Wry Ramblings From A Hot Wing

[Jeff Burton]

12 minutes ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

I hired a nice young woman to be me so I don't have to work 90 hours a week. So lately I've been leaving around six pm on Tuesday night, and take all of Wednesday off. 

That’s actually pretty smart. Learning to not micromanage was something I had to do when I ran my own.

[Davide]

13 minutes ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

I hired a nice young woman to be me so I don't have to work 90 hours a week. So lately I've been leaving around six pm on Tuesday night, and take all of Wednesday off. 

Not just from GA, from everything. I didn't do much of anything yesterday. But I have a new Tuesday night undies story to share!   

I know I'm going to miss stuff, I'll do my best!  

I'm glad to hear you managed to have some weekly time off from everything.

[Jason Rimbaud]

Tuesday night, the first Tuesday night I've had off in four years, started with a pain in the ass. As I made my way to my train, I had just missed it. To see the train pulling away as I ran desperately across three lanes of traffic made my heart sink. 

But I was off, and I didn't think anything could ruin the mood. So after twenty minutes, I see the train emerging from the tunnels that criss-cross San Francisco. The same tunnels that may or may not contain G I Ants. 

My heart starts to pound a bit faster. I can't wait to get home, get out of my sweaty, smelly, chef clothes, and into some home alone nudity. Not that the husband being home hinders my nudity, but without him home, I actually have the chance to relax in said nudity without being jumped and used as a plaything. 

The train stops at the red light, I am now thirty yards away from getting on the train and then a short ten minute ride and I'l be able to dangle my bits. 

The train pulls up and I see its completely full. 

I'm not saying every seat is taken and I had to stand. Nope, there wasn't a single inch of space. I ran to the second car, and somehow the second car was more full than the first. 

Then It hit me! Everyone is wearing orange and also black. Giant Fans!  

The curse of Sports Balls games next to my condo! 

I scream out, "Fuck you giant fans! This is my first Tuesday I've gotten off before the sun goes down. One of you fuckers need to get off so I can go home." 

And not a single one gets off. The nerve of those blind followers watching people hit a little ball with a stick. 

The train door shuts, I'm still on the station platform, the train pulls away. 

It's now 6:30, and I am only two blocks away from my restaurant. 

I turn to the other Sports Balls fans and start accusing them of all the ills that is wrong in San Francisco. They are a younger couple, and I think they believe I'm crazy because they wisely move down to the other end of the platform, away from the ranting bald head stinky man in Chef Whites. 

But I'm not done in venting my frustration. I call the husband, and for the next ten minutes as I wait for the next train, I cut a promo on Sports Balls Fans, the homeless, the drug addicts, and Marco Rubio (the logic is he's from Cuba so he probably likes Sports Balls too). 

I'm not even breathing, just spewing forth the most hateful rhetoric I can think of to piss off, offend, or scare every person around me. 

Then I see in the semi-darkness, the next train emerge. With luck I could still make it home before dark. But As the train pulls in, its the same thing, a sea of orange and black. By this time, I had no desire of getting on a train filled with that much Sports Balls dicks, the fans not the appendage.

So as the other fans try to squeeze on the train, I continue berating everyone within earshot. I'm now bringing in the Middle East into this discussion, the reason they hate America is because we have Sports balls. 

I know it doesn't make sense, but it is now 6:45 and I can't get home. 

Some of you might say, get an Uber, or a Lyft. Or maybe one of those Robo cars that don't have drivers. 

If the train is that full, the roads are worse. Because the city caters to the stupid Sports Balls goers and will let fans walk across the road for four or five cycles of redlights. They don't care traffic is getting backed up, all they care about is those stupid sheeple wearing other dudes names on their backs. 

No, the entire city and its council have conspired against me to ruin my first Tuesday off in four years. 

It is now 7:00, a full fifteen minutes after the game started. And the train pulls up, its still fucking full. So not only are Sports balls fans stupid, they can't even go anywhere ontime. 

7:15, and the train pulls up, every seat is taken by orange and also black, but there is standing room. I slink on, look at the camera, and blatantly don't use my pass. I figure they delayed me, I'm not paying for the ride. 

I stand there and stew, watching these stupid people yelling and screaming, drinking beers, and behaving like Sports Balls fans. They make me sick. And I have a strong desire to tell each of them how sick they make me. 

