Monday, July 9, 2007

The Mind Is A Terrible Thing

I use my imagination a lot, and for the most part it has served me well, but it also gets me into trouble from time to time. One of the more obvious downsides of being Mr Creativity is that many of the interesting “activities” I dream up to do (I like to think of them as social experiments) are against some law or another, they have so many of those now, laws that is, that it's hard to keep track sometimes. They keep coming up with all these new ones, but forget to get rid of the old ones. Eventually everything will be against the law. Or maybe we'll just get hit by a meteor. I'm rooting for the meteor, but we'll see what happens.

Another downside to creativity is that your creations sometimes have a way of persisting all on their own. They start taking over the place, bossing you around. At first it seems like you're just having some fun, letting your imagination play out, watching were it goes. Neato. But sometimes you think up something that really resonates deeply with your Inner Nutjob. It then gently attaches itself to you without you even realizing it, and becomes part of you. It's very much like getting addicted to a drug; it doesn't happen all at once, and by the time you realize that it has its hooks in you, it's too late. Women are like that too, now that I think about it.

For example, I have all these different mental “settings” that I frequently find myself wandering into. These settings are like mental movie sets, where different scenes can play out. The scenes are always different, but the setting is always the same. Many of the settings are pleasant and stimulating, and help me to think things through, come up with new ideas, or put me over the top when I'm trying to get off. Some of them, however, are a real drag. Here's an example of one of the settings that's a drag:

There is a Courtroom in My Brain
I often find myself in my own mental courtroom. I am always the defendant. I'm sitting there in the witness stand being cross-examined by the Prosecuting Attorney. He's asking me questions that pertain to whatever “crime” I have committed, and I'm trying to explain myself, while the jury sits and listens. The Prosecuting Attorney is always trying to trick me into saying something incriminating, like in a real court scene. But here's the crazy part: The crime itself.

The crime is always some utterly trivial thing that happened in real life, but is rarely something that one would actually end up in court over. For example, if I get in my car and realize that the car is a mess, I might suddenly imagine that I'm on trial, and the Prosecuting Attorney is asking me things like “so when you finished eating the chicken sandwich from the Wendy's drive-thru, what did you do with the bag?” and he holds up a Wendy's bag as evidence, waves it around in front of the jury. I'll say something like, “well, see, I was driving, and traffic was kind of heavy, so I just threw it on the floor...” and the Prosecutor does that thing they do where they are talking to you but looking at the jury, and he says “I see. So you just decided to throw this piece of garbage on the floor of you car. Hm. Interesting.”

Yes, it's ridiculous. I know. It gets worse.

Sometimes the crime is something that doesn't even make any sense at all. For example, I may be shopping at the grocery store and decide to try a new body spray (yes, The Captain likes to smell nice). Last time I bought the “Phoenix” scent, let's say, but this time I decide to try the “Tsunami” scent instead (which sucks, by the way, smells like cat piss). Suddenly I'm in my mental courtroom, and the Prosecuting Attorney is asking me why I chose “Tsunami” this time. The jury watches me closely as I explain that I was starting to get tired of “Phoenix” and thought “Tsunami” had a nice ring to it.

The weird thing is that there is a part of my mind where this all makes complete sense. I never make a conscious decision to engage in these retarded scenarios, I just suddenly find myself in them. Sometimes I will have played out one of these scenes for a full minute before I even realize I'm doing it. By all outward appearances, I'm just a normal guy pushing around a shopping cart, you'd never even know that I was actually on trial for switching deodorants.

Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?
This is another scenario I often find myself in, and it's very similar to the one above. It may be even crazier than the courtroom thing, I really can't tell anymore. It involves me getting pulled over by a cop. This one I only have when I'm driving. What usually happens is I will imagine that I get pulled over for no reason at all, and the cop will notice that I'm acting nervous (I can get very nervous around cops) and then he will start asking me lots of weird questions that don't have anything to do with anything. For example, he'll notice a baseball cap in the backseat and ask me if it's my baseball cap. I'll say no, that baseball cap belongs to a friend of mine, I don't wear baseball caps. He'll ask why my friend left his cap in my car, and I'll say that I don't know, I wasn't even aware that there was a cap back there, I guess he took it off and forgot it, but the cop acts suspicious, and starts asking me all kinds of questions, like what do I do for a living, but is very skeptical of the answer I give him, which then leads to a long string of questions about how I got started in that particular line of work, where I was trained, the full name of my first boss, the name of my boss's wife, etc. He's interrogating me, looking for holes in my story, and I know that if I can't remember any of the details, he'll arrest me. I usually snap out of it before it gets that far.

I've asked a couple of friends if they do this sort of thing themselves, and they said that they do not, but I suspect that they do and are just not aware of it. I could be wrong, but I bet if I had a chance to walk around freely inside their minds, I would find a lot of really crazy stuff they didn't even know was there. I have a friend who's a Scientologist (sort of), I'll have to ask him about it. Say what you want, those guys get into some pretty far out shit, I'm sure he'll have something interesting to say about it.

Most of the mental scenarios that sprout up in my mind are much more benign, however, and do not feed off of my apparent Persecution Complex (which goes nicely with my Jesus Complex). Some of them are actually fun. For example:

I Am The King of Everything
This is a scenario I found myself thinking about a lot for about 6 months, and then it just stopped suddenly. For the most part, I see it as positive, though I've always had a little trouble with the basic premise. It goes like this: I am the ultimate ruler of the United States, sometimes the world, but usually just the US. This means that if I wake up one morning and decide that everyone wears a purple hat on Wednesdays, then everyone wears a purple hat on Wednesdays. But, actually, it's never stuff like that, it's always serious stuff, like what to do about the Iraq war, how people should be taxed, what to do about corporations, whether or not to pull the plug on Terry Schivo, etc. That's when I started doing this one, back during that Schivo thing (which I never came to a conclusion about, by the way). As Supreme Ruler of Uhmerika, I would fix all of our country's problems and make everything work properly. Ok, you can stop laughing now.

It's actually an interesting mental exercise. Instead of just criticizing all the ridiculous crap that our leaders do, I would actually have to create a solution. The problem with this scenario was that I could never quite figure out how I had actually become the King of America in the first place, or why everyone would go along with my crazy schemes and not just chop my head off. I finally had to settle on invisible aliens. The Invisible Aliens from Galtrox-9 would enforce the laws and make sure no one JFK'd me. Yes, I would make a great king. First thing I would do is give everyone a million dollars. See how easy it is?

And While We're Talking Fantasies...
This all reminds me of something which is a little off topic, but it's kind of related. It's in the ballpark anyway.

Sometimes when I'm having a fantasy, the sexual kind, I will accidentally switch to a non-sexual fantasy. I don't mean to do it, I just get carried away and it just happens. I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to fantasizing, and occasionally i get caught up in the mundane details to the point of rediculosity (yes, that's a word).

For example, let's say I'm fantasizing that I'm banging my girlfriend's younger sister. That sounds like a good fantasy, right? There she is, young, hot, naked, forbidden – all the proper ingredients for a good pre-bedtime jerkfest. But I'm not content with just the basics, I need to know how the whole thing came about, the story behind it. I'm not going to just jump right in and start having sex with her, that would be too simple. So I start creating the scenario...

My girlfriend's family has rented a beach house and invited me along. The beach house is not far from where one of their relative's live, let's say. It's my girlfriend's Grandpa, actually, so they all decide to go pay Gramps a visit, since they're in the area. They decide that I should stay back at the beach house because...


because he's sick? No, kind of a bummer, I don't want any sick people in my fantasy...

because he is very eccentric and does not like strangers at his house, yeah, that'll work. And just as they are about to leave, Cindy, the younger sister, suddenly claims to have terrible stomach cramps and decides she should stay behind, just in case. Nobody wants Cindy vomiting in the car, so off they go to Grandpa's house, leaving me behind with poor, sick Cindy.

