WIP: Work In Continual Die-Gress! I Guess. Hahahaha! “I LOVE MY TEXAS (And Once Agin, Gin and WP Fu*ked My Edit–I Forgave The Gin, But Not The W’d-Press Sin)

But I always find a way to out-nerd the nerds.

Lance (and life) Always Finds A Way”

*****

Molly!

(Lubbock Gal Born & Bred–Never Wed)

“I Wet My Pants Every time I Got Aress’d”

******

Mac (Not The Knife)

Also Lubbock!

“Too Much Gin and Not Enuff Vermouth”

Been There

*******

Willie Nelson – Beautiful Texas

Cred for Vid: ItsWaldo (Walter Brinkman)

****

And Jackie From Austin

How Much Do I love her?!

‘Hep’ Me Count The Ways

Break out Your Texas Instruments Calculator!

Yer Gonna Need It

Lost In Time

Lose Your Mind

Already There, Wonderful, Beautiful Texan

LADY

Got The T-Shirt & Ever’ Thang!

*****

Mysterious

From Jackie Venson

Live in Texas

****

I miss Peanut so much

1

*******************

And of Course,

Glen

(Although He was ‘From’ Arkansas)

Texas Forgave Him that Miss’d-Judgment On His Part

Cred for Vid: melvinrobb

******

Armadillo By Mornin

Cred: George Strait

*****

Just thought I needed to make

That perfectly clear. Reiterate for the stupid who don’t read the title of MY Blog

Mucho mas to come on this subject

******

Little Texas – God Blessed Texas:

Lyle & His Large Band:

“That’s Right; You’re NOT From TEXAS”

Tanya! You Texan Slut!

I LOVE

You!

SO

MUCH!!

So Very Much!

Fuck it! I’ll Drop This In

Just for Grins

No One gonna read it anyway

Still On My ‘Faith’ & Southern Women Kick–The Two Are The Same–Only A Southerner Will Understand, “My Humble Tribute To The Highwomen”

was a sailor…

not now

No Words.

WONDERFUL!

Sexy, and Perfection!

I only recently discovered these gals via KETR—The Local NPR Radio Station here in Commerce—Run by The University. This is the Program that was playing— “Notably Texan.” My FAVORITE For Obvious Reasons.

“With the lofty mandate to curate the culture of Texas music, Notably Texan host Matt Meinke scours the state’s singers and songwriters, stars or not, and hand-selects the purest cuts of well-marbled entertainment for your daily listening pleasure. The tempo, the style, the instrumentation, the genre – it doesn’t matter. The rules are simple – the songs need to have a Texas connection. Rock, rap, country, reggae, electronica, dub step, house, R&B – If the music helps to build an audio tapestry worthy of the Lone Star State, it’s got a shot on Notably Texan.”

I was on my way back from one of my ‘Booze-Run’ Missions when this song came on the program. I had to pull over to properly focus on it—This is how impressed and captivated and enamored I instantly was…

Try this version

It may not take three DAYS to Load!

And Hey!

WordPress!

Go GET

Fucked!

Use This

to

Fuk

Yerself!

“Heaven is a Heaven Is A Honky Tonk”

“There’s a choir singing in a southern accent, a fiddle in the band
There’s a “Hallelujah!” on the lips of every dying man
Mama, don’t you cry when they’re dead and gone
Jesus, he loves his sinners and heaven is a honky tonk”

(I do not know who The Rather Large Black Broad Who Joined The Girls on the Stage is–Trust Me: I looked–But Obviously, She Added added Value–Bravo For HER!)

And Bravo To The Highwomen!

Yeah, I am a ‘Closet Liberal’ And an ‘Out-of-the-Closet-Redneck’— And An Extremely Pro-Feminist–My Love of And For of Women is Very-Well Documented. I Never pull My Punches.

“Go Rocky!”

Yes, I am ‘complicated’–But Y’all knew this already.

Love me, or HATE Me. I really Don’t Give a Shit!

You do YOU.

And Embrace Your Opinions.

But only if You are Sincere.

And HONEST!

I am, if nothing else, HONEST!

I’m as Real as Real Can Get!

