Do You Come From A Land Down Under?

Yet again I have been tagged with a meme. As you know, in general, I am not a big fan of these and I believe that there is a conspiracy afoot to tag me left and right. I have to respond to this one because I was tagged by Sanni. I would have preferred to be tagged by Sanni in the form of a nude full frontal body slam but I’m not that lucky. For those of you who do not know her, she is an incredibly sexy German uber angel who could get me to walk down the middle of town dressed only in a Donald Duck outfit without the bottom part. Here is the point of this particular meme:

1. Go to www.popculturemadness.com
2. Pick the year you turned 18
3. Get yourself nostalgic over the songs of the year
4. Write something about how the songs affected you

I turned 18 in 1983. The first thing I noticed about the list of songs that was generated was how much bad music I was subjected to my senior year of high school. The list of songs included such ear melting, heartburn inducing “classics” such as Maniac, Pass The Dutchie, Total Eclipse of the Heart, and Mr. Roboto. It also included tunes from Air Supply and enough Michael Jackson songs to fuel a Pedophile Convention for days. Looking at the list I wonder how I am still somewhat sane. The list did include a few gems that brought back and created some memories and thoughts.

Number one on the list is, It’s Raining Men. As soon as I saw that I immediately had a vision of blog friend Mo wearing his Wonder Woman costume, lasso and all. Come On Eileen is on the list and it was and is to this day one of the best drunken sing-a-long songs ever. Two completely different types of songs but two of my favorites appear, Shock the Monkey by Peter Gabriel and Love My Way by the Psychedelic Furs. The latter could be heard playing during most of my teenage sexual romps with my girlfriend Sherri. Good times, good times.

I was the drummer and lead singer of band called Iroquois at the time and there were a couple of songs on the list that we played. Sharp Dressed Man and Gimme All Your Lovin’ by ZZ Top as well as I Melt With You by Modern English and Jeopardy by The Greg Khin Band. We weren’t too bad actually, and it was a fun time regardless of not getting many gigs.

I was glad to see Down Under by Men at Work on the list. A group of us saw them in concert in ‘82 at King’s Island. A little known, yet up and coming Aussie band opened for them. It was INXS and we really got up hung up on them!! Of course Bagwine’s own Hair Care Joe’s favorite is on the list as well with Safety Dance.

It was quite ironic, and timely, seeing one song in particular on the list. I started doing something a couple of weeks ago to my son Ryno. Out of the blue I started doing a Boy George dance shuffle and singing, I’ll Tumble 4 Ya. Without hesitation he covered his eyes and started saying, “Erase!! Erase!! Erase!! No child should EVER have to see their dad doing that!!” Of course I do it all the time to him now.

So there you have it, the highs and lows of the music from 1983. One thing, they may have pre-dated 1983 by a year or two but where in the hell is A Flock of Seagulls, WTF? Thanks Sanni for including me and to all, Cheers!!

T-Minus Two Days Until Rumination Celebration. May 23rd marks the one year anniversary of Bagwine Ruminations…

Beach Blanket No-No

It’s such a dreary day today that I thought I would lift my spirits by posting something from a time past. I really enjoy fishing. I have commented before how I love to fish especially when the big orange lipped carp are engaging in fish sex. They wallow around in the shallows, the males trying to lure in a hot female with his crank bait, tossing out some cheesy line in carp-speak. It is a lovely ritual that harkens in Spring. It also reminds me of something that happened to me many, many moons ago.

I guess I was about 17 years old and one late June afternoon my girlfriend at the time and I made our way to a secluded cove at the local State Park to fish. Well, actually I was fishing and she sat on a blanket and read, but you get the picture. I was catching a few here and there and having a good time. I turned to Sherri at one point to show her a pretty good sized bass that I had caught and lo and behold there she sat.

