Tag Archives: The Lazlo Files

Sure Was A Swinging Good Time

So I’m sitting on the couch last week with Stephanie watching the Bears defense completely manhandle the Cowboys.

Stephanie is a Cowboys fan. This is her one minor flaw. I’m really working at looking past it.

Myself, I was raised a Bears fan. I grew up idolizing Walter Peyton. I don’t have a VCR but I still kept my Super Bowl Shuffle VHS tape. It’s a bit of a family heirloom now.

Gentle readers, you would have been proud of me for saying things like “Poor Tony Romo” as he threw interception after interception. I was busy comforting Stephanie with soft, gentle shoulder rubs and words she needed to hear like “At least they aren’t losing to the Redskins” and “But your tight end is really playing well” and “This new punter can really pin the ball in the corners.”

You know, romantic shit.

The door bell rings, Jessie answers it in her mud mask. I can vaguely hear what she’s saying.

“Uh, no…” she said. “Yeah, that’s not my thing. But you know, Lazlo and Stephanie are into that.”

More inaudible conversation.

“Well they can bring guests if they want,” a woman says.

“You know, they a couple friend Tom and Jackie that I know would be into that,” Jessie says.

She shuts the door, walks into living room and drops a card on my lap.

“I just accepted a party invitation from Linda Horbitz on your behalf.

“What?” I said. “I hate her.”

“Lazlo, you be nice,” Stephanie said.

“She totally weirds me out, Stephanie,” I said. “Her husband is a douche bag supreme.”

Stephanie opened the card and it read:

Don and Linda Horbitz Request Your Attendance For A Special Halloween Celebration

WHAT: The Greatest Halloween Bash Ever
WHEN: September 29, 9 pm – ??
WHERE: The Horbitz House
WHY: Because adults like to have fun too

NO CHILDREN

“Geez, it’s not even October,” I said.

Stephanie squealed with excitement.

“Lazlo, we have to go! I love Halloween parties.”

“You two are definitely going,” Jessie said. “I told her Jackie and Fossil Tom would go too.”

“I don’t think Jackie does costumes,” I said.

Stephanie suddenly became a 10-year-old

“We’re going. We’re going. We’re going.”

Stephanie instantly started making a list of potential Halloween costumes.

“What do you want to be?” she asked me while we were laying in bed.

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“What was your favorite costume ever?”

“Uh, one year I went as a terrorist. That was right after 9-11. No one thought it was funny.”

“A zexxxy terrorist?”
“Come, on. I don’t do sexy.”

Me: Katie Perry and that loser Brit she married
Her: No, they broke up. What about Anthony and Cleopatra?
Me: Lame. Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love
Her: Maybe
Me: I have to have a shot gun blast make up affect
Her: No.
Me: What about Kenny Powers and April Buchanan
Her: Yes!!!

Stephanie called Jackie and begged and pleaded her to go. Jackie said no. Stephanie got mad about her being a “stick in the mud” so after months of not talking I called Jackie on the sly and begged her to attend with us.

“I’m trying to get Tom to do non drinking activities,” Jackie said.

“Did he stop drinking?” I asked.

“No,” she sighed.

“Then he might as well be drunk with us,” I reasoned.

“But I don’t do costumes,” she said, with a hint of whining in her voice.

“There was that time you dressed like a school girl and then the other time as a secretary and don’t forget when you went out and got that whip…”

“Stop it, perv.”

“Come on,” I said. “I haven’t seen you in forever. It will be fun. I promise.”

“Fine, I’ll call Stephanie.’

—

So Stephanie put together the costumes. She could have bought them but, well, she’s really into the crafty stuff. It was sweet, actually. She brought her sewing machine and hot glue gun and basically made me a Kenny Powers baseball jersey from scratch. All I had to do was get a wig and some awful looking sunglasses.

Tom and Jackie came over early. Tom was dressed as Zorro and Jackie was dressed as some sort of Mexican harlot. Tom had obviously been pre-gaming pretty hard already. When ever Tom and Stephanie weren’t looking Jackie flashed me her “You’re a fucking asshole” look.

