Where Dummies Dare—Part One


This trip starts out like all the others when my son drops me off at the airport and holds his hand out for money. It’s great being appreciated, isn’t it? As I’m leaving his car, I tell him to get the interior cleaned because his car has a horrible mildew smell. He just grins and says good-bye. It’s not until I sit down in the terminal that I realize the terminal smells exactly like his car. Suddenly people start moving away from me and it’s only then that I realize I’m the one who stinks. I go into the restroom, enter a stall only to find that the horrible smell has followed me in there too. Within seconds, I realize that it’s my blue jeans that stink to high heaven, but why I wondered? Shit, I just took them out of the dryer before putting them on, so I know they’re clean.


I immediately call my son and he informs me that maybe he left my wet jeans in the washer for several days before putting them in the dryer. Think of an old wet sour towel that sat in your high school gym locker over the Christmas Holidays; well, that’s exactly what I smelled like. Shit, what could I do? All my clothes were in my checked luggage so I couldn’t change my pants. That’s when fate stepped in to save me; well, perhaps it just made my life and my fellow travelers lives a little more bearable.


I went to the sink, put my hands under the automatic soap dispenser, fragrant soap squirted out and then I put my hands under the automatic faucet and absolutely nothing happened. Same with the next sink, all the way down through the five remaining faucets. Holy shit, now what do I do? I grabbed some paper towels, went into a stall(no, I didn’t plunge my hands into the toilet bowl) and smeared the strongly scented liquid soap from my hands up and down my legs in an effort to somehow counteract the horrible mildew smell. You know what, it worked perfectly, but there were some very unpleasant side effects that I would discover within a few short hours.


Getting on the plane was uneventful, except for the fact that one of the flight attendants said that she recognized me. After we were airborne, she came down the aisle with the beverage cart and when she got to my row she said, “You were on this flight the last time I flew it.” “Are you the one from Fort Worth,” I asked? “No, I’m the one who screamed!” God damn it, next thing you know I’ll run into those fucking lesbians on my way to the lavatory. Why do these strange things always happen to me? Luckily she could laugh about our last meeting because when she served my row, she handed me four Dewar’s and said, “You drink scotch, if I remember correctly.” Well, at least I would have free drinks till Houston.


I’m a creature of habit so once again Pappadeaux’s is my interim stop in Houston. As soon as I walk in the place, Vanessa the barmaid says, “Your usual?” “No, this time I’ll have a beer,” I replied. “Heineken, like the last time,” she queried? “Yeah, and I’ll have my usual to eat,” I said, half way hoping she would screw up my order just to prove to her that I wasn’t so damn predictable. She didn’t screw up at all and that caused me to sink into a deeper depression. After all my jeans smelled like a locker room, I was half drunk and my legs were starting to inexplicably itch like hell. Maybe that’s why the garotas and Fernando always outsmart me, because I’m too predictable. No, it can’t be that, it’s probably just a streak of bad luck.


The flight to Rio was long and uncomfortable as usual and, no, I did not fuckup any lavatories on this trip, at least not exactly the same way I did with the cialis. When the plane was being boarded I noticed this real hot blonde who looked familiar, but when I went to the aft cabin to look for her, I couldn’t find her. Oh well, it was probably just my imagination. Later as they were serving food, one of the fight attendants came up to me and asked, “How often do you make this trip?” “Only about every six weeks,” I replied. “What are you drinking,” he asked? “Anything wet,” I replied. Magically three bottles of Chardonnay appeared on my fold down table to accompany my chicken meal that he just placed in front of me.


I was seated in the center row of seats and, fortunately, nobody was sitting next to me, but someone was seated one seat over. Shit, now I can’t even stretch out for a nice nap. After dinner my row companion got up and extracted a pillow from his carry-on bag and proceeded to snuggle in and watch CSI. What kind of guy is this, I wondered? Never have I seen a normal guy carry a full sized pillow along on a trip, but I’ve seen lots of women do it often. Suddenly, he switches channels and starts to watch the movie Bewitched, which as we all know, is another positive queer indicator. Oh shit, I’m flying to Rio for some fun with MBL and a God damn queer is practically in my fucking lap. Suddenly, I longed the companionship of those two lesbians instead of what was sitting near me.


After dinner, the fairy puts on his color coordinated mask to cover his sensitive eyes, grabbed his pillow like it was his long lost boyfriend and fell fast asleep. I again went into the aft cabin to find the hot blonde and I found that half the people back there were Japanese and had on those medical masks that Michael Jackson wears. Shit, I began to worry whether or not there was some fucking plague on the plane that I didn’t know about. Maybe they knew something I didn’t or perhaps they could smell my jeans. Most of the other passengers pulled their blankets up over their heads, so again I couldn’t find her on this tour. I was dying to find her. No, I thought to myself, it’s just your imagination; it couldn’t be her, could it?


