 | ||||||||
| Gerard Butler riding on a cool, clear Southern California day. |
With all the things that are not right in the world at the moment, a fine looking fellow is one of the many things to be thankful for.
Photo courtesy of www.justjared.com
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Happy Thanksgiving from Hollywood, California
With all the things that are not right in the world at the moment, a fine looking fellow is one of the many things to be thankful for.
Photo courtesy of www.justjared.com
Sunday, November 21, 2010
The Outlandisher - Chap. 13 - Travel by Boot
17th Century Scotland - The Red Bull Inn
Sitting on the rough wooden bench in the room upstairs, Jamie McFraser and Gerremy McButler's conversation was momentarily drowned out by the loud claps of thunder and the torrential rain that peppered the roof of the Red Bull Inn. Presently both men sat facing the object of their consternation and discussing how to approach the search for the key that would allow McBuler passage through the mirror to 21st century New York.
After doing a thorough reconnaissance, featuring tactile compression of every inch of the surface, they came to the conclusion that it had to be a matter of some kind of spell or group of words that had to be said in the right order that would open the portal. They had spent the last half hour discussing a little Scottish history and the events that might link the past and the present in hopes of coming up with some clue on how to proceed.
McFraser had also recounted to McButler everything he was doing on the ill fated night that had brought McButler through the portal with a roaring thump. In turn McButler explained to McFraser what Dressed to Kilt was and how he was trying on the outfit he was to wear to the occasion when he had turned and momentarily seen the image of Jamie McFraser staring back at him from the mirror. As a matter of fact, it had been Noly's growling and the ensuing fright that had caused him to trip on the little dog and plummet through the vortex that had suddenly appeared in the mirror.
McFraser had questioned McButler on the circumstances the evening the Captain disappeared, only Gerremy had been unable to shed much light, since he had been fast asleep, under the influence of an Ambien laced shot of Scottish whiskey, which had put him out like a light. He skipped lightly over his adventures with the English dragoon in an unaccustomed fit of embarrassment. He noticed McFrasers stern silence and unwillingness to prod further on the matter and wondered what it was all about.
He was not about to go in that direction again though, as he and McFraser had been getting along and he didn't particularly relish seeing the menacing look on the big Scots face ever again. He was no coward and had survived a fair share of bar brawls in his day, but he knew damned well that if push came to shove, this fiery headed Highlander was capable of killing him without too much trouble.
He decided to take a different approach.
GMcB: Since yer wife traveled here from another century, dae ye think she might have some clues to offer on this situation?
JMcF: Perhaps. My wife is ne'er one tae be scarce wi' the words. We'll wait til the storm passes, though. One o' the young lads in the actin' troop was struck by a bolt o' lightning an' the poor bastard was left deaf an' dumb. If it's just the same wi' ye I'm going tae stretch out in the bed and catch up on some sleep while I can. Ye can wake me when the rain stops. We should save the candles for later. Ye can stretch out on the table if ye're tired!
GMcB: (frowning) The table? Unh unh. I had enough o' that table already. If ye dinna mind, that bed is big enough fer two an' I promise tae stay on my side of it.
JMcF: Ye don't snore, dae ye?
GMcB: (innocently) Me? No' a bit!
Gerremy McButler found himself lying on the table, uncomfortable but thankful for the blanket and pillow that Jamie had ceded to him when he pushed him off the bed earlier. He had been sorely tempted to punch him in the head while he was down, but he needed him to find his way back to civilization and he was unwilling to risk alienating him.
Damn, how was a man expected not tae snore when the peat and wood fires clogged up the sinuses. It was his bad luck McFraser was a light sleeper. He had found out just how light when he had accidently jostled Jamie while trying to pull the captain's very snug trousers out of his arse, only to find a sharp point pierce the skin behind his right ear.
Yes, Jamie McFraser was one very tautly strung highlander and thank goodness his protestations of chaffing had the ring of truth to it, or he might have lost the ear altogether. After the commotion, they had settled down again, with Gerremy determined not to move so much as a hair. That determination had been skewered completely and certainly no match for Morpheus, who had warmly embraced him and apparently squeezed enough snores out of him to cause him to be quietly, but very unceremoniously, dumped on the wood plank floor with a blanket carelessly tossed at his head.
