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The Making Of Sarge...(part 2)	Posted:Apr 22, 2014 7:22 pm Last Updated:Jul 21, 2014 3:06 pm 11696 Views
The Making Of Sarge...(part 2) Well folks I am back with the next installment of my military career, the 10 weeks of hell known as basic training, or boot camp. Now I want to say that there are a few stereotypes or false perceptions thanks to the media or rumour when it comes to the military, so there may be times when I try to sort things out for you long haired, dope smoking civilian types. When I left off, I was standing in my new home (barracks) for the first time as some little terror (Sgt Ernst) screamed at me and my mates....so here goes. Sept 26, 1980....After screaming at us for what seemed an hour (probably 5 mins), Sgt Ernst left the barracks and there we were. Now to paint a picture for the folks who haven’t been there? Basic training for the Canadian Forces at that time (remember I am old) was held at CFB Cornwallis in Nova Scotia, with half the base right on the Atlantic Ocean, and fall and winter off the Atlantic coast is just fucking wonderful. Now the barracks themselves were two story buildings shaped like a huge H, with each long part of the H one long room with bunks for 40 men, so and the short vertical part of the H were showers and washrooms. The barracks was built to handle a training platoon of 160 men, forty to a leg, upstairs and downstairs...but as fortune would have it, my particular training platoon “the Savage Seventh” lol, that is what we were called, was a unique platoon in that for the first time all of its members were training for one specific unit, Airborne Artillery, except for myself. I was a last minute addition and the only infantryman and yeah I ended up getting a lot of flack for that, but the good thing was our whole platoon was only 37 guys. We were the smallest platoon ever and of course being slated for the Airborne, all our instructors were from the Airborne which set us aside big time....time for an explanation. In the military, whether anyone admits it or not, there is an unwritten hierarchy. There are combat arms (infantry, artillery and armoured) and then there are support trades (everything from supply clerks to cooks to doctors) and while the support trades like to brag about their usefulness the fact is....they aren’t soldiers, and they know it, so when it comes to the totem poll, the wogs or support trades are down at the bottom, then comes artillery, then armoured, and then infantry, but, that’s not the end of it. Even normal, or leg infantry, are down the pole, they are beneath the SSF (Special Service Force) or what would be the Rangers in the US, and then at the top of the pile, is the Airborne Regiment with all 3 commandos (a commando is an undersized battalion), and above them are the Regimental Pathfinders, and then above them all at the peak is JTF2 (Canadas Delta Force), a tiny unit which I won’t talk about. Back to the story, now being smaller by almost 60% than any other training platoon was both an advantage and disadvantage, advantage in that the training schedule was set for 120 recruits so we got at least twice if not three times as much training time on the resources. The bad part, lol, the same number of instructors as a larger platoon, who got to know you very very well....no place to hide when the platoon is that small. So there we were, in our new shiny coveralls lol, not even uniforms yet, about 8 at night, and finally some guy comes up and points us to our bed spaces. Each bed space is a bunk bed, with two large lockers acting as a wall on one side. For bedding you get two white sheets, two grey wool blankets (I still itch thinking of them), a pillow and pillow case.....luxury at its finest. Being exhausted we threw our bedding on the mattress and crashed....it couldn’t have been 10 o’clock, and the place was dead silent, other than bed farts and snoring, no one had a clue what was coming. That didn’t last long...... Next morning, omfg 0500, some fucker throws on the light switches and starts screaming....I couldn’t tell you what he was saying, and all I remember is nearly breaking my nose falling over trying to throw on my coveralls and then standing by my bed as everyone else seemed to be doing. Well after a bit more screaming, I finally figured out that we had a half hour to shit, shower and shave, and have our beds made and the common areas (washrooms/showers) cleaned....wtf ..... sure thing. Well as expected, a half hour later there we were, most of us bleeding slowly to death from dry shaving as there were only 12 sinks, and no two of our beds were made the same and I am pretty sure the common areas looked like crap....cause the instructors all showed up (4 of them) and scared the living shit out of all of us for the next few mins....by the time they were done, I was sure we were headed for a firing squad. I wish. Now at this stage, we all had as much military training as you folks, so of course we were just a gaggle of fuck ups no matter what we did. So the first thing that happened, for the whole morning was drill, or in layman terms, marching....and guess what, it aint fucking easy. 120 paces per minute, each pace exactly 30 inches, arms swung waist high with the thumbs pressing down on the closed fist, shoulders back, head up, eyes front, everyone in perfect step...lol. That first 4 hours until lunch, spent doing that, learning to halt, called on the left foot, one full step with the right foot, one half pace with the left bringing the right leg up to parallel the ground slamming it down at the perfect stance of attention, heels together with a 30 degree angle between the toes, hands shooting down the seam of the pants, once again thumbs pushing down on fist. We also got the basics of right turn, left turn, and dressing (sorting out in column of threes by height). We were by no means good, or even average, but we had the basics, and so we were able to look halfway military on our march to the mess hall. Once there, as the newest platoon, we had to stand and wait our turn as the more senior platoons went in first, and I will say, I was fucking starving...lol. I didn’t expect much as far as the food goes, but I was shocked, the food was awesome, two or three entrees, and tons of sides, lots of carbs and proteins....the problem was....we weren’t allowed much time to enjoy it. When it was our turn to go in, we were told, that once we get our food, find a seat and you had 15 mins to eat and every drop of food better be gone (the military hates waste), and I couldn’t tell you how many guys were doing pushups by the tray stands where you get rid of your tray and garbage. So being starved, I grabbed all I could and I ate every drop in record time..literally licked my plate and actually had enough time to have a smoke outside before we had to form up again. The afternoon began with us going to supply to get our uniforms. Thank god we were a small platoon because I would have hated to have waited through a 160 guys. All at once we were issued two kit bags and a footlocker. We were issued two sets of combats(fatigues) top and bottoms, jacket, parka, full winter combat gear, plus what at the time was called work clothes (the army has finally gotten ridden of them), 2 pairs of pants, 2 shirts, under wear, undershirts, 4 pairs wool socks, 2 pairs dress socks, plus we were sized for our dress uniforms, that were to be tailor made, and given 3 pairs of boots/shoes, combat, work and dress, along with our berets. Now the fun part, we had to figure out how to get all that kit in 2 kit bags and a foot locker and then haul them back to the barracks, fun stuff. Once back at the barracks, we were given kit layouts for how our beds, lockers, and footlockers were supposed to look once we got all our gear sorted out...and the instructors in their kindness, spent the afternoon giving us the one and only demonstration of how to do it.....and we had to be prepared for inspection for the next morning....fuck. At that point, back to the mess hall for a 15 min supper, and then back to the barracks.....we spent all night, and I mean all night, trying our best, to get things the way we were shown, and of course we weren’t close. Most of us have never ironed before, none of us knew how to shine shoes, and some guys were just slobs to start with. We were all near tears the next morning, knowing we weren’t anywhere close to standard, and I have to say, if you asked if any of us wanted to quit right then, the answer would have been unanimous. And that was the first day.... Well things didn’t get easier, at first; the first week was a lot of drill, hours on end, and a lot of our free time sorting out our bed spaces and lockers trying to get to standard. We finally got introduced to PT, physical training, which began at 0530, and consisted at first of a 5 km run(not a jog, these instructors were fucking gazelles), and then a half hour of situps, pushups and whatever else they could think of, and I will admit, the combination of drill, PT, and just generally 18 hours a day of stress was getting rid of a lot of softness...and being considered an “Airborne” platoon, we learned early that our standard was higher than the other platoons and it’s funny how after a while, we started to like the fact things were tougher for us, that we were the “Savage Seventh” and that other platoons weren’t as good as us....it sounds stupid but mass psychology works. On top of that, we had begun classroom training, learning the history of the Canadian Forces, learning the rank structure, and the command structure. By the end of the first week, we were starting to look like a military formation, and the biggest thing, we were learning what the instructors really wanted from us. The lessons to learn in basic, first of all, is to learn that most of what they are trying to teach you, is repetitious, why....so that things become second nature, so that there is no need to stop and think “what am I supposed to do now”. Now that doesn’t mean mindless robots as some people think, hell they let us figure a lot of stuff out for ourselves. The next two things seem at odds but are one and the same. Leadership and teamwork. You can’t be a leader if you don’t know how to follow respectfully, once again, not blindly, but respectfully. And it didn’t take a few of us long to figure out that the one thing the instructors wanted as far as inspections go....is uniformity. That we were working as a team, that everyone’s kit was the same as the person next to him.....a few hotshots learned the hard way when they only cared about themselves and got their stuff sorted out and couldn’t care less about others.....instructors sorted that out right away. If one of us was in shit, we were all in shit....and we had better sort it out. Now in most cases that simply meant helping those who were having problems, but I remember in one case, we had one , who just gave up, wouldn’t do anything, and didn’t care how much his mess screwed the rest of us. At first we let him go, and the instructors gave us shit and not him, so then we helped him, nothing changed, he wouldn’t even try, finally one night, we had a pillow party....grabbed the boy, pelted him with pillows full of bars of soap, and then threw him the shower and scrubbed him down with toilet brushes (he had a hygiene issue as well)....well the next day, he was gone, the instructors figured out that he wasn’t part of the team and he was gone and not a word said.....now I know there are some out there that don’t agree with that, but we weren’t training for the priesthood and sometimes life is full of hard lessons. Now that doesn’t mean there weren’t some lighthearted moments as well....my bunkmate Chris Gulliver, was the funniest man I ever met. He was a newfie....now for those folks who don’t know, Newfoundlanders are a mixture of Canada’s Irishmen/inbred southerners....lol. They are a good natured group of folks who talk so fast in a brogue that no one can figure them out. Now being from Alberta, I had never knowingly met a newfie, so all the boys telling newfie jokes kind of threw me off. Now one night we were sitting around, shining boots, and the boys were telling joke after joke....well not wanting to be a wall flower, I wanted to jump in. Now the boys like to joke that newfies are all inbred, so I turned to Chris, knowing he had a younger sister, and asked him “so Chris, did you get your sisters cherrie?”