While I was walking through the aft cabin my legs started to itch more and more, and I correctly figured it was from that fucking hand soap I smeared all over them back in Philadelphia. On my way back to my seat, I stopped in the lavatory and proceeded to make one of the stupidest decisions of my adult life. Shit, if it was the soap that was making my legs itch, why not wash it off. A seemingly intelligent decision for about a microsecond, then it turned ugly fast. First of all, the water supply in an airplane lavatory is not exactly what you would call generous, coupled with the fact that Continental buys all its lousy paper towels in Brazil, quickly lead me down a disastrous path.


Unfortunately, the addition of water to the soap caused it to foam up continuously. In other words, when I tried to wipe it off with the fucking Brazilian paper towels that proceeded to fall apart, it just foamed up again and again. All over the floor were these little pieces of curled up wet paper towels. Oh well, at least they weren’t yellow like before. Shit, I’ll just blame the mess on some Brazilian like I did the last time. Why was my skin foaming up? Well, maybe I left the soap on my skin too long, but this is ridiculous.


Just as I started to make some headway, disaster struck—I ran out of lousy Brazilian paper towels. Using toilet paper was out of the question, because they also buy it in Brazil and it’s even more inferior. What the hell could I do? I started to look around and saw a tiny door with a sign that had drawings of sanitary pads and barf bags on it. I looked in there, not because I was curious or anything like that, but because I was getting desperate. I always mistakenly thought that this special door was the one you used to dispose of both items. Boy was I wrong!


Inside that little door are six Kotex pads and about ten barf bags. Did you know that they had free stuff in there? I didn’t know that! I felt like a kid finding pirate treasure. That’s when it struck me, soak a couple of pads in the sink and use them to wash off the soap. God, if they are soft and absorbent enough for women use on their pussies, they have to work on my legs, don’t they? They worked magnificently and I even used a few extra to dry myself off. Dry ones work as well as a chamois when drying off your car. Come to think of it, those pads are so damn durable; you could even clean the brake dust off the mag wheels on your car with one that is if you were desperate. No fellows, mine didn’t have wings just in case you were wondering! Within minutes of returning to my seat that God awful sour mildew smell reappeared. Oh shit!


In Sao Paulo about half the passengers got off including every single Japanese passenger. There she was all alone, the hot blonde, looking as fresh as a spring day. Her hair looked like it was just styled, her eyes sparkled, her sensuous lips were moist and slightly parted and her tits were phenomenal. Yep, it was her, Houston, the porn star that I saw on the Howard Stern show a couple of years ago. She smiled at me and I was suddenly completely speechless. Here she was not more than five feet from me and I was tongue tied like a teenager. I gave her a knowing smile back because that was all I was capable of at that point. She winked at me and for a few precious seconds I contemplated getting off in Sao Paulo, but then came to my senses when I realized that she would probably dump me as soon as she got a good whiff of me and my blue jeans. MBL, on the other hand, wouldn’t dare dump me because I was her meal ticket for the next two weeks


After all MBL said she would meet me at the airport and I couldn’t just leave her standing there, could I? At first I thought that her gesture was terribly romantic, but after speaking with Don, he told me she was just making sure I didn’t sneak into town early like I did on my last trip. Fuck, she outsmarted me again! If fucking Fernando and Lurch hadn’t given me up, I could come and go as I please, but now that’s a thing of the past. Sure enough, she was there waiting for me with Roberto, Don’s excellent driver. Yeah, he’s the guy who got that tattoo in Vila Mimosa. He’s dependable, knowledgeable, has a great sense of humor and thankfully is taking English lessons. As I calculate it, my total time of freedom in Rio on this trip will consist of my walk out of customs till I’m in her arms—about thirty seconds. Maybe I can figure someway to bribe my way to freedom. Yeah, I’ll have to start working on that soon. Hey Roberto, could you put down all the windows in the taxi, I want some fresh air?


As we arrived at Alcazar who is waiting there for me, none other than my Chinese vendor ready, willing and able to sell me my first Brazilian manufactured butane lighter of this trip. First he asked for R$20, but I got him down to R$12. Yeah, I’m sure there are many of you that have paid less, but after an overnight flight, I didn’t want to haggle too much. The one thing great about this guy is the fact that he will repair any malfunction or replace it free of charge should it fail to light. The only problem is locating him when your lighter craps out. He asked my for my empty lighter like he usually does and through sign language I let him know that I just arrived in town and didn’t have an empty one to give him. Now that’s what I call service, not only will he sell you one, but he’ll dispose of your empty one too.


Don approaches and tells me that there’s a group from Arizona and asks if we would like join them for lunch. He introduces me to RocketmaninPHX, A-Rod and another fellow named Bob. Although Bob’s not on the board, has managed to read almost everything written on it about Rio, including my reports. As I start to sit down next to Bob, he asks me if I’m, indeed, Jaguar and if that’s the infamous Miss Bubble Lips with me. “Yup, that’s me and that’s MBL,” I replied. “No offense meant, but could MBL sit next to me instead of you,” he asked? She was wearing that great Victor Hugo shirt that was in my last report, and she looked phenomenal, so I wasn’t offended when he asked.