What You See, Is Exactly What You Get!

“The Highwomen are the rarest of country supergroups: a quartet who came together at the height of their popularity and creative powers, not when they were settling into their legacy. In that regard, the quartet of Brandi Carlile, Maren Morris, Amanda Shires, and Natalie Hemby differ from their knowing namesake the Highwaymen, a band Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, and Kris Kristofferson formed in 1985, just as they started to drift down the charts. When the Highwomen appeared in 2019, every member of the quartet was at a peak in her respective roots niche. Singer/songwriter Carlile was fresh off winning three Grammy Awards and Morris was at the vanguard of country-pop, while Shires’ cult was growing thanks to the atmospheric Americana of To the Sunset and Hemby’s reputation as a country songwriter was at a peak, thanks to her contributions to Kacey Musgraves’ Golden Hour and Miranda Lambert’s The Weight of These Wings.”

Article Credit: ALLMUSIC

Redesigning Women

BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL Beauty

Pulling up the floors and changin’ out the curtains
Some of us are saints and some of us are surgeons
Made in God’s image, just a better version
And breakin’ every Jello mold

And when we love someone, we take ’em to heaven
And if the shoe fits, we’re gonna buy 11
How we get it done, we like to keep ’em guessing
But secretly, we all know.”

“I Was a ‘Highwoman'”

I AM STARSTRUCK

FUN FACT: My Best GF, Highschool Sweetheart, once said to me, and I quote:

“Lance, You are so easily Starstruck.”

I had to beg to differ, but she was at least half-right–when I see talent combined with Beauty, I fall victim–it is a pleasant fall and an admitted failing of mine–I relish and truly appreciate people who add value and meaning to my life.

Fallon: Lucky Unworthy Bastard!

Enriches My So-Called Life

And Just For Reference:

Willie & The Boys

I do hope Y’all Enjoyed Watching/Reading This Post As Much As I Loved Putting It Together.

LET’S JUST CALL IT “A LABOUR OF LOVE,” IF YOU WILL.

Cheers Y’all!

C’est Moi, And Still “Missing The Most Interesting Man In Iraq”

Bob (The Most Interesting Man in Iraq) is my life-long frin…

I miss his dumb ass (and ‘dumb-ass’ is a term of endearment where I come from)

If one is lucky, really lucky, one meets maybe one, two, or  three or four people in life that transcend funny.

Bob is one such ‘transcendent’ lucky for me.

He saved my fragile sanity.

**************

My mechanic (Of Parsons Mechanic fame) came by to have some ‘chat’ with me:

Bob

The most Interesting
Mechanic in the World

“Way’ll… I have a natch’ral disaster on my hands.”

“Ok Bob,” I said, “I’m ‘bout to bust with anticipation.”

“Yep. A natch’ral disaster.”

“You mentioned that already.”

“A real-life natch’ral calamity.”

“Do I have time to go to chow while you go through your preamble?”

Ignoring me, he continued, “That Six Kay (‘6K’ as in six thousand pound lifting capacity) forklift is all a-pieces. hamorr’agin’ parts all over th’ place. The Boys (Filipino mechanics times two) tol’ me it was the fuel injector pump. So, I kin’ly smiled and said ‘Okaaay…,’ and let ‘em go at it. They need ta learn how ta fix thangs without me onct in ah’while. Well,  they dun got tha’ forklift tore all ta pieces.  Now, I dun give ‘em all mornin’ to dick ‘round with it, an’ I’m gonna give ‘em all this aftr’noon to dick ‘round with it some more. Then first thing tomorra, I’m gonna ask ‘em, ‘Boys, how come that forklift ain’t a-workin’ this fine morning?’”

“I’m hip Let’s keep it real.”

“Your ‘personnel management style’ is showing Bob,” I said.

“Yeah, whatever… An’ tomorra’s Thursday. An’ day after that’s Friday. An’ I ain’t doin’ nothin’ on Friday. Tomorra, we gonna start our dee-cent inta th’ day off.”

“Kinda start slowin’ ‘er down ‘round mid-noon time, eh?” I said. (I can do ‘Southern’ just as slick as you please when I want to.)