We headed over to the Horbitz party and, well, instantly I could tell something was not right. For starters, heavy curtains were blocking the windows.

We knocked on the door and Linda Horbitz answered. She was dressed as a Greek goddess, which is normal. But what’s not normal is having a heavily pierced titty hanging out of your tunic.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it,” she said.

Her eyes were blood shot and she had that god awful asphalt breath that you only get from smoking tons of weed.

We walked in and the first things I noticed were:

  1. A 50-year-old lady in a really short girl scout outfit bending over picking up pretzels with… no panties on.
  2. Douche bag Don Horbitz in a loin cloth, feathered headdress and war paint with name tag that said “I’m a Man Whore”
  3. Some guy dressed like the Joker holding a leash attached to some girl dressed like Cat Woman.

“Well, this is pretty special,” I finally said to Linda.

“Isn’t it?” Linda said. “This is first time we’ve ever hosted our club’s Halloween party. Don was really excited to hear that you guys are swingers too.”

“We’re what?” Jackie asked.

“Swingers,” Linda said. “I thought maybe Jessie was into the lifestyle so I invited her but she said it’s you that likes to get kinky, Lazlo.”

Fuck me…

“Make yourselves at home,” Linda said and then walked away.

“I’m going to kill you,” Jackie said through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t know. Did you know Stephanie?”

“I totally didn’t know,” Stephanie said.

Then Tom chimed in…

“We can’t just leave. Besides, I haven’t been to one of these since my second marriage.”

“When was that?” I asked.

“Uh, I think 1979,” he said

“I was 5-years-old then,” I said. “You are fucking old.”

It didn’t phase Tom, who announced he was ready to party and rushed off to meet some new and interesting people.

We wandered into the kitchen and were told by lady who was 40 pounds overweight and dressed in red latex that the beer was “out back.”

“I take it you came as an Earl Campbell’s Hot Link?” Jackie asked.

Stephanie grabbed my arm.

“You have to get my beer for me,” she said. “I can’t go over there.”

“Why?”

And then I saw the keg was surrounded with naked guys in body paint.

I got the beers. We drank very fast. We kept to ourselves. We gawked at people. Eventually I had to hit the bathroom. En route, I was asked to join some lady in a bed room.

“Uh, I don’t have any condoms.”

“There’s a bowl of them in the living room,” she said.

“I need the Magnum sized,” I said.

I rejoined Jackie and Stephanie outside. They were eating cake.

“The penis cake is really dry and I think a red velvet vagina cake is sort of… tacky,” Stephanie said.

“I wanted to make nachos but, yeah, there was a dark curly hair in it,” Jackie said.

“I can’t tell if the pot of cocktail weenies and meatballs in chili sauce was suppose to be sexy, ironic or if Linda Horbitz is just a shitty cook,” Stephanie said.

The booze helped us lighten up. Things were fine. It was actually fairly funny. The people were, well, pretty lame. I got the feeling I was in a some sort of Star Trek meets Comic Con meets AARP national convention mash up, with nudity.

The girls were having fun turning down people wanting to hook up.

“Period, heavy flow,” Stephanie said.

“Diarrhea, even heavier flow,” Jackie said.

After a couple of hours Jackie suddenly got a worried look on her face.

“Where’s Tom?” Jackie asked.

Fuck… We hadn’t seen the guy since we arrived.

Jackie left to look for him. Stephanie and I hung out and watched some dude dressed as a viking fuck a girl dressed as Hello Kitty on the Horbitz’ swing set.

“That’s just wrong,” I said.

“I know, that viking blew his load all over the slide,” Stephanie said.

“Oh, I meant that the rusted chains and mildew coated swings got her outfit all dirty. It looks like Hello Kitty crapped her pants or something.”

“Maybe she did,” Stephanie said.

Jackie came back. She was fuming.

“Tom is in the front yard. We are leaving and going to your house. Now.”

—

Back at the house, Tom was a mess. I had him outside in the back yard. Jackie was alternating between crying and screaming in the kitchen with Stephanie.