I realize that her tits are great to look at, but I sensed there was another underlying reason for his request. “Bob, why don’t you want to sit next to me,” I inquired. “Because I read that things happen to those close to you,” he stated. I then repeated to him what I said to Workoutmaniac in a taxi only two months before, “Those around rarely suffer long.” Bob then asked, “How long is long?” “Only two or three days at most,” I replied. That seemed to pacify him a little and, as we both settled back into our chairs to enjoy a wonderful lunch, I turned to him and said, “Relax Bob, after all what could possibly go wrong?”


During lunch Bob would occasionally look past me, admire MBL and say, “She’s magnificent, does she have any friends?” “I’ll tell you what Bob, after lunch you can sit next to her and ask her for yourself.” “I can,” he said anxiously. Sure enough, as soon as he was finished, he took a chair next to her and proceeded to ask her about twenty questions without looking her once in the eyes or even look at her face for that matter. His eyes were definitely focused on her lovely tits. After about five minutes, MBL finally said, “Bob, my eyes are up here, not on my chest.” Without missing a beat, he raised his gaze and continued with his line of questioning looking her squarely in the eyes. A truly remarkable and unflappable gentleman if I ever met one.


Before anyone reads the following part, I want you to know that I used my best efforts to fathom the requisite level of racial sensitivity prior to including it. I tried to call my two black friends in the states to get their opinions, but as you all know, Dirty Harry is no longer available. That quickly narrowed my choices down to either Princess or Honey Bee. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t bounce it off of Princess. Honey Bee, on the other hand, answered his phone on the first ring and agreed to let me read it to him. When he stopped laughing, he told me to include it because he took no offense at what I had written. If you happen to find it offensive, please blame Honey Bee, not me. Yup, here we go again!


After Bob’s finished talking to MBL, he sits down next to me, leans over and asks me about my color preference. “Shit, Bob, I don’t always wear pink shirts like this,” I replied. He got this exasperated look on his face and said, “No, I’m not talking about your shirt for Christ’s sake, I’m talking about black girls,” he responded with an exasperated look on his face “Why does everybody always focus on that aspect of my trips to Rio? Shit Bob, I already told Sandman and the whole fucking board about that Seabird experience in my formative years and how it has permanently affected me.”


“Moreover, if you’ve read my reports carefully and looked at all the pictures, you will see that Roots, Melissa the green eyed girl, Will Smith, the body builder and Lurch aren’t exactly black.” “Yeah, but what about Fawn and MBL,” he asked? “Well, maybe you have a point there, but why are you asking me about black girls?” “I was wondering if you’re able to satisfy them, if you know what I mean,” he inquired. “Why do you ask,” I responded. “Are you that well equipped,” was his next question? “Bob, if I was one of the cars you sell, you would call me the “Entry level model.” Does that give you a better idea of my equipment package,” I replied? “Yeah,” was all he could say.


“If you’re not that well endowed how do you know that you can satisfy them,” was his next question? “What are you getting at,” I asked. “Well, what if she’s used to a bigger plow and then you come along with a smaller one, will she respond to you,” he asked with genuine concern? “Actually, I have this ingenious method of figuring out what size plow was there before me,” I replied. “You do, what is it,” he asked? “I ask each girl I meet to count to five in English,” I confidently replied. “What the fuck does that mean,” he asked? “If she says one, two, three, four, five, I know I can completely satisfy her,” I told him. “What the fuck does that mean,” he repeated with a thoroughly confused look on his face? “Well Bob, if she happens to say one, two, free, foe, I usually just stop her right there and walk away because I know I could never satisfy her.” “No shit!” “It’s absolutely foolproof!”



After I fucked him up with that contorted explanation, he sat down next to Roberto with his Portuguese phrase book to learn some specific phrases, if you know what I mean. Oh yeah, speaking of phrase books, I have to take you back only hours ago to my flight from Sao Paulo to Rio because I forgot to tell you an interesting story. As my luck would have it, the queer stayed on to Rio and two women from New York got on the plane and sat across the aisle from me. Since I hadn’t said one fucking word to the fairy thus far, and rather than start talking to him now, I decided to listen in on the ladies conversation. Apparently the two of them were going to Rio for some fun, just like us guys. Both were about forty years old, thirty pounds overweight and well past their prime. None of us would look twice at them, but at this juncture I had to because they’re my only form of entertainment on the plane.


I had to pay close attention to them and do some serious lip reading to make sure I didn’t miss anything. They said that they had heard that members of the opposite sex are plentiful and willing in Rio. Does that information sound vaguely familiar to any of you? That’s when one of them took out her Conversational Portuguese booklet and started reviewing certain phrases she had highlighted. Unfortunately, they read them silently so I had no idea what type of phrases they were, that is until I saw some phrases on two large 3x5 post-its on the inside cover of her book. She took both of them out and I could plainly read what was written on each.


The first one said in both English and Portuguese, “You are too big for me,” and the second said, “I am very tight.” They both squealed in delight after reading each phrase and I was thoroughly disgusted to learn that I was sitting next to two horny sluts who came to Rio for sex. Women going to Rio to get laid, what will they think of next? I was suddenly struck by the insane thought of Oprah daring to have a show all about men and women going to Rio to find love and sex. I remembered watching Oprah with MBLwhen she had several ladies on who were given DUI’s and how they blamed it on overzealous police officers. In other words, women can do no wrong. Unfortunately, that was the last thing I remember as I drifted off to sleep, only to find myself in one of the worst nightmares imaginable.


