I have absolutely nothing to write about.  Nada.  Nothing.  I’ve been staring at my computer screen for 20 minutes.  I started writing a story and got to about a paragraph and just drew a blank.  I couldn’t write another worthwhile thing, so I deleted it all.  Just as I’m about to give it a rest for tonight, my wife walks by and drops her sweatpants.  That is just the inspiration I need.  In fact, it’s the only inspiration I’ve needed since I reached puberty.  Chasing the booty is as worthwhile a topic of literary excellence as anything.

My pursuit of female ass began at about the age of 12 when I became infatuated by a young hottie named Barbara.  I will not divulge her family name until next of kin have been informed.  She was my first brown eyed girl and just when I think she started to like me too, we finished the 6th grade and my dad moved us from Santa Cruz to Montara, CA.  Love lost.  Thanks Dad.

In Junior High in the hot butt capital of Half Moon Bay there were a series of loves from Carol to Marcia who I couldn’t bear the thought of speaking to directly.  I wasn’t cool and smooth talking like I am now.  I was nerdy and stupid and walked around with greasy hair and clothes made by my mom.  I played Pop Warner football, basketball and Pony League baseball.

High School was no better.  Gia, Susan, Barbara (different Barbara), Marcia (again) found their way at various times into my heart.  I was the kind of boy who excelled in sports, did my average best in the classroom, and was a total loser when it came to attracting women.  Still, I never gave up.  The pursuit to make ’em laugh and get them to like me were the only skills I had as staring at a white man’s afro didn’t have the same appeal to young women as feathered hair and clear, clean skin.  I perfected my wit but still had difficulty finding the courage to ask anyone out for a date.  Tongue tied and zit faced meant I spent a lot of Friday night’s playing by myself.  I didn’t give up.  I just wasn’t any good.  Deep in my soul, I knew that it would take me moving away to find and rightfully pursue the love of my life.

It didn’t take as long as I expected.  My wife and I met randomly in college during my Freshman, her Sophomore, year after my football practice and her swim practice on a hot Redding fall day.  We connected, or so I like to think, even though she already had a boyfriend.  I didn’t let up.  I stayed in touch.  I kept trying to worm my way into her heart and I eventually won at my birthday party with the absolute best line of my life.  I noticed she was wearing a sweater as dark as a moonless night and I told her my favorite color was black.  We’ve been married 27 years now.  I thank God each day that I didn’t tilt and that somehow over the years I earned a few extra games.

I amaze myself what I’m able to produce once I get a little ass.  Tough to explain how, my friends, you’re going to like or hate this post.  I’m a guy, for God’s sake, and I’ve always been a little bit of an ass man.  Maybe someday, I’ll even be able to call myself a writer.