Picking himself up, he'd had to beg for the pillow, which caused McFraser to lob some strong profanities at him in Gaelic. McButler had gotten enough of a whiff of their meaning to realize that McFraser knew some curses not even he had ever heard of. He'd made a mental note to ask him the meaning of a few to add to his own well stocked repertoire before going in search of the pillow McFraser had hurled across the room.
As usual, he was destined to get little sleep. What seemed like only an hour later he was roughly awakened by the highlander, who had changed his mind and decided to return to Claire and see what light she could shed on this "time traveling" business. Besides, McFraser had said he was as hungry as he was broke, and it could rain for days, so they might as well tackle the elements and make their way before it got dark.
Still aching from the hard, inhospitable table, McButler made a show of easily sliding to the ground, as he tried to shake the drowsiness of sleep from his brain. He noticed Jamie was doing the same, stretching in front of the mirror.
His stockinged feet had barely touched the floor, when a very loud peal of thunder, immediately followed by a bolt of lightening, lit up the room. Covering his ears to shield them from the sound, Gerremy McButler, in a show of grace seldom witnessed by mortal man (or woman), tripped over the tight fitting boots he had slipped off previous to climbing up on the table little more than an hour before, and careened into one Jamie Lee McFraser with the equally loud, but well worn verbal explosion otherwise known as FUCK!
The next thing either of them knew, they were grabbing thin air and being sucked in, hand over foot, by the black vortex that opened up to receive them.
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction that exists only in the twilight zone of the writer's mind. Any and all resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate
Sitting on the rough wooden bench in the room upstairs, Jamie McFraser and Gerremy McButler's conversation was momentarily drowned out by the loud claps of thunder and the torrential rain that peppered the roof of the Red Bull Inn. Presently both men sat facing the object of their consternation and discussing how to approach the search for the key that would allow McBuler passage through the mirror to 21st century New York.
After doing a thorough reconnaissance, featuring tactile compression of every inch of the surface, they came to the conclusion that it had to be a matter of some kind of spell or group of words that had to be said in the right order that would open the portal. They had spent the last half hour discussing a little Scottish history and the events that might link the past and the present in hopes of coming up with some clue on how to proceed.
McFraser had also recounted to McButler everything he was doing on the ill fated night that had brought McButler through the portal with a roaring thump. In turn McButler explained to McFraser what Dressed to Kilt was and how he was trying on the outfit he was to wear to the occasion when he had turned and momentarily seen the image of Jamie McFraser staring back at him from the mirror. As a matter of fact, it had been Noly's growling and the ensuing fright that had caused him to trip on the little dog and plummet through the vortex that had suddenly appeared in the mirror.
McFraser had questioned McButler on the circumstances the evening the Captain disappeared, only Gerremy had been unable to shed much light, since he had been fast asleep, under the influence of an Ambien laced shot of Scottish whiskey, which had put him out like a light. He skipped lightly over his adventures with the English dragoon in an unaccustomed fit of embarrassment. He noticed McFrasers stern silence and unwillingness to prod further on the matter and wondered what it was all about.
He was not about to go in that direction again though, as he and McFraser had been getting along and he didn't particularly relish seeing the menacing look on the big Scots face ever again. He was no coward and had survived a fair share of bar brawls in his day, but he knew damned well that if push came to shove, this fiery headed Highlander was capable of killing him without too much trouble.
He decided to take a different approach.
GMcB: Since yer wife traveled here from another century, dae ye think she might have some clues to offer on this situation?
JMcF: Perhaps. My wife is ne'er one tae be scarce wi' the words. We'll wait til the storm passes, though. One o' the young lads in the actin' troop was struck by a bolt o' lightning an' the poor bastard was left deaf an' dumb. If it's just the same wi' ye I'm going tae stretch out in the bed and catch up on some sleep while I can. Ye can wake me when the rain stops. We should save the candles for later. Ye can stretch out on the table if ye're tired!
GMcB: (frowning) The table? Unh unh. I had enough o' that table already. If ye dinna mind, that bed is big enough fer two an' I promise tae stay on my side of it.
JMcF: Ye don't snore, dae ye?
GMcB: (innocently) Me? No' a bit!
Gerremy McButler found himself lying on the table, uncomfortable but thankful for the blanket and pillow that Jamie had ceded to him when he pushed him off the bed earlier. He had been sorely tempted to punch him in the head while he was down, but he needed him to find his way back to civilization and he was unwilling to risk alienating him.