There I was on Oprah’s set in Chicago with the two NY bitches to my right on a comfortable couch and Oprah to my left in an overstuffed (just like her) chair. I was in the middle on one of those kitchen stools, perched high above everyone else, not because I was more important than the others, but rather to make me an easier target for her 100% female audience. Her staff had dug up lots of dirt on me and Oprah’s opening salvo started like this: “We understand that you threw your wife out of the house with only a cat to comfort her.” I confidently replied, “Yes, she did leave, but I beg to differ with you Oprah. My ex-wife, the Bitch, said she needed her space, took only the low maintenance cat and left me with all the high maintenance critters, like the kids and the dog.” Oprah shouted instructions offstage to edit my answer to include only the very “first word” of my reply because I used a curse word in my response. Oh shit, I knew right from the onset that this was going to be a long and horrible dream. Christ, if you guys remember, I even have trouble praying without dropping the “F” word.


Oprah’s next broadside started with, “Brazilian Immigration records indicate that you go to Rio ten times a year to have sex with young, inexperienced and inexpensive women. What do you have to say for yourself?” “I wouldn’t quite characterize it like that, but I have been to Rio ten times in the last year. Unfortunately, the girls are getting more expensive as the dollar weakens and there is absolutely no way anyone can say that these women are inexperienced,” I once again confidently replied. When the hissing and boos from the audience finally died down, Oprah again shouted offstage, “Do we have enough usable footage to do a job on him?” Her assistant shouted back “Si,” and when I looked over to stage left, I saw that Oprah’s assistant looked exactly like Fawn and even spoke Portuguese like her. Oh fuck, where was this nightmare going? “Don’t worry Oprah, with proper editing, we can make him say anything we want,” Fawn shouted back.


Oprah wouldn’t let me off the hook easily and decided to toy with me even more when she asked, “Our records indicate that you write up your sexual exploits and anonymously post them online, along with nude pictures, on an all male website. Is this true?” “My stories are meant to be humorous and informative or, in other words, exactly the opposite of this God damn dream sequence,” I hesitantly replied. “Don’t you think it’s sick to go to another country to find sex slaves,” Oprah countered?


My well thought out reply was crafted to completely diffuse the pre-menstrual audience, but as is usually the case with me, it had the exact opposite effect, “What do you mean by sex slave? I overpay each and every girl I’ve been with and I can prove it. Anyway, whoever heard of paying a slave? Being a slave means you don’t get paid.” Suddenly a member of the audience shouted out, “Let’s turn him into a BOBBIT.” When the screams and shrieks finally died down, I said, “What do you mean by that Hobbit remark?” “Not Hobbit, we mean like John Wayne Bobbit,” they all shouted back in unison. Holy shit, the pre-menstrual and post-menopausal bitches were getting restless! I looked for an opportunity to escape, but when I looked stage left there was Fawn and when I looked to stage right there was Lurch. Oh man, this dream is quickly turning to shit.


Fortunately, Oprah turned her attention to the bitches and asked them, “So how many men did you each have in Rio?” The ugly one said, “Ten,” and the really ugly one said, “Six.” It took the audience about five minutes to settle back down as Oprah was saying to each, “Go, girl, go,” over and over again. I timidly spoke up and said, “I always stay with only one woman on each trip.” “Quiet you pervert,” Oprah and the audience hissed at me. “Are Brazilian men good lovers,” Oprah asked? “Yes, much better than American men,” both replied. “Are they bigger too?” “Yes, and I’m glad I had written down a few extra phrases to cover that issue,” the really ugly one replied. She read each of them out loud to wild screams and shrieks of delight from the audience. Oprah then walked up to my stool and started poking me in the arm while saying, “You jerk off.” Startled, I opened my eyes and saw the fucking queer next to me nudging my left arm and saying, “We get off here.” I’ll never watch Oprah again after that fucking dream. Never, and I really mean it this time!


Where the fuck was I before I got side tracked? Oh yeah, meeting the guys from Arizona. Shortly after lunch another individual in their party joined us at the table with his girlfriend, Fabiana. His name is Harry, but he looks almost exactly like Wally Cox, so of course, I nicknamed him Wally. Harry, pardon me I mean Wally, is not on the board, but if anyone deserves an honorary membership because of their actions, it is certainly Wally. I’ll tell you more about Wally and why he deserves the accolades a little later, but now back to my story.


Meanwhile Bob is asking Roberto to translate into Portuguese the following questions: Do you like handcuffs? Can I spank you? I don’t want to go into great detail here about some of his other questions, but let’s just say that Bob is almost as sexually sophisticated as my dear friend Princess. As MBL is hearing Roberto put each phrase into Portuguese, she looks at me and says, “You have some strange friends.”


