to time”.

We say our goodbyes and “it’s been really nice to meet you” and off I go.

Ok, let’s examine the facts. This woman is a barmaid/bank teller who knows how much money I make, what my credit is like, maybe what my stock portfolio looks like, she knows I own a house and that I drink beer. Hmm. She must’ve also seen my horrendous spending at comic book shops, DVD's, Video Games and toy stores yet she still chose to bait her hook or did she? Do I "show up" next weekend with the Dark Pig in tow? Do I brush it all off as yet another red headed health detriment? Please advise? Another Bunny Boiler? Another addition to the Red Army? What about privacy invasion?

* In the past some people have figured that the theme song I post at the bottom of every blawg is a work of fiction. I can assure you that for the most part this is not true (98% actually) and to share these songs with you I figured I'd link to the song in question so you too can share in the music and read along to it should you see fit. Right Click and "Save Target As" or open it in a new window if you wish, either way let me know what you think and I may keep doing it if it all proves to enhance your enjoyment.

Due to space restrictions songs will only remain active for about a week to retain room for new material, enjoy!

This song is dedicated to my pal Cody, his woman and their newborn son, he just spent hours coming out and he'll spend the rest of his life trying to get back in, all the best.

iPod played "Dr.Hook - Lookin' for Pussy" while posting

Sex & the Shitty - One Cannibals Caustic Trip Below the Red Belt

First and foremost, I love the ladies, but it should also be understood that they’re as unhealthy for me as chain smoking inside a giant matchbook. Not to say that I’m without fault, I most certainly bring something to the equation, but in this day and age when I should surely know better I’m at a loss for a logical explanation for my actions most of the time, much less theirs.

Let’s say that just for a moment all the conventional rules of marriage were set aside and the grass roots/cellular level reaction to someone was the universal calling card of right and wrong. You meet someone out there in the wild world and this person ignites something atomic inside you, an ethereal blaze that illuminates the sullen corners of your core – a pin prick through the sheath of immortal dark or something jazzy like that. Better judgment skywrites warnings throughout your honey head, the beasts of best intention feast on the carcass of raw experience and you still find yourself at a loss for anything to say or even conceive that doesn’t include this person in some way, shape or form. Your synapse screams their name, neurons etch our their face again, fingers reach out to brush their skin and your guts ache knowing that he/she is out there somewhere without you. Why the hell should you not be allowed to be with this person?

Well, she’s unhappily married and submissively aware of it, that's why. Now before you sharpen those knives and ready my cadaver for the communion, I’m not a home wrecker, at least not this time out. I hate people like that, like me, self righteous bastards who feel that they’re owed someone like this when presented with an opportunity. But I’d do most anything for a sliver of chance to have her burrowed into my life eternal.

This is a woman who “dreaded the day” when I moved from the downtown tower to the technology spread out in the suburbs last week and “enjoyed every email, message, coffee run, phone call and every general encounter we have ever had”. Felling abandoned with nothing but thoughts of “what is this girl to do? Continue my daydreams and what ifs, I guess? As I have told you many times before I wish that things could have been different. I wish I could be yours, full time, no strings attached, but my life has always been the same story - A day late and a dollar short. I may have gotten jealous that one day, but you are (unfortunately) not mine to rule.”

“Try thinking of me once in while, and if your ever lonely just call.

MISS YOU FOCKER XOXOXO”

After a long (long) string of serious relationships that have eaten up the better part of the past 10 years, I’m now having to re-learn what it is to be a single cannibal in the city and for the most part it tastes like fresh flesh and a cold pint on a smooth summer night. Then 10 months ago I had this woman put in my path, a redhead no less – Cannibal Kryptonite as most of you well know, and it was sincerely one of those star crossed crocks of shit – we both knew it too, and our relationship has been pulsing in purgatory ever since. She once told me that “I knew you’d be trouble the first day I met you”, I guess she was right but who doesn't love a little trouble now & then?

Two dates this past Sunday and here I am bemoaning about red again, fawk.

iPod played "Bruce Springsteen - Read Headed Woman" while posting

The Curious Tale of Captain Codpiece & the Cannibal Who Loved Him

She looked up at me with those immaculate blue eyes and asked, “what’s with the old guy?”
"Gran'Paw & Galoshes?" I said.

