I’m sitting here today and enjoying my weekend. With winter bearing down on us and those delicious cold winter nights in my immediate future, I’m excited. Today I want to talk about sleeping naked. Sleeping naked is something that I’ve done my entire life except for a couple of years in the Army and a month here and there while in training as a police officer. I absolutely love it but I’ve been unable to do it for the last 18 months. Following my many issues with my cancer diagnosis I’ve been forced to sleep in a pair of shorts. I don’t think I need to explain why. Since most of my medical nightmares are ending my body is finally returning to normal and I’m about to give up the shorts and really enjoy this winter and the cold nights the way they ought to be enjoyed.
Over the years I’ve wasted many hours attempting to explain to certain individuals that sleeping naked is the only way to go. Why is it that most people become so set in their ways they can’t change no matter how good the argument might be for them to do so. Sleeping naked just seems to me to be the most natural and comfortable way to become completely rested. I’ve known some people who came to bed dressed for battle. One in particular loves wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt, full-length sweatpants, and usually a pair of totally unfashionable and ugly socks. Who in God’s name could possibly relax and get a good nights sleep dressed in an outfit like that? It’s even more of an issue if you’re coming to bed expecting a sexual encounter. It would take 20 minutes to find everything you’re looking for.
Nudity is the main issue I suppose. Why are people so repressed sexually and consumed with body image? I’ve known drop-dead gorgeous women who were so attractive they could’ve have any man they wanted for a sexual partner. They still choose to hide under the covers and are fearful of being seen naked. The old saying “if you’ve got it, flaunt it.” apparently doesn’t apply to everyone. On the reverse side of this issue I’ve known a few women who were anything but runway models and they spent more time naked than I did. Don’t even get me started about the arguments I’ve had about whether the lights in the bedroom should be on or off. It’s just nuts!
There’ve been famous people throughout history who loved being naked and weren’t afraid to admit it. Even one of our illustrious forefathers, Benjamin Franklin, when ambassador to France, was known to take on a daily basis what he called an “air bath”. He once wrote to the French physician, Jacques Barbeu-Duborg, describing it: “I rise early almost every morning and sit in my chamber, without any clothes whatever, half an hour or an hour, according to the season, either reading or writing.” On more than one occasion over the years I’ve tested his theory and I’m here to tell you he was absolutely right. It’s just a simple fact that doing things naked is way better than doing it clothed.
Let me throw a few quotes into the mix just to make things interesting:
“What spirit is so empty and blind, that it cannot recognize the fact that the foot is more noble than the shoe, and skin more beautiful than the garment with which it is clothed?” Michelangelo
“I come from a country where you don’t wear clothes most of the year. Nudity is the most natural state. I was born nude and I hope to be buried nude.” Elle MacPherson
“Government, like dress, is the badge of lost innocence.” Thomas Paine, ‘Common Sense
“I get it, man, I do. Sleeping next to a naked woman is one of the best things about being a man, if not the best. But as a woman I don’t want to do it. I need a barrier of pajamas. When I woke up this morning naked, I just felt gross. Men sleep naked, I think, because they are sweaty human beings who perspire like a Tour de France cyclist through the night. Have you ever smelled a guys sweaty sheets?” Anonymous
I suppose that last quote embodies everything I disagree with in one paragraph. Everyone is entitled to their opinion but OMG could that opinion reflect any more inaccuracies and biases? I’m willing to stand up and say “Men are not sweatier or grosser than women .”Have you ever smelled a guys sweaty sheets?” What arrogance. Women smell the same as men and if they’re the least bit concerned with their partner’s body odor, tell them to get up and take a shower. Join them if you must and have a little fun while you’re at it. If everyone takes a bath or shower and then “stinky” is no longer an issue. You make love, roll your butt out of bed and take another shower if you must. Common courtesy is the most important thing when sharing your bed and a bit of bodily fluid whether clothed or unclothed.