Damn, how was a man expected not tae snore when the peat and wood fires clogged up the sinuses. It was his bad luck McFraser was a light sleeper. He had found out just how light when he had accidently jostled Jamie while trying to pull the captain's very snug trousers out of his arse, only to find a sharp point pierce the skin behind his right ear.
Yes, Jamie McFraser was one very tautly strung highlander and thank goodness his protestations of chaffing had the ring of truth to it, or he might have lost the ear altogether. After the commotion, they had settled down again, with Gerremy determined not to move so much as a hair. That determination had been skewered completely and certainly no match for Morpheus, who had warmly embraced him and apparently squeezed enough snores out of him to cause him to be quietly, but very unceremoniously, dumped on the wood plank floor with a blanket carelessly tossed at his head.
Picking himself up, he'd had to beg for the pillow, which caused McFraser to lob some strong profanities at him in Gaelic. McButler had gotten enough of a whiff of their meaning to realize that McFraser knew some curses not even he had ever heard of. He'd made a mental note to ask him the meaning of a few to add to his own well stocked repertoire before going in search of the pillow McFraser had hurled across the room.
As usual, he was destined to get little sleep. What seemed like only an hour later he was roughly awakened by the highlander, who had changed his mind and decided to return to Claire and see what light she could shed on this "time traveling" business. Besides, McFraser had said he was as hungry as he was broke, and it could rain for days, so they might as well tackle the elements and make their way before it got dark.
Still aching from the hard, inhospitable table, McButler made a show of easily sliding to the ground, as he tried to shake the drowsiness of sleep from his brain. He noticed Jamie was doing the same, stretching in front of the mirror.
His stockinged feet had barely touched the floor, when a very loud peal of thunder, immediately followed by a bolt of lightening, lit up the room. Covering his ears to shield them from the sound, Gerremy McButler, in a show of grace seldom witnessed by mortal man (or woman), tripped over the tight fitting boots he had slipped off previous to climbing up on the table little more than an hour before, and careened into one Jamie Lee McFraser with the equally loud, but well worn verbal explosion otherwise known as FUCK!
The next thing either of them knew, they were grabbing thin air and being sucked in, hand over foot, by the black vortex that opened up to receive them.
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction that exists only in the twilight zone of the writer's mind. Any and all resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Living in the Moment: Why Gerard Butler Loves Sex!
Always a sensualist and advocate of "living in the moment," I can't tell you how many times I come back to the premise that being in a moment with all your senses (and even your sixth) is so important to personal happiness. I have written about it since I was in in school...."happiness is a function of recognizing the wonderful little moments in life and being there with all your senses, soaking it all up." I am that way about plays, musical performances, the people I am with, communing with nature, being with myself. The bottom line is "When I am scattered I am not content."
So it was that my own feelings were validated while reading through the NY Times this morning and finding an article on a recent study that correlates "unhappiness"with the tendency of letting one's mind wander.
 |
| *Gerard Butler happy? |
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/16/science/16tier.html?_r=1&nl=todaysheadlines&emc=a210&pagewanted=print
In one paragraph, the study cites the unsurprising:
'The least surprising finding, based on a quarter-million responses from more than 2,200 people, was that the happiest people in the world were the ones in the midst of enjoying sex. Or at least they were enjoying it until the iPhone interrupted.'
After reading that paragraph my mind went immediately to Gerard Butler, whose photo of his arrival at LAX had caught my attention earlier.
You know Gerard Butler ...he of the "manwhore, " "can't sit still" ADD, cell phone as another appendage, reputation?
It was "in the moment" I read this that I felt the man should clearly be vindicated of the smears of so many disgruntled fans who consider him the antichrist and a threat to the institution of marriage or even monogamy? All the vitriol can't be because they HATE his acting!
I had to ask myself the question. "Could all the purported sex he has just be that Gerry just likes to be happy?"
It is a rare bird that knows themselves well enough to know where their weaknesses lay. Gerard Butler, by his own admission in countless interviews, has said that he has a problem concentrating. He has made an issue of it in going to Oneness University, in his travels to India, flirtations with light therapy, even in reading books on how to bring all the disparate parts of him together in cohesiveness. He is honest about it. He has dealt with his demons, worked hard on ridding himself of addictions that have plagued him....always searching and trying to find the things that bring him contentment.