Tom’s Zorro shirt was ripped open, exposing his beer gut and ample amount of gray chest hair. Someone had written “slut” across his chest with pink lipstick. He reeked of sex.

“Strip down to your underwear,” I said.

“Again?” he slurred.

“Huh? No, asshole. I’m hosing you off.”

He screeched like an abused cat while I shot cold water all over him, begging me to stop.

I turned the water off and he collapsed in a lawn chair.

“What the fuck happened to you?” I finally asked.

“I was doing shots. And then they lit a hookah. And there was Viagra. And they were chanting “Zorro, Zorro” and someone ripped open my shirt.”

“And?”

“There were guys and girls and some guy dressed like a girl and someone in a wookie mask and I just sort of lost it.”

“And?”

“Oh God Lazlo, I think sucked another guy’s dick.”

Fuck…

You know, when it comes to whether or not you’ve had a penis in your mouth. There’s no “Whoops, I didn’t mean to do that” at all. You either get on your knees and cock gobble or you don’t.

“Dude, you sucked on a penis?”

“I didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident. And then Jackie walked in and went ape shit.”

“Like, you tripped, some dude had a boner and it landed in your mouth?”

“Damn it, Lazlo, I voted for McCain and Palin,” Tom said crying. “I gave Romney $1,000. Republicans do not get gay!”

Jackie came outside.

“It’s time to leave Tom.”

He shuffled inside a changed and defeated man.

“Come on, Jackie,” she said to me in a mocking tone. “It’s a costume party, Jackie. It’ll be fun, Jackie. Please, Jackie.”

“Hey, I had no idea it was a swinger party and it’s not my fault your fossil got all faggy with a dude in a wookie mask.”

“Stop calling him a fossil and he was blowing an Arab Sheik not a wookie.”

“Whatever. Make sure he gargles with bleach before you kiss him good night.”

She slammed the door and left with Tom. Eventually Stephanie came outside with a couple of vodka sodas.

“Hey, Stephanie,” I said. “I’m really sorry. I had no idea.”

“I know you didn’t know. It’s cool. You made for a cute Kenny Powers.”

“Now what?”

“Well, I took one of the party favor bags,” she said.

“You did?”

“Yeah, how do you feel about glow in the dark condoms and nipple clamps?”

“God I love you.”

“I know,” she said, batting her eye lashes at me in the corniest way possible. “Leave that trashy wig on, please.”

Leave a comment

I Love Your Sick Minds

The world is a sick and twisted place and if you happen to be reading this blog, you’re sick and twisted too and, well, I love you for it.

As my dear friend likes to say, “Everybody has their thing.”

And it’s true (she’s simply right about so many things).

Everyone of us has some sort of special something that helps flip our switch from “off” to “on” at the end of the day.

In the spirit of full disclosure here is quick run down of my “things” that I dig.

1) Women. I know, call me old fashioned but I’m just a simple dude that prefers having sex with natural born females. It helps if they are sort of around my own age.

2) Brains. Not in a zombie sort of way but in a “you’re smart and you think and I can learn things from you and you might challenge me to think differently or see something in a new light and that’s something that I want and as a special sign of my appreciation I’m now going to fuck you until your body is twitching and you’re seeing stars.” If you aren’t into learning and challenging yourself and improving… Yah, no Lazlo wang for you.

3) Soul. I don’t care if you go to church or anything (just please don’t be into something retarded) but I do care about your heart and your essence. Are you the type of person that takes in an abandoned dog (hot) or are you the type of person that buys some dog because you’re lonely and then forgets all about it and eventually sends it to the pound because you can’t be bothered to care for a living thing with needs (not hot).

4) Creativity. The girl who is into photography or trying to be clever or writing or cooking or painting or anything that lets her express herself is a sexy girl. And you know why, right? Because creative minds don’t stop being creative and that creavity is simply fantastic when it comes to playing bouncey bed.