Only Cindy isn't actually sick at all. I mean, she's got a fever alright, but it's a fever for the flavor of a Captain. Yes, this fantasy is coming together nicely, I'll be banging hot little Cindy in no time.

Still playing the stomachache angle, Cindy asks me if I could rub her tummy for her, that will help with the cramps. So she stretches out on the couch and I start rubbing her tummy, just trying to be helpful. She has her eyes closed and, at one point, I notice that she is starting to breath differently, and my hand begins moving across her skin in slower, more sensual motions. I notice that her hips have begun to rock ever so gently, almost imperceptibly, to the motion of my hand. Now I'm breathing funny too, and she notices this. Her eyes slowly open and look into mine as she gently places her hand on top of my hand and guides me lower, just below her belly button, while her other hand gracefully snakes around my neck, oh this is going to be good, and pulls my face close to hers. I know I shouldn't be doing this, it would break my girlfriend, Janet's, heart... No, not Janet. Lucy. No, not Lucy either. Hmmm. Barbara. Yeah, that's it, it would break my girlfriend, Barbara's, heart.

But I'm overwhelmed, I never before realized how beautiful Cindy was. She always seemed so innocent before, but as she guides my hand down further, my fingers suddenly brush along her clit ring, and I realize that she is not so innocent after all, well well. And then, just as our lips touch, just as the fantasy is reaching critical mass, we hear a car pull into the driveway, holy crap, it's the family! What the hell are they doing back so soon??? My girlfriend, Barbara, bursts through the door just as we are trying to straighten ourselves up, but both of our faces are flushed, we look guilty as hell, Cindy's bra is half off, and I can tell from Barbara's penetrating glare that she knows exactly what was going on. Boy, I'm in trouble now.

Next thing I know I'm on the witness stand, and the Prosecuting Attorney is pacing back and forth in front of me. “So let me get this straight, Mr Smack” he says. “You - being the Good Samaritan that you are - decided to rub your girlfriend's little sister's tummy. Because she had a 'tummy ache'. Is that correct?”

“Well, um, actually, that was sort of Cindy's idea...” I try to explain, the jury watching me closely. I know they are out to get me. They're always out to get me. Where are those goddamn invisible aliens when I need them?


kiki said...

man, if you were rooting a meteor, well, that's something i'd like to see

i have similar things to this, not the same, but equally 'wierd'.

i think that's why your friends say they don't do this. i think they do something as 'wierd' but it could just be totally different

you picking up what i'm putting down?
i was having a tug the other day, fantasising about this girl and then i saw her shoes, and all i could think about was her shoes...
i had to stop, take a breather, then start again thinking about someone else, usually just my reflection

Captain Smack said...

Sounds like that might be a latent shoe fetish? I get what you're saying, though, and you're probably right, they probably just do different things.

Jo said...

I just bet, if I tell you that I do all the same things, that you won't like me anymore.

Wait... did you ever like me?

Captain Smack said...

I like anyone who lists sarcasm as an interest.

Helen said...

The whole trial thing plays out a lot for me, but usually it's nuns (wimples and all) and priests handling the interrogation.


I was going to go on and tell you sordid details about it, but they say I'll be punished if I do.

willis said...

Tsunami body spray sounds like a trap, similar to vomit flavored suckers...yep they got those too. Who knew they were serious?

Good luck on that ruler thing, I could use a million.

Creepy said...

Do you ever find yourself uncontrollably chanting "They're coming to take me away..."?

The Boob Lady said...

BWAHAHAHAH!! I love coming here.. It flips my mood instantly. You, my friend, are a genius.

Captain Smack said...

