Had To—Sorry Y’all: I Love Cuba / Cubana / Cuban Women—This Is Just Yet Another Tease (‘Wonton ‘a-Meri-ca’) edit; yeah, this Is, Errr… Was… Timely When I First Wrote It.

Lucy Ricardo and Ricky Ricardo perform Cuban Pete

Cred For Vid: Lucy Ricardo

******

Had to Write This

Mainly because of the girls.

Which ones?

The Cuban ones!

Duh!

Well, that kinda narrows it down some.

***

For A Post I have Bouncing About in My Head.

Working Title:

“Wonton America.”

All Americans are “Want-Ones’

(You Have Probably Already Figured Out Why This Is Timely And Apropos)

Playing For Change

Street Cred for Vid:  ‘Playing For Change

https://www.playingforchange.com/

The you?

****

The young Girl Singing… Broke my already broken Heart.

Will work for Beer!

Oh Drear!
Or Dear!
Oh Drat!

Damn Cat!

Diana Fuentes

*****

(Yeah. I know The Musical Selection is Miss-Matched.

And the Language is ALL Wrong!

But it Suits My Purpose)

So There!

Guantanamera – The Sandpipers

****

And word to Some Wise:

Don’t Go THERE.

I will hurt Your Feelings

******

Yeah.

It is Gonna Be About

All The Years I Spent In

South-East Asia.

DUH!

And About LOVING & Cherishing  

All The People I had the Honour To Know There….

****

Stay Tuned.

Don’t Change That Dial!

****

P.S., I LOVE MY LIFE!

*****

Pee Pee Esss:

I have been to Cuba only Once.

(And I didn’t even manage to get off my ship)

Pretty Sure Next Time I Get To Go…

I’ll Be Arriving

At

Guantanamo!

(That’s Me: Second Guy On The Bottom Left)

Related:

To Cuba

“Juan?”

“C’est moi!”

I love Cuba!

Havana Na Na Na

Long Version:

Short Version:

********

Since I Seem To Still Be On A Carribean / South American Woman Kick:

“Hips Don’t Lie”

Shakira! Shakira!

*****

Shonnie, The Biker’s Wife. Part V: Vegas

Part V of My Shonnie Saga

Parts One  Two  Three  Four

***

Our road trip to Vegas takes five hours and change. Once we got past San Bernardino and well into the desert I announced it was safe to drink and drive and ride. Therefore, we pulled over and had some cocktails. And smokes. Then we hit the road again. We stayed on Interstate 15. It’s a straight shot into Vegas. Lots of desert. Not much traffic as well, even though it was a Friday. For once, I had planned ahead and made a reservation at the Plaza Hotel and Casino, downtown: Glitter Gulch. I never much cared for ‘The Strip’ during my visits to Vegas, but as this was Shonnie’s first trip there, I promised me I would set aside some time to show her the Glitter-That-Was-Not-Glitter-Gulch.

“Are we there yet?” she asked, rather mockingly about an hour out of San Bernardino.

“You need to pee again?” I shot back over strains of Jimmy Buffett and wind coming from my half-open window.

“Yeah. Matter of fact, I do.”

“Wimmen!” I said, as I pulled off onto the breakdown lane.

“I ain’t gonna pee here!” She protested.

“Look Darlin’, See those big ol’ rocks over there? You can go pee behind one of those. Nobody will see you.”

“Snakes,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Snakes. I don’t like snakes.”

“Okay, I will come with you. Just let me git my M60 outta the trunk.”

Ignoring my piercing wit, she said, “I won’t be able to piss if you’re watching me.”

“You’d prefer the rattlers watch instead?”

“Okay, but you turn your head at the last minute.”

“I never figured you for a prude Honey.”

“Fuck you. Les go. I gotta go.”

And off we went. There were no snakes that day, so mission accomplished; no apparent casualties, except for maybe some ants who could not scurry away fast enough.

Back on the road. The rest of the trip was pretty much uneventful. We arrived to Vegas about six in the evening. As we drove along The Strip I pointed out all the hotels / casinos which had been graced by my patronage (and my money) during past trips. She was impressed and I could see her eyes lighting up. Shame it was still daylight and she could not see the glory of the Neon City that is Las Vegas. Well, time enough for that later, I mused.

