Wednesday, August 27, 2008


Bye, Bye Beijing

Please accept my apologies for not publishing an accounting of our final hours at the Beijing Olympics sooner. I had intended on recording my thoughts on the plane trip back. Unfortunately, at the airport in Beijing, the Chinese authorities discovered that I indeed do not exist. They, therefore, confiscated my laptop, concerned that it might contain imaginary secrets. I think that they actually wanted to dissect my computer, trying to determine if it was truly fantastic

I received a surprise on Saturday. Wanting to take full advantage of my last day in China, I arose early and started packing my bags. I wanted to spend some time in the city before taking in the final women’s basketball game, after which we would be saying our goodbyes to this adventure, or so I thought. Maribel was just returning home from yet another night of revelry, as had been her habit on this trip. She started talking about plans that she had made for after the game, and a great restaurant she wanted to take me to.

“Maribel, my dear,” I said. “We’re leaving after the game. We won’t be here for dinner.”

“Father, dear,” she responded, “all of the players on the girl’s team,” (she calls the U.S. Women’s Olympic Basketball Team the “girls team” for some reason), “will be staying to watch the boys.” (She calls the … well, you get the idea) “I just reminded a few people that we were here with the girl’s team and we were expecting to attend all of the same events that they did. So we’ll be flying back on Monday with them!”

This turned out to be very exciting. Whilst the Women’s team won the gold medal easily, the Men’s gold medal game was very exciting. I was quite exhausted at its conclusion. I do not believe that I have ever enjoyed a game quite so much as that one.

After the game, Maribel was approached by a well-dressed woman who had a heavy, eastern-European accent. She has seen Maribel working out with some of the US Olympic players, and had also talked to her college coach, and asked if she would be interested in trying out for the women’s professional league in Russia. Maribel was terribly flattered, but politely told the woman that she wanted to return home and weight her options, but would be in contact within a week. However, she was giddy all the way home thinking that she might have a chance to continue her basketball career.

So our long trip ended with a long plane ride, and a reunion with Angela and Colette, as well as The Boyfriend. Colette asked a million questions, but after the first hundred thousand or so, I had to ask her to slow down, as I was so tired that I thought that I would fall into a nap in mid-sentence.

I have a few hundred more stories of the 2008 Olympics, but time and space preclude me from presenting them at this point. However, I will save them for future updates. For now, I will simply return to my boring life, my boring job, and my not-at-all-boring family. There might possibly even be a few spankings to tell you about.

It is fair to say, though, and not at all an overstatement, that attending the 2008 Beijing Olympics was truly a fantastic experience.

Friday, August 22, 2008


The End Is Near

It is hard to believe that our Olympic experience is coming to a close. We’re scheduled to depart Saturday, sometime after the gold medal game in Women’s basketball. I am lobbying to stay until Sunday so that we can watch the men’s finals, but we are here courtesy of the women’s team, so I expect that we will respect their schedule.

Earlier in the week I was watching the 100-meter dash finals on one of the big screens that are strategically placed around the city for those who aren’t connected enough to have tickets, which in a city of 26 million, is almost everyone. For those of you who don’t follow sports, the race was won by a gentleman from Jamaica named Usain Bolt. I call him lightning bolt. He is barely 22-years-old, and yet he literally runs faster than anyone who has ever lived, save perhaps one who is not being changed by a hungry animal or someone to whom you owe money. I had mentioned before that Maribel had made acquaintance with a lesser Jamaican sprinter. I asked her if perhaps she could get her friend to allow me to meet Mr. Bolt, but his training schedule is interfering. I may possibly still get the introduction should Mr. Bolt prove to be a basketball fan. The fellow is more of a cricket fan, but fortunately cricket is not an Olympic sport.
Speaking of my eldest daughter, she is truly making the most of her time in China. I do not believe that she has slept since we stepped off of the plane. Morning and afternoon, we attend the various sporting competitions. In the evening, we take in the sights of Beijing and enjoy a nice meal. Afterwards, I return to our room to twiddle with my computer and become reacquainted with my pillow. Maribel, in contrast, investigates the Chinese nightlife. And, in a city this size, there is plenty of nightlife. She seems to have made hundreds of new friends, if the number of text messages she receives is any indication. She usually returns to the room just before sunrise. I usually hear her in the shower when I awake, and I’m frequently an early riser. Her bed appears to be slept in, but I’m quite sure that she just pulls the covers back and rolls around on a it a bit so that I think that she’s slumbered.

This afternoon, we were taking in the men’s basketball semifinal games. We were sitting with the women’s roundball team, and I noticed that Maribel did not seem to be comfortable in her seat. I asked her if there was a problem with her chair. She said that her chair was fine, and that the reason for her discomfort was because her butt hurt.