I thought I would spend some time today dragging you back to the reality that was the 1960’s. I’ve written this story one other time many years ago but I think it never hurts to repeat something that makes me smile. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did at the time.
Let me take you back to the 1960s when life was good, drugs were plentiful, and love was free (as we all know it’s never free). I was a struggling Art major attending a small midwestern school with my fair share of financial difficulties as most college students have. I was forced to take jobs that I hated but sometimes you just have no choice in the matter. I was a busboy in the college cafeteria during my freshman year which was quite possibly the most demeaning job I’ve ever had. It was awash with benefits like the $1.50 an hour I was making and the incredible amount of crap I had to take from my fellow students. I decided a short time later that I’d never bus tables again, resigned my position, and walked away.
By walking away it made my financial situation a bit more difficult forcing me to scramble to find some kind of work to pay my bills. Where do you go in a case like that, the student billboard of course. As I was perusing through the tons of nonsense hanging on that billboard I found a small note with only three words on it and a telephone number, NUDE MODEL WANTED. I put the note in my pocket and returned to my dorm room to give it more thought. An hour or so later I finally called the number and surprise, surprise, it was one of my professors home telephone number. In those days $10 an hour was a lot of money but the consequences of modeling nude were numerous. He assured me I wouldn’t be required to model for my own classmates but I knew that being in such a small school the word would get out quickly enough. For about a week I weighed the pros and cons of sitting nude before numerous art classes and finally made the fatal telephone call and accepted the job.
You have to understand something, I was at that time in my life extremely shy and my self-esteem had yet to be developed to its present fantastic levels. My instructions were as follows; sit unmoving for one to two hours a session (10 min. break per hour), make no unnecessary facial expressions, no acknowledgment of friends, and TO BE TOTALLY FREAKING NAKED. I must’ve been out of my mind.
Not Me Either!
Day one started in front of the mirror in my dorm room checking my body for unnecessary hair in odd places and zits no matter where they were. There was only so much I can do because “what you see is what you get”, so I made my way to the Art building for my debut. I stood in the hallway, removed my robe and pranced (I could’ve used a better word here) naked into the room. Unfortunately as I looked around I knew damn near everyone. All of my so-called friends and classmates decided they would show their moral support by attending. The hooting and catcalls only lasted for a few minutes until the instructor quieted things down. He was grinning and enjoying himself like everyone else. As I told them all the next day and as I’m telling you now, “it was a VERY, VERY cold room”. I was able to ignore all the laughter, lewd comments, and the snickering but I managed to survive.
Over the next three months I modeled for probably 500 students and I soon became quite popular in the artist community. I had more dates than I can handle and my dance card was always filled on the weekends. Is there a moral to this story? I really can’t say. Getting naked in front of strangers was difficult but the money was good and kept my head above water for that school year. I got naked many times over the years since but only in special one-on-one situations with female friends where I immediately waived my fee.
I mentioned in a previous post that I was looking forward to a few days vacation while my better-half was babysitting at her daughter’s home. It’s coming to an end today and while I’ve missed her terribly my sleep has been much improved. I actually slept for a full eight hours last night for the first time in months. Add that together with a large bed, a beautiful ceiling fan, and my naked butt . . . it was glorious.
This is sleeping OMFG naked.
I take a look of heat from my better-half because I insist on sleeping naked. Since leaving home at age eighteen and except for two years in the Army this is my preferred method of sleeping. I’m confused as to why so many people roll their eyes when I tell them that. Are they prudes? Are they religiously offended? Who knows. One thing for sure I will defended myself vigorously if someone decides to ridicule me.
I first have to determine exactly where they’re coming from before I retaliate. Do they object to the word NAKED or the fact that I’m really bare assed naked in bed. I like for critics to be specific to avoid confusing me because there is a term that’s overused in some areas of the country that is similar but has a totally different meaning. That word is NEKID! Sleeping nekid means something very different than sleeping naked. Being nekid means there won’t be much sleeping going on and the nekid person is there to take care of business (if you get my drift).