She sat there staring at me, smiling. Her legs spread provocatively and her shirt unbuttoned revealing her lacy red bra and glistening cleavage. Boo Yah…I could hear the wocka wocka guitar music from every low budget porn movie I had seen blaring in my head. I could feel a pup tent erecting itself in my shorts. I put down my rod, (no, not that one silly, my fishing rod) and lay down next to her. My lips pressed against hers. My hands began caressing her perky nubile breasts. My tongue licking the salty sweat from her---Well you get the picture.

We were now entirely naked and going at it like two horny Proboscis Monkeys in a mangrove swamp. Our warm bodies rolling around on white sand and our secret protected by the seclusion and the dense canopy of the cove. It was glorious, and an example of young love at its most passionate. As we neared the state of climactic euphoria, we simultaneously moaned and screamed, for it was at that moment that we discovered that we were both covered in ticks. That’s right, blood sucking, disease laden ticks.

We were mortified to say the least. My anxious dork went from being a tribute to teenage virility to being a shrunken cowering nob. We picked ticks from each others most intimate parts like baboons giving each other a rinse and set. It was as if we were both suffering from the humiliation only a nursing home resident can feel at the hands of a sadistic nurse…young passion gone terribly wrong.

For two weeks after the fiasco, we still felt ticks crawling on us although it was just our minds trying to process the events. I have recovered for the most part, but to this day, whenever someone mentions lyme disease or spotted fever I cross my legs and let out a little whimper. I tell you this now in order to prevent it from happening to you.

Until the next time…Cheers!!

Pierced Ears and Wallabies

As I said earlier, my big day is just eight days away. Birthdays…Some people love em’ some hate em’. I don’t get too excited about them, but I don’t fear them relative to getting older. I just take the day in stride like any other. But don’t get me wrong, I have had some fun and interesting birthdays.

When I was a little kid, the big birthday thing revolved around Mom letting us pick what we wanted for our birthday supper. I would sometimes pick her homemade hoagies, but more often than not, I asked for liver and onions. Other than Mom, this did not ingratiate me with the rest of my family. I would frequently hear from my siblings a birthday greeting such as, “Happy Birthday Matt, did you pick liver again you little shit?” I could feel the love.

I’ll never forget my 17th birthday. My girlfriend Sherri, took me out to eat, to the mall to get my ear pierced (cutting edge in 1982), and then back to her apartment. She was 18 and already graduated, and I do love the “older” ladies. We had a few drinks, she fed her cat, whom she claimed was psycho and not of this Earth, and then we went to her bedroom. We stripped are clothes off quickly as most hormone laden teens do, and she revealed to me that on her left tit she had written, “Happy Birthday Matty.” How nice…We began the ritual of teen age sex...no foreplay, no dirty talk…more like the act of a drunken Visigoth having his way with his newly captured sex slave.

As we continued on like two wallabies furiously trying to produce a wallababy, I heard a high pitched cry, followed by a loud banging sound. A bit delusional, I figured that I was just performing so well that Sherri was moaning, and it was the head board banging against the wall. I looked at her…she wasn’t moaning and there was no head board on the bed to bang. Suddenly, a wailing of biblical proportions split the air and two cataclysmic bangs shook the bedroom door. The door flew open and in flew one pissed off psycho cat leaping at us with claws at the ready. We instinctively covered are important parts and ran out of the room. We managed to survive unscathed, but the mood did not…My 17th birthday was over.

My 20th Birthday was spent in the frozen wasteland of Bowling Green, Ohio. If you have ever been to Bowling Green, Ohio or the BGSU campus, you know that the area is flat. I’m talking flatter than a 14 year old Romanian gymnast. The only hill for 20 square miles is the nob created by the pile of trash at the landfill, and in the winter the winds blow through unchallenged. I will tell you about that horrifically cold birthday as well as a couple of others tomorrow.

Stay Warm, and Cheers!!

Unfair Labor Practice

Due to the length of this poignant story it will appear in two installments. The second part of this heartwarming vignette will be posted later today underneath part one. Enjoy...

The final installment of Unfair Labor Practice has now been posted for your dining and reading pleasure. If you have read the first part simply scroll down this post and you will find where the second part kicks in!!


