@Reckmonster Inspires Camel Toe Dream; Mooner’s Trains Derail

 

So. I was going to tell you the name of the third installee of my Blog Roller today but something has interrupted the trains of thoughts in the switch yards that is my brain circuitry. And look at that shit… I can’t get one full sentence out before the grammar teacher who resides inside my skull is reproaching me.

First, maybe that should have been “installeded”, or possibly “installerated” Blog Roller designee. Second, my trains of thoughts and mental circuit boards are tough to specify. I say “trainS” and “thoughtS” and “yardS” on purpose. The plurals are required in my cases. If you have my form of ADHD you have an inkling of understanding as to what goes on in the toxic swill swirling in the cauldron that is my skull.

If you do not suffer from ADHD, or its little sister ADD, then you haven’t got a fucking clue what goes on inside my head. Everybody knows people who pretend to have ADHD– people who use ADHD as an excuse to cover for laziness or inattention. Those of us who truly suffer the slings and arrows of our ailment would like to crush the fakers’ balls in a vise. Or maybe remove their tonsils through their giant smelly assholes.

Which reminds me that I still have my tonsils. Proudly, I’m the only living Johnson family member to have made it with his tonsils intact. Old Doc Ashburn tried to take them from me numerous times when I was younger. Tried every trick in the book to get me to sit still for him to butcher me. And that– me saying Doc Ashburn wanted to butcher me– reminds me that my given name at birth was “Butcher”.

That’s right, my actual name is Butcher Einstein Johnson. I won’t tell you the story because it is contained in my soon-to-be-published book, Full Rising Mooner. What I will say about that is this: what I will say is, “What the fuck?”

Really, whatinthefuck is going on when a bunch of hillbillies name a kid a name like that? People make fun of me all the time for my having the moniker “Mooner”. When I tell them my actual name they all shake their heads and say, “Oh… Sorry.”

Anyway, I have multiple trains of thoughts, some racing down their tracks like a Japanese bullet train, some dragging along like a thousand-car coal train with a single tired engine, and the balance are commuter trains that make frequent stops and change schedules with the same frequencies.

The main method I employ to control these thoughts can best be described as switching yards, like you always see in action films, where some guy escapes capture by running between tracks and trains. In my brain I have more than one switch yard. My brain contains separate yards for trains traveling as first line thoughts, mid line thoughts, obsessive thoughts and then pesky thoughts.

Often, a single train will derail and I’ll lose focus for a moment. Sometimes trains get improperly switched in a yard and I’ll lose focus and say something stupid. Occasionally, however, the switch yard controller mechanism in my brain falls asleep at the switch all my trains derail or crash into each other. That event is what I call “brain fritz”.

Remember in the old BBC TV series Monty Python, when the John Cleese professor character would say, “My brain hurts,”?

That, dear readers, is brain fritz for me. My brain hurts. It’s not a headache in the classic sense and it isn’t brain freeze like with ice cream. It is the combination of those two sensations, then add some confusions and delusions, and then subtract the pain.

Holy fucking shit what a digression I’ve got here. The origination point of this posting was to tell you that I got the fritz brain last night and that caused me to have another funky dream. Since I wrote about the Reckmonster yesterday, she was in it.

In this dream I was eating at the Lubys Cafeteria over to Mopac at US 183 here in Austin. I was inside their building to start and it was a giant place, and full of people in long lines. We served ourselves, so I had big spoon and was helping myself to a taste of whatever I saw that spiked interest.

I ate most of a bowl of tapioca pudding, half a bowl of oatmeal and spoonfuls of a bunch of other stuff. I rounded a big turn in the food line, and there, on the right, was a dazzling assortment of camel toes on ice. Displayed like seafood at the fish market, every toe was perched on the ice and surrounded with herbal adornments to best demonstrate the attributes of each.

Little signs told of their origins. They said “Sarah Palin Camel Toe” and “Reckmonster Camel Toe” and “Queen Elizabeth Camel Toe” and Dr. Marcus Bachmann Camel Toe” and so on. I thought I had died and gone to heaven in this dream.

I won’t tell you from which camel toes displayed I spooned my samples, and neither will I tell you precisely how that worked. What I will say is that I awoke with a rock-hard dream woody, which I washed clean with a hearty lathering with Ivory Soap, and images of the Reckmonster.

And now Reck is going to be pissed at me and I’ll get an ass chewing from her for discussing her “business” in this forum. But who gives a shit anyway. That dream makes it all worthwhile.

So drink Carta Blanca beer and come back manana, y’all.

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10 Responses to “@Reckmonster Inspires Camel Toe Dream; Mooner’s Trains Derail”

  1. You crazy fucking bastard! I would NEVER put my camel toe on display in a salad bar setting! Nor would I EVER share the camel toe stage with the likes of fucking Sarah “I’m a stupid twat” Palin!! Seriously, Mooner…if you are going to dream about me…would it be too much to ask you to “up” the standards?!! I’m cool with being on the same stage as the Queen…but Michelle Bachman’s “I’m-really-gay-but-this-is-for-PR” fake husband?!!! Come ON! I mean, you could throw me up there with maybe like Jennifer Lopez’s camel toe or even my good pal T-Cat or Peachy…but Sarah, No. Or any of those other retardo-publicans. Just don’t do it again.