Now see, if I was imagining myself being interrogated by nuns, then it would probably morph into an erotic fantasy, instead of the other way around. That sounds much better, I'll have to see if I can put that one in rotation.

The bad thing about Tsunami is that is doesn't smell like cat piss right away, it takes about an hour. Don't they test these things?

No, I don't ever find myself chanting that, but I do understand people who do.

If I ever do become Supreme Ruler of Everything and give everyone a million dollars, I'll make sure you get ten million.

Gorilla Bananas said...

You've rediscovered the 'St Johnsonsberg Paradox' of 1968. To jerk off well, you need to create a fantasy with circumstantial details that make it seem more real and feasible. But the more complex the fantasy becomes, the greater the chance of something going wrong and you ending up in Court. You should write this up as a paper: maybe the AAAS will offer a prize for the solution.

Captain Smack said...

Thanks, GB - I'll look into the Johnsonsberg Paradox, but I feel I've already done enough favors for the AAAS. If I can't get any decent peer review for my groundbreaking work on Melon Acceleration, then to hell with them. It's all very political with those guys.

kiki said...

well yeah
i didn't finish my story
just as i was about to climax i found my housemates shoe and unloaded into that

Miss B said...

ahh captain, we are similar creatures...

coffee? *wink*

Ms Smack said...

I sometimes have stupid 'thought's about being pulled over by the cops and having some witty comment when they ask me if I've been drinking. 'Yes, a heap of really strong bourbons, Officer!' , or 'looking at them in their uniform and imagining them humping me on the bonnett of their car while the lights are flashing making my boobs red, blue, red, blue... ahem.

Yeah. I'm with you on this one.

The Ego said...

Loved the 'JFK'd me'line...and how you get all distracted during fantasizing. That happens to me! I can only fantasize about scenarios and people I have actually done...but then one scenario triggers the memory of another and then the person has to change with it too and before long I have an annoying sea of different faces and bodies floating infront of me, which is REALLY off putting.Then the line from the song People Are Strange ' faces seem ugly when you're alone........' becomes my sound track..and then the fucking phone rings or my mother knocks on my door( if I am lucky!) and asks if I am hungry/ thirsty/ awake......ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.Yeah,I know exactly what you mean!
* not that big a sea BTW...I am not all slutty like ,like most of your readers........... :) well, you know what I mean * wink*
Yeah,love sarcasm too.
Loved this post, but you have revealed yourself as a bit of a perv now,my Captain.

The Ego said...

Oh,and this all goes at warp speed (as I am a quick thinker) and my mind is all awhirl as I am thinking try to focus on just ONE man, ONE scenario...........then I just say " fuck it" and switch to a girl. Usually Barbie hahahaha
Oh, do you think this means............?
You're all sick and weird and I am not coming here anymore!taxiiiii!!

Erica AP said...

This was quite a meaty post. You made me think, gave me anxiety and almost turned me on. I'd have to say that your fantasy world is not one to dismiss. Especially if you are getting some tail.

Anonymous said...

i'm digging the meteor idea...far preferable to the police state that is imminently approaching.

Michael from Adelaide said...

I lke the idea about the $1 mill, but it'll never hold their attention. Two weeks later, it'll be what have you done for me lately.

The fiscally prudent way to do this is to give a random taxpayer $1 million each day. This will only cost $365,000,000 per year which is what; 3 tinker toys for the Air Force.

The best thing about this idea is that you will be supremely popular. Everyone will care about what you are doing, because they will need to tune into your boradcasts each day to see if they have won. And you'll get voted back in because you can run a scare campaign that the other guy (gal) has a secret plan to remove your lucky tax rebate....

Prunella Jones said...

God, do I ever know what you mean! It's like every time I see a photograph of Elijah Woods, I start fantasying about being gangbanged by a bunch of hobbits. But just as I am getting all hot and bothered and into it, I inevitably picture Gollum lining up for his turn. Talk about a mood killer! It's a problem.

Shelly Rayedeane said...