Yah, there are some other things…

Love the smell of suntan lotion and beer breath.
Nothing wrong with role play.
Heavy flirting.
Breasts of all sizes and nipples of all shapes.
Unexpected naughtiness.
Oral.
Maybe a little power exchange.
Bringing anything batter power operated into the equation is always good cause I like to play with toys too and when she shares, she cares.
Lots of talking at all different volume levels.
Tan lines (I don’t know why).
Really good lipstick.
The eternal question: Who is your daddy?
When you don’t take them all the way off. Maybe just pushed to the side.
That slow tease that makes them beg for it and when they can’t stand it any longer you slowly…

Shit, I gotta stop now cause I’m totally off task here.

The whole point of this blog is to get into the fact that the world is sick and twisted and people are out there doing things you’ve never thought would be a turn on. But because I’m into knowledge and sharing I’ve put a little list together for you.

Enjoy.

Teddy Bear Play –

I know this girl. This girl is really into Teddy Bear Play. I didn’t even know what it was until she mentioned it.

Basically, the guy goes out and buys a brown sweater that makes him look like a teddy bear. She will INSTANTLY fall into a deep state of lust. Seriously, be careful. Girls have been known to do horrible sexual things to a man simply because of his teddy bear brown sweater.

Dog Play –

No, I’m not talking about people treating people like dogs (some do that too). I’m not talking about dressing up like a dog (some do that too). “Dog Play” is when you get a dog. You put the leash on the dog. You walk it around the neighborhood. Then, when Fido can’t stand it any longer, you let your dog take a big crap in the yard of some total asshole neighbor that you can’t stand.

The satisfaction of knowing your dog just defiled their manicured yard is, for some, better than sex.

There’s also an angle to this where you take your dog to a public place and realize you have the only dog that is worth a damn and the rest of the dogs are out of control and sort of ugly and, man, don’t you feel good about yourself? Let’s fuck.

Smoke Play –

I didn’t even know this was a thing until a couple of months ago. I had been standing next to the BBQ pit for at least 6 hours straight. Naturally, I finally run out of beer. I drove up to the liquor store to enlist a new 12-pack of soldiers when some saleswoman comes up to me.

“You smell intoxicating.”

Granted, at first I thought she said “You smell intoxicated” so I had a moment of “she’s going to deny my purchase panic” but her eyes were dillated and she was clearly biting her lip.

“Pardon?”

“You smell so good. Have you been burning something?”

“Oh… yah, I’m smoking a brisket.”

I wander off, thinking about how I hadn’t showered all day and how jacked up that conversation was when I had a second exchange with another woman who said almost exactly the same thing.

Then it happened a third time and when I checked out all three ladies were standing there talking about how I smelled.

Finally one of them said, “I think it’s something primal.”

I left with my 12 pack of Pearl Light, slightly disturbed and wondering if I should start dabbing a little liquid smoke behind my ears.

Lint Play –

Come on, what’s better than a little navel gazing? Oh yah, looking down there and finding half a sweater just waiting for you to pull it out. Such a sense of accomplishment.

Pottery Play –

You put her in the car. You hand her your credit card. You drive her to Pottery Barn. You tell her, “Anything you want.”

Yah, she’ll orgasm right there in the door way. I’ve seen it. I loved it.

Fuzz Play –

Don’t get this confused with Lint Play. Fuzz Play is totally different.

Fuzz Play is when you go to meet a girl on the tennis court. She’s in her short skirt. Her legs look insane. Her body is tight. She knows you’re looking. She is purposely trying to use her body to distract you and throw you off your game.

You’re trying to ignore her. This makes her work even harder at making you pay attention.

Before you know it, you are on your back on the service line and she’s riding you like a pony and suddenly the “love” score in tennis has a whole new meaning and, wow, what a work out and when you’re done she’s introducing herself as Mrs. SharaGusto and her Russian accent has this Texas Twang…

Lord have mercy! I can’t help it.

My name is Lazlo Gusto and I’m a sick freak that loves him some Fuzz Play!

2 Comments

Juniper Tice and the Shooting Star

Juniper Tice was a tall little girl with soft brown hair and even softer brown eyes. Her knees were a bit knobby and her smile was wide, bright and natural.
 
It always struck her as funny when people called her a “tall little girl.”
 
