Category Archives: Writing

The Phone Moan (seen on reddit)

Alright boys. The other night I took some flu tablets which kept me awake all night, and as a result I had a moment of insomniac genius and invented a game that I call “The Phone Moan”.

These are the rules: “The Phone Moan.” While with a partner, one person goes down on the other. The person getting head now has to make a phone call to a friend of theirs and attempt to hold a regular conversation for as long as they can manage. While on the phone, you aren‘t allowed to lie. The game ends when the person on the other line figures out they’re being phone moaned, and only then is the person who made the call allowed to hang up. When found out, you should note the length of the call. The person giving head should be trying to inflict the quickest Phone Moan time on their partner, while the person getting head should try to get the longest time that he or she can go for. lt’s a battle of wits, self-control and physical stamina. The ultimate sport, The Phone Moan.

And now a story from Reddit on love

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I was dating a girl named Laura when I was eighteen. She was sixteen, and we were young and stupid and madly in a form of love that you’d never understand (/sarcasm /self-mockery). We were playing at an arcade in the mall one afternoon, and I played this game where you have to make a ball climb up a hill without letting the ball fall off the hill. I let the ball fall off the hill, but it still gave a pity prize of this little plastic ring. I put the ring on her pinky. She laughed and kissed me on the cheek. We broke up about six months later.

Five years later, I am twenty-three, and I see her for the first time since we broke up at a concert. She is with her boyfriend, a guy who is much taller and has evenly distributed facial hair and large gauges in his earlobes. She says his name is Gary and that my name is Spencer and that I look good and that she is doing good and hopes that I am doing good, too. I say she looks good and that it’s nice to meet you Gary and I am doing good, too. Good, she says. We’re going to go over there now, she says, holding out her hand for me to shake it. Weird, I think, and then I shake it. And then I feel the thin ring of plastic around her pinky against my pinky. And then she makes eye contact with me. Her eyes say she isn’t doing as good. My eyes ask her about her mom. About those perennials in the backyard that never grew. Her eyes blink slowly, and then she and Gary go over there.

the story of how I got hit by a car for the first time

So here’s the story of The First Time I Got Run Over By a Car.  To get the full effect, you have to sing it to yourself to the tune of Alice’s Restaurant.

Okay, so I was riding my bike down the sidewalk.  I make a habit of riding my bike places.  I need the exercise, since I have a desk job, and I just like being outside and being active.  And the grocery store is just around the corner.  Plus, people drive way too much.  Now, that’s kind of a necessity in most of Houston, but not in my neighborhood when I just want to go around the corner to the store to get an onion.  So I usually bike to the store to get onions.

No, this one time going to the store – no, I’d gone to the store and I was coming back, that’s it.  So I’d gone to the store and got my onion, and I was on my way back.  And as I was on my way back, I was biking down the sidewalk and saw a truck pulling out of the parking lot.  Now, I figured she’d seen me too, since she slowed down and stopped, but it seems she didn’t since she started going again.  Then it was my turn to slow down and stop.  But by that time, we was pretty close, and we was both goin’, and her goin’ and my goin’ just gone gone too fast to do anything but go together.

Well the next bit happened a little too fast for me to rightly remember, but I remember it little, so I’ll tell you a little.  So I remember something hitting something, but whether it was me hitting her or her hitting me I can’t rightly remember neither.  What I can rightly remember is that I swung the handlebars over at the last second to make sure I hit with my shoulder, and the handlebar tore a nice big hole in her fender.  And she’d turned her wheel to try to avoid hitting me (which we’re at this point still not sure was the case, but just follow along here).  Now her turning wheel caught my leg, and took it around or something, and that wound up hurting a little.  But by that time, I’d finished hitting her (though we’re still not sure if that’s the way it happened either, but you’re still following along, right?).

So it turned out that things happened the way they normally happen when someone gets hit by a motor vehicle.  Namely, that person (namely, me!) went flyin’ in the air.  And I remember the bein’ in the air part pretty clearly, since that part seemed to happen pretty slow.  Unfortunately, not a whole lot happened while I was in the air.  It was too soon for things to really be hurtin’ much, and I had a pretty nice view of the world wheeling around me, so I just kinda floated up there and enjoyed it for … well not too long.  But I eventually started comin’ back down from it, as most things do when they get knocked up in the air.  And by this time, I’d done about one complete revolution in the air.  I figure that was enough, since I’d seen pretty much everything around me, and I was rememberin’ so fast that I was pretty much the only thing movin’.