Who knew Harry and Draco slept nekid?
Upon her return to our bed tonight I will greet her very, very naked with serious thoughts of becoming nekid at some point. For you critics out there don’t be afraid to think outside-the-box (no pun intended) for a change. You won’t regret it.
In the past I’ve posted lists of things I love and hate. Most of them were done to be humorous or at least tongue-in-cheek. Today I thought it might be nice to list just ten things I really love. I tried to do it seriously without attempts at humor but it’s difficult. These are in no particular order except for the first item which if it showed up lower on the list I’d be a dead man.
My Better-half (Always first or else.)
My Stupid Cat (He wanted to be #1 . . . Sorry!)
Peace & Quiet
My Mental Strength
Losing myself for hours while creating anything. (Quality Time)
Sleeping Naked (Best thing since potato chips were invented.)
A Really Good Margarita (Or a Mojito)
Growing Anything
Eating soup
A really dirty joke or limerick.**
** I need to offer up some samples of this item or I just wouldn’t feel right about things. These limericks and jokes are “R” rated so if you’re offended by that kind of humor stop reading now.
Limerick #1
There was a woman named Lucille
who tried a dynamite stick for a thrill
they found her vagina in North Carolina
and bits of her tits in Brazil.
Limerick #2
There was a young man from Brighton
Who thought he’d at last found a tight ‘un.
He said, "Oh my love,
It fits like a glove."
Said she, "But you’re not in the right ‘un."
Limerick #3
A gay young man from Khartoum,
took a lesbian up to his room.
They argued all night,
as to who had the right
to do what, with which and to whom.
Joke #1
A man and a woman started to have sex in the middle of a dark forest. After about 15 minutes of it, the man finally gets up and says, "Damn, I wish I had a flashlight!". The woman says, "Me too, you’ve been eating grass for the past ten minutes!"
Joke #2
The scene, a newly wed couple on the first night of their honeymoon just before the passionate lovemaking was to begin. The wife tells her husband, "Please be gentle, I’m still a virgin." The husband being shocked, replied, "How’s that even possible? You’ve been married three times before." The wife responds, "Well, my first husband was a gynecologist and all he wanted to do was look at it. My second husband was a psychiatrist and all he wanted to do was talk about it. Finally, my third husband was a stamp collector and all he wanted to do was…oh, do I ever miss him!"
So much for my lame attempt at a little dirty humor. I just felt the need to be off-color this morning. I wonder why?
What better way to start off the new year than to update and revise my list of the one hundred things I love. Everything changes over time and the Things I Love list has evolved as well.
As I reviewed my original list of the one hundred Things I Love, it became painfully obvious that it no longer was accurate and badly needed updating. Initially I did the list with my tongue firmly lodged in my cheek but this newly revised list has been shortened to include only the 60 most important things as they are currently. Here goes nothing.
THINGS I LOVE (Revised)
1. My better-half.
2. Licking the hairs at the base of her spine.
3. Truth.
4. People watching.
5. Learning how anything is made.
6. Seeing her naked.
7. Sex in the morning.
8. Movies that make me laugh.
9. Making people laugh.
10. Painting.
11. Small breasts.
12. Kissing her.
13. Computers.
14. Reading anything.
15. Being naked in the morning.
16. Real coffee.
17. Photography.
18. Oldies.
19. My Cat.
20. Science fiction.
‘Wink, Wink, Nudge, Nudge!’
21. Science.
22. Creating anything.
23. Star Wars.
24. Juicy fantasies.
25. Orgasm’s anytime.
26. Hard work.
27. Hating politicians.
28. The ocean.
29. Watching her lips on me.
30. Honesty.
‘It’s always good to know and follow the rules. Here they are.’
