Mind? What Mind?

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Several years ago, I tore my hamstring doing stretches the wrong way. Since then, it’s taken almost nothing to re-injure it. I’m just like that, fragile, doncha know. SO of course in doing stretches now, I’m vigilant about keeping the proper form and always paying attention to what I’m doing. Except when I’m not.

Like today.

There I was, lying on my back, pulling my leg into an unnatural position and instead of focusing on that, I was wondering why I had had a sex dream about Wally from Leave it to Beaver last night. I think if I were struggling to find and image that defines sexlessness, it would be Tony Dow. And yet, apparently, the dank recesses of my subconscious has a freak on for the Beav’s brother. Hmm. Also, this just in: while looking for an image of Wally, I stumbled upon a whole subculture of my gay brothers who dream of doing the nasty with him. Proving once again, “A pot for every lid.”

Then somehow the image of that dream led to my brooding about guys who have a fetish for people with Down Syndrome. I suppose if you feel that people who have Down Syndrome deserve to be treated the same as all the rest of us hapless schmoes (and I do) then you have to assume they have the same right to be sexually objectified as the short guys with round butts I’m so fond of. And yet, it seems sort of creepy.

And then, of course, that brought to mind my previous post about cosmopolitans, which reminded me about one of my favorite episodes of Sex and the City, where Sam is blowing the UPS guy and Carrie walks in on them. The UPS guy was played by Nick Scotti, whose main talent seems to have been an ability to fill out a delivery man uniform and be humpy while doing it.

Which then reminded me that reliable reports about the FedEx guy for our office. who I had considered totally do-able, is no great shakes with his clothes off. How tragically disappointing. And that, naturlement, caused a little day dream about one of my favorite porn stars from back in the day, Jake Taylor, and his magnum opus “In and Out Express.”

And then I felt an all-too-familiar twinge in the back of my leg and realized I had screwed up my hamstring again. But in a new spot! Hooray, an exciting new injury!

I have got to start paying attention.

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

6 responses »

  1. Heehee….I love your stream of consciousness. Although, the Beav and sex don’t belong in the same sentence. Gyahh…A little Vicodin and Flexeril ought to fix you right up. Shall I mix you a cocktail? ;-P

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  2. Yes….all roads lead back to Porn.I mean, one minute you’re thinking of needing to dust the furniture …and the next thing you know the dust mop has become Arpad Miklos.Dangerous situation, needless to say.

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