Paul'S PlacE ❗ ⭕❗⭕ ❗⭕
 
These stories and irreverent points of view usually make sense... to me.
I hope you.ll share my smile.
(©April 2018-22 January Paul)
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Posted:Jul 12, 2018 9:41 am
Last Updated:Jan 17, 2022 5:49 am
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Going Too Fucking Far... NEW Blog Features RevealeD... O.!. O.!.
Posted:Jan 14, 2022 10:08 am
Last Updated:Jan 17, 2022 10:57 pm
1005 Views
As you know, I'm no longer posting blogs HERE on this OLD site... right after this one.

Remember when no one read the Instructions; we ALL simply waited for things to explode? Men are nodding - women are rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.

Now, I don't know if you've been to that NEW Community space, but they've added this feature called 'HIDE' and for fuck's sake - it works. I spent a couple of hours last night watching a football game, hiding stuff.

- Ya don't wanna see 'Cocks in Honolulu', HIDE
- 'Pussy Play in Paris' ain't your thing, HIDE
- Fed up with those posts from one asshole blogger who gets on your nerves, HIDE.

I felt proud of myself until I paused to view the results. I'm down to watching two blogs; one of them is my own.

I might have overdone things a touch but I figured, how could I mess things up by playing with a bunch of buttons?

Then I recalled back in the day, I'd set the VCR and taped four and a half hours of the Weather Network. I was so looking forward to watching that new Star Wars movie.

There was another time, I was ten years old, and my uncle had just purchased a brand new colour TV. I was awestruck and all alone in his living room. My Uncle had to call a repairman to reset the image I'd improved. Technology, go figure. He never let me near his precious device again.

I'll continue to fudge with these A F F options and controls; I'm pretty sure I'll unravel the cluster I've created. I know there's a HELP key, under COMMUNITY, but seriously - who has time for that?


Do you read instructions or do you wing it?
And your horror story IS?

... Going Too Fucking Far NEW Blog Features RevealeD O O
19 Comments
I Choose a Vibe for Every Morning... What.s yourZ...
Posted:Jan 12, 2022 5:37 pm
Last Updated:Jan 14, 2022 3:48 pm
1287 Views
I no longer post blogs on this slip of sand. I just pasted a thingy over on that NEW space

Check it out.
There are some positive points to take from that fresh landscape.

In any case... I'm over there.
See you later...
16 Comments
NEW Feature On The Beta COMMUNITY... a Public Service Announcement...! O !
Posted:Jan 4, 2022 8:22 am
Last Updated:Jan 13, 2022 9:53 am
2365 Views
As you're all aware, the NEW Blog Community will soon arrive, but I'm not here to dissect THAT beast.

Here's something that you didn't know. There's a state-of-the-art feature that I've been testing for a couple of weeks now. I'm happy and excited to report - it's ready for release on these pages.

As I've mentioned ad nauseam, I use my cell for EVERYTHING on this site. Last week Andrew and his team over at the 'A F F Science and Hyperbole Division', called and asked if I would troubleshoot their brainchild on my phone.

I did and it PASSED with flying colours and most importantly - it will work on ANY device. What is this huge surprise?

'Scratch and Sniff' technology will soon cling to the pages of the A F F playground.

Don't believe me?
Neither did I at first.
Try it out yourselves.
Now, let me explain how this works and what you have to do.

Each picture you see below has been taken with a special camera and contains the embedded engrams required to produce a scent.

Your job?
1. Scratch the image - on your phone, laptop or computer.
2. Sniff it.
3. Report the results to me in your comments below.

If you can't smell anything at first, wait a minute then gently put your finger up your nose again. Occasionally there's a slight delay. Still nothing? Visit that BETA site, search for Paulxx001 and you'll find this post uploaded there... eventually. That'll be the ULTIMATE test.

We may criticize Andrew for what he's trying to accomplish here. And true, last night that BETA site was wonky. Comments were frozen, blog profile pics were whacked out of shape and somehow, everyone had acquired two thousand new followers. But Andrew is doing the best he can.

I believe once you've tried these Scratch and Sniff treats over THERE, you might be pleasantly surprised at what aroma those pages contain.