“Speaking of strange friends, guess who arrives in Rio tomorrow,” I asked MBL? “Who,” she inquired? “Felix,” I replied. “Oh no, not Felix again,” she shrieked. “What’s the matter, you have some problem with my friend,” I asked? “I will not translate for him again,” she firmly stated. “Why, because translating in Help that night made your ass hurt,” I sarcastically replied? “No, the translating didn’t make my bunda hurt, you know why it hurt and I will never let you do that again,” she caustically replied. “Is that a promise,” I asked? “Yes!” “Well, we’ll just see about that,” I replied.


Around 4:00 pm Don suggested we walk over to our apartment, but as we were getting up to leave, Lurch walks right by the restaurant, so Don and I immediately sit back down and order another beer. After we finished them, I got up and looked carefully around and when I didn’t see any trace of Lurch, I suggested we go to the apartment. MBL looks at Don and me like we’re both nuts because we can’t seem to make up our minds. The apartment is right near my favorite cambio, but as soon as I got near the place, I knew there would be trouble staying there. Oh, the apartment was perfect, but it was located on Salad Alley right next to that fucking laundromat that I was thrown out of several months ago. Instead of blue shirts all the staff now wore orange ones with blue piping.


Unfortunately the change in wardrobe didn’t affect their vision as they saw me approaching with Don and MBL. They all gathered around and had a short heated discussion. Within seconds I learned that the discussion centered on me as several of them gave me the finger. I pretended not to notice them standing six feet from me as I prayed for Don to quickly open the door. Once inside, I breathed a sigh of relief as we entered the elevator and then strangely wondered if they would still be willing to do my laundry. As I would later learn, the management and employees of this laundromat held a serious grudge against me for no apparent reason whatsoever.


The apartment is great with an extremely comfortable bed. Don leaves and MBL attacks me in that great animalistic manner that I’ve grown to enjoy. Holy shit, she was fantastic, taking her fingers and putting them inside her body then bringing them up to her mouth and sucking each in a truly dirty and sexy way. Oh man, I was dying and about ready to explode, but she brought my libido to a screeching halt by saying, “God, you stink! Go take a shower.” Oh yeah, come to think of it, I still smelled pretty badly so I went into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Luckily nobody could smell me when we were over at Alcazar because we were outside and it was really windy. Thank God for shitty weather.


The bathroom had been recently remodeled, but I noticed a flimsy new shower curtain where there should have been a nice new glass shower door. Immediately I called Don and asked, “What the fuck is going on, there’s no shower door.” Oh yeah, it was supposed to have been put in this week, but when we realized that we put you in the apartment, we postponed the installation until after you leave,” Don replied. “What the fuck do you mean by that,” I asked?


He then responded with, “Let me explain it to you this way; if you were renting this apartment to someone just like you, would you put in a new shower door before he arrived or after that person left?” “Okay, since you put it that way, I guess I can live with the fucking shower curtain,” was all I could manage to come up with after his cogent explanation. As I hung up the phone, I wondered what some people in Rio must think of me. I’m sure I don’t have a bad reputation; it’s just that Don doesn’t like me. Yeah, that’s it, I’m sure of it.


When I get back in the bedroom MBL tells me that she still smells a horrible odor. Oh shit, I left my blue jeans in the room and now the place smelled awful. “Honey, it’s not me honest, it’s my pants,” I said, trying to comfort her. “I don’t care what smells, just get whatever stinks out of the room,” she practically screamed at me. I found a washer and dryer off of the kitchen and decided to do a mercy wash, but MBL suggested I call Don first.


“Don, how do you work the washing machine,” I asked on my second phone call to him within ten minutes? “You can’t do wash and don’t touch that fucking washing machine,” he screeched at me nervously. “Why?” “Remember that example I used about the shower door; well, the same thing goes for the washing machine,” he said rather calmly. “How about letting MBL use it,” I sheepishly asked? “Okay, but don’t call me again for at least another hour.” “One hour, got it,” I replied. As I was hanging up the phone, I thought I heard him say, “No, I don’t want you to call me in an hour,” but then again, maybe I was mistaken. I’ll call him in an hour just to make sure. Nah, he must really like me, otherwise he wouldn’t ask me to call him back, would he?


As my luck would have it, while MBL started the laundry, I went into the bedroom lay down and watched TV. That was the last thing I remember until MBL wakes me up several hours later and tells me that she’s hungry. Christ, I haven’t even gotten laid yet and she’s already thinking about her second meal of the day. I make her a deal, which I’m sure will get me laid. “Let’s watch cartoons for a while and then go out for dinner. After about ten minutes of the most absurd cartoon I have ever watched, MBL starts to moan and rub herself in that sexy way that I’ve come to love. Thank God, I still have that magic touch! Okay, I know it’s the fucking cartoons, but at least give me a little credit for figuring it all out. Oh shit, I forgot to call Don! “Hello Don, it’s me.” Click!

Jaguar

What a great gift for the holidays, the next installment of the Dummy Chronicles.

Your journals are always bring great enjoyment.

Rocketman

Rocketman,

This has been the most difficult trip report to write because I had to figure out how to handle "Bob's situation" respectfully, honestly and yet with a touch of humor.

By your kind post, I guess I'm doing alright so far. Let's just hope that I don't mess it up in Part Two.