We finally arrived at the very end of Fremont Street and checked in to my old Nemesis: The Union Plaza. I have always had a love/hate relationship with The Plaza, but like a bad marriage, I just could never seem to break it off.

plaza

We found the way to our room, which for me was mediocre (I have been around the world, remember? And spent time in some fine, really fine hotels), but to Shonnie, who was not so much a world traveler—more of a life traveler—the room was amazing. She immediately did a thorough inventory of all the ‘accoutrements’ in the room.

“Hey Lance!” she exclaimed. “Come look at this shit! There are little tiny soap bars in the bathroom. And little tiny shampoo bottles. And some paper thingy on the toilet. How I’m supposed to pee with that paper there? And look at this!” she said, walking out of the head and back into the room, “There’s a coffee pot and Coffee! And Look at this here! A remote control for the TV!”

*heavy sigh* from me. “Shonnie, welcome to the First World.”

“Smart ass! Hey! Just look at that bed! Is that one of them water-beds?”

“I seriously do not think so. This ain’t Caesar’s Palace, Hun. We are in the part of Vegas known as the home of ‘The Sawdust Joints’.”

“Oh… Well, I like it.”

“Stay tuned.”

She walked over to the little desk beside the TV and picked up the room service menu. “This is my idea of Heaven”, she said.

“What?”

“We can have room service! I’ve never had room service. What should I order? I’m hungry.”

“Honey, order anything you want.”

“No. I’ll tell you what I want and you order it. I don’t wanna talk to some stranger on the phone about food.”

“Very well,” I said. “Go ahead. Take your time. Then I will order us up some supper. Wanna drink while you ‘peruse’ the menu?”

“While I what?

“Decide what you want to eat.”

“Yeah… reach me a beer and my cigs while I study this. So many choices!”

She was enjoying her stay so far. And I was loving her enjoying.

“Have you decided what you want for supper?” I asked after a bit.

“Yeah, but I caint make out what some of this stuff is, so I am shopping ‘price’”

“Baby, you don’t havta shop price. I have money. Order what you want.”

“No, I mean I am shopping price. Gonna order the most expensive thing on this menu and see what I get.”

Good Gawd! I am loving this woman! “You go right ahead Darlin’.”

She had picked out, what she called, a baby steak, based upon the photo in the menu (Filet mignon) and then said, “I love the picture of that steak but it looks kinda small. Can you add some taters or something with it?”

“Don’t worry Honey, I will take care of it. I am gonna go for ice first, then I will order.”

“The Seven Eleven is way far from here,” she protested. “Don’t you leave me alone.”

“You really are country, ain’t ya? And you called me ‘City Boy’. Baby, the ice is just down the hall. Be right back.”

Over her protestations, I went and fetched a bucket of ice. When I returned, she announced she wanted a shower:

“I’m gonna freshen up. You make sure that room service guy don’t come into my bathroom while I’m in there.”

“Shonnie, I will gallantly stand my post just outside your door. No worry.”

“Okay then. See ya in a bit.” And she disappeared into the bathroom.

The food arrived while she was still in the head, showering. I tipped the dude and laid out our supper table. Opened a bottle of red wine I had tacked onto the order along with my ‘steak’, a semi rare cheeseburger (I am a simple man: simple tastes). Anyhow, presentation is everything. I had also requested a single red rose for ornament and I placed that ‘just so’ too on the table.

She yelled at me from behind the bathroom door: “Is he gone?”

“Yes Babe. He is. Come on out.”

She opened the door, enveloped in a cloud of steam, like something out of film noir, wearing a hotel white cotton bath robe, and waltzed into the bedroom. I was impressed. She looked stunning and I felt one more brick in my emotional wall crumble.

“Let’s eat! I’m starving!” she announced gruffly in that coarse gravelly voice I had grown to love so well.

We had our meal to the strains of ‘Joni Mitchell’ singing from Hejira on my brought boom box. Neither one of us had any desire to watch TV, as we were too much into music. The TV with the remote was just a novelty for her; she had no desire to actually watch it. Nor did I.