What do you smell?
19 Comments
Can Magic Bits... Sooth a Sad Soul...?
Posted:Dec 23, 2021 7:20 am
Last Updated:Jan 10, 2022 11:24 am
4444 Views
It was a crisp morning, ideal for skating but they'd closed the rink and hadn't shovelled the snow. That tall pine tree, anchored in the center of the ice, twinkled brightly as I walked by.

After my walk, I popped into my usual place to purchase random groceries. They have those crowd control belts, and single-file lines set up... AGAIN. What a pain! I waited - bored - and glanced at the elderly lady behind me. She was dressed in a prim fashion and I'd guess, in her eighties?

She was holding onto one of those monstrous yellow carts, pushing along - a beautiful Poinsettia in a red-bowed pot, a couple of small tins of cat food, and a large box of Alpha-Bits. You know me, so I remarked about her eclectic choices.

I imagine she'd wanted to talk to someone, and my comment provided that invitation. The cereal was for her granddaughter who was coming over; they've closed all the schools here. And THAT'S what she likes for breakfast. She'd hope it would cheer her up.

She paused - I asked the obvious question.

She took a breath. Today was to be the last day of classes for Grade Two before the holidays. They were supposed to have a 'Secret Santa' gift exchange and her granddaughter had chosen the name of the boy in her class - whom she liked the MOST.

Her excited grandchild and mom - of course - had spent a great deal of time choosing the perfect gift. And the little girl could hardly wait to see that special boy's face when he opened up the present she'd wrapped for him. All her friends had been trying to guess who the gifts piled up at the back of the room were from.

Well, THAT wasn't going to happen. I agreed it was very sad for all those small especially during the Holiday Season.

They beeped cash number five, I said goodbye and made my way forward. Politely, I turned my head to wish my brief companion a Merry Christmas. When I did, I noticed she was crying, wiping tears from her eyes. She tried to say something to me... but all she did was nod.

Yep... Alpha-Bits.


Tis the season...


I remember that Secret Santa stuff back then. We'd try and trade names.
I.m more of a Cheerios guy. You?
23 Comments
What do Smokey Eyed Women... and Moose Knuckles... Have in Common...? !
Posted:Dec 20, 2021 9:24 am
Last Updated:Jan 9, 2022 11:58 am
5625 Views
She had gripped my gaze with her smokey eyes... and waited for an answer. I was already under her spell but when she fluttered her lashes, I blurted out a veracious "YES". And THAT'S how I came to own a fancy pair of designer woman's leggings. The path to perdition was all 'johns' fault.

'Long johns'... that is.

That waffle-knitted underwear was first named after John L. Sullivan - a heavyweight boxer in the 19th century - who'd climb into the ring wearing those things. Winter is booming here and I wear mine under my pants on icy walks, but they never fit right. They're bulky and clumpy... and always sag or bunch up around my crotch.

So I thought, "I'll get something with a whole lotta form-fitting lycra." Have you noticed how snug they are on a woman's body?

I was the only man in that classy boutique. I hovered around the massive table of folded leggings and probably, looked confused. The attractive sales lady with the spidey sense, and those cerulean smokey eyes sauntered over and smiled.


"Can I help you? What size does she wear?"

I wasn't prepared for a fricken quiz. "Uhm... she's ugh... large-boned and tall."

Smokey-eyed lady quickly scooped up a couple of styles and displayed them on her arms. One pair was thick and looked warm... I pointed.

"Those are great, but we have a 60% special on today. Why not get her THESE? She'll love you for it. Just feel how thin... and silky they are," she whispered.

I did. They were.

"YES. I'll take them."

Those leggings hug me as if they were painted on my body. They're not much good under my trousers in the cold. For fuck's sake, I feel EVERYTHING! But they're comfortably tight around those bulbs between my legs. And damn, if that spandex doesn't make me tingle everywhere, below my waist.

Funny thing is, every time I slip them on I get this crazy urge to wear a small sweater, visit a store and bend over for something.


That's me, on the left.

Camel toe or moose knuckle, which one is more appealing?
Ya think women who wear revealing leggings, should walk into a store?