Say hello to the guys in Phoenix for me.

Well Jag I guess you could not even make it through day 1 with out MBL......you even surprised me for I thought for sure it would be day two before you called her in.

Love reading your reports so keep it coming cuss the football today and tonight on TV sucks.....all blow outs for Conference Championships.
Turf

Hi Jaguar

Have you ever thought of writing a book? You have a real gift, your accounts are laugh out loud funny. If you ever come to SA the first round is on me.

TD,

Yeah, Sweetmesquite and I watched both blowouts in The Office accompanied by two bottles of the best Brazilian vino we could find.

BTW,that slingbox gadget is unbelievable. Many thanks Bluestraveller for hooking it up so we all could enjoy the games.

Bluestraveller, you were right,I never should have smoked that cigar at Help the other night. Why the fuck did't I listen to you?

MBL had 3 calls from her girlfriends alerting her to my presence in Rio and last night she found me. She told her girlfriends that I was in Miami fishing(that was my lie to her)and that they probably saw someone who looked like me. That's when the bitches said,"Well, this guy smokes grande cheroots just like him too." My fucking dream vacation came to a complete halt as she moved into my apartment within two hours of finding me. The only good thing about getting caught is that the anxiety is finally over, but now everybody is giving me shit about being on a short leash.

She's mentioned your chili twice today so I think she hinting at an invite, if you know what I mean. Gotta go back to the apartment, I need to accumulate some more "good behavior" time before watching the NFL today.

Isawal,
Thank you very much for the compliment. Someday I might sit down and write a book, but for now I'm having a lot more fun just travelling and writing about my experiences.

MBL is calling, so I gotta go. She's ordering our lunch and I think she's a little out of control. In other words, she's ordering shrimp and anything else expensive on the menu in an effort to punish me for sneaking into town.

Thanks again for your kind words; you made my day.

Jag,

As I understand it, you pay R$12 for a refill of your lighter fluid, since he just takes the lighter you give him, refills it then sells it back to you. Why don't you just buy a can of lighter fluid for like 5 reals and let MBL keep it and your lighters when you leave. Then, when you arrive and meet her at the airport, you'll have a fresh lighter ready to go.

Cat,

You let the fucking "cat out of the bag." I didn't know they were refillable. I'm just wondering how many times I bought back the same damn lighter. This make the umbrella incident pale in comparison because I only did that once, I think.

BTW, Sweet(my adult supervision) convinced me to go into two termas and somehow I managed to injure myself in each, but that's another story. Guess I'm not made for termas or perhaps they're not childproofed enough for me.

Take care my friend,

Jag

Jaguar,

Nice report, as always. You're right, every time anyone stays close to you, they are in trouble. I was sitting next to you in the cab to Centro and at Alcazar and I had six days of nightmare. The nightmare being having the best sexo with 10 garotas, picking up a hot morena from Help, having the pleasure to meet other fellow Americanos and unfortunately leaving the heaven six days later and tasting the withdrawals back in the States.

Have fun in Rio my friend,

WM

Jag,
Busted already? Damn! Is there a JumboTron somewhere in Copa that announces you have cleared customs? Nah, the garota grapevine is the best intelligence network anywhere.
Injured in termas? Ok, add flak jacket, steel-toed sandals and a full coverage helmet to your "things to pack" list. If this does not work, we need to look into getting you a "michellin man" suit...maybe that would help.

Jag,

First off, thank you very much for another great read.

I got to get down to the Office to see how well it all is working. Being a Longhorn, I sort of enjoyed watching one of the blowouts.

I'm calling you out on MBL. Going into Help and smoking cigars that only you smoke, you WANTED to be caught. LOL.

Give me a call and we'll have another dinner party.

Good for you Bluestraveller... the Longhorns are for sure going to kick some Trojan ass on January 4.

Jag,
When I was younger, I couldn't wait for the next Stephen King Novel. Now I look forward to the next installment of the Dummy chronicles. Excellent writing as usual. Now hurry the fuck up will you!!! Oh by the way, the sour jeans incident, been there, done that. Fricking hilarious!
Sparky

Jag, You are definately the best trip report writer on this site. These reports should definately be compiled in a book. Complete with the tales of your home life and the oprah dream. The shit flingers and the catfighting garotas. You may not give as much useful information as say Bwana Dik. I dont read your reports to plan my vacation or dream about rio trips. I read them for entertainment and they touch me. I have already read about the situation with Bob in an other report and I see that you have included him in you current report. I think that you should stay true to your writing style and the beautiful truth of your perspective on life. Be honest and tell your story and Bob's as only you can. This is not just a travelogue. It's Literature. Its humorous and real and fun. With other trip reports I am reading them to see what was done with whom for how much and where. With you I am going on a adventure with a friend to an exotic place. Thank You.

Don't want to hi jack Jag's thread, but I definitely will be in Rose Bowl on Jan 4th wearing burnt orange.

Sparky,

Thanks for the kind words of encouragement. It's for guys just like you that I commit this stuff to paper for everyone to read. Perhaps commit isn't the best choice of words, but you know what I mean.