But wisely I keep my mouth shut. I'm an asshole but I'm not stupid. 

Then it stops at 2nd and King, the Sports balls mecca. All the fans get off, and suddenly its quiet, like the inside of a tomb, peaceful. 

And I know, in that moment, I could have blown up the entire stadium and be proud of ridding the world of Sports Balls fans. 

I finally make it home. My two cats run up to me in surprise and glee that I am home early. Two minutes later, I am realizing that if I were to blow up the Stadium, I'd never get to see those two furry fuckheads again. 

I forgive all the Sports Balls fans, and decide to live and let live. 

Because I don't yell at random people at the platform, I didn't call my husband and yell towards him about the lack of train space. All of this dialogue went on inside the confines of my bald head. 

The anger i felt was real, seething and uncomfortable, that I allowed a little thing like not being able to go home when I want to push me to the very brink of acting irrational. 

The moral of this story, I don't need to get off work early anymore, because I might not be able to keep the craziness inside if I have to deal another round of can't get home. 

Then my husband looked at me calmly and said, "Next time, instead of leaving at six on gamedays, leave at five and you shouldn't have any trouble. 

He's right, he usually is. 

[Davide]

14 minutes ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

Then It hit me! Everyone is wearing orange and also black. Giant Fans! 

When I reached this point, not knowing the names of American Football teams, I thought these were fans of the spinning variety and they were very big, which would either make this story a dream or some GI Ants were going to appear later.

 

17 minutes ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

Then my husband looked at me calmly and said, "Next time, instead of leaving at six on gamedays, leave at five and you shouldn't have any trouble. 

He's right, he usually is. 

He does make a good point, either leave earlier or wait until the sportsball game has started. But it's a lot harder to come up with solutions for future days when you're already mad about today. So I'd probably think of the same thing if I was in his position, but I might not if I was on yours.

[CassieQ]

39 minutes ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

Because I don't yell at random people at the platform, I didn't call my husband and yell towards him about the lack of train space. All of this dialogue went on inside the confines of my bald head

This sounds a lot like me giving driving advice to morons on the road while in the confines of my own car.

[Jason Rimbaud]

25 minutes ago, Davide said:

When I reached this point, not knowing the names of American Football teams,

These are even worse than football fans!  They were baseball fans!!!!!! *spits angrily* The worst kind of fans because the stadium is two blocks from my house and traffic is a nightmare a billion times a year.

That's really the only reason why I hate Sports Balls in the first place. Traffic. 

26 minutes ago, Davide said:

He does make a good point, either leave earlier or wait until the sportsball game has started.

That's why he has the degrees and intelligence and I have cooking.  

[Jason Rimbaud]

5 minutes ago, CassieQ said:

This sounds a lot like me giving driving advice to morons on the road while in the confines of my own car.

It was rather frightening how angry I was inside my head. I actually wished I had a blood pressure monitor to see how high my blood pressure went up. 

Do you talk aloud in your car or do you keep it internal? 

[Davide]

1 minute ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

These are even worse than football fans!  They were baseball fans!!!!!! *spits angrily* The worst kind of fans because the stadium is two blocks from my house and traffic is a nightmare a billion times a year.

That's really the only reason why I hate Sports Balls in the first place. Traffic. 

I'm lucky to live in the opposite side of my city as the football (soccer) stadium of our first division team. As that's somehow the only sports that seems to matter in the eyes of many Europeans, nothing else causes traffic.

[CassieQ]

Just now, Jason Rimbaud said:

It was rather frightening how angry I was inside my head. I actually wished I had a blood pressure monitor to see how high my blood pressure went up. 

Do you talk aloud in your car or do you keep it internal? 

Oh no, it's out loud.  Sometimes with specific finger gestures when I know they can't see me.

[Lee Wilson]

52 minutes ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

Then my husband looked at me calmly and said, "Next time, instead of leaving at six on gamedays, leave at five and you shouldn't have any trouble. 

As much as you might hate it, get a pocket sports balls calendar so you know if there’s a game. There are still close to 6 months left in the season, more if the Giants (Not G I Ants) make the playoffs.