Now, what if men did the SAME thing?
45 Comments
To The Stronzo Royalty... Who Hacks Private Messages... ! ? !
Posted:Dec 12, 2021 11:15 am
Last Updated:Dec 14, 2021 7:15 am
7662 Views
All this recent talk about privacy, and one's 'Private Mail Box' - and personal stuff visible to anyone - caught my BUDDY off guard. Imagine his shock when a close and dear friend of his, here on 'A F F', threw HIM a heads up that they'd been handed a bunch of 'empfidlich' information about HIM. Thank goodness my friend checked it out.

And THAT'S the purpose of this 'cuento'.

Listen, all those 'marcio' tidbits are at least two and a half years out of date, my comrade will NEVER receive the gift you were planning to send him. Drop me a line here - I'm sure things will remain secure - and I'll update you on where to send HIM your 'regalo'.

Thank goodness for allies! So... is it bigger than a breadbox or are ya sending him cash? He's told me he LOVES surprises. I have to commend you for sifting through twenty-five pages of his blathering before you uncovered THOSE nuggets.


What was the last Xmas gift YOU received that surprised you?
25 Comments
Are FairY TaleS... the ONLY PlacE... You.ll FinD LovE...
Posted:Nov 9, 2021 8:13 am
Last Updated:Dec 12, 2021 3:44 pm
16983 Views
Last night was frosty, but FrankeeZee - my friend from another sex site - and I were planted in a warm dive bar named after me, 'Chez Paul'. You can guess what Frankee was doing - in between gulps of beer - yep, clicking his laptop, penning his blog. I was about to say something when Frankee turned to me.

"Well, that's it, finished. I'm trying something different - emulating YOUR style."

I raised an eyebrow.

"You know, Paul - a tale of love, garnished with a sprinkling of alliteration, a couple of random metaphors and a few too many adjectives."

I raised my other brow, but before I could add anything, Frankee had pushed his computer towards me and ordered two more beers. I put on my glasses and began to read.
- - - - - - - - - -


Winters in this city are cold and colourless - pretty postcards - dusted with 'white' and smudged with faded browns and greys. But colours come alive when you're holding a warm hand. The lights on the boulevard were red; I held Emily's slender fingers tight.

The falling snow framed us in thick flakes, weightless and hopeful, the way they do in fairy tales. Traffic was snarled and barely moved as we wove around and between cars. Halfway across that street, she stopped and turned towards me; I knew what she wanted. I fell into her deep blue eyes and leaned into her esculent lips.

When I hugged her in public, I'd never let go; I wanted the world to know. We gently swayed while cars ignored us and inched past. A cabbie honked once, but the others knew. After a minute - or were they seconds - Emily raised her cheek, smiled and whispered in my ear.

"I think we should move to that OTHER side, or someone's going to bump into us."

We weren't crazy; we were a step below - young and in love and lost in each other. But not all things work out the way you hope they might.

Twenty years later, I was startled to see Emily at an anniversary party for friends we'd once shared. She looked as beautiful as ever.

She was sitting alone, legs crossed, her mulberry dress crumpled at her waist. She fidgeted with her nails the way she would when bored, then ran her hand through her hair, which was swept up above her ears. Her eyes sparkled as she glanced at the crowd that danced. And then... OUR song played; I'd bribed the DJ with a couple of drinks.

Emily took note and sat up straight, perhaps searching for flawless hands to hold? Those didn't exist, but I was there - just over by that wall - waiting for her. I stepped out from behind it, our eyes met, and Emily's face beamed in delighted surprise. We found a tiny spot on that packed floor and held each other as if it were the first time. It was MY turn to whisper into her ear.

"I was never perfect. I'm the opposite. But I was perfect for you, and you're all I ever wanted.
And another thing...
... I think we should move to that OTHER side, or someone's going to bump into us."

I felt warm tears fall from her cheeks against mine, then onto my lips, as she locked her arms around my neck and kissed me.

- - - - - - - - -


I looked at FrankeeZee and blinked. "What does esculent mean?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Paul, read a book!"

I would have asked who Emily was, but the beer had arrived, and the game had started. FrankeeZee raised his glass in a toast.