It’s was a steamy July morning some years ago. The air was thick and hot, so hot in fact that I noticed a dog chasing a rabbit and they were both walking…Would nature’s crucible be a portend of heated tempers at the Labor/Management Meeting at one of the prisons that I represented…a meeting that was two hours away? As I hopped into my car to begin my trip, I lit a Marlboro, fired up the engine, and asked myself two things…First, would this meeting become the knock down drag out fight that I figured it to be, and number two, why do my thoughts sound like the dialogue from a really bad True Detective story?

I was headed to a prison near Chillicothe, a prison whose employee morale was lower than that of a death row inmate. The cause of such derision was a warden who ruled over her employees with an iron fist, an acerbic vocabulary, and a bullet-proof bra. The stories that my workers told me about her conjured up an image of a haggard looking woman who was all of the Borgias rolled into one. As I looked at the clock in my car, my hands began to sweat…I was only sixty miles from my initial encounter with the evil Warden X. (Bum Bum BUMMMM)

I arrived at the prison and was promptly greeted by a sweltering heat and a handshake from the head of Labor Relations for the Department. Yep, things were bad here, and management was sending in the big guns. After getting felt up and wanded by the chick at security, I caught up with my folks and we discussed the talking points that we wanted to raise at the meeting. While the three or four points we wanted to make were different in nature, they all led back to…that’s right…Warden X. (Bum Bum BUMMMM)

My delegation and I entered the conference room and sat down at a coffee stained table across from the Labor Relations guy from the prison and the aforementioned head of LR for the entire department. We exchanged some jokes as we eagerly awaited the appearance of Public Enemy #1. And then, it happened. The door swung open and it was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Time was beginning to move in slow motion. I turned and there she was…The dreaded Warden X (Bum Bum BUMMM). I looked at her and said to myself, “So this is the bitch they’ve been talking about.” And upon a closer, deeper look at her, I thought to myself, “Holy Shit, this is one smokin’ hot bitch!!”

She had dark silky hair that nestled on her shoulders and ultimately rested in the middle of her back. Her eyes were as dark and harsh as coal but also evoked a smoldering passion. Her face was strong and yet had a softness that yearned to be touched. Her breasts were just plain HUGE and SOLID!! The head guy introduced us and we shook hands. It was a firm shake and we looked each other square in the eye. I was Spartacus and she was the Roman slave master that had to be crushed. Her look indicated to me that removing the yolk of bondage from my workers would not be easy. We began the meeting.

As hot as the temp was outside, it was much hotter in the conference room. My people spoke harshly of the warden to the two labor relations guys. The employees accurately and sharply took her to task for her heavy handed ways. As their side listened to the accusations and documentation, I simply sat there looking at her. I looked at her with a crooked smile, a cocked head, and a nod. What I couldn’t determine was if I was looking at her like that, because my people were performing masterfully or was I was signaling to her that I wanted to rip her clothes off and do the mattress mambo with her? Where were my loyalties headed!?

As the meeting wrapped up, the head of labor relations gave us an offer of closer oversight and follow up meetings on the situation. Being the annoying prick that I was at the time and to give my folks a sense of victory, I told him that that was probably not enough and our delegation would have to think about filing several grievances and more importantly a couple of Unfair Labor Practices against her and the Department. He told me to think it over and get back with him as soon as I could. As we left the room she stared at me with a cocked eyebrow as her index finger tapped her full bottom lip. I smiled and at her shrugged my shoulders...

Make sure to stop by later today to read the compelling finale of Matt-Man and...Warden X (Bum Bum BUMMM) Cheers...

The Big Finish to Unfair Labor Practice, Enjoy...

After talking with the members and a re-telling all of the great zingers they spewed at the warden, I began to make my way out of the penal confines. Near the exit room I was intercepted by a visibly shaken Warden X. She may have been acting, but it was convincing. She asked me if I had a minute to talk. I said, “Sure, do you mind if I smoke?” She said, “Not at all, may I have one?” She gazed up at me with the look of a wounded puppy dog as I handed her a smoke. Without a word, I flipped my Bic and she clutched and then cradled my hands as she brought the flame to her cigarette. After a deep drag, and an equally busty exhale, she looked away and said that she wasn’t nearly as evil as everyone had portrayed her to be, but it was tough being a warden let alone one of the female persuasion.