“X-actly. We start double-clutchin’ and dee-celeratin’ an’ bring her in nice and slow like.”

“And what about my forklift?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“She’s all ‘In’shalah’d’ out Boss.”

“Dead in the water?”

“Tits up.”

“Broke dick?”

“Send her saddle home.”

“I need to call Baghdad?”

“She ain’t lookin’ none too fav’erble.”

“Call HQ an’ tell ‘em we need another forklift?”

“Now, jes hol’ on. Doan git ’em all wadded jes yet.”

“Ok. I got it. Thanks.”

“We’re Parsons’ Mechanics an’ jes watch how we roll,” he said on his way out the door.

I love my job.

I have a “Ten Kay” forklift that still works. So I should be alright for now. Besides, Bob just  loves the drama and we do this little dance every time there is a crisis in the motor pool.

If I were a betting man (And actually I am) I’d wager two of my pay checks that come Friday if that 6K forklift is still down, he’ll be out there bright and early with his boys working on it until it is repaired even if it means giving up his day off.

I’ve seen him do that already too many times over the past year and a half he has worked for me. There is no man made of better stuff. An’ he sure do entertain. Yessir, he certainly does. And I’d never have been able to keep the operation afloat without him.

I love all my crew and wouldn’t trade a single one of them for a pile of cash money or a case of Johnny Walker Black with the authorization to drink it.

Feetnote to this story:

After I had been in Mosul for a month, running that camp, they sent me Bob.

Upon seeing him get off the chopper, I ran over and kissed him (not on-the-lips–he is a disgusting individual) But I needed him! To help me run the Goddamn Camp And I had sorely missed him in my life.

This song is dedicated to Bob, wherever he may be:

“Me An’ Paul”… Er… “Bob”

“Well, It’s Been Rough an’ Rocky Travellin’,

But I’m Finally Standin’ Up-Right On The Ground”

HELL TO THE HELL YEAH!

OK: Ed. Note:

Y’all gotta love how ‘Texan’ this vid is—look at the ‘ensign‘-Texan Flags-behind the sage, er…stage.

(and if you look really close–for you guitar players out there–you will notice the hole in the guitar. Willie tells some stories ’bout the gee-tar. He tells one about a drunken party with Leon Russell in a hotel room, when Leon almost broke it. Willie, in classic form, invited Leon to stop touching that guitar.)

When I am coherent, I may write about that.

And then there is this:

Willie sang, “At the airport in Milwaukee…”

BONUS BIT:

Lenny

Lima

on that: Milwaukeeeee!

 

Re-Run, Recycled, Re-Cyclical ALERT! ALERT! ALERT!–PLEASE Watch The Vid–The Happiest Year of My Life Remember’d

The news of late from CNN foretells the fall of Anbar Province and of Baghdad. I spent one year working in Anbar Province. This was the happiest (on record) year of my life.

I am attaching a video and yes it is corny, and yes, the music is somewhat ‘gay’, and no, this was not a video that I made, or would have made.

It is a video made by the Filipinos who worked for/with me during this time. They made this vid as a ‘going away’ present for me when I decided to leave Anbar (Camp Wolfe) to work for an Iraqi company in Baghdad. Filipinos lean toward sentimental, hence their choice of music. To them it was fittin’. I loved them all.

I cherish this video and the sentiment behind The Making of it.

I Loved ‘My Boys’

I do hope you will watch.


Cheers,

Lance

P.S. Hint: I am the guy in the black gimme cap and the black jacket. Bob The Mechanic is the guy with the beard, wearing the overalls.

080116 Wolf Looking Northeast
080116 Wolf Looking Northwest
080116 Wolf Looking Southeast LN LSA

Steinbeck

Edit That.

 As a “thinking” person, I do not believe in ‘Creation Science’. Nor do I believe in “God.”2.0

“Tired of being all alone here…late at night”

I am a Socialist!

“Socialist:” One who needs warm bodies akin… his skin.”

Uh… Just for Fun Re-Run. “An’ We Drank a lot of Whiskey” And Once Again, I Cannot Proper Edit This. Thank You WordPress! (Assholes) As An Aside: Texans Are Bat-Shit Crazy. Watch Yer Ass If You ever Approach One.Yeah, ‘Red-Neck’ is My Middle-Name. Git Over It!