"Cheers, Paul. To friends and fairy tale lovers," then he grinned, "and nebulous metaphors everywhere."
..........

They don.t make fairy tales like they used to, do they?
19 Comments
WARNING... Not ALL WomeN... UnderstanD YouR SensE of HumouR... 😮❗
Posted:Oct 28, 2021 9:19 am
Last Updated:Jan 10, 2022 11:25 am
24075 Views
I guess if I were to do things over, I would have held onto my SECOND remark to her. I thought it was worthy of a chuckle or at least a smile. I wasn't prepared when she aimed her taser at my testicles; is anyone? It began the way most blunders unravel; I had a decision to make — left or right?

I enjoy the freedom of working from home. Even though I'm a slave to that computer screen, once a day, I unchain myself, step outdoors — and clear my head. Yesterday afternoon was no different from another, except fall weather had become blunt and bitter.

I had to wear layers; a sweatshirt, my grey hoody, followed by a well-worn (*but oh so cozy*) fall jacket, topped off with a black cap and sunglasses. Of course, I lugged my trusty old knapsack filled with optional essentials. And those seasoned white runners — completed the look.

When I eyed myself in the mirror, I resembled one of those homeless guys who carry scrawled cardboard signs and wave them at stopped traffic, "Haven't eaten in four days — anything will help." Yeah, THAT guy! I didn't care; I was warm and comfortable — off I went into that brisk autumn breeze.

I usually hike a couple of miles or so, then at those lights near McDonald's, I turn right and trek back, but I thought to myself — why not push it? There's a huge box store up that road; let's make a LEFT and go for it. I'd definitely, find something to buy. It's one of those places that carry toasters and toilets — and anything else you'd ever want in life.

I picked up some powdered Oxi Clean — there's a fricken coffee stain on my driver's seat. I paid for those crystals, then readied myself to lean back into that icy wind. That's when they — Security — approached.

He was young, at least six foot three and muscled. She was middle-aged — loved donuts — and wore her light brown hair in a tight ponytail. Don't they all? She spoke in a sweet, almost apologetic voice.

"Sir, can you open your knapsack for us, please?"

I imagine I looked a little dishevelled, but I was surprised to be a suspect in a robbery.

"You think I've stolen something?" I asked in a calm and measured tone.

Mr. Muscles interjected gruffly, "Sir, there's no need to raise your voice and become confrontational and belligerent. I'll ask you politely, will you open your pack?"

I figured I'd get playful — and threw in that SECOND remark towards the ponytailed uniform.

"Listen, why don't we lose the tall grumpy guy, and you can take me to the back room — and search me in private."

It's then, she reached for her taser and aimed. For fuck's sake, are you kidding? (*although, when i think about it now, i might have been a touch inappropriate. especially with someone who didn't know me*)

I was led into their windowless office; it revealed one abused wooden table and a pair of green plastic chairs. The overhead fluorescent lights flickered, but the one-way mirror was surprisingly missing.

Thus began the ordeal of emptying my backpack; it's a camper's model — with five zippers, four sleeves, and, I forget how many flaps. Picture how much STUFF I can carry in that sack. THEY went through everything meticulously. And not because they were looking for stolen items — they wanted to piss me off.

The whole performance took more than twenty-five minutes, yet as they opened that door and released me — I still had a dart to throw. "What, there's no pat-down?"

They glared... but didn't budge. As I left that store, I realized TWO critical things.

One: I may not have been wearing a suit and tie, but was all that bullshit necessary?

Two: Thank goodness they never frisked me and checked my rear pant pocket. That's where I'd tucked those batteries; the ones I'd forgotten to pay for.

..........

In prison you don.t get a choice on who does your prostate exam — do you?
22 Comments
Sarah... The FiremeN... and ThingS thaT ChangE witH TimE... 😮❗
Posted:Oct 19, 2021 9:35 am
Last Updated:Dec 7, 2021 2:27 pm
29292 Views
I was lucid. Sarah, was a bit tipsy as she lurched out of my car. She grinned and blew me a kiss, then turned around and gave me a 'wiggle' with her tight LEVIS bum. Her house was over on the corner. And that's where she strode, framed like a blue fairy — into the haze of that moonlight glare.