I said that I have to represent my folks and uphold the contract and in my opinion you are not working with them very well. She turned to me and asked if filing an Unfair Labor Practice was necessary. She said, “Maybe if you and I met over dinner, we could smooth things over.” My mind raced as I sucked heavily on my weed. “She’s asking me to sell them out.” I thought to myself. I could lose not only my workers respect but get fired as well. But I rationalized it by thinking, “What the hell it’s only dinner.” After a pregnant pause I said, “Sure, why not.” She smiled at me and handed me a piece of paper with her address and her phone number scribbled on it. “Be there, between six-thirty and seven, if you’re going to be late, call me. Thanks Matt.” With a cat that ate the canary look upon her face, she walked away.

I went to my motel room and had a shower and a couple of beers. I reflected about the jam I may be getting myself into, but my desire to cross this chick’s picket line was too great. I drove to her house.

She answered the door wearing incredibly tight sky blue shorts and a boob hugging red T-Shirt. She looked, in a word, sexy as hell. She smiled, took me by the hand, and led me in. “Would you like a drink, Matt?’ she asked. I asked if she had Jack and Coke, she said, “I sure do.” “Great, I’ll have a beer.” I responded. My joke broke the ice and we sat on the couch and had a drink…well several drinks. She cozied up to me, and made sure her ample breasts were pressed against me. She said, “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine, by getting the heat off of me.” I said, “Okay, but it isn’t my back that itches.” She smiled and proceeded to kiss me and shove her wine laden tongue down my throat. The next thing I know we are in her bed devouring each other like a gallows inmate feasting on his last meal. It was incredible.

All good things come to an end and this encounter had come to an end several times. It was time for me to go. She lay on the bed as I got dressed; smugly knowing that she had secured her protection. I put on the last of my clothes and pulled a folded piece of paper from my pocket. I unfolded it, bent down to kiss her, and placed the paper on her naked, glistening stomach.

“What’s this baby?” she asked. “It’s your copy of the Unfair Labor Practice that we are filing, BABY!! I guess I just f*%ked you twice!!” I left her house, got into my car, and headed to my motel room. I knew that somewhere, Jimmy Hoffa was laughing his ass off.

Matt-Man: Putting the F-U in FUN!! Cheers!!

Pardon Me Warden, But You're An Asshole

For about four and a half years I worked as a Staff Rep for a Health Care/Social Service workers union. Our local covered workers in West Virginia, Ohio, and Kentucky. While our local represented many different types of workers at both public and private facilities, my job was to represent Nurses, Psych Assts., Case Managers, and the like that worked inside state correctional facilities.

It was an eye-opening job. I got to go into the confines of every prison in the state from minimum security to super max…pretty neat. I remember my first trip to one prison like it was yesterday. I went to see my steward there and she met me at the Admin Building. In order to get back to the nurses station, we had to walk across “the yard”. As we walked, three or four dozen inmates are playing softball. They begin to hoot, whistle, and shout out sexual comments. I turned to the nurse (who was pretty damn hot) and asked if she had to put up with this every time. She looked at me and said, “Honey, they aren’t whistling at me.” My butt cheeks immediately slammed together with rapidity in order to keep these Visigoths from penetrating my castle. This job is gonna suck I thought, but actually there were a few damn good times.

Like for instance, along with advocating for our workers in an arbitration or mediation, one of my jobs was to go to monthly Labor/Management meetings at each prison. Myself and a few of our workers would meet with the warden and other management personnel to discuss certain contract issues and problems that had arisen. Sound boring? Not if you love the limelight, have a knack for oratorical propaganda, and delight in seeing how far you can push someone!! Oh yeah, that has me written all over it.