....and to this day, when I think of his response, I cannot tell if he was joking or not, but it shut me up....he turned to me and said with a straight face “naw....dad got it”.....lmao....I still dont know the truth. So by now we are at about the 3 or 4 week stage, and there is a slow but visceral change coming over us....we started to really look like soldiers, we could march with the best, we were starting to get into “Airborne” shape, not basic shape....we were running 7 miles a morning with a goal to get that under an hour, as a group. We could fire off 50 pushups in our sleep and working on the airborne theme, every time we entered or left a room, we had to do 10 chin-ups using the doorframe. Our instructors were yelling a lot less, though that never completely stopped, and they had started shaping us, to be different than the other training platoons, being combat arms, we never wore the usual work dress, always wearing our fatigues, and our berets were just a little cockier, and we were actually being taught “regimental drill” which was a bit flashier than the standard drill....and seeing the looks other platoons gave us, started giving us a cocky attitude as a group again....we were starting to get that true soldier attitude, 10 feet tall and bullet proof. And we were a team, now I only knew those men for a month or so, but damn we were as tight as brothers, and even if we hated each other at times, we would fight to the death for each other....and it showed. I won’t bore you with details, but over the next few weeks, between drill, PT, classroom we were finally introduced to our new toys...weapons. Back then the standard issue was an FNC1, a damn good assault rifle, though heavy, it would work in any condition. Now we had new drill to learn, as marching with a weapon is obviously different, and trust me that 14 lbs, is something to hold in one hand for hours on end....whew. But after learning to march, to disassemble, reassemble, to fault find, to clean....we finally were heading to the ranges.....woohooo. Now the FN fires a 7.62 round, which is a hell of a bigger round than the 5.56 Nato round now in use. And what a kick...lol. I grew up firing a 22, and 30/30 and was pretty sure I could handle this.....after the first day, and a 100 rounds later I had a welt on my right cheek from the stock slamming back into my face from the prone position. We actually had two guys break their cheeks in those days, as those stocks weren’t adjustable and if you didn’t find the right sighting posture, you were going to get belted. I will admit though, going to the range was the best part of the training....because we were a smaller platoon, we were able to fire and practice a lot more, and I can honestly say, after 3 weeks, every single member of the platoon was average a 2 inch grouping at 300 yards. And if you know your shooting, that is damn fine shooting. I had a couple of 1 inch + groupings and ended up finishing basic with an expert in all weapons (FNC1, pistol, SAW squad automatic weapon or machine gun, 72mmlight anti-tank weapon, and 84 mm medium anti-tank weapon). The only one in my class to do it, and in all fairness, if I hadn’t been infantry, and had been one of the arty guys, I would have been top grad, but they gave it to one of the Arty guys and I didn’t mind). I remember the last 2 or 3 weeks as being night and day from the start, the instructors seemed almost proud of us, in fact, like everywhere in the military, sports plays a huge part, and in week 8 we had a sports day. Now because we were a small unit, most guys had to sign up for 2 or 3 sports just so we could have team, I signed up for floor hockey, ice hockey, and volleyball....lol. I suck at volleyball but because I was tall I figure I could stand there with my hands up and be somewhat useful...not....we got our asses kicked...lol. But....when it came to hockey and ball hockey, I will tell you, small or not, no one fucked with the “Savage Seventh” even our instructors were proud....we only won half our games, but damn, we every fight....lol, and there were a lot of fights, weeks of suppressed anger and we beat the hell out of everyone that crossed out path.....lmao, the base commander actually singled us out for being ruthless.....lmao.....I swear our instructors were beaming. Stupid idiotic thing to be proud of....yep....but damn, by then the 32 of us that were left could take on every one of the bigger platoons and they fucking knew it. The rest is kind of anti-climatic, the last week spent working on hour drill for graduation, getting our posting messages....though a little ironic for me...the next class for battleschool was a couple months off so I was offered a chance to go to Edmonton and take a jump course...lol, I would actually get my jump wings before my Airborne buddies and of course, my Airborne instructors had convinced me that there was nothing better on earth.....so I said yes. And the timing was perfect, since the Christmas break was coming, I would be home (in Edmonton) for 2 weeks relaxing and fucking my brains out(yes I had a girlfriend), and then I could report to jump school. I finally felt that I belonged, I was fit as hell, wore the uniform well, and I felt the part, I was 10 feet tall and bulletproof.....for 2 weeks anyways....lol. I apologize if this is a bit disjointed, its a long time ago, and I was trying to paint a realistic picture of the time, and hopefully the next installment will give a better impression, my time in jump school and then battleschool. Enjoy Sarge
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The Making Of Sarge...(part 1)	Posted:Apr 5, 2014 12:34 pm Last Updated:Apr 22, 2014 5:20 pm 11866 Views
The Making Of Sarge...(part 1) Howdy folks, well another week or two has gone by and I have been thinking of what to write. I asked folks for some ideas, and someone mentioned writing about my military career, and I have been seriously debating it for a while now. There is no denying I have thousands of stories, some hilarious, some a little more personal and emotional, so I have decided to try it....to see how it’s received and then we can look at doing some more....... Now, when it comes to the military, there are a couple things to set straight right from the start. First, a lot of what you see on TV and movies is crap....the movie Blackhawk Down....great movie...full of shit...how do I know....I was fucking there (1993, Canadian Airborne Regiment, 2 Commando, Mogadishu). Now I am not going to slam the U.S. but use some logic folks, for an army that hasn’t met its recruitment goals for 25 years, they take what they get.....hell you can go online and actually see which Felonies it is okay to have if you want to join the US army. Most of the who join up, are no different than any typical high school student anywhere else...and I am once again sorry to destroy folks fantasies....but those 6’3 300lb body builder boys you see in the movies.....don’t exist....besides they are too slow. Just look at the TV....and check the guys out, they are scrawny, not overly bright (they are still young) who are scared shitless and have no idea what they are doing for the most part....sorry if I burst any bubbles there. And that brings me to the second thing I want to clarify or bubble to burst. There are folks who serve their country proudly in uniform for many years in the military; but that don’t make them soldiers .... Soldiers are the pointy end of the stick. My actual job description (infantry, 011) in the training manuals was “to close with and destroy the enemy”. Every other job in the military exists for one reason....to support the soldier on the ground...the infantry or leg soldiers or troopers (paratroops). In the Canadian Army that means out of the 100,000 in uniform, about 16,000 are a combat arm (Infantry, Armour, and Artillery) that’s it. So when the fat old guy at the bar starts telling you about his time in the “sandbox” ask him what trade he was.....the truth is he was probably some truck driver or supply clerk who spent most of their time working on their tans. So never, ever insult a soldier and compare him to anyone else in the military....it won’t go over well. Now the military, going back millennium, has always been a Darwinian organization based on attrition. This is why recruits only have short contracts; this is why they don’t pay recruits/ privates a living salary. The fact is, in combat, you aren’t expected to survive long, if at all. Cannon fodder is harsh, but realistic.....but the ones that do survive, the ones that spend tour after tour in combat, they are the ones who become NCO’s, those crusty old guys who truly run the army.....like me....lol (humility aint it wonderful) So how did I get to that point......lmao....not the way you might think? I was a tall scrawny just out of high school; I looked like a pencil with ears. Now no sob stories, but my family life really really sucked, and I was a pretty lost little puppy, trying to figure out what was next for me, maybe trade school, maybe university, maybe a job and make some money and get my own place......all I knew was I wanted away from where I was. So there I was, one fall day, walking downtown Edmonton, not really heading anywhere particular when I found myself standing outside a recruiting office. Now I knew absolutely nothing about the Army, I didn’t even know what the uniforms looked like.....anything I knew came from the movie “Stripes”. But something may me walk in. Now, the walking into that recruiter’s office was nothing special. I was a farm who was a little lost in the city. I had grown up in a pretty strict home, so I was used to being told what to do, and I was used to having responsibility. I also had a good work ethic, something from growing up on a farm, where if I wanted to do something fun, I had to makes sure all my chores were done first, so that also came into play. Now this is going to upset some folks, but probably the best thing I had going for me before I joined the Army was that after having a step father and mother beat the crap out of me for years, I was tough as nails and had a higher than usual pain threshold and was used to working while hurt and sore. Now I don’t want to hear any awws and ewws because I admitted that publicly, it happened, I dealt with it, and it ended up helping to a degree.....though at the time, I was clueless to all that. So I walked in.....didn’t seem like much, could have been an insurance office, with a rack of pamphlets and a couple desks. Only difference was that the suits the guys were wearing had shiny buttons and some badges all over them. They seemed like nice enough fellas, bit soft spoken and they came up and introduced themselves. Next thing I knew, I was sitting and shooting the shit with some guy, and actually enjoying myself. This guy was smooth....lol, I was absolute putty in his hands. No pressure, we just chatted, and next thing I know, I am looking at a list of trades, and hearing about salaries, and benefits (the Canadian Army is the 2nd highest paid in the world after Australia, and the money sounded great), even possibly going to University, or Military College and becoming an Officer. As I said this guy was smooth, so he tells me, that before we can talk seriously about jobs I would need to take some psychological and aptitude tests.....if I wanted to of course. So I went home that night, a little skeptical but curious, and didn’t think much of it....didn’t even tell my family at that point. Next day I show up, early and start writing tests....OMG there were 8 different aptitude and psych tests.....all timed of course and the aims of each test was not only to answer each and every question, but to do so in a short time period adding some serious pressure to the situation. By the time, I finished in the afternoon, I was fucking drained, and so brain dead, I had no idea if I did well or if I did crappy. The staff said that they would have the results the next day, and then would schedule another interview based on the results. At that point I could care less, I was just beat. Well the next day, early, I mean 2 minutes after 8, the phone rings, can I come into the recruiting office ASAP, well sure I said curious at the reaction, the guy on the phone sounded stressed out. Well long story short, and without sounding narcissistic, it turns out I did well on the tests, very well.....and there was a full course press to sign me up....and I mean they even brought in some boss guy to schmoose me, and I wasn’t dumb, I realized all of a sudden I had some control of the situation. So we started going through my options. First was going back to school, or military college, and getting a degree then getting a commission. Only problem was, I still knew dick all about the army, and if I took that option I would have to sign up for five years, after finishing school....nope way too long a commitment. So then we looked at enlisted trades. I then eliminated anything to do with the Navy, I was a farm boy, and the biggest body of water I ever knew was the slew on the farm....so being stuck on a boat for 3 years....no thank you. Then I quickly eliminated any Air Force trade, as I turned down a commission I couldn’t be a pilot, and the rest of the jobs were all mechanics types jobs working on planes......never enjoyed mechanics so passed on that. At this stage, I said to them, what is the most basic job you got.....well the infantry, but you don’t want to do that, it’s a crappy job, you get treated like crap, and it doesn’t require the type of intelligence I seemed to have shown. But to an 18 year old farm boy, it sounded the most comfortable, hard physical labour, but pretty straight forward and only for 3 years if you don’t like it....so against their wishes I signed on as a plain old grunt...infantryman. Well that night, went home, told my family, who could care less, and within 4 days, I had completed a physical, been giving an itinerary and on my way to basic training....from the time I walked into the recruiting center to landing at Halifax was exactly 7 days.....not much time to think...lol...but now the fun begins..... So I arrive in Halifax, wearing a suit (I have no fucking idea why, but I did), and had 2 big suitcases with everything I owned in them....from the airport, I hooked up with a couple other lost and confused fellas and headed to the train station for the ride to Cornwallis, Nova Scotia...Boot Camp for the Canadian Forces. There are 5 of us, acting calm and cool like we know what’s going on, yet inside all of us were terrified, completely clueless. Next thing, we are at the train station, we grab our suitcases and head out to an actual old fashioned train station, elevated platform and all.....and no-one is there....nothing, its dark and dead. What the fuck? Do we go looking for someone, what the hell....then a little piece of shit beat up car comes screaming up to the station and this short stocky guy wearing a uniform I never saw before and a beret, gets out and starts screaming at us.....and I mean screaming......okay seriously, what the fuck, there I am in a suit, in the dark, at some deserted train station, and this brick of a man is telling me he’s going to rip my head off and shit down the hole......and trust me, I believed the little fucker. Well we were all there ready to do whatever this guy wanted when he gets back in his car, rolls the window down and says follow him, and he screams off.....seriously he lays rubber, so there is this tall gawky goof in a 3 piece suit running down this road with 2 suitcases in his hand trying not to be the last guy there...... I learned that lesson real fast even on the first day.....you never, ever want to be the last person. So after what seemed like 10miles (actually less than one) we were standing in front of this long wooden white building in a row of long wooden buildings....our new barracks. Well at this stage, the little bulldog is out of his car and screaming again, totally indecipherable but we got the gist....and grabbed our bags and headed into the barracks. You walk in the door and you are looking at a long open room, no walls, no dividers, with 25 bunk beds down each wall and a wide open space between the two rows. With the instructors office at the far end, and half way down, a door to a communal washroom/shower, and utility room. This was home for the next 10 weeks. We learned quickly that the bulldog was Sgt Earnst, one of our instructors, and that we were to change immediately into a set of coveralls and pack our clothes so they could be locked away, we wouldn’t see them again until after graduation. Thus begins the most bizarre 10 weeks of my life....basic training/boot camp. All the details will be in the next installment, as this blog has already run to 2300 words....lol. Enjoy Sarge