After our meal, she asked me, “So, you gonna show me about this Fool’s Paradise Town of yours or what?”

“In due time. In due time. Now take off that robe and lie back and relax. I have something I want to do to you first. Then I am gonna teach you how to ‘count’ down the deck in Blackjack.”

To be continued… Part Sex Here

Shonnie, The Biker’s Wife, Part Four Yeh I ‘ctully Write this Shite. Yeh, My Keybord Is Still Broke-Dick Dog

Shonnie Saga: Part Four

Parts One,   Two,   Three.

We spent that Friday afternoon and most of Saturday enjoying the Bluegrass festival while swilling beers and smoking lots of cigarettes. During the late evenings we would share burgers, listen to all sorts of music on my little boom box, drink whiskey and have great sex. We also talked of many things, but nothing too heavy. We were enjoying ourselves.

Sunday noon we checked out of the motel and sadly headed west back to San Dog. It had been a perfect weekend and I truly regretted the ending of it. Shonnie impressed me more and more with her worldly wisdom, and in spite of no formal higher education, she seemed to know a lot about a lot. Mostly about the important shit: Life. She had not one ounce of pretentiousness in her small body. (Small, very sexy body) Both of us were inventive and creative in bed. Did I mention the sex was fantastic? I am certain I did.

Knowing my duty schedule on the USS Frederick, I knew it would be three weeks until I had another weekend completely devoid of any responsibilities as a sailor. I had already formulated a plan to ‘kidnap’ her when that free weekend came about.

During the ensuing days we kept up our regular rendezvous schedule. More and more I looked forward to seeing her and getting to know her even better. She was reluctant to tell me very much about her life, but bits and pieces did come out between slow dancing, drinking, smoking, and fucking. Her father had left her and her mother when she was still quite young. ‘He was an abusive type’, was about all the detail I got from her, but I could occasionally catch a glimpse of sorrow and pain in her eyes. I refrained from broaching the subject of her husband-the-biker. In fact, the fact that she was married at all, slipped away from my mind like so much quick silver…

One Saturday night she had me drive us to a Mall.

“Okay, what are we doing here?” I asked her. Malls ain’t my thing, you see.”

“I wanna buy you something,” she replied.

“Oh no you don’t. I have everything I need.”

“No. You need this, c’mon.”

She led me to a record shop and began searching the bins.

“What’re you looking for?” I asked.

“Gimme a sec. Oh here it is,” she announced happily pulling a cassette from the bin.

“What’s that?”

“You’ll love it. Trust me.”

“I’m already in-love….with you, you crazy bitch.”

She purchased Nighthawks at the Diner by Tom Waits, an artist I had never heard of….

Until Shonnie.

 

We drove to Balboa Park,  and opening some beers to go with our whiskey we listened to the cassette. I loved it from the very first minute. My Girl had me all figured out. It was just a little disconcerting, how she had so easily pegged me and yet to me she was still mostly an enigma.

After the sun set we started our make out session, then she did something unexpected. She unbuckled my jeans and started giving me head. This had never happened before and to say I was quite pleased would be an understatement bordering on the felonious. Just as I was really getting into it, she stopped suddenly, looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes and said solemnly, “If you come in my mouth, I will kill you.”

Well, that kind of ruined ‘My’ moment, but actually in a good way. It struck me so funny that I just could not help bursting out laughing. It was priceless. Make out session temporarily put on hold and my fondness for her intensified.

The next weekend (my ‘freedom’ one), we met at our usual rendezvous point. She, on instructions from me given over a pay phone, had brought along a bag with extra clothes and whatever other tricks of her trade she needed for a two-and-a-half day ‘excursion’, along with a pass from her mom relieving her of motherly duties for the weekend.

“So Cowboy, where are we going?”

“Vegas,” I said. “My turn to ‘educate’ you My Love.”

 

 

“Woolworth  Rhinestone diamond earrings and a sideways glance”

Greatest line from any song.

To be continued…  FIVE HERE

 

******

How I recall my Wonderful, Magical Months Spent with Shonnie:

Cred: Chris Isaak

May Be Worth ‘A-Re-Look’–California Is Still Breaking My Heart. “All The Leaves Are Brown And My Sky is Gray” I Am A Texan: This Is Not New News…

Yet, And However Comma,

I Will ALWAYS Love California.

