Crooked

Crooked: (adj) dishonest, not straightforward

 

There are certain things you remember:

The first time you rode a rollercoaster.

Your initial encounter with peanut butter.

How about the premiere kiss?

An award given in front of an applauding audience.

An orgasm.

An amount of money that crosses your hands that’s more than y you can imagine.

But I also clearly remember the first time somebody called me “crooked.”

I was so pissed. I didn’t consider myself crooked. I thought I was being thrifty. I viewed my efforts as ingenious.

For you see, I checked into a motel room with three other friends. We could only afford the single rate, so I purchased it for me alone. Then the other three arrived, scurrying around the back of the establishment to my front door, laughing that we had pulled off our little decoy.

Matter of fact, I think we were still giggling, high-fiving each other, when there was a knock at the door. I quickly silenced everyone in the room and motioned for them to go into the bathroom. I would handle whatever the intrusion happened to be.

When I opened the door, there was the front desk clerk. He demanded entrance. I acted offended. “What do you want?” I asked.

In broken English, he clearly exclaimed, “You bring more people in room! You lie! You cheat!”

Not sure what else to do, I invited him in, thinking he would walk around the beds, and see nobody else in the space—never believing he would actually open up the bathroom. So when he headed in that direction, I had to decide whether to deter him or just let it play out.

He was too fast for me. He was already opening the door. The bathroom was empty. But he was a persistent young man. He quickly pulled back the shower curtain. There were my three friends, standing in the tub, trying desperately to imitate invisibility. Finally one of my buddies burst out laughing—frightened nerves.

The young desk clerk exclaimed, “You must leave room now!”

I reached for my wallet to offer him the extra funds that would cover the four of us, but he would have none of it.

“No money,” he said, pushing my wallet away. “You lie. You cheat. You go.”

He headed toward the door, and I spoke, hoping to rationalize my actions. “Listen, man,” I said, “we were just trying to save money. We’re just kids. We’re broke. You know?”

He turned, looked me right in the eyes and said:

“You not kids. You not broke. You crooked.”

He immediately stepped out of the room and disappeared, coming back five minutes later to stand next to our van, to make sure we loaded up and left.

As is often the case with a quartet of individuals, there were four different takes on the event: one scared, one acting like he wasn’t part of it from the start, one indignant—wanting to go buy a dozen eggs and pelt the place.

And then there was me.

I was quiet, chilled to my soul.

I was bruised by being called “crooked.”

I didn’t view myself as deceitful, just clever.

But I learned that night that clever is crooked if it’s not honest.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C


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Crave

 Crave: (v) to long for

I am very familiar with three great cravings.

They are not unique to me nor can they be labeled by the simple titles “good and evil.” But I know that all three of these have, do and funny wisdom on words that begin with a Cprobably will wiggle their way into my thinking and manifest themselves as desires.

The trouble is, each craving demands that I take on a certain responsibility. Or maybe “responsibility” is over-spoken. It’s actually more like a chore.

1. I crave orgasm.

It feels good. It’s a pleasant burst. There’s just enough unpredictable about it that each encounter possesses uniqueness. It is a few brief seconds when I no longer care that I am human, and I allow all the animal stoked deep inside me to roar.

With this craving comes a chore. It’s called sex. Although we insist that sex is pleasurable, it is actually the orgasm that brings the ecstasy, and to achieve that we go through the practice, interaction, danger and mediocrity of sexual relations with another person.

This certainly is why masturbation is so popular.

2. I crave companionship.

The chore that comes with this particular quest is people.

Yes, unless I plan on having just dogs, cats and miscellaneous domesticated animals surrounding me, unable to carry on conversations, I will have to learn, understand and tolerate the actions of other Homo Sapiens.

The payoff is great, but the process is—well, shall we say, unending.

3. I crave immortality.

The chore with this, if you will, is dealing with God.

There is no evidence that I possess any likelihood of longevity beyond a century without a belief in an eternal home.

God becomes problematic.

He is so loving that He includes fools, religionists, shysters and the most boring theologians ever conjured in a seminary.

In my craving for orgasm, companionship and immortality I must survive the chores of sex, people and God.

There are times when I wonder if it’s worth it.

There are occasions I wish to be free of the entanglements and the conditions brought on in satisfying my cravings.

But usually, a good nap, a meal or allowing my mind to be free of pressure makes me once again a willing participant in the pursuit of what I crave.


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Cougar

Cougar: (informal) an older woman who seeks sexual relationships with much younger men

What is an older woman?

When I was twelve, I thought my cousin was an older woman. She was nineteen.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

The word “older” is so—well, old.

It doesn’t mean anything.

I will tell you right now what makes a woman attractive. It is not because she has reached her fortieth birthday and still looks like she’s twenty-three. No—the reasons “cougars,” as they fancifully are called, are attractive to younger men are as follow:

  1. They’ve had enough birthdays that they’re no longer fretting over their biological clock—to drop a kid or two before they leave the planet.
  2. They’ve been disappointed enough by men that they have a much better idea of what they want.
  3. They have found their clitoris and are not asking you to go on a quest to locate it.
  4. That means they are able to control their own orgasm without demanding you do something supernatural to acquire it.
  5. They can talk. (And I’m not speaking of chattering. The journey has given them some experiences to share.)
  6. They smell mature. They smell like women instead of honey and flowers. It’s very alluring
  7. And if they are smart, they’ve learned not to bullshit men or pump up their egos, creating monsters.