31. Sex in the evening.
32. Movies that make me cry.
33. Medium breasts.
34. BJ’s in the morning.
35. Snow.
36. Wine.
37. Hiking in the woods.
38. Skinny dipping.
39. Eating anything while naked.
40. Long sloppy, tongue-sucking kisses.
‘Oh Baby!’
41. Voyeurism.
42. Chocolate.
43. Being naked in the afternoon.
44. Large breasts.
45. BJ’s in the afternoon.
46. Sex at night.
47. Movies that make me hot.
48. Girl watching.
49. Building anything.
50. Pretty feet.
‘All she needs now is some blood red polish.’
51. Computers.
52. Holding hands.
53. Watching her sleep.
54. Being naked at night.
55. Accomplishing anything.
56. Huge breasts.
57. Squirting.
58. BJ’s at night.
59. Masturbation, alone or with a friend.
60. Snoodling with her.
Well that should get 2016 started in a proper fashion. I have a few other lists that need to be updated and I’ll be getting to them soon.
Thank God the Christmas season is finally behind us for another year. As much as I enjoy it while it lasts, when it’s over it’s over. Let’s’ move right along to the next all consuming holiday, New Years. It’s during this in-between time every year that I usually do a final review of my New Year’s resolutions and introduce my list for 2016. With that in mind here is a quick recap of 2015.
2015
1. I vow to exercise for forty-one minutes every other day for the entire year. COMPLETED – I’m now up to 46 minutes.
2. I vow to call President Obama nasty names only during months with an "R" in them. COMPLETED, This one was easy.
3. I further vow to never say anything good about President Obama in months without an "R". COMPLETED: This one was even easier.
CAUSTIC COMMENT – Goodbye OBAMA, your fifteen minutes is almost over.
4. I vow to never blurt out any F-Bombs in front of the grandson now that he’s started repeating damn near everything. COMPLETED
5. I vow to say many more F-Bombs around those people (except the grandsons) who irritate, annoy or piss me off. COMPLETED, and still going strong.
6. I vow to stop flirting with just anyone. There are times when I feel like such a slut and that’s not good for my self esteem. INCOMPLETE, It’s really difficult to break this semi-bad habit but my hearts not really into trying.
7. For the third year in a row I vow not to prance naked anywhere near the front picture window. It creeps out the neighbors and one or two of our regular joggers. COMPLETE, Due entirely to my better-half’s purchase of a new window treatment.
8. I also vow not to screw with my cat as much this year due to his advanced age and sharp claws. INCOMPLETE, I have a few new scars but he really deserves being messed with whenever possible.
9. I vow to take at least 500 really good photographs a month. INCOMPLETE, I’m just not getting it done.
10. Read 2 books a week for a year. COMPLETE, 104 AS OF 12/29/2015.
Now for my resolutions for 2016. I’ve been giving these a lot of thought because I feel the need to shake things up a little. Here goes.
2016
1. With the help of my better-half, complete the family recipe book. We’ve procrastinated long enough.
2. Complete my blog book for 2015.
3. Between August 8th and New Years, complete at least one more tandem skydive.
4. Buy a dog.
5. Keep my foul language to an absolute minimum around the grand kids. I know at some point they’ll both learn all those nasty words but let it be from someone other than me.
6. Set aside at least two days a month for some quality time with my camera along the Maine coast or in the woods.
7. Try as hard as I can to give a damn about politics. You should know this resolution has absolutely no chance of ever being accomplished.
8. Try to be a little more confrontational and assertive with ignorant people who insist on annoying me. No more Mr. Nice Guy.
9. Stop eating potato chips.
10. Set time aside to get back into sketching and painting. I’ve gotten away from it for a few years and it’s time to return.
There you have it. I completed seventy percent of my resolutions for 2015 and I’m really proud of myself but I’m also reasonably sure the list for this year will be a lot more difficult.