[CassieQ]

2 hours ago, Lee Wilson said:

As much as you might hate it, get a pocket sports balls calendar so you know if there’s a game. There are still close to 6 months left in the season, more if the Giants (Not G I Ants) make the playoffs.

Or use your phone  

[Jeff Burton]

4 hours ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

Tuesday night, the first Tuesday night I've had off in four years, started with a pain in the ass. As I made my way to my train, I had just missed it. To see the train pulling away as I ran desperately across three lanes of traffic made my heart sink. 

But I was off, and I didn't think anything could ruin the mood. So after twenty minutes, I see the train emerging from the tunnels that criss-cross San Francisco. The same tunnels that may or may not contain G I Ants. 

My heart starts to pound a bit faster. I can't wait to get home, get out of my sweaty, smelly, chef clothes, and into some home alone nudity. Not that the husband being home hinders my nudity, but without him home, I actually have the chance to relax in said nudity without being jumped and used as a plaything. 

The train stops at the red light, I am now thirty yards away from getting on the train and then a short ten minute ride and I'l be able to dangle my bits. 

The train pulls up and I see its completely full. 

I'm not saying every seat is taken and I had to stand. Nope, there wasn't a single inch of space. I ran to the second car, and somehow the second car was more full than the first. 

Then It hit me! Everyone is wearing orange and also black. Giant Fans!  

The curse of Sports Balls games next to my condo! 

I scream out, "Fuck you giant fans! This is my first Tuesday I've gotten off before the sun goes down. One of you fuckers need to get off so I can go home." 

And not a single one gets off. The nerve of those blind followers watching people hit a little ball with a stick. 

The train door shuts, I'm still on the station platform, the train pulls away. 

It's now 6:30, and I am only two blocks away from my restaurant. 

I turn to the other Sports Balls fans and start accusing them of all the ills that is wrong in San Francisco. They are a younger couple, and I think they believe I'm crazy because they wisely move down to the other end of the platform, away from the ranting bald head stinky man in Chef Whites. 

But I'm not done in venting my frustration. I call the husband, and for the next ten minutes as I wait for the next train, I cut a promo on Sports Balls Fans, the homeless, the drug addicts, and Marco Rubio (the logic is he's from Cuba so he probably likes Sports Balls too). 

I'm not even breathing, just spewing forth the most hateful rhetoric I can think of to piss off, offend, or scare every person around me. 

Then I see in the semi-darkness, the next train emerge. With luck I could still make it home before dark. But As the train pulls in, its the same thing, a sea of orange and black. By this time, I had no desire of getting on a train filled with that much Sports Balls dicks, the fans not the appendage.

So as the other fans try to squeeze on the train, I continue berating everyone within earshot. I'm now bringing in the Middle East into this discussion, the reason they hate America is because we have Sports balls. 

I know it doesn't make sense, but it is now 6:45 and I can't get home. 

Some of you might say, get an Uber, or a Lyft. Or maybe one of those Robo cars that don't have drivers. 

If the train is that full, the roads are worse. Because the city caters to the stupid Sports Balls goers and will let fans walk across the road for four or five cycles of redlights. They don't care traffic is getting backed up, all they care about is those stupid sheeple wearing other dudes names on their backs. 

No, the entire city and its council have conspired against me to ruin my first Tuesday off in four years. 

It is now 7:00, a full fifteen minutes after the game started. And the train pulls up, its still fucking full. So not only are Sports balls fans stupid, they can't even go anywhere ontime. 

7:15, and the train pulls up, every seat is taken by orange and also black, but there is standing room. I slink on, look at the camera, and blatantly don't use my pass. I figure they delayed me, I'm not paying for the ride. 

I stand there and stew, watching these stupid people yelling and screaming, drinking beers, and behaving like Sports Balls fans. They make me sick. And I have a strong desire to tell each of them how sick they make me. 

But wisely I keep my mouth shut. I'm an asshole but I'm not stupid. 

Then it stops at 2nd and King, the Sports balls mecca. All the fans get off, and suddenly its quiet, like the inside of a tomb, peaceful. 

And I know, in that moment, I could have blown up the entire stadium and be proud of ridding the world of Sports Balls fans. 

I finally make it home. My two cats run up to me in surprise and glee that I am home early. Two minutes later, I am realizing that if I were to blow up the Stadium, I'd never get to see those two furry fuckheads again. 

