Yeah! Oh Why Not?! Rinse & Re-Post. I Love OLD Movies! ‘Tis a Consummation De-Voutly To Be Wish’d Nostalgia Kind O’ Day!

Okay? Yay! Added More Ginger Spice!

Of Course I love her.

Who Wouldn’t

Couldn’t?

***

What a Dame! I Just Did An Incredibly STUPID Thang!” This Seems to be an Oft Repeating Occurrence in My Life! Oh! Oh!

My Strife!

Nothin’ Like A G’Damn Dame!

Pre-Code Hollywood: Classics Stars:

Mitzi Gain-Her

Ginger Rogers

(Ed. Note: There is Sound.

Just Give it a Second. Be Patient)

“Goodnight Everybody.

I Love You All

And Yes;

I Am Stupid-Eh Doe

I Caint Walk And talk.

Cred: Pre-Code Hollywood Classic Clips by Kevin Wentink

********

I invited a woman I wanted to have a relationship with to leave my life!

I am such a fool!

******

Her words to Me:

I will only be friends with someone who doesn’t call names or belittle simply because they’re not getting the level of attention they think they should be receiving. I place no demands on others, and I certainly don’t have fits over it. If you can respect that, they we’re good. If not, then it was a pleasure getting to know you.

Mine to Her:

“I do fear I have managed to nuke the bridge I had hoped to build between us.

So, Yes! I say tomato; you say tomat–ohh, Let’s just call the whole thing off.

I NEVER MEANT TO OFFEND ANYONE!

And If I Had, You know How Good I Can Be At That!

I Never Do Anything Half-Ass!”

FRED AND GINGER

Here is a subtle observation: Notice how Ginger acts so clumsy as she skates to the bench and almost falls down on it!

Of course she is about as far removed from ‘clumsy’ as one can be!

Very nice touch!

Love it!

Cred for Vid Share: wheel

****

THE BRILLANCE THAT IS

ANN RICHARDS

*********

BONUS ADDED VALUE:

Vid Share Cred: CatCORViN

***

Vid Share Cred: Sironaca

****

BEST ONE!

(IN MY HUMBLE OPINION!)

Cred for Vid Compilation: WORN Fashion Journal

****

Fred!

You Lucky Bastard!

****

BONUS JUST FOR SILLINESS!

Teri Garr

“What Knockers!”

*********

Pity Party Alert! I Am A STUPID Idiot!

I Miss My English Woman!

So Marvelous Much!

Even Her English ‘Bitch-I-Ness.

She Could, at times, be such a cunt.

Other times, I loved her to tears

I loved her!

She even spoke a little Françoise

Was Texas So Fucking Important to me?

I suppose it was

God-Damn it!

What is WRONG WITH ME??

Searchin’ For A Rainbow That Existed No More:

Of all the monumental fuck-ups that define my life, This one reigns Supreme. Was The Most Momentous Fuck-Up Of Them All—Leaving her will go down in the back-street annals of my mind– My History Time. She was/is the only woman who was ever smarter than me.

I reeeely fucked up, leaving her!

My Helen of Troy

***

Here ya go Lance:

Wallow about in your self-Pity

You Asshole!

ConGrats!

You’re Back in Texas!

Hope it is All You Wished it to be!

You left her for a huge Piece of Dirt and a Nostalgic dream.

Guess What Asshole:

You Can Never Go Home Again

Just Goin’ To Texas for a Little while

Re-Iterated And Re-Irritated & Re-Re-Gurgitated Re-Post–Don’t Even Ask Me Why. “Cynthia Just Re-Tunr’d Fast Up To My Door…”

She Had Escaped Hospital (As Have I–Far Too Many Times)

Please Re-Look. OK OK O’Kay?

Warning! This Post Makes Absolutely NO SENSE! And The ‘See-quents’ of ‘Events are all fukk’d UP.

I Hugged Her Far Too Deep

I Purr’d in her ear:

“I Love You Cynthia”

Yada, Yada Yada! Just give me the G’Damn Bread-Spread!”

She Re-Coiled

At My Embrace!

Who Could Blame her?”

Crazy White boy?

She asked me if I wanted her to wash my Bed-Spread

I said,

“No! You already work too

Hard for your money”

She just said,

“Shut the fuk up and give it to me.”

I did, without even a whimper

She Left.