She almost stumbled at her gate then gingerly followed the brown brick path to the backyard. I sat there and watched, you know, to make sure she was safe and all. Then — clamping onto the railing — she slowly climbed those crooked green steps of the veranda. Finally, she'd reached that rickety screen door.

The EXPLOSION blew her right off the porch and flung her tumbling — fortunately — onto the tall green grass of her lawn. She narrowly missed smashing her head on that big old maple tree. My ears were ringing like roaring trains as I ran to her. After the smoke had cleared — and the firemen and paramedics had left — those who were lingering had concluded; it must have been a random gas leak. But I knew a secret and the shocking truth — and it's a story that no one would believe.

It all began last...

"Pardon me."

I was startled by a loud voice and looked up from my laptop.

The man standing in front of me — that guy in the 'Coldplay' t-shirt — had interrupted my finger-clicking thoughts and asked me a question. Did I know if there was an electronics store nearby? Which was a dumb query because THERE it was — in the strip mall, a massive sign within sight of that coffee shop where I sat.

I looked at him... and pointed out the window.

Now, back to my tale.

Damn... I forgot what the fuck... I was about to say. I HATE when that happens, don't you? I must be getting old, but I'm in denial. It'll come to me. 😶

..........

If you remember your passwords, you'll have everything! 😊
19 Comments
What IF YouR Tiniest DreamS... Became a RealitY... 😊
Posted:Oct 9, 2021 7:21 pm
Last Updated:Oct 31, 2021 4:24 pm
43158 Views
I see her often — she's my youngest . I hugged her a couple of weeks ago and asked her what was new. She smiled and said to me, "Pa, there's this show next Saturday, at the club," she works there part-time. "Mario, the drummer, asked me to join them for a few songs in their set. We practised — it worked."

But then, she tripped me up. My eyes widened.

"Mario wanted to know if YOU felt like playing drums for a couple of songs. 'Creep' and another by the Chilli Peppers — 'Under The Bridge'.

"Are you kidding?" I said yes — in a split second.

It was past eleven, and that small club was packed and buzzing. The band got up on stage and powered through their set, then Mario introduced my ... and welcomed me up to the kit.

In my time, I've played for crowds of thousands, but to say I was a bit nervous — in front of THAT low ceiling — would have been an understatement. My has a powerful voice and has recorded with numerous groups. I wasn't worried about her — I was hoping that I wouldn't fuck up.

BOTH songs kicked so much fricken ass. So pure, with crystal clarity and a perfect mix. Such a smooth beat for a drummer to trip off and a great vibe to get blown away on. But...

The thing was, I was backing up MY — the spotlights were on her; I was smashing out the beat. A couple of hundred people cheered wildly, and her fans and friends screamed. I had a lump choking my throat and had a hard time focusing on anything but hitting my marks. The sound was heart-thumping through-the-soul epic, and my ears were fricken numb and ringing as I walked off the stage.

It was a buzz of a lifetime. DAMN, did it kick ass! Those two songs are legendary and I was so proud of her; but I'm thrilled that I didn't drop my sticks. I guess you had to be there. Life is short.

Drive fast, carry a double-kick in your 'overnight', and fuck the rest. 😎❗

..........

Do you prefer big venues or small clubs?

What IF YouR Tiniest DreamS Became a RealitY
51 Comments
Some Lessons Are Never Learned... OtherS Take ForeveR To FuckinG MasteR...😮❗
Posted:Sep 30, 2021 7:38 am
Last Updated:Oct 28, 2021 1:39 am
31057 Views
I like irrational speed; I always have. Yet — supposedly — I'm somewhat educated if you consider University schooling worth anything. But I can't get my head around driving slow. In the last month, I've paid a MAMMOTH price for my arrogance. I thought I was above the law.

The first time I ever felt neck warping acceleration was when I was twenty and drove my friend's Porsche. I hit two hundred miles per hour. We blistered down that brilliantly lit highway in a fantastic blur. The sound of whistling wind, the wild vibration — the feeling of imminent danger — tickled my nerves and quenched my brain with endorphins that I couldn't explain. But I grinned.