How I came across “Captain Codpiece”, the aged avatar I’ve been assaulting readers with for the past few months, is probably not unlike how most of you seek out a jpeg to spice up your content or whatnot; I turned to the Google Image Search for a quick and dirty solution. Back in February I was looking for a picture of two old men on a bench to illustrate the Dark Pig and I “sitting this one out”, so I went through an blind image search with varying degrees of “old men” activities as the root to eventually arrive upon an image of some half naked gray bearded oddity pulling a “Captain Morgan” beside a rock… in what appeared to be a gigantic rubber jock strap incidentally. Never one to shy from a challenge I clicked on the image and was brought face to face with a man I call “Captain Codpiece” (based on the two very obvious details above), the “humble host” of a place called “*Leather Oats” – a fetish farm of sorts where this rather homely looking senior citizen explores his inner tube and saunters about his creepy compound in custom costumes of leather and rubber… oh yeah, and he likes to over emphasize his junk with an infant sized codpiece (and by that I quite literally mean the body of an infant).

As regular readers know, I think fetishes are fascinating, so I read through some of his explorations to ascertain what the hell the deal was with this guy. To be fair, there’s no secks on the site (thank gawd, I think he’s into dudes anyway), but Harold claims to have archived well over 1000 images of his fine self wading around in kiddie pools, ornamental ponds, storm sewers and generally hanging out. Needless to say, Harold’s a strange guy, so rather than speak for him I’ll rip an introduction from his home page as to not misquote his intentions in any way:

Parental Guidance Required? My motto has always been, "It's Better to Conceal than Reveal", ever since I heard Dinah sing that to Doris! You'll never see frontal nudity nor sexually explicit acts depicted on my site! But, I guarantee you that I get into some pretty exotic gear. This is your warning that if you're under the age of consent, or have a low prudery threshhold, please push that"BACK" button on your Browser Now ! !

Yikes! Thanks for the warning Harold, but what you failed to “conceal” was a huge picture of your leather clad man pouch right above and beneath this caption. To each his own I guess.

Harold’s not alone in his little Rubbermaid fashion passion, not only is someone taking these photographs of him, incessantly it seems, but he’s had over 68,000 visitors since December 2000 (almost enough to get this Canadian Cannibal into galoshes). He’s been at his unusual diversion for a long time too; there are pictures of him from 1972 (!) dressed like a gay garden hose not to mention riding motorcycles, rolling around in the mud and setting up what appears to be a boy proof bondage den in his attic (paperboys and cub scouts beware). So to his credit, you can’t say that he jumped on the fetish bandwagon, hell, he was around when the first damn bandwagon was built.

So why the tongue in cheek obsession with this guy, why pepper my space with admittedly creepy pictures of this half naked senior citizen eternally thrusting his inflated jock at passerby? Well, quite honestly it makes me laugh, I love that he makes some readers mildly uncomfortable and there was literally so much macho man material to pilfer – he was an easy target as it were. That’s why it’s with heavy heart that I retire my adopted avatar, not out of respect for the man and his odd obsession but because I believe that he has a right to be a freak (he can't help himself). No longer will you see that lazy eyed rubber man gracing the pixels of this site or have him pop up in your inbox proclaiming his undying love for your rosy red rectum. Nope, the cod is with gawd, but next time you see a blown tire at the side of the road, think of Harold and try not to laugh yourself into the ditch, I have a long way to go before I reach 68,000.

Is it just me or does our gregarious geriatric look a little like Sean Connery from “the Hunt for Red October” except instead of commanding a nuclear sub he has it stuck down his pants.

*Actual name of website has been changed by one letter to avoid unflattering cross traffic through search engines, besides I wouldn’t want Harold to show up at my door one day and beat me down with his titanium wang now would I?

iPod played “Rick James – Superfreak” while posting

Digital Distraction - JAG Mondo Experimento

I often participate in these little exercises but have never felt the need to publish them for whatever reason; I guess I’d rather post pictures of a creepy old guy in a mighty codpiece than join in a communal activity of any kind (I’m such a snot). Nevertheless, here I am putting my best foot forward and joining JAG from “Babble & Angst” fame in her random song experiment (which I understand has been borrowed from some unnamed source;). Just the same, here are the results of placing my iPod on random and allowing it to broker some amusing if occasionally baffling results attempting to coherently answer some questions. As with JAG, these haven’t been altered in any way - they were recorded as played, painfully obvious on the first question in my opinion.