I’m still lying in bed this morning and wondering what this day will bring. I seem to be unmotivated more than usual and I’m trying to snap out of it but it isn’t working all that well. I just poured my second cup of coffee which I hope will jolt me enough to get me moving.
It’s been a week of cold nights, semi-warm days, and some of the weirdest nightmares and dreams I can ever remember having. The dreams started in earnest about five nights ago and I remember the details rather vividly. That in itself is a little usual and the fact that they’ve been extremely sexual is just a plus I suppose.
I’ve always loved dreaming and actually look forward to having them and remembering them. Dreams just fascinate me. I realize that almost everything we’ve ever seen or done in our lives is stored away in our brain somewhere but how that information is accessed and displayed in a dream is awesome and mysterious. It’s like having a time machine that makes it possible for us to drop into our past, see any number of old friends, dead family members, and some special situations with a twist of the weird thrown into the mix. I especially like the weird dreams and can only pray that I remember all of the juicy little details. As with everything the devil is always in the details and there seems to be plenty of devil in my dreams of late.
Dreams also make it possible to mend old relationships. Over the years my dreams have made it possible for me to develop a better relationship with my late father and to even mentally create a better relationship with a borderline horrible ex-wife. Little does she know all of the wonderful things she’s done for me and to me in my dreams. Some good, some really fantastic, and a few that were utterly disgusting. Oh baby!
In my dreams I’m always searching for something. I’ve either lost my car or can’t find the person, place, or thing I’m looking for. While I’m searching I run into people I knew or people I thought I knew and have some truly strange adventures. In many of these adventures I have the ability to fly which is really cool. I’m also naked in many of the dreams which can be troubling but it makes flying a whole lot more fun. I’m not sure why exactly but my dreams have gotten progressively more interesting as I’ve aged. I have no idea why and believe me I’m not complaining.
My morning caffeine is finally kicking in and this lemon poppy seed muffin is absolutely scrumptious. I’m almost ready to leap to my feet, throw on some clothes, and go do something. I’ll wait a few more minutes before leaving this bed because I desperately want to rerun the dream I had last night.
Where else but in a dream could I be snuggling up with a warm, naked, and exceptionally friendly, Lindsay Lohan. Up until last night I wasn’t even a fan but after that dream we shared I may have to reconsider her status. I’ve always considered her to be a somewhat sleazy character but in that dream she’s proven herself to be all that and more.
With New Year’s approaching I’ve begun to think about my resolutions for 2015. In preparation for the new list it only makes sense to review last year’s resolutions. It might be necessary to use a few of them that I failed to live up to again this year.
2014
Read five books a month. COMPLETED
Teach the grandson one curse word per month once he begins talking. He still isn’t talking enough to complete this one. FAILURE
Keep the number of F-bombs below 100 a week. COMPLETED
Drink less brandy than last year but more than next year. COMPLETED
Spend less than $300.00 at Dunkin Donut for the entire year ($25.00 per month). . . . as of 12/28/2014 $391.32. BIG FAILURE
Stop dancing naked near the picture window in the living room, it scares the neighbors. I managed to stop the dancing but not being naked seems impossible for me. FAILURE
Fight to my last breath to keep chickens and goats from becoming part of my life. COMPLETED
Four completed out of seven seems pretty good to me but I need to improve that next year. I’d really like just once to complete all of them but I always seem to get sidetracked with other stuff. I may need a few easy ones for 2015 that won’t require me to work so hard. With that thought in mind here is my new list.
I vow to exercise for forty-one minutes every other day for the entire year.
I vow to call President Obama nasty names only during months with an "R" in them.
I further vow to never say anything good about President Obama in months without an "R".
I vow to never blurt out any F-Bombs in front of the grandson now that he has started repeating damn near everything.
I vow to say many more F-Bombs around those people (except the grandson) who irritate, annoy or piss me off.
I vow to stop flirting with just anyone. There are times when I feel like such a slut and that’s not always a good thing for my self esteem.