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Other Peoples Blogs	Posted:Mar 27, 2014 6:13 pm Last Updated:Apr 7, 2014 5:34 pm 12612 Views
Other Peoples Blogs Once again the author takes no responsibility for any hurt feelings, bruised egos or general unpleasantness his blog may cause others Well folks, the old boy has been wondering what to write about this time around....things that popped into his head were his own sex life or complete lack thereof, folks behaviour in chat....sorry I can’t help it, I can just sit there and watch for hours amazed, videos on the site, or as usual just a bunch of judgemental statements about things that annoy me, either about the site or life in general.....the old man syndrome. I have decided to write about all of them, and my own new favorite past-time....reading other peoples blogs....or literary voyeurism...so this may not be the most coherent blog I have ever written. You want to do what? Let’s start at that wonderful and fun place, my own pathetic life, and my complete lack of sex.....okay is everyone sitting down....the old boy hasn’t gotten laid in over 2 years.....lol, even I have to laugh at that. Now in all fairness to myself (weird playing both sides), I was out of the loop for about 6 months with my surgery and recovery, but even then it’s still a year and a half....wow....the only other post-pubescent stretch I have like that was after my divorce and that was mostly due to the fact I really was a bit fucked up in the head and dealing with any woman at that time was not something I wanted to do. Sure I could say my personal rule about not contacting women first might play a part, but to be honest, between this site and POF, I get plenty of invites. Am I stuck up? I don’t think so, not many old broke down soldiers walk in the ranks of the world’s elite, and I definitely don’t see myself that way. Am I too fussy, well depends on what too fussy means.....I admit I won’t fuck just anyone, but I also know I am fairly open minded when it comes to folks in general so it’s not like I have a list of do’s or don’ts (Well a small one maybe). Honestly, I think that with time I have gotten comfortable with my life and lifestyle, yes, I would love to share it with someone, but past experience has taught me that being with someone, just to be with someone, is always a disaster, and not worth the time nor effort. Also, I think I have gotten lazy.....lol. I can’t even count how many times I have gotten an invite out to coffee or meet, and I look up at the clock, and mentally debate the pros and cons of getting up, showering, shaving and getting dressed up for an evening....with the result of the debate usually being....nope not worth it. So the simple honest fact is I have become too lazy to fuck ..... lmao ... beat that one. Mutual Delusion Now I am a big fan of civility, of social ques and graces, which generally allow us to function in groups without offending and killing each other. But I have to question things I see in chat rooms, both on this site and in general. Now I admit, the time I spend in chat is mostly as an onlooker, not that I don’t like chatting, but I have a hard time with small talk....I tend to be more opinionated (surprise), and feel more comfortable when there is an actual topic being discussed. What I really suck at is the mutual delusion I see going on in the chat rooms. What do I mean? Well I will pop into a chat room, and just watch folks for a bit, and all you can see is 20 guys hitting on 3 women, and the women loving the attention (can’t blame them), but what gets nauseous is the bullshit that gets thrown around. Now at 50, I am the first man to admit, that my years of women drooling over me are long past (if they ever existed), and I am fine with that, yet all I see in these rooms are folks just like me pretending how gorgeous and sexy each other is......and feeding off it. Seriously, it’s like there is a rule in the chat rooms, I will tell you how gorgeous you are, if you tell me how gorgeous I am, and we will both pretend to accept it as fact.....yyeeecccchhhhh. Now I am not saying we should all be brutally honest, then no-one would ever get laid again, but tone it down a bit.....oh never mind, it’s just me bitching.....chat away. Other Peoples Blogs Which brings me to a touchy subject....definitely some serious egos involved in the blogging world. Now I love my blog.....yep, I love it, not because I think it’s the best blog out there....I know it’s not, but because I love the actual writing of it. I find it cathartic, I find that venting and expressing myself at the most base level frees my mind of life’s frustrations. I can spend hours writing each one, going over every point, making sure that there is something offensive to everyone, and trying to inject my own brand of twisted humour in each. I have also, quietly, read quite a few other blogs, both locally and internationally, (my blogs are huge in Germany and the Netherlands ... go figure), and in my own naiveté, I figured folks were writing theirs for the same reason....and some are. Now I am treading lightly here, as I truly don’t want to make anyone cry (Santa is watching), but I have noticed many different styles/types of blogs. There are the soapbox blogs (me me me) where some fool thinks he has all the answers to everything and feels comfortable sharing it with the world. There are the whining blogs, where the writer uses the blog to complain about anything and everything in their life both online and offline, these can be amusing, and I have written a couple myself, but too much can be tedious....and sometimes way too much personal information is shared and makes things very uncomfortable. There are the ego blogs.....treading lightly here again, where the blog is obviously about attention, whether its physical or intellectual, and seeks constant reinforcement from the readers....not a big fan of these. The worst part of this type of blog....is when you know the author, and you know what they are saying is bullshit, complete and utter bullshit....and Sarge being Sarge, I have actually had to force myself to delete responses I had written to these....back to mutual delusion. Then there are the weird guy blogs, which are always written by men, and usually consist of one or two incomplete sentences about how they are looking for or can’t find women. And the worst of the worst.....Sympathy Blogs.....okay I am a hardass....I admit it, I don’t generally feel sympathy for anyone other than and animals....and nothing gets under my skin faster than someone outwardly seeking if not demanding sympathy....and what’s even worse, so many of you folks out there are “nice” people, that they usually get it......yyeeeeccchhhh. Personally, as someone who truly enjoys writing (some of my poetry has even been published....little bit of an ego stroke there), the blogs I enjoy the most, are the ones I feel are well written, whatever their topic may be, so a shout out to a couple folks whose blogs I have enjoyed lately....Addzisback, Lapnapkinneeded and GhostofH....not to omit any others, but those are the ones that come to mind. Assorted Annoying Things Affairlook Videos...maybe this is just me, but I have completely desensitized to masturbation.....meaning I have seen so many women rubbing one out, that it absolutely does nothing for me.....and I can only imagine how women feel after watching a billion guys jerking off.....if you told me when I was 15 I would get tired of pussy.....sigh....I would have thought you were nuts. The weather....I hate spring....sounds dumb dont it.. the birds are singing, the trees are turning green, etc etch....but to me, all that spring means is greyness, gravel, and slush......everything is covered in that dirty grey melting snow, and then as that melts you get the 4 inches of gravel covering everything, and thanks to all of that, you have to wash the damn car every day.....every fucking day....I hate spring. Curling....and bowling and darts and American college football and American college basketball and Nascar......and any other idiotic sport on tv that goes over its time limit and forces me to miss the beginning of one of my damn shows.....seriously Patience.....and how I don't have any....I just spent $5700 on a new laptop that blows away Alienware, and it’s going to take 22 days to get here......arrrrgggghhhhhhhhhhh Enjoy Sarge
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Unwanted and Unsolicited Advice	Posted:Mar 3, 2014 5:07 pm Last Updated:Jun 25, 2018 10:59 am 13901 Views
Unwanted and Unsolicited Advice * Anyone offended, upset or slighted by this blog are advised that the author could care less and for those who feel the need to correct him are welcome to kiss his ass* Okay folks, the old boy is in the mood for a piss off the world and annoy anyone who reads my blogs, blog. Being the smartass know-it-all I think I am, and having been on this site for long enough to have a good feel for what happens here and the people behind those monitors, I thought I would, being the kind, generous soul I am, offer my advice to everyone....whether they wanted it or not. I will add the caveat that any opinions or advice I am offering is not for those married couples here.....I am not a part of the swinger community nor wish to be, and while I have met some great folks that are, I am limiting my comments to those of us who use the site for other than swinging purposes. For Both Genders Profile Photos (Part 1)...yeah yeah yeah, I have heard all the defensive crap, I don’t want my partner to find out, or my , or my co-workers, or my priest......listen up folks, all those people have their own issues, and are spending their time online pursuing them, and trust me, the idea of seeing you nekked, other than a curiosity issue, is NO BIG DEAL. And since I opened the door, put a damn face pic up. Seriously. If your husband/wife, isn’t smart enough to figure out what you are doing spending 7 hours in the basement (and don’t yourself, they know something’s up no matter how good you try and hide it) and cant Google how to check your history, then the likely hood they are going to find your smiling mug on a sex/dating/swinging site is slim to none. Yet....on the same note, I doubt anyone can argue that a profile with a face pic will always get more attention....and interest....no matter how big, mean, bald or ugly you are (trust me). Profile Photos(Part 2)...Individual photos....now we all know how excited folks get when they first join the site and see boobies and dicks galore....woo fucking hoo....but it gets lame fast (see Part 1). Another thing that you have to know, close up photos of individual body parts can be extremely deceiving...there is the incredibly sexy close up of the pink hard nipple which ends up being attached to a 63year old 240 lb lot bunny with a mustache in Kansas, or the long rock hard dick just waiting for you that ends up attached to the 84lb crack addict in Saskatoon. After face pics, the most important photo, is the full body, head to toe, this is me good and bad photo. Now I may sound harsh, but the fact is, whether you are big or small, tall or short, fat or skinny, if you take the time to throw on something nice and clean up a bit, there are members of the other sex who will find you sexy and interesting. But you run more risk of rejection when those same people learn completely by surprise the “real you” Profile Photos (Part 3)...Believe it or not....pics of you with clothes on can be sexy too....I know, I know, but it’s true. Listen, for those of us over 40....the body isn’t what it once was....doesn’t mean it isn’t sexy, but believe it or not, a photo in some lingerie, or a pair of boxers, can be equally enticing....just a thought Profiles (Part 1)...Racism.....sigh, okay pet peeve here, yes I am an old opinionated redneck, but I despise racism in all forms. Now we all have personal preferences, whatever they may be, but to actually put “I only date white/black/yellow” is shallow as hell. I am not saying you have to date anyone you don’t want to, but you don’t need to throw your confederate flag up on your profile to prove your ignorance, and spare me the excuse that it saves you from getting unwanted email.....how fucking long does it take to click that X and delete without insulting anyone? Profiles(Part 2)...Negativity...okay, come on folks, putting on your profile how pissed off you are at the site/men/women/the world and how you are closing your account the next day (though it was dated 4 months ago), isn’t going to get the response you want. In fact most folks are going to pass you by, and those that don’t are predators who think you are needy and depressed and an easy target....call it a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you don’t like it, leave. Profiles (Part 3)...Humour....now it may sound silly coming from the grumpiest bastard online, but the fact is, if you can insert a bit of humour in your profile in whatever form, I will bet a paycheck you get more positive responses (ps....I am retired). For the Ladies Arrogance...First of all, everyone who has half a clue knows the men on this site outnumber the ladies 15 or 20 to 1. So basically us fellas are dogs fighting over a bone and you gals reign supreme. But, and it’s a big but, you can’t let that get to your pretty little heads. The reality for most of us, including you gals on this site, is that you are ordinary, Joanne Average, who is looking for whatever you are looking for, and that like the rest of us, wouldn’t