It sounds like you need to take more drugs so you kill off the analytical side of your brain.

Overanalyzing shit to death does not a good jerkfest make.

Captain Smack said...

That should be a nice surprise for her (assuming we're talking about the female housemate...)

Miss B:
I like my coffee like I like my women - ground up and in the freezer. *wink*
(ok, I stole that one from tshirt hell)

Ms Smack:
I love the way cops put those psychedelic strobe lights on their cars, it makes being pulled over feel like you're at a club.

The Ego:
I do the same thing, the flipping through various people bit. It's like I have my own erotic Rolodex of people (mostly people) and I quickly flip through them until I find one that works for me.

"You made me think, gave me anxiety and almost turned me on"

I seem to have that effect on a lot of women, the anxiety part anyway.

I hope that if a meteor does come at us, we have at least three days notice. People would be copulating in the streets. No condoms, yay!

Michael from Adelaide:
Now, that's a really good idea! And you could have runner-up prizes too, like no parking tickets for a year, Swedish massages for life, or $1000 worth of prostitute coupons.

Prunella Jones:
Banged by a bunch of Hobbits, god that sounds like a porno movie waiting to happen. Lord of the Cock Rings, maybe, starring Dildo Baggins.

I've been trying to get my braincell count down to an acceptable number for years, I swear those things seem to regenerate or something.

ann said...

Have you ever thought about selling some of these short stories? You would make a fortune. My favorite is the one about the cop. Take care, Ann

Erica AP said...

At least you are honest. Honesty + anxiety = love

morbid misanthrope said...

Sorry about that Tsunami body spray, Cap. The company asked my ad firm to develop a spray specifically aimed at the emergent "smelly meth-user" demographic, and, as we all know, meth labs smell like cat piss. That smell seems to comfort them when they haven't had a fix for a while, and that's why we made it smell like that. The only real problem is most people in the smelly meth-user demographic are more likely to steal the body spray than to actually pay for it.

Thankfully, my ad agency is also working on marketing a new brand of meth. I can't say much about it, but for the purposes of this post we'll call it Meth: Fresh Breeze. Anyway, we've come up with an interesting cross-promotion deal to sell both products together (the kids seem to go crazy for cross promotions). The testing has been going very well, and only three test panelists have died so far. They all smelled great, by the way. I mean, as great as a dead meth addict can smell.

By the by, if you really need to get in touch with the aliens, I suggest leaving human fetuses on your front porch. That'll attract reptilians every time. Granted, we don't know that these invisible aliens are reptilian, but, come on, if they're controlling the United States' leadership from behind the scenes, who else could they be?

Zoning Out Again said...

I could read you for hours! :0)

We are too much alike.
My scenarios usually play out in delusions of grandeur and are so ridiculous I end up laughing out loud,(people think I'm weird because it seems out of the blue) or I play it out without realizing it, just as you do, only people catch me doing it and think I talk to myself It sucks, but at least I'm entertained.

You my friend are a great writer! You should write for sitcoms similar to Scrubs and Allie McBeale when they were around.

But alas, all of these compliments disappear automatically if you tell us that "Cindy" is under the age of 18. Or was the same "Cindy" from the Brady Bunch. Sicko! :0)

Captain Smack said...

Well hey there Ann, I was wondering what happened to you, thought you went underground.

It's crossed my mind to write professionally, but I'd prefer to make my fortune doing something respectable, like selling drugs and/or running a prostitution ring (a classy one). Reading stories is great, but nothing puts a person in the here & now like an Around The World when you're jacked up on coke.

