J.J. Goodman: Writings, Musings and More

Though terribly cliché, analogizing life to an amusement park ride is perhaps one of the easiest and most appropriate analogies one can make; our existence is the proverbial roller coaster. You are first grouped together with a number of others who, while they will share the experience with you, may view the ride very differently. You're locked in, and then it begins as you ascend with excitement, anticipation and anxiety. You'll reach a peak, only to be thrust downward unexpectedly and harshly. You'll travel rapidly through both highs and lows, around turns and through twists, often to find yourself upside down, only to be righted once more. The ride continues in this fashion, taking your breath away, exhilarating you, frightening you, enticing you and jerking you around throughout the duration of the trip until, suddenly, it all comes to an abrupt halt. The past week of my life only served to confirm the comparison, as I myself took one hell of a ride from Sunday to Su

I was just reminded that I haven't written an irreverent, sarcastic and cynical blog post in a while. Well, I haven't been inspired. Perhaps it's the weather. We are embroiled, and I use a term denoting heat ironically, in not only one of the coldest cold snaps in recent history, but in recorded history. As in the Great Lakes were puddles and mastodons frolicked about the last time it was this achingly frigid. (Frolicking mastodons? Seriously?) Paints a picture though, doesn't it? (I… dammit. Touché, pussycat.) My point is that it's very difficult to find any kind of motivation when you go outside and the air hurts your face and your moustache freezes and some men are acutely reminded that they are "growers and not showers." (What??) Shrinkage. (Oh for cripe's sake. Now I'm poking out my mind's eye.) Ahh, good 'ol Frasier , we thank thee for bringing that nugget of verbosity into our vernacular. T

Harley straddled Sawyer's lap and pressed her lips passionately against his. He had no choice but to answer her intensity with his own. As much as he desperately desired to embrace her fully, he just couldn't. He was helpless to the onslaught of her kiss. He had no idea how he'd gotten himself in that situation. "Now," she said seductively. "Isn't it better to be here, kissing me, than pining away for my sister?" He was afraid to answer in any manner but the affirmative and nodded. She didn't let him speak before she again leaned forward, cupped his chiseled jaw in her hands, and thrust her lips upon him once more. There was no questioning the fact that her assertiveness stirred him. At last, when he felt as if his last breath would leave him, she pulled back and gasped for air herself. "Harley, why are you doing this? What prompted this?" he asked pleadingly. "Harper's an idiot, Sawyer. She doesn't deserve

Ok, this has potential to be a polarizing post, and I'm ok with that, because the words below are my thoughts and opinions and mine only. Agree, disagree, criticize or comment as you see fit….   So, I had an interesting conversation with a female friend of mine the other night about the television show Agent Carter, which stars Hayley Atwell and James D'Arcy. Essentially, the conversation centered on the swoonworthiness of the two lead characters.   (Swoonworth… Bloody hell, I need more caffeine for this.)   You love my made-up words. Hush. Anyway, my friend was a tad surprised that I found Ms. Atwell to be so attractive, in that she doesn't particularly fit the Hollywood actress mold; i.e. she's not a stick thin waif. That is precisely why I find her attractive, I explained. Curves, sassiness, sultry lips… *daydreams*   (Bring it on back there, lover boy….)   What? Sorry. That led to a deeper conversation in which I was asked