With cars I've owned, the best I could do is about a hundred and twenty miles per hour; 'limiters' prevented anything more. But it was enough to give me a rush. Many decades have passed, and I thought I'd mellowed — become more responsible — until last month.

I don't know what's tripped me up.

Luck had created a false sense of security. I felt as if I was untouchable. When I saw the red, white and blue flashing lights in my rear-view... my heart sank. For fuck's sake! What a bitch. Nothing to say; no excuses, lesson learned, right? Act your age — fucktard!

Nope... not me.

One week later, different highway, same result. For fuck's sake — NO! But bad luck and stupidity cluster in threes. Sure enough, six days more, and I'm dishing out my driver's license AGAIN. I tried to look sad and remorseful — it's the ONLY thing I could think of.

I guess what I'm saying is, I don't know why they don't have TWO sets of rules.

One set for those who know and love to drive fast — and are capable — and another bunch of rules for everyone else.

Damn, I keep making the same mistakes over and over again. I'm not looking for sympathy, or advice or anything. I love momentum, and I've realized I'm not cut out for this country and its tepid traffic regulations.

Now Germany; they have the right idea. That nation has exclusive lanes — on their autobahns — with NO speed limit.

I'm a bit distraught... and thinking about starting a 'G.o F.und M.e' campaign; 'Driving School Instructor, hoping to make a difference.' 😶

..........

You can't discuss anything with a female cop; they're stone cold.
23 Comments
FirecrackerS and FrogS... and What the FUCK Did YOU JusT Say... 😮❗
Posted:Sep 16, 2021 4:34 pm
Last Updated:Oct 19, 2021 9:33 am
33499 Views
For years, I've seen the end of MY summers marked with NOTHING worthy — except a cluster of ramped-up traffic. Decades, eons ago, I'd look forward to the start of school. You know, reuniting with friends and, of course, that cringe-worthy English assignment — 'What I Did On My Summer Vacation'.

And so that's what I thought about, as I was stuck in wall-to-wall gridlock, on 'Highway 13' driving in from Laval. (*why would you live in Laval unless you couldn't afford to live in Montreal. Yeah, there's the wildlife. I'll have to elaborate at another time.*)

Anyway... in grade two, our nubile teacher, Miss Drummond, was progressive and passionate , and she asked us to step outside the box. "Come on, class. I want to see creative stories and some 'new' vocabulary."

We all looked at each other, rolled our eyes and groaned. But (*you know me*), I did my best to follow her guidelines and came up with this 'take'. I mean, it was a while ago, but this is pretty close to what I think I wrote

................

On the first day of the vacation, mom gave my brother and me a brush-cut. My head felt so light and free.

The next day, we all headed up north to my parent's cottage by the river. That's where we spent nine weeks doing things like swimming, chopping trees, and chasing frogs with firecrackers. We had a lot of fun.

I also met a new friend who taught me how to swear.

On the last day of my vacation, mom took us to fucking 'Walmart' to buy a pair of pants and shoes.

And here I am, sitting in a classroom, writing about what I did all summer. Do you want details? Come see me, and I'll share more stuff with you.

................


Sure enough, Miss Drummond called me over after class. I presumed it was to learn more about those frogs. Funny thing, Miss Drummond was MORE concerned with my vocabulary. My thoughts were; 'Well, why did you ask me to use NEW words if YOU don't like them?'

I recall other summertime images seared into my head — years later. I remember languid evenings as my girlfriend, and I lay there. We were bathed in sweat while a warm breeze tickled our skin — and we watched, as the morning sun first kissed the night.

There's some 'stuff' I'm skipping (*you can imagine*), but I wonder how Miss Drummond would have graded THAT fucking prose. I'm guessing she might have had a few of THOSE salacious recollections herself.

A couple of years later, I paused and tried hard to imagine my Grade Two teacher, Miss Drummond, having sex. (*She was on maternity leave, or so they said*). But, how else would she have had her ? I'm stuck on the visual. I wonder if she liked doggy. 🤔

................

Do you think your teachers ever had sex in a car?

FirecrackerS and FrogS and What the FUCK Did YOU JusT Say
23 Comments

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