draw a second glance on the street. But the fact all of you get so much attention from us “dogs” you start to develop the Paris Hilton attitudes to match. I cannot count how many ladies profiles I have read (yep I read em) where in the first couple of sentences is “must be fit” or “I prefer athletic”, which is fine, we all seek perfection, but then I look at your photos and I see a 47 year old who’s belly sticks out farther than her boobs and she actually has to hold it up with one arm to show you her pussy. Do you see the contradiction? And the arrogance. Now lucky for you gals, most fellas on here don’t seem to care what you think, and will chase you anyways, but those of you seeking some substance behind the “dick” you might want to rethink how you portray yourselves. Hypocrisy....Similar to the arrogance issue, but the fact is I have read countless profiles where “attached” or “married” women make a definitive point of asking for “single” men only.....seriously? So your personal morals are okay with you cheating, but dammit, you will not allow some fella to cheat on his gal.....come on...get over yourselves... “Hello pot, this is kettle.....you’re black”. Clarity...Now unlike us fellas, you ladies have tons of choices for the most part, so notwithstanding some of my earlier points, why not make it clear what you are looking for to narrow things down..ie..it’s a pain in the ass for all involved when you spend time getting to know someone when you eventually find out that they really want you to tie them to the couch and beat them with a spatula and you aren’t really into the BDSM thing....always awkward. For the Fellas Profiles (Part 1)...Dick pics....we all have em, yep, we all put em up, but trust an old boy, don’t make it your profile pic, nor your hairy chest pic. If you aren’t brave enough to throw up a face pic, at least throw up a real pic with some of that cloudy crap you can do in Photoshop...seriously that will get more interest than another dick pic. Profiles (Part 2).....Fill it out....lol, you do realize you are competing against 92% of the people on this site for attention, and how much do you think a blank profile is going to get.....now if you are only using the site as a source of masturbatory fuel...have at it...but seriously, fill out the damn thing, some cute gal might actually read it. Profiles (Part 3)....Lying....OMG, what a perfectly unique thought...tell the fucking truth. This is the one that always stumped me....in fact the only damn reason I joined the site was I thought, “Okay, a site centered around people looking for sex, well at least no need for folks to bullshit and can finally be themselves” but damn I was wrong again..... How long does it take you fellas to figure out that lying on here is self-defeating.....you create this false persona, see a sexy profile, approach her, she responds positively based on what she reads, and eventually she wants to meet.....OH OH...now what??? LOL....you just fucked yourself. I don’t care who you are, there are ladies out there who will want to talk to and even fuck you, no matter who you are or what you look like, and the odds go way up if you are honest....hell I am a big scary grumpy fat bald old boy and there are ladies on here who like me.....seriously.....so try it, it might work. Okay, I think I have annoyed you folks long enough, even though I am sure I will think of another half dozen things to bitch about as soon as I post this, but I can save those for the next blog....enjoy. Sarge
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Happy “If I buy you a present will you give me a blowjob” Day	Posted:Feb 10, 2014 5:12 pm Last Updated:Jun 25, 2018 11:01 am 12396 Views
Happy “If I buy you a present will you give me a blowjob” Day Editor’s note: “Finger in the Butt”, “Hang me by my testicles”, “Allow me to bring another woman/man into bed” or “any of a variety of barnyard animals” may all be substituted for “Blowjob” depending on your tastes. Okay after my mushy and self pitying blog I can finally get back to my irritating ranting self and one of my favorite subjects is at hand .. “Valentine’s Day “or as I call it above “If I buy you a present will you give me a blowjob” Day. By the way I do accept all hate mail that will be generated by this blog; hey a boy takes what he can get. Now before you all start bellowing and figure on correcting me, this blog is aimed at those who are in one of those every day, tedious and monotonous relationships or “marriage” as some are calling them nowadays....for those of us who have spent most of our adult life in one them, in one shape or another, that is what Valentine’s day is.... a chance to bribe our partner into performing an act that we would otherwise simply imagine while in the shower or while surfing at 3 a.m. Single folks might not remember those days, since in the throes of new relationships, casual dating, or for those lucky enough, a FWB situation, acts like the common Blowjob (Fellatio-Raritus), or Anal Sex (Buttus-Soreius) or even the rare Multiple Partners (Poly-Optionus) is something that is still part of the thrill of a new relationship and is usually the result of whatever female is involved padding her resume in hope of creating a more permanent status, or in the case of the lesser attractive of the species (homo-uglius) doing what they need to do to get some companionship. But the honest to god, simple truth, is that once in that relationship or marriage, as time passes....the opportunity for any of a multitude of naughty acts fades....until things like “Birthday sex” and “Anniversary Sex” evolves and then even they fade to the fate of the Dodo bird. It’s not really anyone’s fault, as we get to know each other and become more familiar with each other, the desire to drive your partner to heights of ecstasy fade. After seeing each other in faded and torn undies....and becoming comfortable brushing our teeth as our partner squats in determined fury on the toilet....After both parties stop shaving until “absolutely necessary” or years of inhaling each other’s bed farts (and I am sorry, women’s farts are much worse...something about holding it in longer).....the desire to do such acts understandably slides into an oft dreamed of past. Remember, these poor gals have seen our dirty laundry, they have watched us eat something disgusting (usually off the floor, from the garbage or a former minor body part ie toenail). They have heard wonderful sounds emanating from every orifice on our body, usually followed by our own chuckling. So the incentive to go downtown isn’t always there. So what do we (men) do about that? Well at first, the more enlightened of us try to counteract the fact that the missus has seen us at our most natural, and try to bring romance back into the scene....but being men, we of course equate romance to spending money. In the early more desperate years, when we really want that blowjob, remembering fondly how much fun they were, we focus on nice dinners, thoughtful gifts that the woman in our life appreciates, or the ever-faithful jewellery (watches don’t count). And then time moves on, we have become slightly more comfortable hence more disgusting, the belly is more pronounced, there is now back, ear and nose hair to deal with....etc. But we also have become more distant from “those good old perverted days”, so our effort in romance also slides....now the flowers come from 7-11 and usually consist of one limp rose with a “scratcher” attached (though we don’t realize that if she actually won on the scratcher her ass is gone). The chocolates are now those horrible little cheap drug store ones that have a nut hidden inside that some monkey in Brazil couldn’t digest. And the presents are restricted to $7 little stuffed bears from the first aisle you come to in Walmart.....forget jewellery, even watches. And that is if we remember at all..... So as distasteful as it may seem, Valentine’s Day to those in relationships is not about romance, it’s not about displaying your love and devotion, it’s simply a wonderfully timed opportunity for us desperate old boys bribe you gals into what will soon become something cherished as we age.....the good old BlowJob (or applicable substitute). Enjoy while you can. Sarge
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So you think you’re tough????	Posted:Feb 1, 2014 3:49 pm Last Updated:Jun 25, 2018 11:05 am 13320 Views
So you think you’re tough???? Well I am back....yep, the grumpy; opinionated old boy has decided to venture back into this incomprehensible world of sex and debauchery for another run at finding that one last cute woman with no taste in men.....and of course the absolutely worst way to make that happen is to advertise my thoughts and feelings in my first blog on returning..... Before I resort to my usual sarcastic, cynical musings I thought I would bring up something important and sincere with the hopes perhaps it might jar something in one or two minds out there. After leaving the site 2 years ago, I had very serious life-threatening surgery, no joke, no bullshit, the coroner was parking the bus surgery....and I made it...knock on wood. What I want to talk about is what happened after the surgery. Like many of you out there, I am single, live on my own (no not in my mom’s basement). Being a retired soldier, I had spent my life living out of a suitcase and travelling, even while I was married, so when I finally retired I decided to settle in Winnipeg, a great little city but one where I knew maybe 3 people. Over the last ten years since retiring, I have made a few casual friends, quite a few acquaintances and a handful of ex-girlfriends.....that is my whole social circle. I have no family to speak of, my is on her own in Edmonton, I have never worked here in Winnipeg so no co-workers/peers, so when the hospital asked about a next of kin....other than my (who as much as I love her I would never trust with life altering decisions) I had no one to put down.......at least not locally... PATHETIC Seriously....how pathetic is that...a grown man who literally has no-one in his life that he can turn to in time of need? Now let’s be honest, I am not the type of person who is world famous for feeling sorry for himself or who is always whining and asking everyone for help. I have a twisted sense of pride in my ability to handle anything that comes along......and for the first time in my life I was in a situation where I was literally helpless....and my pride, and perhaps my inability to allow anyone close, put me in a very precarious situation. The day after the surgery, I was laying in the hospital, tubes going in and out, breathing and peeing though other tubes (hopefully they don’t get them confused) in a wonderful drug induced haze reflecting on my life and the situation I was in. And of course to make matters worse, I was still Sarge.....sigh.....lol, you thought I was grumpy when I was healthy, you should go ask the nurses what they thought.....lol. Not to sound too self-pitying, I was surprised by how many visitors I had, especially people who I had met on this site and on POF over the years.....I was touched by their concern, but once again these are casual friends and acquaintances, not that “true friend” you can turn to and say “I need help”.....you know just writing that freaked me out a bit.....I have never in my life to my recollection ever asked for help.....probably one of the worst traits about me. Anyways, so there I am, driving the nurses nuts, pissing off the doctors (I am sorry, but how can you take a surgeon seriously who wears cowboy boots), and they are telling me I should expect to be in ICU for at least another week......sigh....that’s where the real part of this rambling blog begins. As weak as I felt, and this is a man who has had a broken back, and I have never felt as helpless as I did then, though I was mobile (ever so slowly....I could walk....10 mins to walk down the hall). I had no strength, because of the surgery, every one of my ribs had been forcibly dislocated, and every muscle from my abs to my shoulders had been incised.......I literally, honestly could not pick up anything heavier than my cell phone. But I couldn't handle the hospital.....I have never been a fan of them and I spent every minute from the time I woke up after the surgery trying to get out. So I finally pissed the surgeon off enough he let me sign the “against medical advice” forms and leave....as long as I had someone at home to look after me....well not even thinking beyond the moment, I lied and said yep.....took an hour to get dressed (no joke, try putting on jeans and boots when you can’t bend or lift anything) and was rolled down to the entrance of the hospital where I walked out....got in a cab....and went home. That’s when it really hit me......I was alone. I mean ALONE. If I was to fall over right then and there no one would find me until a few months later when the neighbors complained about the smell or the bills weren't paid, and the physical condition I was in, falling over was a real likelihood. A life being the tough guy, of being the man who didn't need anyone had brought me this point, where it took me 15 mins to get out of bed, to where I couldn't even go buy groceries for myself for 2 months.....2 months. Alone is a fucking scary thing......and for me at least, I never realized that until I was truly helpless and had no-one to turn to. Alone is terrifying when you are standing in the shower and your foot slips and you “almost” fall, knowing you would never have gotten up on your own. Alone is the pain of trying to make a sandwich and the jar of Peanut Butter on the shelf weighs so much you almost pass out. Alone is the frustration of not being able to dress yourself properly. Alone is lying in bed, unable to sleep because of the pain and repeating to yourself “it’s going to get better....it’s going to get better” and not believing a word of it. Alone is not as cool as I once thought So to stop the melodrama and to stop boring all or any of you folks who usually read my blogs for a different sort of story, I will simply say, if you have a chance, and it’s not too late.....don’t ever put yourself in a situation where you are truly alone....as I said, it’s a fucking scary place to be.