Avec My Bed-Spred

Bella My Donna!

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

Madonna – Hung Up

Yeah! I love

EVERYTHING

MADDIE

Git Over it!

Fore-Evermore Sexy and Beautiful

MADDONNNNA!

Obviously I’m Hung Up On You

Had NOT Seen her in Gog Knows Forever!

She Never answers my emails…

And I sit around, wondering why

So Cynthia Promised To Lend …

Some Money To a Moron, (C’est Moi) And Schlep Him to The Liquor Store This Afternoon, So That DT Man Would Haunt His Door No More.

I Am Bless’d By An Angel.

Juice Newton – Angel Of The Morning:

I’m Sorry to be an asshole, but her hair ain’t there. It’s Fake

Da Juice:

*****

Cynthia works hard for her money

Donna/Cynthia Works Hard for the Money:

Cred For Vid Share: Donna

Since Cynthia is always so busy, I lay down for a nap and waited.

Woke up from my coma

Thinking she had not been there/here

Then I discovered this parked (below foto) by my head

And I Wept.

Tears of Joy

I Have Never, Ever deserved such good people in my life

I am such an asshole to ever have doubted her good graciousness

And now I just found out she is not well

I Hope She is OK

I don’t wanna walk around on a planet without her on it

****

“There Must Be Some Kind of Way Outta Here.”

The Jimi Hendrix Experience –

All Along The Watchtower

Cred: Jimi–Must I really Verbalize It?–Sheesh!

Reality

“Accept That, Or Get To Work”

*****

I truly am Blessed

Not By Some Man-Made Bullshit Fake Deity,

But By a TRUE Friend

And Yu Gotta Have Friends

Bette

Nuff Said

**********

I LOVE You My Cynthia!

More Than Cash MoneyPlease get Well!

****

DT Man Scares The Shit Outta Me!

(And I Don’t Scare Easily)

He’s An Evil Relentless Mutha-Fukker Bastard

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

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 have to guess.

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.

“Why Lance? Why? Why Oh Why Do You Write So Much About Women?” I Write What I Know. “I Told You When I Met You I Was Crazy.” I Love Joni So Much!

Party Time!

I Wish I Had More Sense Of Humor

Keepin’ The Sadness At Bay

Laughin’ It All Away

“People’s Parties”

“Send me someone who’s strong and somewhat sincere”

Scrazy Crazy

C’est Moi

I So Very Much Adore Her. I Wish I Could Find A Good Movie To Live In… Melanie! Yes. I am a Slut and A Lover of Woman-Kind–Wish They Were All Mine. Scrw This! I’ll Edit It Later. Maybe.

I Lover Her!

The more I discover about this woman, the more I fall in fantasy love with her. She is so charming.

She captivates and fascinates.

My God! But she is a beautiful woman!

And she can sing en français!

And MOST Important: She WRITES.

“Mel, why did I NOT ever run into you? I would have woo’d you.”

(Or tried to)

Would have given my best shot anyhow. (Such as that would’ve been at the time–my attention span was brief, but for you, I would have taken my time. And worked ‘The Problem’ I had with my infatuation)

I wish I had such a woman in my life now.
But happily and luckily I have had two such women in my life.
(Most men never find one such good woman)
Beautiful, happy, wonderful women.

I had two.
But like a fool, I cast them away.
Because of my wanderlust.
(Yes. I have regrets.)

But I also have my wonderful memories of the time I spent with them.

I cherish these memories. They sustain me.

This wonderfully fascinating woman has climbed up to Number Two on my “Hit Parade”

“If the people are buying tears, I’ll be rich someday.”

–Melanie

“Joni, watch your ass. She just might knock you off the top of my mountain.”

(Just kidding Joni—you will ALWAYS be at the TOP for me)

Forever My Number One!

But Joni! How do you compete with this?

“It was the only thing I could do half-right and now it’s turning out all wrong.”

I found me a real good book to “live in.” It is entitled

The Complete Works Of Shakespeare.

“They only put in a nickel and they want a dollar song.”

–Melanie

I LOVE the way she MOCKS Morons

Too true.

Isn’t this a sad commentary on Americans these days?

Yep

Sad

Video Credit: amonem

Dust

I love you Melanie

You enrich my life

Video Share Credit: Eduardo Franco Ocnarfeara

More More More Melanie! I cannot get enough!