I’m not so sure I like the term “cougars.” I think it’s rather degrading.

But I think it’s brilliant to distinguish what makes a woman valuable as time passes and realize that she doesn’t have nearly as much to prove—nor as much to complain about.


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Copulate

Copulate: (v) to engage in sexual intercourse.

“Making love” may be the safest term.

When referring to sexual interaction, trying to find a dainty way of describing the explosion of lust that occurs, turning normally rational human beings into grunting and groaning grizzly bears, has left the human race devoid of a good term.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Most people will be honest and admit that the actual process of intercourse is not “making love.” Love may precede it and sometimes even follow it. But human sexual response is very similar to getting your back scratched—it feels so good at the one place that its being done that the rest of your back starts screaming for similar attention.

It is animalistic. This is not a slam on the action or the meaningfulness of it because I have nothing personally against animals.

So if I get in a particularly clinical mode, when I am around adults who have an understanding of the English language, and I’m trying to be careful about how I’m phrasing it, I will occasionally say that the two people are “going to copulate.”

I don’t do it very often because it’s pretentious.

Actually the word is kind of silly. It sounds like an accusation a man might make to a woman after intercourse, when she is unable to achieve orgasm:

“Cop-you-late!”

But setting that aside, let us realize that some human actions are better to participate in and enjoy, minus a whole bunch of uncomfortable discussions.


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Convert

Convert: (v) to change; transform.

All my life, I’ve been asked to convert.

As a young boy, I was threatened that we would soon convert to the metric system. Still waiting.

I had to convert to being color-blind. I wasn’t raised that way, nor was anyone else under the age of twenty.

I was told to convert to the idea of divorce, and then to the concept that dividing children between households was wise, even though Solomon passed on the idea.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Each time it has been explained to me that for the sake of tolerance and mercy it is good that I allow for other people to have their choices.

I had to convert to the practicality of pro-choice, even though I find abortion enigmatic.

But now I’m being asked to convert to sexuality. I have always believed that sexuality is having an orgasm. I do not care how you reach that climax, nor should you be interested in my path.

But we were told to convert because of the stigma, prejudice and animosity toward homosexuality. Excellent. This made me more open, congenial and kind to lesbians and gays. Then I was told this was insufficient.

I was informed that even though lesbians and gays were “born that way,” there is another group—bisexuals—which should be included, even though their existence brings to question the assertion of being born gay. Not satisfied with the LGB community, transgenders were thrown in. Transgender actually has nothing to do with sexuality but is a processing in the lives of a few people to discover in what gender they truly find themselves.

Then, this was no longer sufficient. Even though for years it was the LGBT community, a Q has been added—for “questioning.” This is apparently for people who were not born in any particular way, who are deciding who they want to be, even though we originally said this was not something you determined.

What is obviously missing from the acronym is an H—for heterosexual.

Why would that be?

I guess if I want to convert to something, I would like to see a consistency in thought rather than trying to jump on at the amoeba stage and hang around for the entire evolution… to being human.


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Colander

Colander: (n) a perforated bowl used to strain off liquid

The key is in finding the secret.

For instance, the secret to good lasagna is the cheese blend.

The secret to good pizza is a toss-up between the crust and the sweetness of the sauce.

The secret to good sex is to make sure the woman has an orgasm before the man pursues his.

The secret to spirituality is to read less, be more.

The secret to politics is to tell the truth.

Which brings me to the secret for spaghetti. (You may not see any particular clarity in the path I’ve taken, but here we are.)

The secret to spaghetti is the colander.

Some would insist it is the texture–preferring al dente–but spaghetti can have perfect texture, but still cling to too much water, making the sauce ineffective.

The colander allows you to shake off the extra moisture, which puts the spaghetti on your plate drier and more able to make love with the cheese and tomatoes. Anybody who has ever tried to make spaghetti without a colander always finds that at the bottom of the pan is a whole bunch of liquid that hangs around to steal the taste.

Sometimes I wish I could be thrown into a colander and shaken around–just to get rid of all the extra meaningless residue. Of course, I would never fit into a colander, and the shaking would probably kill me.

So I shall not do that. I promise.

 

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Coddle

Coddle: (v) to treat in an indulgent or overprotective way.

What a difference a vowel makes.

If we cuddle, it’s a good thing. If we coddle, it’s over-indulgent and ridiculous. So…

When do I know that my cuddling has become coddling?

It is a standard joke in relationships–that women like to cuddle after sex. Actually, if a woman has had a full workout and an orgasm, she wants to pant for a few moments, roll over on her side and go to sleep.

Women who want to cuddle need to be coddled. They need to be reassured that they’re still loved even though they’ve been cheated out of a full sexual experience. They need to be shown that they’re appreciated for being submissive enough to be used for pleasure, with only limited gyrations tossed their way.

So I think I’ve got it.

We actually cuddle until we’ve done it so often that it’s predictable, and also a little bit condescending, and therefore, turns into coddling.

We can do it with our children; we can do it with our government.

We can even do it with God, as we apologize on His behalf for all the destruction in the world.

What a difference a vowel makes…

So should I be careful with my cuddling, since it can so easily turn into coddling?

Maybe I should just make sure that the people around me are so overjoyed in what they’re doing that they don’t need to be petted. Like dogs.

 

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