Archive for the 'Life-Changing Events' Category

Why I Would Like To Be A Woman

July 6, 2012

I know plenty of men sit and ponder this from time to time.

Personally, I’ve never really put much thought behind it, aside from the idea that if I was a woman, I’d be a lesbian because I would be as equally as attracted to women then as I am now.

Of course, people constantly call shenanigans on that, claiming that I’d probably go after the boys.

I can’t rationalize that. Men are clunky and shapeless. I just don’t like them.

So, why would I like to be a woman?

Why would I purposefully put myself through the pain of periods and childbirth, and risk the low self-esteem and high chance of becoming pregnant early in life?


Women have an amazing amount of control, centered essentially around one thing: the female body.

The women reading this may not understand this, but the female body has such an amazing shape and sexiness to it. I’ve always believed the idea that the curvier, the better, but that doesn’t mean I discriminate against naturally thin girls.

Women are just things of beauty, and they have 3 things they can use to gain almost anything they want.

Boobs and a vagina. (and yes, that is 3 things.)

Now, the concept of the love of breasts is still completely boggling to me. I love them, and I can’t explain why.

Hell, I’ve read a book that discusses why we love them, and I still just don’t understand. As a friend (and the “inspiration” of this post, so to speak) recently told me, “they’re just boobs. What’s the big deal?!”

I simply don’t know, but you know that old adage about not fixing things if they aren’t broken.

I take that line of defense.

As for the vagina, I completely understand the allure there.

Again, it’s probably something the ladies won’t understand. They only see the dirty, utilitarian side of the lady parts. They will never truly understand the amount of joy and pleasure they can provide with a simple hole and some frillies around the outside.

But, they understand that men understand that joy.

So, naturally, they can use it to their advantage.

I know I’ve fallen prey to the old tricks of the twat before, and I can tell you that while it generally feels amazing during (depending on the person), there is generally only remorse afterwards.

Not remorse for the sex that happened, but for what you agreed to, provided, gave up or passed on just for a 1 to 90 minute (again, depending on the person) session of ecstasy.

That is true power, and we men know it, but we don’t care.

We love sex.

So, why would I like to be a woman?

So I can wag my cooter around and get anything I need. That’s why.

And don’t you women try to tell me it’s not that simple.



This is not included in the 500 word limit.

Thanks to Diane Petraitis for this… interesting post.

Nothing new here, though. As a woman, I’m sure you’ve used your body to trick men before.

But, I wouldn’t have any clue about that, right?

Truly ghjr


Best Concert I’ve Ever Been To

June 18, 2012

I’m going to cheat, and I’m not going to hide it.

I’ll be upfront about it.

I can’t boil it down to ONE best concert, so I’m going to cheat.

Keep that in mind, and I’ll proceed as normal.

The TWO (note the clever slate) best concerts I have ever been to aren’t symphonic in any nature, although I have been to plenty of those.

I’ve been a fan of classical and orchestral music for a long time, but many times I have trouble relating to the emotions and thoughts behind a piece.

No problem for Dvorak or Stravinsky, but many others fail to connect.

The two best concerts were the July 2010 performance of The Flaming Lips at Trib Total Media in Pittsburgh and the September 2009 so-called “Lottery Show” by The Decemberists at Terminal 5 in New York.

While each were absolutely amazing, I’m afraid I can’t choose between the two.

Both bands have held the coveted spot of “Greg’s Favorite Band… For the Time Being” at some point in their careers, and both are amazingly skilled and gifted in what they do.

The fact is this: the Flaming Lips show was an acid-soaked mindfuck from Mars that occurred in several Inception layers, and the Decemberists show was full of witty banter, long-lost gems, heart, spirit and impromptu songwriting.

The Flaming Lips are noisy and outrageous, and the Decemberists are generally more reserved, poignant and silver-tongued.

Now, I’ve written extensively about the Flaming Lips show in question. You can find that here.

Sorry for the self-bump, but I’ve said all I can say about that one, and I need some word space for one I’ve kept to myself.