That's an interesting equation, you may be onto something. This may actually replace the equation I've been using, which is:

Honesty + Does This Make My Butt Look Big? = A 90 Minute Discussion On A Range Of Topics, Including Your Career Goals, Personal Hygiene, Your Mother, Your Father, Your Apparent Inability To Make Even The Slightest Effort To Contribute To The Growth Of This Relationship, Every Person You've Ever Slept With (Particularly That Puerto Rican Slut You Were Dating When We First Met), That Boneheaded Drunk You Call A Best Friend, The Time At The Beach When You Practically Drooled All Over My Mom's Bikini, Don't Tell Me That Didn't Happen I Saw It With My Own Two Eyes, and, of course, That Time You Forgot To Pick Me Up From Work When My Car Was Broken Down And I Had To Walk Home In The Rain, God, You Are SUCH AN ASSHOLE I Don't Know Why I Ever...

Oh, my God. I'm sorry Erica. I really got carried away there.

No wonder there was only one can left (the grocery store I shop at is right next to a trailer park), but at least I know what I'm getting my cousin Ronnie for his next birthday (do they allow aerosols in prison?).

A friend of mine recently alerted me to the Reptilian problem, and I have to say, they make a very strong case. George H Bush does have rather thin lips, the cold blooded fucker. I'm not sure why his son looks more like an ape than a lizard, probably another conspiracy, I say let's break this thing wide open.

I actually did write for Scrubs for about half a season, but they fired me when they realized that 90% of the plots I came up with involved the doctors sticking their penises in various types of surgical equipment (these people don't know high art when they see it).

As for Cindy, I promise she was over 18. In fact, she was 59. We're talking about how many inches tall she was, right? Because she was 4' 11", and had ginormous boobs, I don't know why, that's just what popped in my head at the time, I'm sure it's not related to anything in the real world.

kiki said...

this time we are
but i share the love

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Ha ha! I know exactly what you mean about letting the fancy roam (pleasure never is at home). I tend to go off on a nutty brainal adventure while travelling to and from work. One day I got caught out. I was flying to greece with my mum. She was sitting opposite me on a crowded train. I was in kick-ass mode, and visualising a kind of vampire slaying fantasy (which also involves a hot male vampire warrior) when mum leant over and said: "You look like you're having a saucy dream"
...just as the train had come to a standstill and everything had gone oh, so silent.
Moral? Keep brain-games to yourself. You never know when they might start slipping into reality.

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Ha ha! I know exactly what you mean about letting the fancy roam (pleasure never is at home). I tend to go off on a nutty brainal adventure while travelling to and from work. One day I got caught out. I was flying to greece with my mum. She was sitting opposite me on a crowded train. I was in kick-ass mode, and visualising a kind of vampire slaying fantasy (which also involves a hot male vampire warrior) when mum leant over and said: "You look like you're having a saucy dream"
...just as the train had come to a standstill and everything had gone oh, so silent.
Moral? Keep brain-games to yourself. You never know when they might start slipping into reality.

Known as Ben said...

I can sympathise with the end of your story. I often find myself thinking about how my actions might be seen when repeated in a courtroom... I find myself thinking "that wouldn't seem too bad in a court room". I guess my brian is overlooking the fact that my ending up in a courtroom might make things bad to begin with.

Captain Smack said...

How very generous of you.

Mermaid of Moorgate:
Brainal - I like that word. It's like a cross-pollination of the words brain and anal. I'm totally down with the vampire thing, nothing sexier than a girl with fangs, I say.

Known as Ben:
Now that I've put it out there and gotten so much feedback on it, it appears that this kind of thing is more common than I thought. I guess it makes sense that people would have little courtrooms in their heads, it's almost an archetypal thing in our culture, especially if you've ever experienced standing in court and being judged. I guess I'm not as weird as I thought, which is mildly disappointing.

The Boob Lady said...

Thank You Captain. Can we share it on our island getaway?

Zoning Out Again said...

Can I come along on this
island trip with you and boobs?

BTW Cap that sounds nothing like the real world! But if it were, that's one hot "Cindy" you've got there! (heh).

Zoning Out Again said...

CAPTAIN~ Boob Lady keeps looking down at my boobs!
Look at her!

Steph said...