I forgive all the Sports Balls fans, and decide to live and let live. 

Because I don't yell at random people at the platform, I didn't call my husband and yell towards him about the lack of train space. All of this dialogue went on inside the confines of my bald head. 

The anger i felt was real, seething and uncomfortable, that I allowed a little thing like not being able to go home when I want to push me to the very brink of acting irrational. 

The moral of this story, I don't need to get off work early anymore, because I might not be able to keep the craziness inside if I have to deal another round of can't get home. 

Then my husband looked at me calmly and said, "Next time, instead of leaving at six on gamedays, leave at five and you shouldn't have any trouble. 

He's right, he usually is. 

Now I see why you needed the day off, hell I would have done it too.

[Jason Rimbaud]

After my train madness a few days ago. And after my cats calmed me down enough to think rationally. 

I decided I needed to go out. 

Since I was already all dangling bits, I jumped in the shower. I scrubbed all the appropriate places thoroughly, as I had a destination in mind and I could afford any unwanted smells. 

I dug through my slutty undie drawer until I found the perfect pair. They were teal blue, and maybe mostly mesh except the part that covers the down there place. 

I pulled on a pair of jeans that had strategic holes in wonderful places, slipped into my silver kicks, a black sleeveless shirt with the rainbow flag made out in a big paw print across the chest. And headed out to Beaux. 

I jump on the Muni train and brave the tunnels as I head towards the Castro (the gay district of San Francisco). On the Muni train, I'm rocking out to the Hardcore History podcast, listening to part two of six part multiple hour deep dive into World War II.

About four stations away from my stop, I catch the eye of a sexy Latino guy, maybe thirty or so. He's dressed in blue slacks, skin tight and bulging in perfect places, a white shirt, and a tan vest. We give each other the once over. 

My mind goes back to my slutty days, where I had picked up guys on the train many times. And the vibe he was giving off gave me no reason not to believe the two of us would have had a ton of fun in some Muni bathroom.

To get to the Castro from my house, I have to get off one train and wait for another train. So at Van Ness station, I get off the train. 

Sexy Latino gets off right behind me. In that moment, I realized that while we were eye fucking on the train, I didn't make it clear that that was as far as it was going to go. Because I got off the train to catch my transfer, he got off the train to be bent over a toilet in a dirty Muni stall. 

It was an awkward five minutes as we waited for the next train. He had to wait for another "N", seventeen minutes. I was waiting for the "L" for five minutes. 

It did kind of make my 51-year-old face happy that someone found me attractive enough to get off a train in a dirty Muni station. 

So it was with a hop in my step as I jumped on the "L" on my way to Beaux.  

 

 

[Lee Wilson]

27 minutes ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

It did kind of make my 51-year-old face happy that someone found me attractive enough to get off a train in a dirty Muni station. 

That’s a surprise. I pictured you younger, mid to late 30’s.

[Davide]

30 minutes ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

After my train madness a few days ago. And after my cats calmed me down enough to think rationally. 

I decided I needed to go out. 

Since I was already all dangling bits, I jumped in the shower. I scrubbed all the appropriate places thoroughly, as I had a destination in mind and I could afford any unwanted smells. 

I dug through my slutty undie drawer until I found the perfect pair. They were teal blue, and maybe mostly mesh except the part that covers the down there place. 

I pulled on a pair of jeans that had strategic holes in wonderful places, slipped into my silver kicks, a black sleeveless shirt with the rainbow flag made out in a big paw print across the chest. And headed out to Beaux. 

I jump on the Muni train and brave the tunnels as I head towards the Castro (the gay district of San Francisco). On the Muni train, I'm rocking out to the Hardcore History podcast, listening to part two of six part multiple hour deep dive into World War II.

About four stations away from my stop, I catch the eye of a sexy Latino guy, maybe thirty or so. He's dressed in blue slacks, skin tight and bulging in perfect places, a white shirt, and a tan vest. We give each other the once over. 

My mind goes back to my slutty days, where I had picked up guys on the train many times. And the vibe he was giving off gave me no reason not to believe the two of us would have had a ton of fun in some Muni bathroom.

To get to the Castro from my house, I have to get off one train and wait for another train. So at Van Ness station, I get off the train. 