When you truly love life, there is no better place on this earth to enjoy it to the fullest than in RIO. That's why I keep returning, over and over again. Shit, even if you don't love life, you can still find it here for the right price.

Although I'm in Rio now, I'm working on Part Two so please be a little patient.

Take care my friend,

Jag

Blissman,

You're right, I'm going to have to wear full body armor on my next visit to any termas. The first accident in 4x4 was my fault and had something to do with flip-flops and a banister. The second had absolutely nothing to do with my stupidity; well, then again maybe I contributed a little, but only just a little.

Sweetmesquite was so worried about my injury in 65 that he even offered to share his bottle of vino with me. Okay, he only offered me a glass, but that showed he was at least concerned.

Must go, MBL is calling.

Take care my friend,

Jag

Dreamer,

Not eveyone feels exactly the same way as you do about being my travel companion. Twice on this trip, I have introduced myself to guys sitting right next to me and as soon as they learned my name, they moved away. They all treat me like I'm the St Christopher statue recovered from the wheel house of the Titanic. I just hope we don't loose anyone while I'm in Rio on this trip; once, I can explain away, but twice would be impossible.

Yesterday, I was sitting next to a guy and disaster after disaster befell him, starting with a bird shitting on him and it went down hill from there. He too won't sit next to me anymore.

Just to set the record straight, I am not a bad luck charm! Everything that happens is only a coincidence.

Take care my friend,

Jag

Thats why its great to sit at my computer in brooklyn and read about your adventures from FAR AWAY!

Jaguar

Truly amazing stories of adventuring you do have a good time. I truly look forward to reading of your adventures. Cant wait till part 2

Bluestraveler

I be there at the Rose Bowl too but on the opasite side of the field having graduated from SC in 76.

Scooby

P.S. The Trojans are going to do to the longhorns what they did to UCLA "STOMP EM"

After reading all the good things people have to say about Rio I’ve decided to give it a try unfortunately the earliest trip I can make is in August 2006 (as I have to go to the States) I was wondering if you could help me with some thumb suck budgeting I was thinking along the lines of about US$100.00 excluding accommodation. Do you think that’s in the ballpark or should I budget more?

Thanks

Oops miscalculated the currency converter should be US$220.00 per day.

Isawal,

Whew, $220 is considerably more than what you first posted. What you should do is ask this question in the chat section, you'll get a lot more input using that venue than in this section.

Good luck my friend,

Jag

Thanks for the advice. Have a great trip

Jag -

Just joined this site today because I'm planning my first trip to Rio & I'm going for Carnaval (probably not the best time to go finacially, but I want to experience it)

Your trip recap was the first and only one I have read here and I practicually pissed myself several times with laughter. I'm am trying to convince a friend of mine to join me and I passed on this story becuase its so fucking hilarious. I can tell you referenced people and other stories that I don't know yet it still had me in tears. I can't wait until my trip (Feb 25th-March 6th) Glad I found this site

(Message edited by mdixon06 on December 13, 2005)

Mdixon,

You can't imagine what it is like in Rio; "Heaven on earth" comes close to describing it.

Actually, the best part about Club Hombre is meeting all the guys on the board. I just returned from my last trip where I met another 12 members and I plan to include them in my next report. All great guys just wanting to have fun, especially Bedouin.

Read all the trip reports you can. I didn't and my ignorance is obvious.

Jag

Mdixon,

If you are fortunate enough to live the life in Rio with great guys like Jag, Sweet Mesquite, Don, Ken and all the other Club Hombre members I had the honor of spending time with you will remember the experience the rest of your life.

Have fun and keep your money in your front pocket.

Bedouin

You can put me in that group of
"guys that just want to have fun" too. I'm starting a little early I think, I'm only 32 years old. I think i may have years of "mongering" (love this word and seen it for the first time here) ahead of me. I don't have issues picking up women who are not
"working" but I'm not a big fan of burning to many calories trying to close the deal. Especially when I don't know any Portuguese. I know a little Spanish thats it. Anyway, it would be cool to meet you and some of the others on this site that share my goal of having fun and as much sex as I can handle. Is anyone here planning a trip for Carnaval? I guess I have to search for the area on this site that lists meetings etc.

Thanks for the laughs Jag, I look forwad to reading the other stories.

Mxdixon,

Only 32 and you found this site; you're a fucking genius! I was 56 when I stumbled upon it, which shows you how smart I am.

If I can make one small suggestion, contact Don or Ken at Amerioca Tours. Their services will add immensely to your trip at an extremely reasonable cost. I made the mistake of going to Rio eight times before utilizing their services and now use them on every subsequent trip and haven't regretted it at all.

While I realize taking any advice from me is fraught with danger (just ask TonyEL), I am giving you sound advice now.

Take care my friend,

Jag

Jag, It was great to meet you in Rio for the first time. I look forward to seeing you down in Rio soon.

Erik,

It was great meeting you too! Hope you don't mind me including you in my next report. I promise I'll be gentle on you, but then again....