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Dinosaur Bones	Posted:May 20, 2011 12:54 pm Last Updated:Mar 18, 2014 12:50 pm 14581 Views
Dinosaur Bones Well hello again folks, as a couple of you have noticed (all 3 of you) I have been a little preoccupied the last little while and haven’t spent much time in our little virtual universe. Daddy’s little girl, my soon to be 25 yr old in Edmonton had decided we needed to renew our annual “daddy bail me out of something idiotic” event so I have been going back and forth to Edmonton putting out a few fires. So that damn pesky “real world” has had my attention and I have been very neglectful of my much more comfortable virtual world which also happens to be a lot fucking cheaper (sorry some residual anger at Daddy’s girl). So what to write about to renew things......over the past few weeks I have had quite a few topics go through my addled mind, though I have missed out on local gossip despite the best efforts of the always lovely and ever annoying MrsRoss and a few others, LOL, that ought to get you some emails Rossy (“what the hell you telling that guy”) lmao. The topic of the day is going to be one that is very much orientated towards myself ... Aging ... (hence the dinosaur bones title). Hello my name is Sarge and I am old I admit it. I don’t necessarily like the idea, like many others I have wished many times I could go back with the knowledge and experience I have and be 20 again, but alas not to be.....unless I can get Stewie to share his time machine secrets (obligatory family guy reference). But until then, I accept it. The fact that I have accepted being old seems to annoy some folks, quite a few in fact. It seems if I am 47, and refer to myself as old, then others around my age feel the need to correct me because they don’t feel old (and correcting me always goes well). So there comes the need to actually explain why I am old.....seriously, is this something I thought I would have to defend? But here are the indisputable facts that prove I am old. First there is the simple physical aspect of aging. Now at my peek, say about 28, I was a fucking monster, 240 lbs, maybe 4% body fat, hard and lean and trust me I loved my body. Now almost 20 years later, about 10 more lbs and the old body fat ratio in double digits, I am no longer in love with the body. I am fortunate that being tall helps disguise things but trust me I am nowhere near the boy I was. I now have man boobs......sigh, is there anything more depressing fellas than when your rock hard pecs turn into cleavage? Then there is the fact of 40 years of abusing my body, 33 broken bones, several wounds and even multiple surgeries to rebuild this man (still only worth about $60 grand and not $6 million) has had an effect. I now moan when I stand up after sitting too long (thanks to a broken back in ’91) and need to stretch. If I play with the or dogs on my knees, I can’t get up without leaning on something (I no longer think those “help I can’t get up” commercials are funny). Aches and pains are a daily part of my life, nothing debilitating, I am still a tough and mean of a bitch but they are there. Then there are activities. Being a soldier, I couldn’t have been in better shape, a 50 km march....pffffft....barely break a sweat. Now??? I don’t walk to 7-11 for a slurpee, grabbing the car keys instead. I used to take stairs 3 at a time to build my glutes....lol, now I find myself grabbing the railing.....and more than one person has heard “where the hell is the elevator”. The worst part is back in the day, I was a machine, when I was with a lady and in the mood, I could bang off a weekend with only some gaitoraide and pee breaks. Now??? You get one good old college try and if you want immediate seconds....go see the guy down the hall (I am not a believer in the little blue pill obviously....going for 4 hours is a road trip, not sex). And on the topic of sex......I actually creep myself out a bit if I catch myself even glancing at a woman under 30....even accidentally. Then there are the other physical signs of aging....and they are definitely proof positive that God has a sense of humour. The inverse hair migration. You guys know what I am talking about. The hairline starts sliding back, farther and farther, and yet while that hair disappears, all of a sudden there is a sudden growth of ear and back hair. I haven’t seen a barber in ages, but I have to shave my ears and trim my eyebrows....and have actually thought about getting a back waxing....WTF. So there is the physical proof. Now for the personality proof. I hate teenagers. Without a fucking hesitation, I hate those long haired dope smoking green peace freaks. LOL, it sounds funny, but even my friends start to get on my nerves after about 15 (we won’t go into my own damn ). Now I am famous for getting along with , but teenagers.....forget it. I have a debilitating personality trait when it comes to communicating with teenagers. I have common sense Have you actually tried debating with a .....OMG, it’s easier to train a wild wolf to shake a paw than to get one of them to understand the simple realities of life. If I hear the word “like” ever again it will be too soon....how the hell did that word become a speech impediment? Yes I have become the grumpy old man. I can still remember my youth, and for the life of me I couldn’t remember having the balls some of these have nowadays. Once again, big, mean, old bastard, sitting at a cafe, these little brats have no fear in coming up and saying “Hey Buddy, give me a smoke”.....are you fucking serious?? First of all the term “buddy” is considered a huge insult in the Army so not a great start, and then the attitude if you say no......more balls than brains. I also find myself getting more and more rigid in my belief and ideals. Now I still consider myself reasonably open-minded, but for the most part I doubt at my age I am changing my opinion on things too much. A good example of that. Cell phones. I hate cell phones. I have accepted that they serve a purpose. I even have one. But the way they have permeated our society annoys me to no end...and remember I was a tech who built the digital switching systems. All my friends call me a dinosaur, but some things aren’t going to change. I don’t take my cell phone with me everywhere. I will never talk in public on the phone and get very annoyed at people who do. I fucking hate texting. I absolutely refuse to be one of these mindless robots hunched over a two inch screen typing with their thumbs about “do you think sally was cute”. All my friends know they can text me all they want, just don’t expect an answer. And to me, if what you have to say isn’t important enough to waste a phone call on, then don’t bother at all. Another thing that I will never change my opinion of. Facebook. There is something absolutely creepy to me about 40 yr old men on facebook. And save me the argument about keeping in touch with family and friends. The phone worked fine for decades, and I truly do not give a flying fuck what kind of pizza you just ordered, or who tagged you in what pic. There is something very OCD about mature people spending hours on facebook......and I know I just pissed off the last few people who read my blogs, but this is one old mans opinion. Another stubborn old belief of mine, grown men wearing running shoes. Does anything look goofier than grampa in runners. If you are participating in something athletic, fine but appropriate shoes for appropriate clothes.......God I am a crusty old bastard.....lol. Now for some of the more subtle things that are proof I am getting older. When I was a , back in the day, we lived fairly comfortably. My parents were well to do so we had all the “toys” of the day. One of my biggest pet peeves was TV and my dad. Back then we had the 26 inch floor model with the dial for changing channels, and there were only 3 channels and one was French. Well my dad would come home from work, sit in “his” chair, and watch his stupid ass wild kingdom shows. Sure enough in 15 minutes he was asleep and snoring, so me and my brothers would sneak up and try to change the channel to something good, and as soon as we did, that old bastard would wake up and give us shit saying “I was watching that”....fucking liar. Well now at 47, what do I find myself doing? Getting all snuggled up on my couch and watching National Geographic TV......sigh.....full circle. Now there is no way I have become my dad, but a lot of the things I used to identify with “old people” as a , I now do or I am comfortable with. I now place more emphasis on how comfortable something is to wear than how it looks. I still spend way too much money on cars, but now I actually look for value than just how cool a car looks. So, other than humiliating myself as usual, I hope I have proven positive to those few who felt the need to debate, I am an old man......and I am fine with that. Sarge
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Adventures in Dating.....Part 3b.....Online Dating	Posted:Apr 20, 2011 3:03 pm Last Updated:Mar 18, 2014 1:01 pm 15315 Views
Adventures in Dating.....Part 3b.....Online Dating Well after a month or so it’s time to finally put a finishing touch on my “Adventures in Dating” series. As the few who have followed my adventures from start to finish can understand, I am single for a reason and that doesn’t look like it will change anytime soon....unless those cute ladies with no taste in men finally find me.....lol. When we left off, we had just discussed my first exposure to a married woman on a dating site, which took place about 2 years into my Online Dating experience. Now that was an eye opening experience, it definitely took the “shine” off online dating, and as some who know me have attested too, more than likely created even more cynicism in the grumpy old bastard. From that point on, even though a part of me continued to hope to find that “one” sweet, cute little gal for me, I had started to see folks on here through a more critical view. So this blog will cover the last six years of my dating experience leading up to today.....bearing in mind, that for a good percentage of those six years I was in a couple relationships.....proof that it can work to some degree. So on to some highlights of my adventures in online dating: 1. One cold winters day I was approached online by a lady on POF, no picture, pretty sparse profile, and when I asked for a picture or two she claimed that she had no way of putting one up. Well being a suspicious old bastard, I bluntly told her that not having a clue of what she looked like was going to temper our conversations and any interest I might have. Well I give her a bit of credit, her response to that was to meet....immediately, she described what she looked like and we decided to meet at a local restaurant/lounge. Well being a cold Tuesday in February, I got to the lounge early, figuring there wouldn’t be a lot of single women walking in to the lounge at 8 on a Tues night. Watching from my car, I notice a vehicle pull up and a woman get out.......the first thoughts in my head..... ”please don’t be her, please don’t be her”, but of course it was. Now I am a big guy, but this girl was huge.....I mean massive, a huge basketball with legs, and nowhere near the lady she described online. Now I have many female friends, some of whom have very negative self esteem issues, and I thought “well she was just embarrassed” and gave her the benefit of the doubt, and walked up to the lounge to meet her. As you will soon learn, the old boy is not anywhere near as insightful as he thinks he is and learned a rather tough lesson. Already having decided there was not going to be any romantic connection at all, but not wanting to give her any reason to think it was because of her appearance, I made the mistake of actually trying to be a nice guy (lol, a lesson not to be repeated). So we went in, ordered dinner (sigh, I had hoped for quick drinks but nope she ordered food so I am stuck), and started the Old Boys education. While I am trying to be politically correct and telling her she should put a pic up, she did have a cute face, and so on.....she kept looking at me a bit strange.....this went on for a bit until she blurted out “....do you think I have a hard time meeting men?”