Sexy Latino gets off right behind me. In that moment, I realized that while we were eye fucking on the train, I didn't make it clear that that was as far as it was going to go. Because I got off the train to catch my transfer, he got off the train to be bent over a toilet in a dirty Muni stall. 

It was an awkward five minutes as we waited for the next train. He had to wait for another "N", seventeen minutes. I was waiting for the "L" for five minutes. 

It did kind of make my 51-year-old face happy that someone found me attractive enough to get off a train in a dirty Muni station. 

So it was with a hop in my step as I jumped on the "L" on my way to Beaux.  

 

 

Somewhere out there, there's a Latino guy complaining that he wasted 20 minutes for nothing because a sexy guy eyefucked bom and then blueballed him.

But I can imagine it's not easy to non-verbally communicate that you were only looking without wanting to do anything.

[Davide]

2 minutes ago, Lee Wilson said:

That’s a surprise. I pictured you younger, mid to late 30’s.

I don't remember where, but I remember @Jason Rimbaud saying he's in his 50s at some point. So now I learned it's on the low end of that. It surprised me a bit too when I found out, his personality made me expect around your guess or maybe early 40s.

[Jason Rimbaud]

36 minutes ago, Lee Wilson said:

That’s a surprise. I pictured you younger, mid to late 30’s.

Is that your nice way of saying I act immature?   

[Jason Rimbaud]

36 minutes ago, Davide said:

a sexy guy eyefucked bom

Let's not get carried away now.  . 

36 minutes ago, Davide said:

eyefucked bom and then blueballed him.

I am married, so I don't feel bad. He was hot, but I have strict rules what is allowed and what is not. Sex in Muni stations is not covered in our agreement!   . 

[Jason Rimbaud]

32 minutes ago, Davide said:

It surprised me a bit too when I found out, his personality made me expect around your guess or maybe early 40s.

Hurtful!   . 

[Davide]

10 minutes ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

Let's not get carried away now.  . 

I am married, so I don't feel bad. He was hot, but I have strict rules what is allowed and what is not. Sex in Muni stations is not covered in our agreement!   . 

I obviously wouldn't want you to cheat on your husband nor feel bad about not doing it. What I was saying is I wish you had manage to communicate you weren't interested, but that's hard to do non-verbally.

[Jason Rimbaud]

6 minutes ago, Davide said:

I obviously wouldn't want you to cheat on your husband nor feel bad about not doing it. What I was saying is I wish you had manage to communicate you weren't interested, but that's hard to do non-verbally.

I'm sorry. Most of that was written because I know he reads all my comments.  Sorry to drag you into our silliness. 

I knew what you meant, and I'm very silly today apparently. Not surprising, its raining, so I love the rain. 

[Lee Wilson]

14 minutes ago, Davide said:

I obviously wouldn't want you to cheat on your husband nor feel bad about not doing it. What I was saying is I wish you had manage to communicate you weren't interested, but that's hard to do non-verbally.

A little shake of the head probably would have done it.

[Davide]

27 minutes ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

Hurtful!   . 

Sorry, I didn't mean it in a negative way.

4 minutes ago, Jason Rimbaud said:

I'm sorry. Most of that was written because I know he reads all my comments.  Sorry to drag you into our silliness. 

I knew what you meant, and I'm very silly today apparently. Not surprising, its raining, so I love the rain. 

I remember you telling us he reads all the comments and, although it may be silly of me, I wanted to make sure he knew that a random internet guy he never talked to wasn't suggesting anything in the remote vicinity of you cheating on him.

[Jason Rimbaud]

12 minutes ago, Lee Wilson said:

A little shake of the head probably would have done it.

I guess I also could have held up my ring finger and shown off my wedding ring. 

[Jason Rimbaud]

9 minutes ago, Davide said:

Sorry, I didn't mean it in a negative way.

I remember you telling us he reads all the comments and, although it may be silly of me, I wanted to make sure he knew that a random internet guy he never talked to wasn't suggesting anything in the remote vicinity of you cheating on him.

No problems on that. He doesn't get mad at people at GA, he only gets mad at me sometimes. But as Lee pointed out, I'm very immature so he's grown accustomed to that over the ten years we've been together. .