For the third year in a row I vow not to prance naked anywhere near the front picture window. It creeps out the neighbors and one or two of our regular joggers.
I also vow not to screw with my cat as much this year due to his advanced age and sharp claws.
I vow to take at least 500 really good photographs a month.
I’ll do my first review of these new resolutions sometime in June. Hopefully I’ll be on track to complete every one for the first time. As always the road to hell really is paved with good intentions.
I hope all of you celebrated that fantastic and relatively new national observance yesterday, International Nude Day. Forevermore the fourteenth of July will be naked day, a day for streaking or strutting your stuff on the nude beach of your choice. I suppose if your exceptionally brave you can give it a go on a normal public beach but it could get a little dicey. You can never forget just how prudish and hypocritical we citizens of the United States can be.
We love our porn, prostitution is flourishing, dozens of skin magazines are published every month, and revealing clothing is the order of the day with most fashion houses and clothing retailers. Adult Shops and peep shows are thriving but if any young mother attempts to feed her infant in public, she’s ridiculed and forced to cover her breast, baby, and sometimes her head so as not to embarrass or shock anyone. It’s just ridiculous.
Hypocrisy comes easily to righteous people who criticize others for what they do themselves. That’s why I’m surprised this observance was ever enacted. Here’s a short blurb explaining just what’s going on.
* * *
New Zealand’s (and now the world’s) National Nude day is not a public holiday but a day to celebrate the human form.
Brain child of former All Black and TV presenter Marc Ellis, National Nude Day (also now known as International Nude Day) is a celebration of the skin with much fun attached. The concept has been adopted by particularly Dunedin students (Scarfies) where getting nude is nothing new. Dunedin is a legend University City in the south of New Zealand.
Nude Day is a one day a year that all in NZ can celebrate nudeness, nakedness, being in the nuddy, running free in all your original raw beauty, putting on your best birthday suit. It’s day everyone can participate in, fat, skinny, big, small, firm, soft and the flabby can all get involved.
Everyone in the world celebrate your body and celebrate New Zealand and the Worlds Nude Day it’s liberating and it’s beautiful. Our bodies are the only things we own, be proud of them no matter what shape or size you are.
* * *
So lets all get out there, strip off some clothing and show the world how sophisticated we pretend to be. Just get two or three friends and waltz along a crowded beach in the buff and watch the fun begin. The police would appear almost immediately. Probably quicker for a “naked” call than for a double murder. There’d be screaming, finger pointing, and panic among those well disguised God Squad members wearing their bikinis and thongs. Is being naked all that much different than that. I don’t think so. Plan on a grand celebration next year. Naked, dancing, strutting, and proud.
Another restless night for me last night due to a constant stream of really odd dreams. I’ve always liked dreaming and I find myself looking forward to them. Of course there’s the occasional, sit up and scream, nightmare but they can be interesting too.
Dreaming is the great way our mind can play with us a little. You fall asleep and can be instantly visited by old friends and family who have passed making it seem like they’ve never left.
Last night I was traveling by car with an unidentified female when we pulled into a wooded area and stopped. I looked down the nearby trail and saw a pack of approximately fifty dogs just sitting there staring at us. The leader was a huge brown Great Dane. I told my friend to stay in the car because if we wandered off they’d be on us immediately. I slowly opened my door and they all ran away in the other direction. Go figure.
I’m not much for dream analysis since I believe it’s just our mind drawing on random memories to create a story. I do find it a little strange that there seems to be an overlying theme in many of my dreams. I’m always searching for something. My car, a briefcase, and very often my clothing. I occasionally have those dreams when I’m naked in public somewhere but they don’t bother me much because I truly love being naked. Some times I find myself in flying dreams and they’re a great dream to have. My ultimate favorite without question is the dream where I’m flying and naked.
Well I’ve had my coffee and I’m ready for the day.
everyuselessthing.com 