I did not ask her why her butt hurt. I did not want to know.

The Chinese have been more than gracious Olympic hosts. Almost all of those who live here that we have met speak excellent English. This, to me, is quite extraordinary because there aren’t very many Americans who speak Chinese. Then again, Americans seem to think that their language is uniquely theirs, and the only one that one ever needs to speak. This despite the fact that our language, English, originated in, well, England.

It is time to pack our bags, gather our souvenirs, and say goodbye to the new friends that we have met. We’ll attend our last events, and head back to our humble life in the U.S. China and the Olympics will become a lasting memory. I’ll return to Angela and Colette, the big barn that is our home, and my daily employment that pays the bills. Life will return to the routine. There is, however, one thing that I shall look forward to when life returns to normal. Because I really need a spanking.

Nonetheless, it has been a fantastic trip.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008


Now That I'm In China

So far, our Olympic Adventure has gone quite smoothly. I was briefly detained at customs at the Beijing Airport. The border agent apparently somehow had confused Francis Spakowiak with Franko Spankowicz, who is a (gasp!) journalist from Poland. When the Olympic Representative who was traveling with us pointed out that Franko Spankowicz was 20 years younger than me and that I clearly did not understand even a word of Polish, I was allowed through with apologies. Another border agent asked if Maribel was Courtney Cox. When it was pointed out that Maribel is 20 years younger and six inches taller than Ms. Cox, the agent just looked sheepish.

Beijing is a city of something like 26 million people, 15 million living within the city limits and 11 million in the surrounding suburbs. I come from a city that has maybe
100,000 people, so to me it seems like there are people, shoulder to shoulder, everywhere. I have yet to take an elevator with fewer than 20 people in it. Even though Beijing was founded 2500 years ago, it seems like almost everything is completely new. Of course, that’s because most of it was built since 1980. The rest was built around 180. What isn’t spectacularly new is spectacularly old.

We have spent our days watching various events and our evenings taking in Chinese culture. We’ve
seen many basketball games, although I have skipped some of the USA games because I did not think they would be competitive (which they weren’t). I’ve watched a few team handball games. If you’ve ever seen team handball, you know why I think it is a fun and exciting game. If you haven’t, you probably think that I’m odd. We’ve also seen a little swimming, some volleyball (the indoor variety), badminton and table tennis, as well as softball and baseball. Some of the tickets were supplied by the Olympic Committee. I won’t talk about how I obtained the others because I scalped them and the Chinese authorities get very mad at scalpers. I have not watched any gymnastics because if I want to watch little girls do somersaults, I’ll go down to my local schoolyard.

We have discovered some excellent Chinese restaurants. Not Chinese like the ones so ubiquitous in th
e U.S. These were real Chinese where real Chinese people eat. Maribel befriended one of the players on the Chinese women’s basketball team (so it wasn’t Yao Ming), and she directed us to a few excellent establishments. They weren’t fancy, they weren’t expensive, they were more like a mom and pop diner, but they were fabulous. I would tell you more about what I had except that I cannot pronounce their names or their ingredients. That was fine by me as they tasted, well, fantastic.

On Friday evening, Maribel had a date with a Jamaican sprinter, a handsome and limber gentleman. Being old and poopie, I went to bed early while my daughter went dining and dancing with one of the finest athletes in the world. She returned to our room just before sunrise. When I asked her how she had spent her time, she said she and her escort had hooked up with several other Jamaican and American athletes and talked basketball all night. They were impressed that she had met and played with the US Women’s basketball team. I wondered if she had perhaps engaged in other activities that involved removing one’s clothes, but, after she returned, she talked on the phone for an hour with The Boyfriend, telling him in considerable detail about her night. If she had slept with someone, I don’t think she would have been so animated with him.

We will spend the morning watching some of the track and field activities, then head for the basketball arena for the men’s quarterfinals. Afterwards, I will probably have a light dinner and spend some time with my pillow, whilst Maribel has plans to drink with beer with some members of the basketball crew, although not players as the women’s team will be in the semifinals on Thursday.

I was afraid that I might get bored watching so much sports in two short weeks. However, the experience is so much more than the competitions. Meeting so many folks from other parts of the world, sharing their experiences, learning about the history and culture of this ancient and modern country. I have also learned so much about how sports are viewed in other countries. So many athletes truly compete only because they love their sport. They will never make any money, never become world renown, but they are already heroes in their own countries because they are here. I find their stories more interesting than those of the superstars because they are more courageous, more refreshing, and, if I may say so, more fantastic.