I saw Willie live and in color, Commerce, ETSU Gym, Circa 1976.

David Allen Coe opened the show… for three hours.

(He ‘Almost’ Ran Outta Material)

Willie was late.

Once Again.

Didn’t Matter None: I would have waited all night.

He opened (as always) with “Whiskey River”

The crowd went nuts and I spilled my Wild Turkey Ace-Oh-Ace…

“Gee Ain’t it Funny How time Slips Away”

Me an’ Paul

“Uh, Lance, You Are a MORON!” “The Biker, Bouncer, Bartender, Big-Boned Gal From Milwaukee” or “Bloody Mary ‘Mourning’–“Baby Left Me Without Warning Sometime In The Night.”

(Please Check Out The Videos–They Are Important to Me–Thanks) I Drop Them In For Very Good Reasons

She didn’t even say

“Goodbye Asshole”

This is (sort of) a continuation of my “Shonnie Series.”

And since I like things to be linear,

We shall rejoin our “Hero” just after his ‘Denouement.’ 

Or perhaps just after his ‘Epiphany’.

Or perhaps just after… Oh! Who the hell knows?

Or cares?

***

SHE led me to a car and we all piled in. I say ‘we all’ simply because suddenly there were three of us. Me, HER, and a miniscule blonde. I’d seen this movie before, but this time it came with a plot twist, I guess.

I had to guess. I Mean, What Choice Did I Have?

The rest of the evening (early morning?) lies deeply submerged somewhere in the nether regions of my addled murky-muddled-memory.

After about twenty minutes… I am once again, ‘guesstimating’ here.

Could’ve been an hour or more.

Or less.

After about ‘twenty’ minutes we arrived at a ‘house’.

Could have been an apartment. Could have been a barn. Could have been The Ritz-Carlton. Could have been a flying fucking saucer.

Hell! I do not remember; is what I’m saying.

My torturously painful thoughts of losing Shonnie combined with copious quantities of consumed alcohol had done a seriously ‘detrimental-mental’ on my ability to exhibit fully functional, lucid behavior.

The wheel was turning, but the hamster was dead.

My alligator did not go all the way to the top. There was a spammer in my works. Elvis had left the building with my mind.

In other words, I was a mess.

***

SHE took me inside and led me straight-away to a bed, in a room… A bedroom. Best guess. If memory serves, a rather liberal and generous assumption, we had sex. Violent sex. (Not ‘violent’ violent. Let’s just call it ‘intense.’)

SHE was no less than six foot and change and as I did report earlier, ‘Big-Boned.” I swear, I saw my life’s movie flash in front of me as she covered me and had her way. (And of course, me mine)

As we lay there ‘after’ in someone else’s bed, she remarked, “Well, that should keep your self-winding watch going for a few days.”

I had to laugh, right before I drifted off.  Passed out.

Completely whacked out and totally done in.

Used.

Abused.

Helpless.

Conquered.

It was an immensely satisfying sweet sense of surrender.

***

The next morning I awoke with the sun singeing my eyes through a casually, carelessly placed shadeless window (What’s wrong with these people?)

I could smell bacon. I rolled over and looked at my watch: 0630. I had a sudden start. Then realized it was Sunday, not a work day, and I did not have ‘duty’ on my ship. I could go back to sleep, un-worried.

But oh no! SHE was up and about. So who was cooking bacon?

(I’d forgotten about Tiny Blondie.)

“Oh. You’re awake?” She said.

“Uh, yeah. Kinda,” was all I could muster. “Where am I? Who are you?”

Not an intelligent question, probably a dangerous, stupid, perilous one, but then, I was hung over and still groggy, and surely she wouldn’t take advantage of a mentally incapacitated, defenseless sailor.

Would she?

“I am the woman to be named later,” she laughed while poking me in the ribs. (Which hurt for some reason)

I rolled over to face her. She was indeed, Beautiful. Very Beautiful. Stunningly Beautiful. Makes one’s eyes water Beautiful.