Jag

I was the one that got shit on by the bird while sitting next to Jag, and like he said that was just the beginning of things going south for the day. What really had me worried was when I found out that we were on the same flight back to the US. After witnessing so many of his self inflicted wounds on this trip I began to wonder if I would make it through the plane ride alive. Luckily the trip home was fairly uneventful. Jag it was greet meeting you, bedouin, sweet and several of the other guys. I can't wait to get back down there and do it all again. I also highly reccomend contacting Don or Ken, they were very helpful during my stay there.

Pappasurf,

It was a blast hitting the termas with you. As I said, you have great taste in women. I hope to see you in Rio soon.

Pappasurf,

Sorry about the bird shitting on you, but you should have taken a chair under the umbrella like the rest of us. By the way, watch out for the bats in the trees at Alcazar.

One night I also wasn't sitting under an umbrella and one of them targeted me. I just left it on my shoulder until MBL put her finger in it and asked me what it was. "Bat Shit," was all I said. She laughed and said, "Americans say the the funniest things," as she wiped her hand in her napkin. I wouldn't hold her hand for days!

Hey, don't complain about me on your plane, you landed safely didn't you? Nellie, did you make it home safely?

Great meeting you and let me know when you are going to Rio again because you're an accomplished wingman and I need all the help I can get.

Take care my friend,

Jag (not Jags)

(Message edited by jaguar on December 18, 2005)

jag
Just got in from Cali, cant wait for part 2
Rambo

Rambo,

What feats of torture did you put your body through on this trip? I can't wait to read all about it.

Part Two will be out later this week. Thank for asking.

Jag (not Jags)

Still waiting on part 2 with anticipation

Later this week my friend,

Jag

Jag-

I'm going to be in Rio in February...hopefully you can make it down then. I want to meet you.

CB

CB,

Looks like I'll be in Rio sometime in mid January, but due to recent unfolding developements, I might be back again in February.

I'll let you know my plans as soon as I figure out what I'm doing. I definately want to meet you too.

Jag (just plain old Jag)

Jag-

I hope that those developments continue to unfold.

CB

CB,

Actually the unfolding developements revolve around a reconsiliation with MBL. We broke up on my last trip. Sweetmesquite, Bedouin and Felix constantly told to me to break the leash, complaining that she was becoming stale material in my reports. I thought,yeah, they must be right or why would they talk to me this way. Then they threw me an astounding curve that floored me.

After we broke up, each of them said in one form or another,"Why did you do that?" "What do you mean why did I do that? You guys convinced me to dump her," I practically screamed at each of them. "We didn't want you to dump her," was all they could say. "Now you tell me!!" Sweetmesquite then told me that he really liked her despite the fact that he told me to dump her each and every day. Living this was worse than that Oprah nightmare!!

So of course, this created another nightmare in my life. That's why they fixed me up with Bia; to take my mind off of MBL. That's when I fucked up Bia's mind in the cabine and, perhaps ruined her career forever.

Two days ago, MBL called at 6:30 AM asking me what I wanted for Christmas. You don't think she was hinting at anything, do you? She told me she was emotionally ill, hoping to get some comfort from me. Shit, I'm emotionally ill and all everyone does is pick on me!! I can't figure out why, can you?

I then told her I needed to build up some trust with her. I don't really know what that means, but each girl in every relationship I fucked up, said exactly the same thing to me. It confused the shit out of me and guess what--it confounded MBL. But she went one step farther, she asked me to explain. Oh shit!! Thinking quickly,I told her I would on my next trip. Can someone help me out here?

Sorry to go on so long, but you know I'm not one for brievity.

Take care my friend,

Jag

Jag,

It's obvious the two of you were meant for each other, just keep track of the per diem this time. Oh, does this mean I have to give her back my sweater?

As far as Bia is concerned, don't worry about her. As we left Luomo saturday night I saw her necking with some eighty year old guy at the bar. She's like the Eveready bunny. Nothing slows her down.

Somehow, I just knew you and MBL were going to make up.

Best wishes,
Bedouin

Bedouin,

MBL is expecting your sweater as a Christmas gift. Call Fed Ex immediately!!

Glad to hear Bia's libido wasn't permanently damaged by our "wonderful" session. She's too talented to retire so soon.

Jag

Here it is Christmas morning and I awake only wanting two things this year for Christmas.First is a lovely GDP, but since I am flying her here in Mid Janurary I guess I will have to wait for that one. The second is, Part 2 of this report promised to us by today. Hey good buddy,which do I have a better chance of? The GDP or the report getting here first!!! FELIX

Felix,

My report is delayed for a very good reason--I had to buy Christmas presents for all my new friends. Shopping for unique gifts for everyone has taken its toll on me.

WTF do you buy Lurch for Christmas? MBL and Fawn were easy, as were Don and Ken. Tigger presented a problem, almost as difficult as Catacony.

Reporter A was a snap, but that fucking Reporter B really messed up my shopping list. Why does he always cause so much fucking trouble?

Last, but not least, I had to give Hombre something , but what? Guess I have to promise I'll behave on the board this year (fingers crossed behind my back.)

So as you can see, I was busy in the Holiday Spirit. For you Felix, I'm giving you a year's supply of "Fuck you Felixes."

Merry Christmas my friend,

Jag