© 2012 Timmy Tamisiea. All rights reserved. A porn star I am not.

213/365 – Naked and Proud (Or, Don’t Scare The Chinese Kid Across the Street)

I am a lot of things.  Weird, maybe.  Hyper at times.  Quick tempered.  Maybe even sexy . . . shut up, readers!  All 6 of you.

One thing I am not is shameful.  I have no shame.  Not really.  Well, at least not to the extent that Patrick Tamisiea has shame.  That kid will strip down to a American Flag speedo and a bow tie, turn on techno music and chase Chinese delivery men on their bikes around the Lakeview neighborhood . . . granted, not entirely original, but perfected none the less:


The fact is, a lack of shame does run in the family.   My brothers and I are chock full of bad taste and social delinquency. (Pat being at the top of the food chain.)  I mean, how much shame must a man have to do this:

Of course, the real shame of that night wasn’t captured on video.  Later, when the Lansing, MI cops showed up and berated me, I couldn’t understand why they were so mean.  Till I remembered I was dressed like as Randy the White Trash aficionado.  This is the family Megan Green has married into.  A family of men who test limits, live on lines and push buttons.

These band of brothers.  These kings of New England.  These ass holes.

These band of brothers. These kings of New England. These ass holes.

This shamelessness in terms of my marriage could not be more evident when it comes to nakedness . . . My nakedness, that is.  Not Megan’s.  That;s none of your business.  My nakedness is everyone’s business.  The fact of the matter is, my apartment is my apartment and if people are peeking in my windows, they deserve to see the black hole that is my body.  So I don’t mind going onto the front room to grab my phone after a shower.  I don’t mind entering the kitchen for some water when I’m in my birthday suit.  I don’t care if I’m all balls in the dining room.

BUT, guess who does?


What’s funny is that on a larger scale, sure, it’s in bad taste and maybe someone on the street will see me.  BUt really, have you ever looked in a 2nd story window.  It’s kinda hard to see below the navel area.  Unless you’re doing jumping jacks . . . in which case, yeah, you just might see my manhood.  On a more specific level, Megan is actually more afraid that the Chinese kid with down syndrome who lives across the street will see me.  She’s afraid I’ll really screw that kid up.  I’m of the opinion that 1) he ca’;t see into the apartment anyway and 2) if he can, he’ll learn his lesson quickly.

Suck it, Chinese kid!

I mean, if this were some weird version of Rear Window and I was killing Megan, sure, little Chinese down syndrome  boy’s gonna be scared for life.  It’ll be like some twisetd version of Witness.  But, no.  It’s me and all my glory.  And while I’m not exactly the specimen NASA is looking for when they consider hujkan for repopulation on a distant pkanet colony, I’m not the Elephant Man . . . right?  RIGHT?  Thank you.

A porn star I am not.

Megan’s fear of this kid watching me seems unfounded.  I highly doubt the kid is siting on a recliner in front of his bedroom window, bowl of popcorn in hand, just hoping for a glimpse of Timmy.  If he were some fashion model (male or female – Timmy’s body does not discriminate), the I could totally see that secenerio.  However, he;s not a fashion model.  At least I have no evidence of that.  He’ more likely to be looking at Playboys than my body.  Or his mom’s Victoria’s Secret catalog.  I mean, I did . . . sorry mom.

She is NOT happy.

So, with one month to go in his apartment Megan and I first called home, I will do my best not to embarrass her.  I’m more worried about her wellbeing than the Chinese down syndrome kid across the street.  Besides, he probably can run circles around both of us when it comes to internet piracy . . . internet porn piracy . . .


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