“How can I be a tall little girl?” she would ask her mother.
 
“Well, it’s like being a jumbo shrimp. It’s an oxymoron, Juniper.” her mother would say.
 
Juniper loved many things. But most of all, she loved rocks on the ground and the stars in the sky.
 
Where ever she went during the day her eyes scoured the ground looking for new and interesting rocks she could add to her collection.
 
At night, she constantly searched the skies for new stars. When she couldn’t go to sleep she would lay in her bed and stare out her window, trying to count all of the stars in the black night sky.
 
Her mother worried about her.
 
“Juniper, with your head either pointed at the ground or angled at the sky you are going to hurt your neck. You need to start looking straight ahead at where you are going like the rest of your friends.”
 
Juniper wasn’t like the rest of her friends. While Juniper looked for rocks and dreamed of stars her friends were playing tag, catching frogs, kicking fire ant mounds or playing house as if they were their mothers and fathers.
 
Juniper didn’t want to chase someone just to chase them.
 
Juniper didn’t want to scare animals even if they were just frogs or fire ants.
 
She definitely didn’t want to be old and boring like most mothers and fathers.
 
Juniper wanted to touch the stars. She wanted to find precious stones tucked into meaningless heaps of rubble. These things were important. Finding stars and important rocks could even get your photo in the newspaper. Adults listened to such obviously intelligent young children. 
 
Juniper also hated her name. The boys at school alternated between morphing Juniper into “june bug” and Tice into “lice.”
 
“Why can’t they just call me June or Nice if they don’t want to call me Juniper Tice?” she asked her mother.
 
“That’s what boys do when they like you,” her mother would say.
 
“Forever?”
 
“Maybe.”
 
Juniper was sure the biggest day of her young life would be February 22. For most of the kids, February 22 was just the day of a field trip and a chance to skip math. But for Juniper Tice, February 22 was probably better than Christmas. On February 22 the whole 4th grade class was going to the Museum of Natural Science . The brochure said that inside the Museum of Natural Science , Juniper would learn all about stars and rocks. The class was even going to meet a REAL geologist! Thinking about it made her toes tingle and she started counting off the days until the field trip on her wall calendar. She also started looking extra hard for special rocks to show the geologist.
 
The day before the field trip she cut across a vacant lot on the way home. There she found the most unusual rock. It was slightly smaller than a golf ball and had a very smooth surface as if someone had sanded it down. It wasn’t spherical or rounded, more of a slightly streamlined lump. It felt like metal with a thin burnt looking crust flaking off in some areas. She excitedly tucked it into her jeans pocket and went home to show her parents.
 
“Hmmm. That is unusual,” said her mother.
 
“Could be scrap iron,” said her father.
 
“I’ll ask the geologist tomorrow!” Juniper said, ignoring her parents’ lack of enthusiasm.
 
The field trip did not go as she planned at all.
 
The boys were rowdy and loud. The girls were giggling and bored. They were all so wound up that poor Juniper could barely hear the geologist, Dr. Henry, speak. She kept trying to show him the rock she had found but the teacher wouldn’t let her get out of line. She tried to interupt Dr. Henry but the teacher shushed her.
 
Then, suddenly, the children were being led back on the bus. Juniper wanted to cry. Then she started to panic. She had to ask Dr. Henry about the rock she found. Gathering all of her courage she jumped up and shouted:
 
“STOP!!! I forgot my retainer!”
 
The bus was suddenly silent and Juniper rushed to the door, pushed her way past her teacher and ran back inside the museum.
 
She frantically looked for Dr. Henry until she finally found him in the basement walking to his office.
 
“Dr. Henry! Dr. Henry!” she called.
 
He turned slowly and said, “Yes?”
 
“I found a rock yesterday coming home from school and my mother isn’t impressed and my father thinks its scrap iron but I love rocks and I look all the time and I just wanted to ask you because I know you will know and I’m sure you’ll understand…” Juniper had to stop and catch her breath. “Please, sir, can you help me?”
 
She dug into her pocket and handed him the rock.
 