She was right out of a fantasy, with gloriously long, luscious, dark brown hair. Hair so long, so ‘deep’ so thick that a hapless sailor could go missing in it for days on end.

Long, bronze-tanned perfectly symmetrical legs that seemed to go on for days, shapely firm breasts that simply defy description, sultry dark, dark eyes channeling mystery–too much mystery.

Raw, unfiltered sexuality poured from every fiber of her.

It was unnerving.

Not necessarily in a bad way,

But I was all ‘myster-ied’ out and the only fantasy I was holding was ‘getting back that girl I had before.’ That little short, pale, half-ginger one with the electric blue eyes and the volatile attitude.

I was spent.

Running on empty.

I was exhausted, emotionally, mentally, physically.

Send my saddle home.

Please!

I needed comfort. I needed soft. I needed tender. I needed sweet. I needed to be held and caressed.

Not fucked to within an inch of my life.

I needed Gidget. I needed Gilligan’s Island Mary Ann, I needed Samantha Stevens, I needed Amy Adams, or even Mary Poppins.

As lucky and grateful as I was to have found myself sharing, if only briefly, a bed with this goddess of a woman, I was not certain nor confident I was capable of surviving yet another encounter with such an intimidating representative of the ‘fairer’ sex.

Not yet, anyhow.

Not just yet.

My world seemed to be teeming with ‘Snakes and Ladders’.

“It Breaks Your Heart Just Looking At Her.”

–Joni:  Chalk Mark in a Rain Storm 1988

***

“You don’t remember my name?” She asked after lighting a cigarette.

“To be stupidly and painfully honest, no I don’t.”

“No matter. I am called ‘Layla’. Ring any bells?” (I wish I were making this up)

See this below if you’re puzzled by my ‘Layla PTSD.’

Thinking I had just fallen ass-over-tit into Dante’s Inferno it occurred to me that I needed to change my Sailor–Ways.

First Contrition, then Absolution, then Redemption, then…

Oh! Screw that! What I really needed was a Bloody Mary. A Super-Sized Bloody Mary. And soon! As in five minutes soon, if not sooner.

My mind had wandered off somewhere.

Layla repeated her question,

“Ring any bells?”

“Uh. No. Should bells be ringing? I don’t like bells. Every time I hear bells ringing, something bad happens.”

Rolling her eyes, à la ‘Shonnie’, she said, “So… You’re a Sailor? Yes?”

“Yes. And what are you? And are you from around here?”

“Not from around here. I’m just visiting my cousin. She is the one cooking breakfast.”

“Yeah. I can smell bacon.”

“Good nose. I like that in a man. Have you an appetite?”

“From some memory of last night, I’d have to say ‘affirmative’.”

“Hahahahah! Yep. You do, Sailor Man. Yep, you sure do.”

“So, if you’re not from here. Where are you ‘from’, and what do you do?”

“I’m from Wisconsin. I work as a bartender. I’m also a bouncer, when the need is needed. Oh, and I love to ride Harleys.”

***

“Perfection, I thought. Now what Cowboy? Shit. Here I am again…”

I had ‘some leave-days-on-the-books’ and seriously considered at that moment that I should take them and head home to Texas to get a re-start on my psyche saki… get a ‘refresh’ on my Texan Accent, recharge my Ni-Cad batteries, take a break.

Well, spelling and lucid, rational thinking ain’t never been my thing, but you know what I mean here.

Don’t you?

No matter.

Keep reading.

Sooner or later, it will all make perfect, logical sense.

Or not.

I mean, I was still ‘re-bounding’ for glory and quite honestly, still heart-sick over my loss of Shonnie. But I did have some time, eh? Didn’t I? Meaning I was still relatively young and deep at heart, a perpetual cock-eyed-optimist.

And I was a good and decent man.

Most of the time.

But Shonnie had set me back.

Set me back and set me down.

Hard.

Something must be done.

Something had to give.

My mind was in a very bad place.

“Hey Sailor! You want breakfast and some blood mary, or what?” came her voice from some foggy-in-my-head place below.

Apparently, while lost in thought, I hadn’t noticed She’d left me all alone.