I came back down – as I said, things that get knocked up in the air tend to do that – and landed on my backside.  But I’d been pretty high up, so I come down pretty hard.  But I didn’t come down too hard, which as you’ll soon see gets kind of important.  I guess you could say I come down just hard enough.  So I came down on my backside, which is fairly good paddin’ but not very springy.  And I needed some padding and spring, because, as I said above, I come down from pretty high up.  But I also had my back handy, which is pretty good at being both a spring and a lever.  Now, things were happening too fast for me to really think that through at the time, but it makes me sound pretty smart now, so I just threw it in there you see?  Well when I was done using up the padding in my backside, I rolled out on my back.  And I reckon my back was springy enough to finish out the catchin’ me, because when I was done with my back, I was about done comin’ down.  And that was good, because at the end of my back is my head.  And my head isn’t padded or springy, and hitting that on the street would have hurt a little more.

Now you may be wonderin’ what everyone else was doing while I was busy spending half the day up in the air.  Well I’ll tell you, I didn’t really care at the time.  I can guess, since I know what they were doin’ after I come on down, but I don’t really care now neither.  But I do know that by the time I finished comin’ on down, everything else was stopped.  So I just took a minute to relish the idea of laying spread out in the middle of the busy street while everyone was stopped.  And then I realized that they was probably stopped for me.  About that time, a couple of people had run up and were hollering and shouting really fast, but I didn’t pay them no attention because, as I said, I was busy relishing the idea of laying in a busy street.  And then I realized that they was probably shouting for me.

With all the stoppin’ and shoutin’ and the like, I figured I better do something to get things back to normal.  So I went and got myself up, and shook the dirt off me.  If you’ve never laid down in the middle of a busy street, you may not realize how dirty they are, but they get pretty dirty.  Trust me, I did it once, as I’m now telling you, and I’ll tell you that it’s pretty dirty and I don’t recommend you do it.  So I dusted myself off as I said, and looked at the people around me.  There were some cars around me too, but I paid less attention to them than the people.  And there was one guy who seemed to be pretty in control who wasn’t screaming or being frantic, and I decided I liked him.  Then there was a lady that was really frantic, and she looked pretty familiar.  So I stood there freshly dusted off but still in the middle of the street and thought about that for a moment.  Then I realized she looked pretty familiar because I’d just seen her, through the windshield of the truck that had just finished hitting me.  I decided I didn’t really like her as much as the guy.

We sat and talked and the lady calmed down, and the guy stayed calm, and I caught my breath – I guess I sort of lost my breath when I was flying through the air.  We decided that we’d both just go our separate ways and not even worry about each other’s names.  I guess in today’s society it’s too easy to drag someone else into court, and while I wasn’t feeling especially friendly right then, I didn’t feel like going to court either of my own free will or otherwise.  Well we said all we needed to say, and the guy I decided I liked offered to take me and my bike home in his conveniently placed pickup truck.  Right then and there, I decided I liked him even more.  It had turned out that I got a little scrape on my leg from the wheel of the truck – that is, the truck that hit me, not the one that was going to take me home.  And my bike had its front wheel pretty well mangled by the truck – again, the truck that hit me, not the one that was going to take me home.  I figured that neither walking nor biking home would be much fun.  And then that guy I liked offered me a ride home and I gladly accepted.

I went on home then, and I guess the lady didn’t go much of anywhere for a while.  She tried to move her truck, but I hit her wheel pretty hard – did we decide if I hit her or if she hit me yet?  Well one of us hit the other hard enough that the wheel didn’t really work right, so she had to get it towed to a shop.  And I don’t know what she told the shop, because I’m sure they wondered if there were some poor biking guy she hit and they wanted to know if he were dead in a ditch somewhere.  And I’m not dead in a ditch, as the fact that I’m writing this long rambly story should attest, but I guess there’s no way for them to have known that then.

Well as I said, I went on home then, and I doctored myself up.  And it really didn’t take too much doctorin’, cause I was in pretty good shape all things considered.  I mean, I’d just destroyed a half ton pickup truck without much but my body.  In fact, I was feeling pretty proud of myself by then.  At least, until I put some rubbing alcohol on the scrape on my leg.  I felt pretty awful for a while after that.  Then I put some non-rubbing alcohol in my mouth, and I felt a whole lot better.  And then I took some pills – mind you, nothing I couldn’t have bought back at the grocery store along with my onion.  But they were pills, so I figure I ought to mention it.  And after I took those pills, things stopped aching so much, so I sat down and rested.

And then I remembered that I’d lost track of that poor onion while I was busy floating in the air and looking all around me, and had to go get another one.  And I got some more pills while I was at it.

And that there is the story of how I got hit by a car the first time.  I hope you enjoy singing it to yourself as much as I enjoyed writing it.  I really did write it just for you, and it passed an hour of early morning work.  Or sitting at my desk waiting for work to come in.  I really hope it doesn’t take you an hour to read it either.

On Alleged Violence in Boys

Violence has been demonized by polite society to the extent that the schoolyard dustup which to some extent defines how a boy defines himself in conflict has been nearly abolished.  There is a vast range of behavior on the continuum between harsh words and gunfire. By denying boys the right to fight, the unintended consequence of an increase in gun violence has been noted.