Dr. Henry moved to hold it under better light and carefully examined Juniper’s treasure.
 
“A little girl who like rocks,” he said softly. “That’s fairly unusual. What else do you like?”
 
“I like stars too,” she said. “I like rocks and stars.”
 
Dr. Henry chuckled and handed Juniper back the rock.
 
“Well, you are a very lucky girl then,” he said, looking very serious and distinguished. “You were looking for rocks but instead found a meteorite.”
 
Juniper gasped.
 
“You mean… like a from a shooting star?” Juniper said.
 
“Exactly,” Dr. Henry said, winking at her. “Be very careful with that and hurry back to your bus.”
 
Juniper suddenly felt a sense of importance.
 
That little rock, deep in the pocket of her jeans felt very heavy and warm.
 
When Juniper got back to the school bus her teacher was angry at her for leaving. Juniper didn’t mind.
 
When she got home, her mother and father were angry with the note her teacher sent home with her. Juniper didn’t mind
 
They sent her to her room. She gazed out at the stars with her meteorite in her hand. She tried to act sad when her parents checked on her later but it was hard to hide how extremely happy she was deep inside.
 
Juniper and her parents were eating breakfast two days later when the phone rang. Her mother answered the phone while stirring powdered creamer into her coffee.
 
“Hello? Yes. This is the Tice residence.”
 
A brief pause.
 
“I’m Juniper’s mother.”
 
She turned and looked at Juniper in a curious fashion.
 
“Okay… Yes. Well, I’m sure. No, Saturday at 9 am would be just fine. I’m think Juniper will be thrilled.”
 
“Who was that honey?” her father asked.
 
“Yes mom, Who was it?” Juniper echoed.
 
Her mother set down her coffee. Her father set down his newspaper.
 
“That was Dr. Henry from the Natural Science Museum. He wants to come to our house Saturday. He wants Juniper to show him where she found her meteorite.”
 
Juniper could hardly believe it. She was so excited she felt a tingling feeling in her toes.
 
Saturday came and Dr Henry arrived with a woman from the newspaper. Juniper proudly led Dr. Henry, the reporter, her mother and her father to the field where she found her meteorite.
 
The news woman took photos of Juniper standing in the spot where she found her shooting star. Then they all hiked back to her house again. Dr. Henry talked about the odds of finding a meteorite. He explained in detail how lucky Juniper was to see it.
 
“In the last 100 years, we have only confirmed a total of 690 meteorites landing on the planet,” Dr Henry told the reporter. ”Less than one meteor a year lands in the US. Juniper had sharp eyes and it took a lot of dedicated rock hunting to locate this meteorite. I am very proud of her.”
 
“We’re proud too,” her mother chimed in.
 
The reporter took some more pictures of Juniper with some of her other rocks. Dr. Henry went through her collection and helped her identify the rocks she had wondered about. Finally a photo was taken of Juniper with her telescope and her star chart.
 
Her mother made cookies while her father watched the whole scene in amazement.
 
“So, what do you think you will do with your shooting star?” asked the reporter.
 
“Well,” Juniper said. “Considering it’s so rare and I’m sure lots of other kids woud like to see it. If it’s all right with Dr. Henry, I’d like to let him have it if he wants to put it on display at the museum.”
 
“Oh Juniper, are you sure?” asked her father.
 
“Yes, I want other boys and girls to see it,” Juniper said. “As many as possible.” 
 
“Juniper, that is very generous of you,” Dr. Henry said. “We would be delighted to put your meteorite on display.”
 
The newspaper article came out on Sunday and her principal read the whole story over the loud speaker Monday morning. The cafeteria gave her free ice cream at lunch. At recess Juniper sat on a bench while the rest of her class mates scurried around the playground finding rocks and quickly bringing them to Juniper to examine.
 
One month later Juniper and her parents put on the clothes they only wear for special occasions and drove to the Natural Science museum. There, between the geology displays and astronomy displays was 10 feet of space using Juniper Tice, her story, the shooting star and her love of both rocks and space as the bridge between the two sections.
 
She was so happy, it made her toes tingle.
7 Comments