“Uh… Yeah! I mean yes! I’ll be right down!”

“The pitfalls of the city are extremely real.”

Credit: AustinCityLimitsTV—October, 1974

***

Previously:

***

Coming Soon:

“The Biker-Bartender-Bouncer Chick, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy: Part Two”

***

Commentary Below From Original Version of this Post

Please Read From Bottom Up for Continuity

18 THOUGHTS ON “THE BIKER, BOUNCER, BARTENDER, BIG-BONED GAL FROM MILWAUKEE”

johncoyote March 7, 2021 at 05:42 Edit

I enjoyed this story. I was station in Texas for almost seven years. I loved the Texas gals. They asked you to dance and they were fast and fearless. I liked the girl that cooked a meal in the morning. And we talk some after. Thank you for sharing the entertaining tale.

LAMarcom August 13, 2015 at 01:45 Edit

Reblogged this on Texan Tales & Hieroglyphics and commented:

How can one go wrong with Willie?

LAMarcom July 28, 2014 at 18:34 Edit

🙂

LVital7019 July 28, 2014 at 18:27 Edit

Well, don’t go changin’! I like your stories!

LAMarcom July 28, 2014 at 17:33 Edit

Hahahah!

It has been said before!

Cheers!

LVital7019 July 28, 2014 at 14:14 Edit

Dare I say – You TRAMP, you! LOL 😉

LAMarcom July 25, 2014 at 22:28 Edit

Mark,

You are too kind my friend.

I do thank you though.

Marvelous much.

Cheers,

Lance

markbialczak July 25, 2014 at 21:26 Edit

With Shonnie, your adventures were better than Tom Sawyer’s. With Layla, now you’re going after the legend of Huck Finn. You were something else, my friend Lance.

LAMarcom July 23, 2014 at 23:31 Edit

🙂

~ Sadie ~ July 23, 2014 at 23:02 Edit

You know I will!! 😉

LAMarcom July 23, 2014 at 22:55 Edit

Thank you Sadie.

My mood(s) currently won’t let me continue this one for the next few days.

But… Never Fear!

The words will come, by an’ by…

And I hope you will read.

Cheers,

Lance

~ Sadie ~ July 23, 2014 at 22:32 Edit

Can’t wait to read more, Lance!! 🙂 You know I love your stories!!

LAMarcom July 22, 2014 at 19:29 Edit

It only hurt when I laughed.

Thanks for stopping by T. ‘Preciate it.

🙂

Teela Hart July 22, 2014 at 16:38 Edit

I’m with Nancytex.

Rib pain?

You definitely need a Samantha.

Can’t wait to read the next installment.

T

LAMarcom July 22, 2014 at 10:36 Edit

If you could have seen Layla, you’d understand. I quickly recovered. (I was young and bulletproof back then ya know?)

😉

Thanks for reading. There will be more to this story….

NancyTex July 22, 2014 at 10:33 Edit

My mind is bouncing all around trying to figure out why your ribs would be hurting. That’s some aggressive sexy, my friend.

LAMarcom July 22, 2014 at 08:10 Edit

I read Willie’s autobiography many, many years ago. I suspect if he knew how long he was to live (and may he outlive me), he would have waited some more decades before he penned that ‘biopic.’

At any rate, I do concur: Willie is a fascinating character and a fascinating character study and also a Texas Treasure.

As for me… well, to me marriage was never much more binding than a handshake. This is why after four, I have now sworn off marriages. Just call me Hamlet: “There will be no more marriages!” Get this boy to a nunnery!

Thanks Pain for reading and commenting. Always thought provoking and a pleasure to read.

Cheers My Friend,

–Lance

Exile on Pain Street July 22, 2014 at 06:29 Edit

I was never able to pull of instantaneous, anonymous sex with a stranger when I was younger. I wish I could have because you sure make it sound fun. But I was so wracked with a crippling case of low self-esteem that I never tried. And now that I’m married, it’s too late. THERE’S a lesson for you.

I’ve been listening to Willie Nelson be interviewed on Howard Stern all morning. What an amazing life that guy had! Willie, that is. Not Stern.