This task represents the completion of day one of the three things I wanted to do more consistently every day in the coming year. My mouth is already getting dry. Please don't make me gag with bland, dry consistency. Let's not derail this thing already, ok? Anyway...
One.
She was Latina and big - all curves and glitter and make up - a sexy Christmas tree in overdrive. I couldn't help watching her dance, and she showcased her dancing, loving having the room's attention. After the countdown, she came over and pressed her breasts against me, her eyes all warmth and her smile, loving kindness. Some kind of blessing.
Two.
The Texas Christian church that hosted the most recent church shooting had a trained band of armed parishioners intermingled in the crowd. In fact, that is exactly what they credit the low body count to (two good guys, one bad guy). The shooter with his fake beard and glasses had a shortened shotgun under his coat. I wonder if it's that new Mossberg with that badass little knob for a handle? One of the parishioners who was killed, a deacon, was a black man. The shooter was a white man and not a member of that church. But what I'm really thinking about is what it must be like to be sitting in Church trying to commune with your god and to think love and brotherhood toward your fellow man while you're scanning the crowd wondering who you might have to pop. Aren't you, on some level, anticipating it? Maybe even hoping for it? That must present a quandry in your prayer life.
Texas, man. The guy reading the news on my car radio the morning after the shooting said the shooter had "been been taken out with a single clean headshot" by one of the parishioners. Now that's pretty wild west.
Three.
Two men walk into the Texas Cajun. Vanessa, the waitress, greets them. They know each other. One of the men roles his eyes. "You fixin' to take a punch" she said. "New year, new me. And I'm about kickin' yo ass".
One.
She was Latina and big - all curves and glitter and make up - a sexy Christmas tree in overdrive. I couldn't help watching her dance, and she showcased her dancing, loving having the room's attention. After the countdown, she came over and pressed her breasts against me, her eyes all warmth and her smile, loving kindness. Some kind of blessing.
Two.
The Texas Christian church that hosted the most recent church shooting had a trained band of armed parishioners intermingled in the crowd. In fact, that is exactly what they credit the low body count to (two good guys, one bad guy). The shooter with his fake beard and glasses had a shortened shotgun under his coat. I wonder if it's that new Mossberg with that badass little knob for a handle? One of the parishioners who was killed, a deacon, was a black man. The shooter was a white man and not a member of that church. But what I'm really thinking about is what it must be like to be sitting in Church trying to commune with your god and to think love and brotherhood toward your fellow man while you're scanning the crowd wondering who you might have to pop. Aren't you, on some level, anticipating it? Maybe even hoping for it? That must present a quandry in your prayer life.
Texas, man. The guy reading the news on my car radio the morning after the shooting said the shooter had "been been taken out with a single clean headshot" by one of the parishioners. Now that's pretty wild west.
Three.
Two men walk into the Texas Cajun. Vanessa, the waitress, greets them. They know each other. One of the men roles his eyes. "You fixin' to take a punch" she said. "New year, new me. And I'm about kickin' yo ass".
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