The Lottery Show was a one-shot of simple, yet stark, brilliance.

All the bands songs are written on wiffle-balls (“the Balls of Diablos!”), placed into a giant bingo ball spinner and pulled at random by John Wesley Harding. The band would be obliged to play the song, much like I am obliged to write what you ask me to write.

Of course, there was a bit of cheating. John pulled and pulled balls for the last song until he pulled the 18 minute masterpiece “The Tain,” which may have been the highlight of the show.

Of course, for the encore, all the musicians came back for a rousing rendition of “Mr. Blue Sky,” by Electric Light Orchestra, one of the bands that had tremendous influence on the career of singer/songwriter Colin Meloy.

They even had a vocoder for the weird vocoder part.

And John even joined in.

Of course, the audience did as well.

And even after 2 or more hours of playing, they still bounced and crooned as if they were having as much fun as the audience.

I think I can speak for most of them when I say it was well worth the $50 and the hideous drive through Jersey.



This is not included in the 500 word limit.

Thanks to Sam Jones for this wonderful challenge.

I feel like 500 words would be an injustice to either concert, let alone both, but it had to be done.

And, for the record, Sam was at the Flaming Lips concert with me.

So was Jimmy.

So was Tiny Seth Greene.

Truly ghjr

Ice Cream

June 15, 2012

One of life’s greatest joys has always been the luscious, velvety smoothness of ice cream on the tongue. I can’t imagine a single person, save lactose intolerants that can’t enjoy it and vegans who refuse to, who would turn down a frosty cone of the delicious frozen treat.

I’ve always been a fan of the gooey greatness of ice cream. While I am much more of a fan of the hand-dipped variety than the thinner, less appealing soft serve ordeal, I’ll eat it all.

Well, except mint chocolate chip.

I don’t think I need to go into my feelings about the pairing of mint and chocolate. Suffice to say, the phrase “Satan’s demon sperm” would come up quite a bit in that 500 words.

But here’s the dirty little secret: even though I’m a die hard, through-and-through fan of hand-dipped, I must admit that I have tasted the greatest ice cream in the world, and…

It was soft serve.

I know, I know. It surprised me, too.

This is the thing: there is a little place in the middle of nowhere called Hundred, WV. Now, there is pretty much no reason to breeze through the town unless that’s where you are from. And if that’s the case, the world owes you an apology.

Either way, Lisa and I took a trip that way recently to visit her granny after a surgery.

She’s doing well. Thanks for asking.

We went a little off the beaten path to a place called Dairy Dream, a small little hole-in-the-wall joint that Lisa raves about every once in a while.

She talked me into getting a bit of food, so I grabbed a pepperoni roll and looked over the milkshake list.

Turns out they like to mix their own custom flavors by hand, joining vanilla soft serve and delicious fruit flavors into a heavenly concoction. Then, they like to make milkshakes out of them…

Milkshakes that could conquer galaxies.

I tried the orange.

When I received it, I looked disappointingly at the nuclear orange hue that would better suite the day-glo dance-floor vomit of a freshman that’s been swilling Skittles vodka all night.

Then, I took a sip.

It was like deep-throating one of those orange Push-Ups with the Flintstones on the wrapper.

In a good way, mind you.

It was simply the greatest thing I have ever tasted. I’ve had authentic Mexican tequila, real vodka in Russia.

I’ve eaten the greatest onion rings in the world, courtesy of Marky Mark himself.

I’ve been raised on a long tradition of home-cooked bad-ass-ness, and I had never tasted anything like that milkshake.

Even now, sitting in Carver, MA, I long not for my own bed or for my own shower, but for an orange milkshake from Dairy Dream in Hundred.

But, if I could drink one of those milkshakes in my own bed, that WOULD be a bit better.



This is not included in the 500 word limit.

Thanks to Sam Jones for allowing me to bestow the sacred knowledge of Dairy Dream upon the world.

Maybe it’ll inspire someone to visit Hundred, but if not, well…

I don’t blame you.

Truly ghjr