Even At The Very Real, Perilous Risk Of Losing

My Native TEXAN Citizen-Ship

But I Left A Large, Substantial Piece of My Heart In San Francisco. Cred: Bennet.

Hey, That Almost Rhymed.

Hahahah!

****

I have spent a great portion of my life living in California.

First with my Mom back in the Sixties and then Later (Mid 80’s) When I was a Sailor Stationed in San Diego.

I have always loved Cali (Of Course not as I LOVE Texas, But Love California I did.)

So it is with a Heavy Heart That I Post this Post.

The California That I loved so Much is Dead to me Now.

And So glad I ‘escaped’ before She Tuned to Literal Shite.

I’d like to hang onto my GOOD Memories of California–All the Times Mom and I would go to San Francisco, Santa Cruz,

And of course

Haight-Ashbury

And 39613 Bruning Street

Michelle Phillips is such a petite, beautiful lady.

Love You Cass Elliot et al–Wonderful Talent in This Group

What Would You Say Now Joni?

Dearest Joni, Pretty sure California has broken your Heart as it has mine. I love you Joni for this magical Song–and for ALL of your Magical Songs–You are such an important part of my life. And you will always remain, holding a very special place in my heart.

Until Death do us part. I hope I go first. I do not wish to live in a world without you, Joni Mitchell

*****

Moving on–My fawning desire over Joni, for now, sated

(But trust me: It will resurface, and probably much sooner than later)

*******

And this Saddens Me. Me, The Eternal Cock-Eyed Optimist, But Some things Are Perma-Broken and I see no Chance of Fixing Them Anytime soon.Please Allow Me To Re-iterate: My Old Heart is BROKEN.

***

Thank You if You’ve Come This Far.

And If You Have, You Have My Sympathy

And You Should Seek Council

Immediately.

Just a Suggestion…

Cheers!

Credit: Paul J. Watson

“Lady Luck” or “Bewitched, Bothered, & Bewildered” You Choose. (WIP) And Of Course, This Really Ain’t Fiction. I Just Changed Some Names–To Protect… N/M

My Gawd! But He Was Great!

Great Frank!

Travis was three-quarter drunk.

This was not unusual.

For Travis.

He had staggered from the El Cortez to the Union Plaza,

Thinking he might ‘get well’ at the blackjack tables

(His ‘stake’ had dwindled somewhat)

First stop:

Le Bar.

History dictated he would not get far.

However, Travis was feeling blessed and lucky this night.

We would see.

He spied a primo blackjack table, with only three ‘patrons’ seated there.

Perfect for an underachiever count-down artist, which is what he was.

But of course he saw himself as so much more.

He took his drink and his still smoldering Marlboro and his over-blown cockiness over to the table.

Sat down and said to the pretty young Ornamental dealer,

“Red and green”

As he threw out his last three hundred bucks….

She just smiled in that smile that Travis had seen so many times from the bar girls in Olongapo.

“Charming and Endearing” does not even come close as description,

What little did he know….

As a long tall blond broad took a seat next to him.

How his world was about to change.

Forever

***

And some days.

To be continued…

I think I’ve seen this movie before… I didn’t like it”

Narrator said.

This is ‘obviously’ my first foray into ‘fiction’

For as my ‘faitfful’ readers know, I do not attempt fiction.

No good at it.

So…

Any resemblamce to Lance, the author, or his life experiences…. are purely coincendental and just a glitz in this mate-trix.

And of course

This story will be mostly about women

Never escaping that.

Just is impossible.

Truth

Nor fiction

Women

All Ways About Women

***

Free Bonus:

The Idiot And The Odyssey. Oh My Fukken Gawd! Lost At Sea! But I Got A One-Way Ticket For My “Destination” ‘Destination?’–I Suppose San Dog Must Suffice (In-A-Pinch Of Vice)

What An Idiot And An Odyssey!

I Shall Re-Count This,

Just As Soon as I Sober-up and Re-Discover Sobriety

Kris K: Native TEXAN!

The ‘Perfect’ Sailor Song!