Well, there are many things people know about Gerard Butler because he so often puts them out there and, while I'm sure there are many others that make him happy, these three have to be at the top of his list: 1) Performing (be it acting or singing) to entertain others, 2) socializing (not to include talking to rocks) and, 3) if the tabloids and his fans are to be believed, LOTS of SEX. Now, according to this article, we perhaps get a glimpse of why the latter is so important to him! Could engaging in sex be one of the times when his mind is not wandering to the next thing he has to do, going in a million directions, his electrical system sparking furiously?
He certainly looks happy in that LAX photograph and we've heard he has been engaging in all three of the above listed loves in NYC just recently. If giving someone a smile is a contagious thing, the smile in that photograph is working. It made me smile.
Now I have one question for Gerry:
"Does he turn off his sexy red cell phone while engaging in sexual acrobatics with the bevy of beauties he's so often photographed with?"
I would hope so, but inquiring minds want to know.
Be happy Gerry! "Living" is important.
Zoni
*Original Link for Photograph:
http://justjared.buzznet.com/photo-gallery/2495980/gerard-butler-lax-01/Sunday, November 14, 2010
The Outlandisher - Chap. 12 - Clash of the Scottish Egos
9-22-10
Clash of the Scottish Egos
It was inevitable. Gerremy McButler was totally convinced of that. His life, right from the beginning, had been an example of the old adage one step forward and two steps back so this didn't come as any great surprise. Why should this nightmare trip through time be any different. If he had thought meeting up with one crazed English dragoon had been wicked, meeting up again with one hard headed, titian haired Scottish laird, was absolutely mind altering.
After leaving Claire McFraser's cottage, he had decided to give the mirror one more try. Claire had been occupied with patients and he hadn't been able to recount his disastrous meeting with one F. Neil McRandall and get her take on it. It was obvious the crazy Captain was enamored of her husband, but he wasn't sure that she was aware of it and didn't know how to recount it without bringing him into it. Did McFraser reciprocate some of the Captain's affections? From the little he had mentioned him, he thought not, but one never knew how these things played out and he would have to wait and ask McFraser himself, in any case, since Claire had been too busy to see him.
He had returned to the Red Bull Inn and run smack into the person he was seeking, namely, Jamie McFraser. As he was going up the stairs to the room, he spotted McFraser having a tankard of ale with the proprietor. Tired and angry, he had approached McFraser from behind and put his hand on his shoulder.
GMcB: Just the pairson I was lookin' for! Tell me how ye brought me here to be pairt o' yer Machiavellian plan. I want tae go home. Right now!
Without so much as twitching a muscle, McFraser had practically broken his hand by squeezing it so hard, it forced him to sit down.
JMcF: Ye should know better than to sneak up on a body like that! Ye're lucky I didna break yer arm.
Slamming a glass down in front of McButler, he poured him some ale from his own tankard.
JMcF: Ye look horrible. I think ye need this more than I do! Drink!
Rubbing his hand and still angry, McButler scowls at McFraser before thirstily taking a few gulps. He did not dare drink water again and resigned himself to a few lapses until this mess was cleared up.
JMcF: Now what the hell is wrong wi ye that ye need tae shout it tae the world?
GMcF: (lowering his voice) Why the de'il did ye no' warn me about yer friend the fucking sadist McRandall?
JMcF: Ran into him already, did ye?
GMcF: Ye knew he would come after me?
JMcF: If ye'll clear that muddled heid o' yers, ye'll mind I did warn ye about the Captain.
GMcF: (still angry) Well, when ye said he wis after yer arse, I didn't figure ye were speakin' in the literal sense!
JMcF: (looking McButler over carefully) Ye're a big fella an' ye dinna appear tae have suffered any lastin' damage!
GMcF: Only tae ma psyche! The man is madder than a hatter!
JMcF: And what exactly is a "hatter."
GMcF: It's someone who is mentally unstable, which said Captain appears tae be. He almost killed me!
JMcF: Yet here ye are. Besides, the Captain isna daft. He's nasty an' he's sick. I've run across arse bandits before, but na'er one that got his kicks from hurtin' people.
GMcF: Seems like ye're more o' a babe in the woods than me. Where I come from, people like him can advertise their preferences an' hook up wi' like minded types.
JMcF: Ye're jokin'?
GMcB: Not a bit. An' to add tae it, I think the Captain might be there now. He wis gone when I woke up, but his trousers an' the rest o' his clothes were still there. I think he managed tae find a way tae take a trip through the bluidy mirror.