Monday, August 11, 2008


Almost There

This is being written from high above the Pacific Ocean. The lights in the cabin have been turned off as the flight crew has decided it is time for us to be sleeping. Since Beijing is 13 hours ahead of where the Spanko residence sits, I’m not whether or not this will help aid in avoiding jet lag. However, a few million last minute details as well as the excitement of the upcoming trip caused me to get little more than a nap last night. A long limo ride to the airport (I’m going to the Olympics, for goodness sakes, I’m not taking a bus), what seemed like hours getting through security screening, an hour sitting in the terminal, another half-hour on the tarmac, and by the time the plane was in the air, I was ready for a nap. So now, at the prescribed snooze time, I’m not especially tired. Since the rest of the plane is mostly quiet, I decided to take this time to do some journaling.

Since the last sundown that I experienced with my feet on the ground, I have lost all sense of date and time, but I believe that it was Wednesday evening when Angela and I partook in our planned Olympic Spanking. Armed with the huge number of suggestions (one) received from my esteemed readers, we designed our kinky little games. We decided to start with Opening Ceremonies, a nice, warm, ten swat paddling for each of us, to start things off. From there we would go to the diving competition, a belt spanking with the spankee in the position of a swan dive. Next would spanking gymnastics, being spanked while hanging onto the high bar, draped over the pommel horse, and then the freestyle spanking. Next there was the fencing tournament, with the swords replaced by a thin, flexible plastic rod (actually the handle of a former cat toy). Whomever lost the point had to be whacked across the butt with the same rod. Finally there would be track and field, where we designed a spanking pentathlon. That’s five events for those of you who are bad counting in Greek. The events were the 100-meter dash (100 swats with a hairbrush delivered as fast as one could), the hurdles (placing a two-inch-wide board across the spankee’s butt and being spanked with a belt around it), the high-jump (the spankee would jump in the air and the spanker had to try to hit their butt … if you hit their legs you lost a point), the long jump (seeing how far one could jump after getting whacked with a paddle), and the 1500 (the spankee had to count to 1500 as fast as they could while they were bend over and well paddled). We would conclude with Closing Ceremonies, which we decided to design later.

We were working on an excuse to go over to the guest house when Maribel came in and announced that she needed to do some “last minute shopping” and that she was taking Colette with her to help. We were more than happy to let them go, and even gave them fifty bucks to make sure that they didn’t “forget” anything. When the girls were off, we still headed for the guest house, since our kinky furniture was there, without needing an excuse. Once we were inside, the drapes closed, and the air conditioning cranked up, we wasted no time in removing our pants. It is so much more comfortable without pants.

After our Opening Ceremonies, we began the competition. The diving competition spanking turned out to be a trifle trickier than originally planned. It seems that holding a “swan dive” position when one is on dry land is very difficult. However, these were the Olympics, so we were determined to improvise. With strategically placed pillows and cushions, one could comfortably get into some semblance of a “swan” pose. Once posed, it was an effective position in which to receive the belt. When Angela concluded, I was one well-whipped swan.

Angela took her turn as the gracefully-spanked bird, and then we proceeded to spanking gymnastics. I hung a wooden rod horizontally from a hook in the ceiling, and reached up and grabbed it. I am rather tall, so, with my arms held straight up over my head, I can just touch the ceiling. So I wasn’t dangling, but rather just stretched out with my feet flat on the floor. Angela chose a short but sturdy strap, and gave me a nice thrashing. I couple of her strokes stung quite seriously, and I danced around a trifle. This caused Angela to “deduct points” and gave me a couple of swats across my thighs, causing me to dance somewhat more.

I attached a chain to the bar to lower it so that Angela could reach it. It turned out that Angela’s “target” was easier to strike when she was slightly reaching forward. Angela danced around quite a bit, but when I “deducted points,” rather than striking her thighs, I would tickle her. Angela acts really cute when she’s tickled.

We have a “spanking horse” if you will, so we took turns draping ourselves over it and tanning each other’s hides with a strap. For the freestyle spanking, I took ten strokes with the strap in five different positions over the sofa. I had Angela assume a number of different ways of touching her toes whilst I lashed her with a cane.

As you might imagine, the fencing competition disintegrated into silliness rather quickly. We were both quite naked by this time, so I’m sure we looked rather ludicrous dancing around trying to touch each other with our little plastic “swords”. The plan was that, whomever got the first touch would spank the other with the little plastic “sword.” This worked for one or two rounds, both of which I lost. I found the plastic rods wonderfully stingy. The next round resulted in an argument over who got the first touch, so we decided to call it a tie and spank each other.