Wardens are a funny bunch for the most part. Don’t get me wrong, I met some good ones, but the mindset of many of them is a mix between Henry VIII, General Patton, and Sheriff Buford T. Justice. It’s their prison and they let both inmate AND employees know it. They didn’t care if there was a contract or not. Well, not until January of 1998 when some sarcastic 33 year old punk started coming to the L/M meetings.

I remember being in a meeting when a warden came up with a plan to alter the nurses’ schedules in a manner that made no sense. After he briefed us on his plan, he asked me what I thought of it. I said that it was detrimental to staffing levels, it violated the contract language, and even if didn’t violate the contract it has to be the stupidest f@#$king idea I have ever heard!! My nurses sat in shocked silence, and Warden Nutsack stared me down as he left the meeting. Of course, once he was out of the room, we all erupted in maniacal laughter and the nurses learned a lesson that day. They didn’t HAVE to take his bullshit.

Another warden was once giving me grief that a nurse of his was taking to much sick time and something needed to be done. I explained that he had no recourse. The lady was very ill, she had all of the medical papers needed, and had plenty of sick time. He said to me, “You know, last year when my wife had cancer, I came to work everyday. What do you think of that?” I responded, “I think that that makes you a Major League asshole, bub. And now, unless you have something of substance to discuss, I hear a Wendy’s Double Bacon Cheddar Melt calling my name.”

He said that he was going to call my team leader and tell her that I was rude. I said cool. You see, when you work for a union and management folks are complaining about you, you get accolades from your superiors. Little did I know that in a couple of months I was going to do something so “out there” that I would be getting the union equivalent of the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Now that you are somewhat familiar with the environment in which I was working, my story about the female warden and I will be far more satisfying. But alas, this post goes long so, I will have to relay the story of how I “Stuck it to the Wo-Man” on the ‘morrow.

Until then, this is Matt-Man putting the F-U into Fun!!

Cheers…

War and Pedophilia Take a Holiday

Oh the headlines these days, floundering and bloody nation building in Iraq, jobs being shipped over seas, and a member of congress trying to filibuster 16 year old boys, just to name a few. How I long for the simpler times of my youth, the halcyon days two decades removed from my existence. Oh how I miss the 80’s.

The 80’s provided us with MTV, big hair, and of course, two scintillating seasons of “Greatest American Hero” starring the incomparable William Katt, who later went on to give the “Psychic’s Friends Network” star power and added credibility.

The decade started out with my introduction into High School and served up a smorgasbord of new outlooks, feelings, and adventures. The 80’s were host to my deflowering. It was a special and tender moment. My girlfriend, Sherri, and I explored the beauty and pleasure of each other’s body and soul, as we humped like rabid bandicoots while listening to “The Cars” sing “You’re All I’ve Got Tonight”. Ah, the passion of youth.

Yes indeed, times were simpler, alcohol and smokes were cheaper, and my only big concern was that the U.S. Constitution would be changed, allowing Ronnie Raygun to run for a third term. I guess I could have handled that anyway, because Wild Irish Rose was only a $1.89 a fifth back then. At that price, it would have been easy to stay drunk for four more years.

Twenty years ago was a time to float down the Mad River on an inner-tube swilling some Gobel’s just as my friend Schmoop (notice the big hair) is doing in the picture. I didn’t know her back then, but I wished I had, because her breasts look so much perkier!! But then again, back then I had hair, good teeth, and the ability to get it up despite drinking all day. Where have you gone Matt-Dimaggio!?

I know, I know, I sound like any other generation when I say, “When I was young, we didn’t have these problems…” and of course each generation is wrong, myself included. In the 80’s, we were propping up Banana Fascists, trading arms for hostages, and supplying Iraq with chemical weapons, so we had plenty of things to be depressed about. I guess I can’t do anything about what has transpired so when I do look back; I dwell on the things that brought me joy.

And when you’re having a bad day, or the news is bumming you out, I hope you take the time to do the same.

Cheers…

And Now Our Moment of Motto….

Arkansas: “A Good Place to be From”