. Well, over the next hour, and a very uncomfortable dinner, the woman I thought had body issues and insecurity decided to quite bluntly educate me on the fact she gets laid almost every night, that she meets a ton of men on the site and to quote “fucks everyone I can”. LOL, and according to the graphic details she provided, I have no doubt she does....and very creatively....yet I couldn’t help but wonder because she seemed to think that sharing this very detailed analysis of her online sex life was supposed to encourage me to join the list of men....seriously. Now I love sex, but there ain’t no way in hell I am doing anyone’s leftovers, and especially given the list I was being given.....god I couldn’t wait to leave. Finally the dinner is done and thinking myself a gentleman, I foolishly decided to walk her to her car. We got to her car, and now I have to paint a mental image.....here is a 6’2 240 lb soldier.....being literally squashed.....and I mean squashed, between this woman and her car, as she repeatedly tries to convince me to get in her car with her. No fucking way.....all I had going through my mind were images of the movie Misery and being locked in some closet somewhere in chains......yet without getting physical I was stuck. So here we are in the middle of this debate when for the first time in my life I actually questioned my masculinity, as a police car cruised through the lot and it actually entered my mind to have them “come rescue me”. Well the humiliation of that thought gave me the strength to push this woman away and literally run.....lol, and the truly strange part of this is the lady still contacts me every month, years later, asking to meet again. 2. Then there was the very attractive lady I met after talking for a few days online. A single mom for a couple years, anxious to get out and date, she had two very young , but felt the time was right for her to move on. Sounds okay right? Well it started out okay, attractive in person, very personable, not too much bitching about the ex (seriously I have to say that does get old fast) and we are enjoying ourselves. Then in the conversation, I unintentionally asked the wrong question, the dumbass in me.... I asked “so where are the tonite?”........now these are both under 7, and she very bluntly told me, as if it was no big deal and quite normal told me that the were home alone.....as usual. AS USUAL??? OMG, I sat there stunned......had no idea what to say.....what the hell do you say? Once again, I made up some lame excuse and bailed.....all the time wondering if I should phone social services. To this day I see her on that site, and I can only wonder about her . 3. Now we are on to another very attractive lady I met on a dating site. We had corresponded for a few weeks, no major warning signs, but she had told me she had gone through a bit of change in her life, and was just re-establishing roots. Doesn’t sound too dramatic, and given the number of people coming out of bad relationships online, actually quite normal......lol, wrong again. Now there was definitely a lesson in this one. See I made a big mistake. We had been chatting online one weekend, a Saturday and she asked to get together. Now it was getting late in the evening and I said I was pretty comfy at home, and not in the mood to get out but maybe the next day. She responded that she wouldn’t mind coming over and having some tea and maybe watching a movie (yeah yeah, I am Mr Excitement), and in my delusion I said fine. Now I am normally very protective of my home, I am not famous for allowing folks to know where I live....but she seemed nice and what the hell......sigh Well she came over, again, attractive, seemed nice, we relaxed on the couch and started talking over tea. Well it’s in this conversation I learned that the “life change” she was referring to, was......just being released from prison. WTF??? Now seriously, this is a 40ish woman, attractive and when that comes out I am stunned........so of course I ask, for what? It turns out she had been in jail for 4 years for a string of burglaries feeding a drug habit. LMAO, now for some folks, no big deal, but I am very rigid in what I believe is acceptable in life, and now I have a convict sitting on my couch, seeing my belongings, who admits to breaking into people’s homes to feed a drug habit. Without any remorse, the remainder of the conversation didn’t go well for her, and yes I can be a hardass without a doubt, and no I don’t believe in people changing and there was no way in hell I was interested in being a part of her transformation. I definitely made sure the doors were locked after that for a while. 4. Now this next story is one of my favourites but it does expose some aspects of me that are a bit unflattering. One day on POF, I got an email from a lady, now being the cynic I am, before even opening it, I went to read her profile. The profile seemed generic enough but it was the pictures that caught my fascination. Now this was either the ugliest woman, and I mean scary fucking ugly, or a man in drag. I couldn’t figure it out. Now those who know me, know, I am obsessed with figuring things out, and here was a person who I couldn’t figure out. I still hadn’t opened the email, and I was emailing friends, male and female to go look at her photos and help me out. I had cut and paste the photos to desktop and was trying to blow them up and see if I could see an Adams Apple. In each photo she/he was wearing a different colored wig, and was dressed in 1950’s era dresses.....it was driving me insane. My friends couldn’t tell either and so I went back to the email. Her email was very generic....Hi, you seem like a nice guy blah blah......so I responded “thank you, that’s very sweet of you but I have a rather bizarre question........are you really a man?” Now for the ladies reading this, I ask you, if a man sent you an email asking you “are you really a man”.....you probably wouldn’t respond nicely, if you responded at all....correct? Well this person responds back the next day, not with anger or embarrassment, but with humour and without answering the damn question......I still don’t know.....it’s driving me nuts. So being the man I am, what do I do? I agree to meet him/her. LOL, I just have to know, it’s actually keeping me awake. So we agree to meet for coffee the next day, now I am not proud to say this, but there is no way in hell I am being seen in public with this person, so I suggested meeting at his/her place and I would bring the lattes. So the next day, a rainy spring day, I drive to the address.....a real dumpy apartment on Sargeant.....and I pull up into the parking lot. Now thinking we would go somewhere, she/he meets me at the apartment door and I suggest sitting in my car to talk a bit and get out of the rain. I STILL CANT TELL....he/she is wearing one of those Leave it to beaver mothers outfits, and wearing a wig and even up close I cannot tell. So we are sitting in the car and its driving me fucking nuts.....lol, so yes, being the shy little fella I am, I finally spit it out....again....”are you a man”. LOL, do I ever regret that, to this very day I wish I could have just let it go......because as soon as I asked, she (notice there is no longer a “he” attached to that), she says “want to see” and lifts her skirt and flashes me. I could live the rest of my days never having seen that, but I definitely got my answer, and as is my way, made up some lame excuse and disappeared.....another lesson learned the hard way. 5. And my last story to this series, though one that I think truly describes how my attitude towards online dating has changed forever. This past summer, I met a lady on POF, once again, who seemed nice and normal. Now by this time, all my filters are going all the time. I go over the profile with a fine tooth comb, looking for “warning flags”, analyzing each and every conversation looking for mental instability, signs of emotional imbalance and she passed with flying colors. So of course after talking and chatting a bit, we decide to meet. Now we meet on a sunny afternoon at a local Boston Pizza, and decide to sit on the patio and get to know each other. Now once again, this is our first date. Once again, I have analyzed everything to the nth degree. And yet here we go.....the conversation quickly turns toward her failed marriage. How abusive, both physically and emotionally her ex was, how much of a horrible person he was and how scarred she was because of the relationship. Now once again, yes its tiresome, but she is new to the dating scene so I let it go for a while thinking that once she gets comfortable and gets it off her chest we will move forward. Well we do move forward, the next topic becomes .... how much she misses him. Sigh, once again, first date, sitting across from a woman who supposedly is romantically interested in me, and we are talking about how “if he would take me back I would go in an instant”. So here I am on a date with another “normal” woman who is telling me how much she would love to get back with her abusive asshole of a husband.......do you think I am getting lucky that day? LOL. But wait.....we aren’t even close to being done. After moving past her feelings towards her ex, we begin to discuss her aversion to sex......sigh.....seriously at this time I think I am being “Punk’d” by friends. But no, this lovely, sweet and normal lady, who still loves her abusive ex-husband, hates sex.....she admits to never feeling desire for anyone, man or woman in her whole life, including the ex and yet again ..... this is our first date. WTF!!! Now the following is as honest as I can be......after what seemed like hours, of confessions of abuse, issues with sex, and countless other emotional issues.......I actually promised this woman, on our first date....I promised that I would find her a decent therapist to talk to. And our last conversation online was me sending her the contact information of a psychologist that I had researched. I dare anyone to top that first date. So we have come to the end of my embarrassing and enlightening dating history. Every story I have shared with you folks is true, though some details have been kept confidential, and yes, being the foolish old boy I am, I am still out there, hoping to meet that special lady. Hopefully someone who is less special than the ones I have already met. Sarge
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Little Pieces	Posted:Apr 9, 2011 12:17 pm Last Updated:Dec 5, 2013 1:40 pm 14482 Views
Well folks, as I am working on the last installment of my dating history, I have been asked by a few to share more of my poetry. Writing is one of the few skills the old boy has, and I take some pride in my poetry, though some find it dark at times. I hope you enjoy and be kind in your critiques....don't want to make the old boy cry now Little Pieces by D.G. Little pieces put together a mosaic of memories, tiny bits that make it whole, like a cracked window, through which people see. A tired broken heart, of jagged glass that lie, in sparkling pieces on the ground, and with trembling hands, I cradle them with woeful sighs. The delicate pieces of my love, the shining joy of my adolescence, reflections of my sorrows, and melancholy everlasting, as I hold my shattered innocence. I've lost some pieces over time, some I've tossed away, others cut my hand without mercy, and with my tears mixing in the wounds, I put those back where they lay. The shards on which I hold dear, I put upon the injured wall, pin them up fragment by shred, to once again find myself whole, praying my heart will not fall. Like petite uncut gems, my heart seems torn and hollow, but the pieces that remain, left on the floor where I fear to walk, a path most fear to follow. You walk in them without doubt, you glimmer with a smile, your eyes shine with gentle kinship, and sitting in your angelic hands, sets your cheer in denial. The bits and parts of your own heart, lay crippled and torn in your embrace, your lonely tears betray the image, your own mosaic was disfigured, deep sorrow shadowed by a sunny face. Gently I collect each piece, of your peaceful; merry past, and try to fill what's incomplete, fill in gaps and missing parts, in hopes of something which will last. Pieced together by pins, tape, or string, against a wall that may shatter. if we take our fondest moments together, and make one heart between us, what we left on the ground won't matter.