JMcF: Well that's good news tae me. One less thing I've got tae worry about. I am goin' tae kill him some day, but for now, I'm relieved not tae have him on ma tail all the time.
GMcB: When ye say "on yer tail" are ye talkin' in the literal sense?
JMcF: (frostily) Mr. McButler, dae ye enjoy breathin'?
The look in Jamie McFraser's eyes chill him to the bone.
GMcB: O' course, I dae. What kinda question is that?
JMcF: Then ye will never imply what ye just did again.
GMcB: I'm not implyin' anythin'. I wis merely askin' a simple question. It's no sin, ye know? Some o' ma best friends are gay.
JMcF: Gay?
GMcB: That's what they call men who like men in ma time. They openly live together and have good lives most of the time, except for the bigots.
JMcF: Interestin'. I've got tae remember an' ask Claire about it.... Say, speakin' o' Claire... How'd ye two get along?
GMcB: Like a house on fire. She's a fiesty one, isn't she?
JMcF: (smiling to himself) That she is. (narrowing his eyes) Just what dae ye mean by "a house on fire?"
GMcB: (unawares of the change in tone) Just like ye said, we got along, cep fer her puttin' a pillow o'er my head one night, though I dinna think she was really tryin' tae smother me in bed.
JMcF: In bed? An' just what were ye doin' in bed wi' my wife?
GMcB: (becoming aware of the menace in the voice) Sleepin'?
JMcF: She let ye sleep in the bed?
GMcB: Well, yeah, after she made me bathe tae get rid o' the lice, she practically cooked me alive wi' the boiling water she poured o'er ma heid! I thought she wis tryin' tae cook ma balls! That wife o' yers is dangerous, come tae think o' it. She could give the mad captain a run fer his money!
JMcF: (incredulous) Ye got hot water? She actually heated up water fer ye?
GMcB: Ye expected me tae freeze ma balls off? Are ye crazy?
JMcF: What else did she do for ye? Think verra carefully afore ye answer McButler.
GMcB: If ye're asking did I sleep wi' her, the answer is no. Well, technically I did sleep "with" her, but we didna do more than sleep.....which was kinda strange tae me. I never slept in a bed wi' a woman and not.... Well, ye know....?
JMcF:: I see. Sae ye say ye ha' carnal knowledge o' every woman ye sleep wi'?
GMcB: Well, not every wumman! But aye, normally I dae! But ah got tae say yer Claire knows how tae defend herself. She took a knee tae ma stones when ah tried tae kiss her after she ripped off ma shirt.
JMcF: (coldly) Mr. McButler. I think ye ought tae stop talkin' before ye find yerself wi' ma dirk embedded between your 2nd and third intercostal space. Ye ken?
GMcB: Wha....? Listen, wasn't me doing the rippin' . She said she wis leukin' fer my smallpox vaccination. (shrugging) But pairsonally, ah think she just wanted to see ma abs.
JMcF: (suddenly understanding) I see. She was looking for the round little mark on yer arm an' you misunderstood her intentions. Aye, I see it now.
GMcB: Well that's guid tae hear, kis I don't relish bein' gutted like a fish fer somethin' that wis clearly not ma fault. An' besides that, ah DID save yer guid name by winnin' the pissin' contest ....wi' a little help from Claire, o' course, but....
Seeing the mine field in the direction this conversation was headed, McButler stops.
GMcB: ...it's a long story. I'll let Claire tell ye aboot it, aye? Could ye PLEASE see yer way tae helpin' me figure out how tae get back tae ma own time an' tell me the trick tae the fuckin' mirror?
Jamie Lee McFraser looks dumbfounded.
JMcF: Ye think I ken how it's done? I havena a clue.
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction that exists only in the twilight zone of the writer's mind. Any and all resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate
Clash of the Scottish Egos
It was inevitable. Gerremy McButler was totally convinced of that. His life, right from the beginning, had been an example of the old adage one step forward and two steps back so this didn't come as any great surprise. Why should this nightmare trip through time be any different. If he had thought meeting up with one crazed English dragoon had been wicked, meeting up again with one hard headed, titian haired Scottish laird, was absolutely mind altering.
After leaving Claire McFraser's cottage, he had decided to give the mirror one more try. Claire had been occupied with patients and he hadn't been able to recount his disastrous meeting with one F. Neil McRandall and get her take on it. It was obvious the crazy Captain was enamored of her husband, but he wasn't sure that she was aware of it and didn't know how to recount it without bringing him into it. Did McFraser reciprocate some of the Captain's affections? From the little he had mentioned him, he thought not, but one never knew how these things played out and he would have to wait and ask McFraser himself, in any case, since Claire had been too busy to see him.