This post just confirms what I thought about you from day 1. Your brain is a scary, scary place and it must truly be exhausting to be you.

Please don't take drugs. One can only wonder at the insane imaginings you would unleash on us then.:P

Captain Smack said...

Boob Lady:
Oh, hell, I'll be King of America (you can call me Captain America if you want), so we can just take one of the Fl Keys for ourselves.

I think Boobs and I will need some privacy, don't start pouting now. I suppose I could maybe do some kind of rock climbing thing with you, the Invisible Aliens will have to stand guard and make sure your hubby doesn't barge in our quality time.

And yes, I see that she is looking down your shirt. Well she is the Boob Lady, after all.

No kidding Steph, I doubt you'd last 5 minutes in my brain before they had to shoot you with a tranquilizer gun and drag you away screaming. It's not all friendly little Jesii and Elvii in there. I try to filter out the characters from the dark side, they call themselves the "Yeteisos", I call them The Others. They are the bad guys, not me...

The Boob Lady said...

I'd like the one on the left. Will we change its name?

The Ego said...

LOl@Stephs " don't take drugs".Have you ever considered he has never had a non drug moment?Why do you think he writes so well? All the best writers use mind expanding drugs. So peddle your Barbie advice elsewhere, Blondie LMAO ( I am trying to get rich of this F**ker)

Captain Smack said...

Are you saying there's some relationship between my colorful, er, "personality" and all that acid? Geez, maybe Nancy Reagan was right...

We'll call it Boobania. Or Boobados. Maybe we should also take the one on the right for a matching set.

Travis said...

someone got me with this meme thing and I have to infect someone else so I've chosen to fling internet poop at you.

go to to see where the bar has been set.

jungle jane said...

You fucked around for ages deciding on your girlfriend's name and then settled on BARBARA? dude...

and then you were happy with calling her sister Cindy? Isn't Cindy a cat's name?


So tell me, is anyone on the jury cute?

Zoning Out Again said...

ROCK CLIMBING? Is that the best you can do? Hmmmph.

anandamide said...

I have this same buzz-killing realism in the sexual fantasy domain, except it always involves a realistic portrayal of what i say to my wife after.

deflating, to say the least.....

mist1 said...

I have a poor imagination. I just exaggerate a little.

Captain Smack said...

I'm not above that, not yet at least.

Ok, Barbara's not the best name I guess, but what's wrong with Cindy? Maybe it should be spelled Sindee...

The jury is not a pretty one.

Ok, ok - we can do a little scuba diving too, I suppose.

Wait - you fantasize about your wife? Holy crap, I thought my fantasies were weird. Your SICK, man!

I would think your life is so packed with adventure, you don't need much imagination.

Zoning Out Again said...


jungle jane said...

You should have called your girlfriend Jane. And her sister. It makes sense, Smack. You know it does. After all, my favorite vibrator is called Captain Smack. Smackkles for short.

Captain Smack said...

Rock climbing and scuba diving's not enough for you? Ok then, I'll sweeten the pot. How about an all inclusive Jamaican getaway for only $99! All you have to do is sit for three hours and listen to one of our representatives tell you all about the wonderful world of timeshares!

That's so weird - I refer to my favorite pocket pussy as Jane! Maybe our sex toys should get together, we could have a play date for them, I'm sure they'd get along.

Cindy said...

Sorry about that Cap'n. Next time we should get a hotel room.

Lil-Lolita said...

I LOVE your header!

Captain Smack said...

As soon as I'm out on parole, babe.

Yes, I give great header.

Zoning Out Again said...



LMAO@ Zoning. Cute!

Captain Smack said...

Yes, Zoning is upset because I won't give her an island, but I can't be Mr Niceguy all the time. She secretly likes it when I'm not nice...

About Me

My photo
People often tell me that I look a lot like Jesus, so I always wear a Captain's hat so they can tell us apart. I also enjoy wearing robes and rockin' the tables.