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Sarge goes to the Norwood	Posted:Apr 3, 2011 1:49 pm Last Updated:Apr 11, 2011 2:41 pm 15351 Views
Sarge goes to the Norwood * Note* The author of the following blog is not responsible for any hurt feelings, residual resentment or philosophical issues that may arise when reading. The author is well aware he may upset others with his statements and truly does not care. Enjoy. Well folks, it’s the coming of spring and as the bears come out of hibernation, the snow begins to melt and birds and the bees get down to business, the ugly old bastard decided to mingle with society. Yes, it happened, I went to my first meet last night (Sat Apr 2). After being harassed and manipulated by MrsRoss, the old boy broke down to stop her incessant sobbing, and I washed the winters stink off of me and threw on my “going to church/wedding/funeral” duds and headed out into the scary world of an Affairlook meet. Now for most of you, who don’t know me; don’t realize how big a deal this is for the old boy. I am not one who you would label a “social butterfly”. In fact in some places I have lived they have passed local ordinances barring me from public view without an escort (but they are damn expensive). To be honest, I don’t normally like big social gatherings or bars, never have. I don’t drink, and tend to stand out just a tad, and I am not famous for my small talk ability. I am more of a one on one fella, or small private gatherings kind of boy. The only time I feel comfortable in large groups is when I am in uniform and giving the troops shit, and folks in bars don’t like it when I do that. But I have to say, in all honestly, I enjoyed myself last night. I met some old friends from when I was on the site years ago, and met a few new ones. Thanks to my newest pal and social advisor MrsRoss, who worked her hardest to introduce the old boy to folks at the meet. There were quite a few to be honest, figure at least 50 in all, and though the bar was quite crowded, and noisy I did get to talk to a few very nice folks. I do confess, to those that were there, and to those reading this, I didn’t make it easy for MrsRoss......lol. I am a bit of a social pariah (google it), and the poor girl had her work cut out for her, I spent most of my time playing the damn VLT’s, and blew my nightly budget of $400 in a couple hours.....damn it, but she did her best. Hell I even had one member of the site tell me I was “Hot”..... sadly it was a guy who I never met before and I am not quite ready to switch teams yet..... Now there is one advantage to being a bit of an outsider at these events, and that is simply “perspective”. Some folks tend to think I am a bit shy, but those who know me would understand there is a big difference from being shy and preferring to watch things and observe the action. There is one thing an Old Soldier is very good at, that’s observing folks, or groups and getting a feel for the individuals and the overall mood. I couldn’t help but notice there was a bit of a clique issue with the members there last night. For those who have never been to a local meet before I will simply describe what I saw, a large group of folks, very sociable, friendly and outgoing (especially with MrsRoss playing greeter), and a smaller group of folks off to the side, aloof and a bit reclusive. Now none of this is surprising in social venues, cliques are a fact of life, from preschool on to present day......but I have to say I wasn’t overly impressed by this one small group. Now I have nothing invested in this site, I am not part of the “lifestyle”, I don’t pursue the ladies haphazardly (according to MrsRoss I am way too fussy....lol), and I don’t get involved in the interactions between those who do. But the good lord has seen fit to make the old boy big, mean and scary enough to speak his mind, and I can’t deny that I had more than a little chuckle at this little group who thought they were above the rest....lol. Now I have always had distaste for condescending people, being an illiterate and dumb old hillbilly who became a soldier out of high school, I have seen my share....and it always gets under my skin. Usually the people who act this way have some narcissistic belief that they are better than others, sometimes because of financial status, physical attractiveness or standing in life. This little group last night had none of those reasons.....and I left the bar scratching my head.....trying to figure it out. They were all obviously couples, so perhaps that was it.....married couples hanging out off to the side, but nope, there were married couples in the larger group and mixing with the rest. It definitely wasn’t based on financial status, seriously.....what 30-40 year old man goes out in public wearing running shoes? Or ladies in value village knockoffs? It wasn’t based on physical attractiveness, lol, god no, pudgy little fellas who think a beer belly qualifies for a muscle shirt....actually it’s pretty sad when a 47 year old man is in better shape than these little folks....but that’s a different blog. And there is no way anyone would pick this small group out as more attractive than those in the main group, so it wasn’t that. I honestly can say I am stumped. Talking to a few folks at the meet last night, it definitely put a damper on the overall mood of the get together as people couldn’t help but notice the attitude. Once again, I am an outsider, and not invested in this site in any way, but I can’t help but think it was a bit sad and pathetic of this little “clique” to behave the way it did. And all I can say to the those who were not part of it, be glad and let them have their ignorant belief that they are better than the rest.....the fact is they are obviously the product of swimming too often in the shallow end of the gene pool. So for all the rest, thank you for an enjoyable evening, and depending on how much she nags me, maybe MrsRoss can pester me in coming to another one....though I will suggest a different locale....the Norwood didn’t seem the best location for a get together. And to those who are upset by my comments, well feel free to come say “hi” at the next meet. Sarge
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Grumpy Old Bastard	Posted:Mar 27, 2011 12:40 pm Last Updated:Nov 28, 2013 2:13 am 14916 Views
Grumpy Old Bastard * Note* The author of the following blog is not responsible for any hurt feelings, residual resentment or philosophical issues that may arise when reading. The author is well aware he may upset others with his statements and truly does not care. Enjoy. Well it seems many of you seem to enjoy my discomfort and occasionally even my thoughts, and thank you for the kind emails.......might be nice if all that admiration allowed me to get laid once in a while but hey I ain’t complaining. I thought since I got time on my hands, and nothing better to do, I might give you an insight into the cranky old boy.....what makes him tick. Since none of you are getting naked for me anyway it can’t hurt.....sigh...so much for this being a goddamn sex site......but then again after this blog the chances of me ever getting laid might drop to less than nothing. Things that piss me off (or just annoy me) Crocks.....and yes I mean those idiotically ugly shoes that everyone wears, they look like someone cut a piece of old car tire and turned them into shoes. I have actually stopped dating a woman because I found out she wore them in public.....why not just wear a sign around your neck saying “I have officially stopped trying” People trying so hard to sound intelligent in profiles spelling “piqued” as “peeked”.... LOL, I have no idea why of all the words people misspell that one drives me nuts but it does.... Hearing grown adults (thankfully mostly American, though not exclusively) on TV actually using “axe” instead of “ask”..... lmao.... I have to actually force myself to say it, how is it even possible to say it naturally? Then again I do watch way too much Maury..... Okay this one will get some emails....but we are talking about things the ugly old bastard doesn’t like....so live with it......Tattoos. Yes I know it sounds strange coming from an Old Soldier, but I have never liked tattoos and don’t find them the least attractive on women.....here comes the hate mail. Eating my food ....... arrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhh. Okay I am not a cheap bastard. If we go out for dinner, I will buy you anything you want, or if I make dinner I will make you anything you want......but don’t eat the food off my plate. It drives me nuts.....if you wanted the prime rib....order the damn prime rib......sigh. People who put clothes on dogs ...... on behalf of every canine to ever have to suffer through wearing a Bee costume on Halloween, or has had to wear a Christmas sweater ..... leave us alone. They have fur for a reason.....and for all those Paris Hilton wannabe’s don’t take your fucked up issues out on the dog......and if you put “booties” on a I swear I might punch you....... Okay this one is gonna make me sound pretty bad, though I am sure you are all getting a wonderful impression so far.....a sure way to kill a relationship before it even starts....if you have a horrible laugh......OMG, I have heard everything from laughs to shrill hiccups that left my ears burning. I am sure there is some Freudian issue behind this but I can’t handle a bad laugh. Now I know this one is one that politically correct people the world over supposedly share, but the fact is it happens enough that there must be many who talk the talk, but don’t walk the walk. I can’t stand people who abuse women, or animals. Now I am an old man, not near as tough as I used to be, but I have been around some pretty tough men all my life, and not one of them, not a single one, thought it was tough to do that. I remember about 8 years ago I broke a little fellas nose when I saw him kick his dog, and to this day I don’t feel sorry for it. Okay, this next one will push some folks buttons, but to me, no matter what the excuse or rationale, it’s simple cowardice combined with laziness. Folks who cheat on a partner. Now maybe I am a bit cold or callous, but I have never had a problem telling someone goodbye before dating someone else. But it seems to be all the rage to line up the next person before ditching the old one......yep, cowardice....and here comes the hate mail again. Corn rows on white women.........ROFLMAO.....now it is never hard to tell when a woman has just come home from a Caribbean vacation, and those island folks must piss their pants when they watch these ladies leave for home, but seriously ladies.......it NEVER looks good. Now to be politically correct......Weaves on black women......lol, seriously ladies, and yes I speak from experience when I run my fingers through your hair and I end up bringing most of it out with my hand......scared the hell out of me the first time..... Now to be even more politically correct......Comb Overs on men. About 10 years ago, I noticed the old hairline started to retreat.....it happens, it doesn’t make your dick smaller, doesn’t mean you are dead......so stop trying to hide it.....and please....please.....don’t get a toupee or hair implant....there isn’t a person on the planet who is fooled. Now this one has to come with an explanation....but Filipino ladies in malls. I am 6’2 and 240 lbs with a bald head. I stand out......and for the most part I can be scary.....but for some reason, all these 4 ft tall Filipino ladies don’t notice me and walk straight into me no matter what I do when I go to the mall. I have tried side stepping, saying excuse me.....nothing works....it’s like throwing cotton balls at Velcro.....they come straight at me.....I swear I am going to walk right over one of them one day. Okay this next one will also require an explanation. I am getting so fucking tired of people pretending to be soldiers. When I joined the Army, it wasn’t cool, we didn’t get parades and news reporters talking about us every day, and we weren’t the most popular folks around. Now I am very pleased to see society take a different view on those in uniform, but as someone who has done 11 tours in theatre over my career.....there is a big difference between being in the military and being a soldier. Now out of a 100,000 people in the Canadian Forces, less than 10% are combat arms....infantry, armoured and artillery. They are in the Air Force, Navy, or what we call in the army......service support. Now it sounds petty to point out the difference, but you can’t go to a bar or go online without someone claiming to be a “soldier”. Then when you ask them what trade, they confess they were a truck driver, a cook, a supply clerk.....and folks, there is a big difference. One, that those of us at the pointy end of the stick are very proud of, and for that reason I take a great deal of satisfaction exposing the wannabes. Things that actually make the old boy smile and feel all warm and fuzzy (And don’t you dare make fun of me after this......I will kick your ass) My body pillow.....yes the big ugly bastard stood in line at Walmart with a 5 foot body pillow to snuggle up to at night......her name is Betty and she has been my companion for 6 months now. Cooking....I have no idea why, but I absolutely love spending hours in the kitchen making a wonderful meal from scratch.......I started cooking when I was 12 and have done it ever since. I can make almost anything and what I can’t, I will learn. I will warn you though, as every single person who I have cooked for has heard and learned, I am very possessive when I cook and don’t like to be bothered when I am.......so don’t be surprised when you hear “Get the fuck out of my kitchen”......lol My home....now it isn’t the biggest, but “My Hovel” as I call it, is my comfortable getaway from the world. I have spent a lot of time and way too much money on fixing it the way I want it and decorating it.......and I love it.....I am also protective of it, and it’s a big deal for me to invite someone over......don’t like every Tom Dick and Sally knowing where my hovel is. animals....Any and all, I am a borderline animal activist. Now I am sure there is some psychological rationale for it, but I can step over a bum and I am not the most sympathetic fella around when it comes to people, but I see one of those animal rescue commercials and I almost break down.....hell I can’t even watch them. And according to my friends, there is nothing funnier watching the big mean old boy acting like a mushy goof with a little puppy. My favourite date site is the zoo, or going to Petland and playing with the animals. Movies.....Okay, I am pathetically boring, I admit it, I confess......I would rather stay at home in my lazy clothes and watch movies all night.....hell I got 250 channels full of them plus PPV, and I couldn’t imagine spending a night at the bar when there is a good movie on....and yes I have a PVR but I still would rather watch one.......and if it’s a mushy one, it’s better for me to watch alone, hell I have cried every time I watch Armageddon......thats 11 times now....lol. And since we are on the most pathetically boring old boy alive theme, one of my favourite summer things to do is sit at my favourite cafe downtown, drink coffee, read a book and people watch. I can spend every afternoon there, go through a couple books a week and not talk to a single soul.....just enjoy the weather and watch the world go by.... LOL, this one is one my friends hate, well not hate, but they usually end up regretting it. I love to babysit for my friends......I am officially the “crazy uncle”, and the adore me as much as I do them, though their folks don’t like the things I teach them to do.....lmao....true story, one of my friends is married to a guy who is a yeller, I don’t like him, and he don’t like me. Now, every time he talks to the , he has to yell, doesn’t matter what, but he yells.....and the ignore it as they hear it day in and day out, but it got on my nerves and figured he needed a lesson. So the next time I babysat, I taught the boys that the next time Daddy yells to phone a certain number and tell the person that daddy won’t stop yelling. LOL, and of course, that is exactly what happened, and when the cops showed up after the boys called 911, daddy had some awkward explaining to do......of course I didn’t get to babysit again for months......sigh. Okay on that note folks I will give you all a break and stop for now, though I am sure as soon as I finish this I will remember something else that pisses me off.....lol. Now for those that got annoyed with the old boy, sorry, but not really......I am who I am, and if I ain’t pissing you off I just don’t feel I am doing my job. And for the rest, you are probably getting a good feeling as to why I never get laid......lmao. Sarge.