    And p.s. – who goes to a cafeteria and eats tapioca pudding and oatmeal?!

  2. Reck. OK first, you are welcome and second, Twitter doesn’t feed you the entire blog so you can’t get the Blog Roller unless you click on the “Blog” tag up top and refresh the page.

    Of course you would know that if you read one of the previous postings titled, “Twitter Screws Mooner.”

    Third, since I can’t control the content of my dreams any more than I can control my lascivious libido, the pairings of your pocket meat (and allow me here to say your camel toe looks marvelous) with the others mentioned seems like a closed subject. Having said that, I feel quite strongly that a photo of your actual camel toe– in high resolution and taken from a slightly oblique angle on center, and centered, looking up, at a spot just to the left of the major crease– would cause my dream brain to only include camel toes of your choosing. Please enclose a listing of your preferenced pocket poochies with the photo(s) of your own.

    Finally, but not leastly, I will eat good tapioca pudding anywhere. I, my sweet babooshka, am a puddin’ man. Have spoon, will dip.

  3. chrisinphx says:

    Hey Mooner, found you from the Reckmonster. Glad to finally come across a sense of humor not attached to ovaries, but them mommy blobbers are pretty damn entertaining and keep reminding me why I dont have ankle biters of my own. Anywho, looking forward to reading more.

  4. admin says:

    Chris. Are you talking about me? I love getting my ass attached to some ovaries, but maybe your are speaking from a not-quite-so literal perspective.

    Some of these women are as funny as funny gets and I’m proud they think I’m OK. Thanks for listening and grab your fill.

  5. Woah! I’m really loving the template/theme of this website. It’s simple, yet effective. A lot of times it’s challenging to get that “perfect balance” between user friendliness and visual appeal. I must say you’ve done a superb job with this. Also, the blog loads super quick for me on Opera. Outstanding Blog!

  6. Squatlo says:

    Okay, I’m late to this shit, but here goes: Reckem, the fact that Mooner put your magnificent ct in Luby’s Cafeteria ought to be the first thing that pisses you off, not the company on the heating tray alongside your own… Secondly, he ought to have enough respect for your booty-ishous parts to leave you out of his free-flowing train-wreck of consciousness blog posts. If I were you, I’d marry his silly ass, then gut him like a fish and take his compost empire as you leave Rick Perry’s Texass…

    Mooner, you’re a funny sumbitch. And it looks like you’re starting to draw in some strays who don’t know any better than to read this silly shit with beer in their mouths. More than once I’ve had to clean a monitor ‘causa you…

    Jaime is impressed with your website format and graphics, and duly so. When my daughter showed up over here with a six pack of cold Carta Blanca, unaware of why that was significant, I brought her back to the office computer for a visit to your web page, where she found out why I turn to you for tomato advice AND half buried Carta Blanca bottle tops. Your graphics for this webpage really are excellent.

    And your Governor is a primping, preening jackass none of us can stand to look at or hear for damn second, so keep him down in Austin ’til he’s cleaned up the mess he made there before you release him on America. Roger Out…

  7. Do you mind if I quote a few of your posts as long as I provide credit and sources back to your site? My website is in the exact same niche as yours and my users would certainly benefit from some of the information you provide here. Please let me know if this alright with you. Regards!

  8. Hmm it appears like your website ate my first comment (it was extremely long) so I guess I’ll just sum it up what I had written and say, I’m thoroughly enjoying your blog. I too am an aspiring blog writer but I’m still new to the whole thing. Do you have any suggestions for rookie blog writers? I’d definitely appreciate it.

  9. admin says:

    OK. First off J. Ellerby. Thanks for the good words. I have had hell hetting things straight and love where it is.

    Second, Squat. If I were gay and you half-decent looking…. Thanks for your good words and please, I beg you. Don’t plant any ideas in the Reckster’s brain. She’s a handfull without any help.

    Third, Nena. My suspicion is that you and P. Trevett are part of a conspiracy– the self-same conspiricy as the 48 other comments from persons whose names share a colloquilism with yours. I like to either ignore spammers or be nice to them, as I am in your case. Should this not be a clever span comment, I suggest that you simply cool your fucking jets and enjoy the attention. Also, you might simply delete the offending comments as I did the 42 others that arrived within minutes of the one sent by you.

    Fourth. I use WordPress myself and it was a bitch getting it straight. Switching away from GoDaddy fixed many of my problems.

    Fifth, Jacque… I am sorry that you earlier epic novel was castigated, chewed and shit-out by my bloggie. I will check you out at a later time. I have advice for bloggers that is the same as my advice for real estate. Post, post and post again. If you are serious, email me and we can talk.

    Sixth, FUCK RICK PERRY!

  10. admin says:

    Deer Jayne. Please steal whateverinthefuck it is that makes your button harden. If you credit me and provide linkers to my bloggie all the better. If you buy my book when it comes out, I will personally fellate you.

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