He had returned to the Red Bull Inn and run smack into the person he was seeking, namely, Jamie McFraser. As he was going up the stairs to the room, he spotted McFraser having a tankard of ale with the proprietor. Tired and angry, he had approached McFraser from behind and put his hand on his shoulder.
GMcB: Just the pairson I was lookin' for! Tell me how ye brought me here to be pairt o' yer Machiavellian plan. I want tae go home. Right now!
Without so much as twitching a muscle, McFraser had practically broken his hand by squeezing it so hard, it forced him to sit down.
JMcF: Ye should know better than to sneak up on a body like that! Ye're lucky I didna break yer arm.
Slamming a glass down in front of McButler, he poured him some ale from his own tankard.
JMcF: Ye look horrible. I think ye need this more than I do! Drink!
Rubbing his hand and still angry, McButler scowls at McFraser before thirstily taking a few gulps. He did not dare drink water again and resigned himself to a few lapses until this mess was cleared up.
JMcF: Now what the hell is wrong wi ye that ye need tae shout it tae the world?
GMcF: (lowering his voice) Why the de'il did ye no' warn me about yer friend the fucking sadist McRandall?
JMcF: Ran into him already, did ye?
GMcF: Ye knew he would come after me?
JMcF: If ye'll clear that muddled heid o' yers, ye'll mind I did warn ye about the Captain.
GMcF: (still angry) Well, when ye said he wis after yer arse, I didn't figure ye were speakin' in the literal sense!
JMcF: (looking McButler over carefully) Ye're a big fella an' ye dinna appear tae have suffered any lastin' damage!
GMcF: Only tae ma psyche! The man is madder than a hatter!
JMcF: And what exactly is a "hatter."
GMcF: It's someone who is mentally unstable, which said Captain appears tae be. He almost killed me!
JMcF: Yet here ye are. Besides, the Captain isna daft. He's nasty an' he's sick. I've run across arse bandits before, but na'er one that got his kicks from hurtin' people.
GMcF: Seems like ye're more o' a babe in the woods than me. Where I come from, people like him can advertise their preferences an' hook up wi' like minded types.
JMcF: Ye're jokin'?
GMcB: Not a bit. An' to add tae it, I think the Captain might be there now. He wis gone when I woke up, but his trousers an' the rest o' his clothes were still there. I think he managed tae find a way tae take a trip through the bluidy mirror.
JMcF: Well that's good news tae me. One less thing I've got tae worry about. I am goin' tae kill him some day, but for now, I'm relieved not tae have him on ma tail all the time.
GMcB: When ye say "on yer tail" are ye talkin' in the literal sense?
JMcF: (frostily) Mr. McButler, dae ye enjoy breathin'?
GMcB: O' course, I dae. What kinda question is that?
JMcF: Then ye will never imply what ye just did again.
GMcB: I'm not implyin' anythin'. I wis merely askin' a simple question. It's no sin, ye know? Some o' ma best friends are gay.
JMcF: Gay?
GMcB: That's what they call men who like men in ma time. They openly live together and have good lives most of the time, except for the bigots.
JMcF: Interestin'. I've got tae remember an' ask Claire about it.... Say, speakin' o' Claire... How'd ye two get along?
JMcF: (smiling to himself) That she is. (narrowing his eyes) Just what dae ye mean by "a house on fire?"
GMcB: (unawares of the change in tone) Just like ye said, we got along, cep fer her puttin' a pillow o'er my head one night, though I dinna think she was really tryin' tae smother me in bed.
JMcF: In bed? An' just what were ye doin' in bed wi' my wife?
GMcB: (becoming aware of the menace in the voice) Sleepin'?
JMcF: She let ye sleep in the bed?
GMcB: Well, yeah, after she made me bathe tae get rid o' the lice, she practically cooked me alive wi' the boiling water she poured o'er ma heid! I thought she wis tryin' tae cook ma balls! That wife o' yers is dangerous, come tae think o' it. She could give the mad captain a run fer his money!
JMcF: (incredulous) Ye got hot water? She actually heated up water fer ye?
GMcB: Ye expected me tae freeze ma balls off? Are ye crazy?