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The Dark Side Of Affairlook	Posted:Mar 22, 2011 1:47 pm Last Updated:Jul 21, 2014 2:49 pm 21707 Views
The Dark Side Of Affairlook Well folks, I know you are all waiting to hear more of my embarrassing dating stories.....lol, and there are more, but as usual I am going to change things up a bit, just to annoy you all to be honest.....lol. This is going to be more of a serious blog, something that I have picked up on since being back on the site, and it not only applies to this site, but to all social sites/dating sites/sex sites, and I hope to garner some responses, it’s something to think about.....The Dark Side Of Affairlook (sounds so ominous). Now once again, I feel the need to preface this blog with a brief description of Affairlook. For most people it’s simply an opportunity to play voyeur, or to “Perv” for lack of a better response. To view photos, videos or webcams, perhaps to discover new things or to stimulate our own desires......in other words something to whack off too. For a smaller group, it’s a tool to find others to interact with and share their personal desires with.....people in the “lifestyle” if you will. But there is a third very small group, but to a grumpy old bastard like me, a very vulnerable group that to be honest shouldn’t be on here, at least not in the mental or emotional state they seem to be in currently. Being pathetically bored and not having a life, I have both the time and opportunity to surf thousands of profiles. Now being a heterosexual male, the profiles I surf are strictly female.....so the discussion I am beginning is focused on that, though I will ask my female friends to enlighten me if they witness the same in men. Having been active online on dating sites for years and on this site off and on, I have noticed that there are some women who are incredibly vulnerable. When I say vulnerable, I mean they are not emotionally capable of dealing with the harsh and somewhat brutal environment of online social interaction. It is a psychological fact that women are much more emotionally sensitive than men, and tend to be less self-absorbed, while at the same time it is inherent in many women to nurture and trust. These characteristics, combined with the need in today’s society to spend more time in online interaction than face to face, has allowed a new form of predatory behaviour in individuals, in this case men, to abuse these women and create what I predict in years to come will be a new and decisive factor in women’s depressive schemas. I can think of a dozen profiles I have read where the first instinctual reaction within me was “they need help”, and not in a critical or mocking sense, but in a truly empathetic sense. There are very lonely women out there, women who have been seriously abused in past relationships, women who think they are completely worthless based on that abuse, who are online seeking “a relationship”. And there is absolutely no doubt in my cynical mind, that the relationships and men they are attracting is nothing but predatory, manipulative and even dangerous. I have viewed a ladies profile that had dozens of videos on it, trying to attract anyone, literally verbalizing in her profile that she accepts that she is unattractive and that she is willing to do anything in order for someone to desire her.....or just spend time with her. There are a few ladies on here that are so obviously clinically depressed, who are so lonely, that they will do anything, accept anything, just to convince themselves they can find “Love”. I cannot even come close to saying how many interactions I have had with women online where one of the first comments they make is acknowledging their flaws, admitting that past partners didn’t find them attractive or criticized them and they have come to accept this criticism as fact. And for every one of those ladies, there are dozens of predatory men, who have the routine down pat, who will say whatever it takes, do whatever needs to be done to get that woman to do whatever they want........simply to satisfy an “urge”. The fact is online behaviour has very few limitations, there is no “code of conduct” and not even the normal day to day social niceties and rules that we abide by in our daily lives seem very prevalent in online interactions. People can create whole new “Personas”, and many do, either completely or partially. The anonymity of being online, a faceless entity behind a keyboard, where others are forced by circumstance to accept our portrayal of ourselves, whether it’s accurate or not, simply because there is no way to confirm anything without meeting and investing time with each other to find out if there was deception or not. And by the time the truth comes out......inevitably someone is hurt....and perhaps irrevocably so. What can we do.....it’s easy to sit back and watch a train wreck....to think “God that is horrible”. It’s easy to do what I am doing, get on a soapbox and condemn that which we perceive to be wrong, to lecture and pontificate, but in reality achieving nothing. There is no way to police the behaviour, or to “save” people from their own behaviour online. The medium and the freedom it allows is also the root cause of the problem. We can speak up and tell those we think vulnerable to “be careful”. I have done that, I have witnessed women end up getting abused, both physically and emotionally, I have witnessed women taken for thousands of dollars, and felt the frustration of wanting to just shake them and say “stop it”. But that is the nature of depression and loneliness; it prevents the individual from viewing things from a healthier perspective. There is no way to police the predators....can you imagine the internet if we could actually remove everyone who lied.......pretty desolate place. There is no way to prevent people from doing anything that they want to do, no matter how it affects others. Which is the saddest part of all this. Has the internet created a completely new social medium where integrity, respect and even basic social skills are neither necessary but are actually unwanted. Where we are no longer real live breathing, feeling individuals, but things....things that either offer us what we want or don’t, no more no less. When was the last time, any of us, in IMC, or chat or email really cared what the person we were corresponding with actually felt, or reacted to what we did or said. Isn’t it easier to click the “X” and move on? Think about it, in real life you wouldn’t walk up to someone in Safeway and say “Hi, you’re cute.....show me your pussy”, and then turn around and ask the next when they refuse or we don’t like what we see. But is there even a hesitation when it comes to that behaviour online? We have become irrelevant in the greater scheme of things, replaceable and inconvenient. That scares me folks.... Sarge
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Adventures in Dating.....Part 3a.....Online Dating	Posted:Mar 14, 2011 5:41 pm Last Updated:Jun 10, 2011 1:12 pm 15950 Views
Adventures in Dating.....Part 3a.....Online Dating Well after much demand (3 emails from bossy friends who don’t have cable to keep themselves occupied), I have decided to work all weekend on the next part of my “Adventures in Dating” series.....well the fact that I have no life and it was too damn cold to go out and do anything might have helped a bit. As is my tendency I will preface everything with some background information. In the last segment I discussed how much of an idiot I was when I met my wife, and despite all common sense the girl married me anyways. We were married for 13 wonderful years, but as is obvious, things didn’t last. Long story short, I had two loves....my wife, and my career. Being a soldier is not only what I was, it was who I was....and sadly being gone for up to a year at a time had an effect on the marriage I didn’t foresee. By the time I woke up to what was happening, and retired early to try and save the marriage, it was too little....too late. Well being the sensitive old bugger I am, I wasn’t pleased with the situation and fell into a job working internationally for Nortel building a new digital switching network in the Caribbean and Central America for the next five years. The first couple years I had no interest in meeting anyone and dating, so living and working out of a suitcase, hopping island to island every few months allowed me to heal emotionally. But then after a couple years, I started to wonder about meeting someone new, and having some time on my hands in the evenings, I discovered the whole new world of online chat....specifically chat. Now obviously at the time I was clueless (funny how much of my life was spent that way) about online relationships and this was intriguing. I found myself spending every evening online in one chat room or another, talking to any multitude of people and of course eventually found out about “cyber sex”. Now I know this will go against the big percentage of folks on here who spend most of their time in here with their hands wrapped around their dicks or wrist deep in their pussy’s, but to be honest, masturbating to someone else’s text did nothing for me.....of course that eventually escalated to phone and cam sex....woohoo, different thing completely.....lol. After a year of educating myself and through trial and error learning all the ins and outs of online interaction.....I met my first real online relationship. An absolutely gorgeous and sweet woman in Kentucky who seemed to think the big old boy was pretty hot (yeah I know, that should have been the first warning sign). We chatted every day, talked on the phone, and had incredible sex without even touching.....perfect right.....story ain’t over folks. Our first meeting was in St Kitts, I flew her out, I had been working on the island for 4 months and she was coming for a long weekend, and it was wonderful.....she looked and sounded even better in person, and the sex was even better than I hoped.....this was one truly demented gal and the old boy was in heaven....lol....but as is my life, the other shoe was about to drop. We had such a wonderful weekend; we made plans for me to go to stay with her in Kentucky for a week. Well I finished the project on the island a month later and off to Kentucky I went. She picked me up at the airport, gorgeous new corvette convertible, and even let me drive.....lmao....hell what could be better. After about an hour we came up to her home.....incredible home, with a stable in the Kentucky countryside.....and her roommate. Sigh.....now I have experienced a few things in life but there are certain questions I never thought to ask. What I hadn’t known up until that exact moment when I was sitting on the porch with her and her female roommate......was that her roommate actually owned the home and the corvette and that the lady I was with was actually living there rent free. The roommate was gay and the arrangement was she financially supported my online girlfriend in exchange for sex......okay other shoe officially dropped. To make matters worse I was literally trapped there for a week, which wouldn’t be a big deal but as it turns out the dyke roommate had a jealous streak and didn’t like me at all.....roflmao....I came within a pubic hair of actually having a fist fight with this gal at one point......but soon enough the week ended, as did my very first online dating adventure......without the realization I should have taken it as an omen. Eventually I got tired of living and working out of a suitcase, so a friend convinced me to move to and settle in Winnipeg....which I did. Now that very same friend convinced me to give online dating sites a chance.....which I did, and which now brings us to the recent past....my early 40’s. The site my friend convinced me to join was called Plenty Of Fish (POF). Now my previous adventures in online chatting had I thought taught me a few lessons so when I decided to try, I had laid some personal rules, such as I wasn’t going to chat for weeks or months before meeting. Well my first three months on the site (by the way my user name....which to this day I still love but has been taken and locked by my friends who hated it...was...Butt Ugly Redneck), I had 72 coffee dates(the ladies here seemed to think the old boy had something to offer......who can figure women). Now I don’t consider coffee dates a real date, they are introductions and allow two people to sit across from each other and get a better impression than emails can accomplish. I swear out of those 72 coffee dates there was only one I would consider meeting again.....and we will get to her in a moment.....sigh. In point form I will give some highlights of the first 72 dates... -the woman who yelled quite loudly that I must be gay because I turned down her invitation for oral sex in the parkade, after walking her to her car....and trust me I wished at that exact point I was.....at least I could punch another guy -meeting the woman who used 10 year old glamour photos as her online photos and not recognising her when she walked up and then being doubly thrilled that she seemed to have lost a few of her front teeth over those ten years....btw....I no longer trust “glamour photos” online -having 3 different women propose to me.....and I mean asking me to marry them....on our very first coffee date.....roflmao.....seriously....you know I have delusions as to how I look, and as confident as I am, I am not vain.....so it wasn’t like these gals had met Brad Pitt.....hell even I would have proposed then....but it’s the old boy we are talking about. -the woman who smelled, and I mean not a faint odour but reeked of CAT PISS, and proceeded to tell me she owned 22 cats and was looking for a life partner .... now I love animals, but come on.....22 fucking cats.....and smelling of cat piss.... -the woman who thought I was incredibly hot (now there cannot be any doubt about her being delusional) and wanted to take me home....if I would “drink her pee”.......hell I still gag at the thought. -the woman who took the tip money I left for the waitress after having coffee and a snack at my favourite cafe....that was a classy one alright. -the 2 different women I met on POF who told me during our first coffee date (and only date) that they were prostitutes who used the site to get dates. -the countless women I have met who have fibbed to me either about their age or their weight.....neither of which makes any sense to me. If you lie to someone in order to get them to meet you, how do you think they are going to react when they do meet you and see the obvious deceit? And lastly.....for this blog....the story of the one woman I thought had some potential. I had been on the site a few months, and the above stories have given you some insight into what I had experience, and to be honest I was close to calling it quits, when one Friday I got an email from this woman and we decided to meet the next day. We met at my favourite cafe at noon on Saturday, and she was beautiful, sexy, funny and intelligent. We clicked right away and got along famously, after the coffee we decided to go to a local attraction and walked for hours, then went for dinner and drinks on the patio. By the time I had dropped her off at home, we had had a 13 hour first date.....and it was awesome. I remember coming home and calling my friend and telling her “I met the one” and how excited I was......and being a fan of momentum, we had decided to have brunch the next day. On Sunday, I drove to the home I dropped her off at, where I had kissed her goodnight, and knocked on the door. Well the door opens and there is this guy standing there.....no big deal I have had female roommates before and didn’t think anything of it, and asked if “Sue” was home. The boy looks me up and done and puffs up a little and asks “who wants to know”....lol. Well it’s not my style to let little fellas play their game and I looked him up and down and asked “who wants to know”.....roflmao.....and he says “her husband”.....roflmao....I just literally started laughing......almost hysterically.....the irony was just so unbelievable. After so many crappy dates, I meet “the one” and she’s married. So there I am laughing, and he’s getting pissed, and eventually I calm down and said to him, “she’s your problem” and left.......to this day I have no idea what her agenda was.....but it wasn’t my concern. So for those few of you who managed to finished reading this, you can understand why I have the tagline “Can you at least fake normal”? And to highlight that, this is part 1 of the online dating portion. I will be writing part 2 shortly which should bring us up to date and will have some highlights including cross dressers, vengeful husbands and so on....... Sarge
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