I have over 4600 songs on this iPod of mine, from most every genre, so we could be in for some unique or otherwise incoherent “answers” (not to mention a few hours). Nonetheless, on with the show…

(oh, and just for you JAG, there'll be no half naked geezer pics in this post)

Where is your office located?

Charles Wright – Express Yourself
The Slackers – Married Girl
The Planet Smashers - Hostile
Talking Heads - Psycho Killer
The Reverend Horton Heat - The Girl in Blue
Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers - Refugee
Bob Marley – Burnin’ & Lootin’ – may work
Judas Priest – Breakin’ the Law – close
Tom Waits – Please Call Me Baby
The Cramps – Miniskirt Blues

I give up on this one :(

What happens when you drink too much?

Burton Cummings - Break it to Them Gently – not bad
The Dead Kennedy’s – Too Drunk to Fuck (!)

What are your feelings about (President Bush) Stephen Harper(Canadian and all!)

Peter Weller – Wildwood (remix)
Bloc Party – Price of Gas (!) – We have a winner

What's your latest blog obsession?

The Rolling Stones – 19th Nervous Breakdown (!)

How do you feel about your separation?

Dr. Hook – Looking for Pussy (HAHAHA!)

Name a topical song?

Gordon Lightfoot - The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald (B.C. Ferry?)
Joe Strummer & the Mescalaros – Burnin’ Streets (not bad)
Paul McCartney & Wings – Live & Let Die (!)

Give me the obligatory cleavage quote:

The Legendary Shack Shakers – Blood on the Bluegrass
The White Stripes – We Are Gonna be Friends (HAHAHA!)

Fantasy Song #1:

AC/DC – Highway to Hell
Gun Club – Sex Beat (!)

Fantasy Song #2:

Chris De Burgh – Patricia the Stripper (!)

Describe your sex life:

Penetration – Don’t Dictate (!)

A Strange cross section of music indeed, what with Gordon Lightfoot and Judas Priest making an appearance along side Chris De Burgh? It looks like as soon as I got my music mojo working the experiment was over, still, there were some nice answers in there. Penetration? Sex Beat? Looking for Pussy? I did NOT make these up. Thanks for the content JAG, and as encouraged by her, please feel free to add one of your own to your site, just drop me a comment to let us know and please let your player do the work, anyone can make song titles up. Wait a minute? Who's that at the door?

I'm sorry, I just don't know what's wrong with me, at least I don't have Boyz II Men on my playlist like some people

iPod played – “The Urban Cannibal All-Girls Band - My Front Bum Needs Tuning (So Bring Your Fork)” while posting

The Promotional Penis - You Taste Like Our Good Taste ™

While I try and wrap my head around the wisdom-free words I want to share and the manner in which I want them distributed - I’ve decided to whore myself out (once again) to the pimp of shameless self promotion (for lack of a better term). This fine line of fictional promotional items and the brand therein was actually created to publicize a comic/film project that the Dark Pig and I were (are) working on called oddly enough; The Urban Cannibal. Conceived as a dark comedy about corporate cannibals and their meat eating misadventures in the big city, the project was ultimately sidelined on a count of life evolving limbs of greater importance. When seeking a blog name last July, it seemed entirely appropriate that I should adopt the cannibal persona; I could work out some writing bugs, scrub the calluses from my grammar and just maybe find an audience out there… and then life happened and it ended up eating me instead. Amongst alkaline strippers, suburban mishaps and quite possibly enough material for a dime driven spin off of “The O.C.” (for arguments sake, we’ll call it “The U.C.”), I present to you some concept work for “Urban Cannibal©” branded merchandise. So sit back and relax in your UC© FeatherLITE©” housecoat, take a loving sip from your Collectors Edition UC© “Eat My Junk©” coffee mug and pursue the glorious goods. Please keep in mind that that we here at UC do not accept major credit cards, cash or money orders and only accept payment by way of naked pictures (or video) of female readers - speaking of which, don't forget to check out "UCHer!©" our new line of clothing for the gory gal in your life. Thanks for shopping with us and we hope that “You Taste Like Our Good Taste ™”

"Don't Forget To Floss" Thong Underwear part of the UCHer collection

Next post: "Sex & the Shitty - One Cannibals Caustic Journey Below the Belt"

iPod played "Tom Waits - Big in Japan" while posting

Knee Deep in the Lady Lakes Once More

JAG, don't be jealous, your turn will come ;) - You as well, Steve - Ha Ha Ha!

iPod played "Rod Stewart - Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" while posting