JMcF: What else did she do for ye? Think verra carefully afore ye answer McButler.
GMcB: If ye're asking did I sleep wi' her, the answer is no. Well, technically I did sleep "with" her, but we didna do more than sleep.....which was kinda strange tae me. I never slept in a bed wi' a woman and not.... Well, ye know....?
JMcF:: I see. Sae ye say ye ha' carnal knowledge o' every woman ye sleep wi'?
GMcB: Well, not every wumman! But aye, normally I dae! But ah got tae say yer Claire knows how tae defend herself. She took a knee tae ma stones when ah tried tae kiss her after she ripped off ma shirt.
JMcF: (coldly) Mr. McButler. I think ye ought tae stop talkin' before ye find yerself wi' ma dirk embedded between your 2nd and third intercostal space. Ye ken?
GMcB: Wha....? Listen, wasn't me doing the rippin' . She said she wis leukin' fer my smallpox vaccination. (shrugging) But pairsonally, ah think she just wanted to see ma abs.
JMcF: (suddenly understanding) I see. She was looking for the round little mark on yer arm an' you misunderstood her intentions. Aye, I see it now.
GMcB: Well that's guid tae hear, kis I don't relish bein' gutted like a fish fer somethin' that wis clearly not ma fault. An' besides that, ah DID save yer guid name by winnin' the pissin' contest ....wi' a little help from Claire, o' course, but....
Seeing the mine field in the direction this conversation was headed, McButler stops.
GMcB: ...it's a long story. I'll let Claire tell ye aboot it, aye? Could ye PLEASE see yer way tae helpin' me figure out how tae get back tae ma own time an' tell me the trick tae the fuckin' mirror?
Jamie Lee McFraser looks dumbfounded.
JMcF: Ye think I ken how it's done? I havena a clue.
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction that exists only in the twilight zone of the writer's mind. Any and all resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Birthday Wishes (and a little advice) for a Scottish Scorpio
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| Gerry Butler Nov. 2010 |
I hope you take a moment out of your birthday celebrations to ponder the greater mysteries of life (such as where that other black sock you were looking for this morning disappeared to) and to thank God or the Universe for all your blessings this past year. You seem to have family that loves you , friends that support you and you get to work doing something you love and get paid handsomely for it. How cool is that?
Now I know one has to take the bad along with the good and the bad includes the twin boils on your now exquisitely skinny bottom, otherwise known as the paparazzi and the critics. The latter haven't been so kind to your last few movies, but they'll come around if you do some good work. I think most of them want to cheer for you. Give them something of substance to sink their teeth into. Be stingy with your roles and pick them out for their complexity and their charm.
There is a third group I'm sure you'd love to lance with a sharp needle and that is the group known as "the nasty fans." Wish I could help you with that one but they irritate the hell out of me too. My advice is just to ignore them!
That you've lived to be 41 is no small feat in today's world. Take care of your health so you can be around another 41! If you think the first half went fast, wait until you're into the second! My advice to you on the health front is to keep the blood flowing everywhere it needs to go. It takes several things to accomplish that...a healthy diet, exercise, and keeping your body chemistry balanced to keep inflammation down to a minimum. Have your CRP levels checked often and keep you HDL up! A high HDL is a sign your liver is moving the cholesterol out of your bloodstream in a speedy manner. The benefits of keeping inflammation down are many and the most important thing you can do (hence the CRP tests). The best incentive I can give a man is the fact he will enjoy and perform sexually well into old age if he does these three things. The same is true of women. Enough said!
And dear Gerry, a healthy diet means cutting down on cake and cheese. It's hard, I know....but remember that blood flow?
Oh, and one last thing....Don't let doctors give you too many pills! That is the worst thing you can do. Aging is a disease in Western medicine and there is a pill for everything. Don't start down that slippery slope. There are natural alternatives. Find them!
Now about living your life..... I don't think there is much there I can advise you on that you aren't already doing. Hopefully you will try a little moderation in a few things, but you have to be true to yourself and your nature, so enjoy life and be kind to others while doing so. What goes around comes around and if you live by that alone, you'll be okay!
Now go out and celebrate your big 41 in style. Yes, you can even act like you're 14 if you want to (as long as it doesn't hurt anyone) and all it takes is a typo! You are in charge of writing the script that is your life. Do it with your own particular style and a lot of love!
Thanks for some of the laughs, man. See you at the movies!
With affection,
Zoni
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