When we resumed, I decided that it would be more fun if I were to aim my little plastic stick for Angela’s cute little tushie rather than just touching her. I quickly darted in and flicked my wrist, catching her on the side of her bum. This caught her by surprise, and she momentarily gaped at me. I gave her little whipping, and when we began fencing again, Angela tried the same maneuver on me. We ended up dancing around in circles as we tried to smack each others’ butts. We twirled faster, and I started to back-pedal, when I danced into the back of the sofa and fell backwards over it. Angela’s momentum caused her to follow me over, and she landed on top of me, laughing hysterically.

She stopped laughing. Suddenly she planted a big, wet kiss on my lips. “I’m going to miss you, Frank Spanko,” she said. This caught me somewhat by surprise.

“I shall miss you too, Angela Jane Spanko,” I responded. Jane is not really her middle name, but I think it sounds cute, so I will occasionally employ it. “But I’ll be back before you know it, and I’ll have plenty of exciting stories to relate to you.” Together, we rolled so that we were now laying properly on the sofa. Angela kissed me again, this time longer and deeper. It was then decided that the Spanking Olympics had concluded, and without further ado, we proceeded directly to the Closing Ceremonies.

After, shall we say, the torch had been extinguished, Angela said, “We’d better get back to the barn. The kids will be back any minute, and I promised Maribel that she and The Boyfriend could have the guest house for the night. They’ll probably have their own Spanking Olympics.” This last statement made me cringe. I don’t mind that my daughter is a spanko, but I don’t want to know that some other man will be doing to my little girl that I just did with Angela. Fathers are just like that, I guess.

So now the cabin lights are starting to come up and the flight attendants look like they are preparing to serve breakfast. It won’t be long before the plane lands and our Olympic adventure begins. There will be so much to do that I’d better save my strength and my words for when we reach Beijing. I have a feeling that every new experience will simply be fantastic.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008


The Olympics And You

About eight years ago, in March, a friend and I took a trip to Florida to watch some spring training baseball. My darling wife was not thrilled about being left with two children for ten days whilst I relaxed in the sun and enjoyed our nations favorite pastime (besides spanking, or course). She did acquiesce to my going, however, as long as I paid the appropriate price. She promised me that I would not be able to sit comfortably throughout the trip.

Although she did not exactly succeed in achieving her stated goal, the spanking that she gave me the evening before I left was felt for several days. I probably spent the better part of an hour bent over with my pants down. She warmed up with a hairbrush and a paddle, then applied a variety of canes and rods to me with gusto to make sure that the bruises were nice and deep. She interspersed these with ten or fifteen paddle swats, swinging with most of her might. She then followed up with a nice whipping with a length of coaxial cable, double over. This made the surface of my poor cheeks nice and tender. She then finished up with another nice, long session with the hairbrush. The plane ride down was particularly uncomfortable, and I did some squirming for the next couple of days, but fortunately after four or five days I could no longer feel her work. There were, however, still marks remaining on my butt from my punishment when I returned home.

The reason why I relate this little anecdote is because, since I will be gone for just over two weeks and am unlikely to get spanked whilst in China, Angela has promised a spanking that I will remember throughout the trip. She has started referring to it as an “Olympic Spanking.” Now, to be fair, I felt that, since Angela is also quite unlikely to feel the burn on her bottom when I’m gone, I have assured her that she, too, will receive a memorable paddling. So perhaps what we will have is the “Spanking Olympics.”

Indeed, this could have all kinds of silly results. The 100 swat dash. The marathon strapping. Kay-whacking. The 200 meter belt stroke. Such are the possibilities that I’d like to invite you, my loyal and brilliant readers, to offer your suggestions on an Olympic-themed spanking. Tell me what you think would be an appropriate spanking prior to the beginning of the Games. I’ll take the best suggestions, use them on Angela, or she on me, and then relate to you the results. This way, you, too, can say that you’ve participated in a fantastic spanking.

So all that remains to be done before I leave is for me to pack my bags, say my goodbyes, and, with your help, participate in an Olympic-sized spanking. I look forward to all of it, even if I will end up sitting on a bruised butt on a 24-hour plane ride. But what could be better than the Olympics with my daughter and a spanking with my wife? And by sending me your suggestions, you, too, can be a spanking Olympian!

Saturday, August 02, 2008


Frank Catches You Up

With all of the excitement of the Olympics, I have neglected to report the outcome of the exhibition basketball game between the Women’s Olympic Basketball team and a team that consisted of my daughter, Maribel, and 11 other players whose names I shall not bother to mention because that would mean that I would have to make them up and I’m too lazy to do that at this time.* Therefore, I shall correct that oversight.

Maribel’s team lost, 106 to 80. Women’s basketball legend and Olympic coach, Anne Donovan, paid Maribel’s team a high complement, I think, by saying, “Those ladies played very well against us. Before the game I thought we’d win by at least 50.”

Indeed, Maribel’s team held their own on the offensive end. However, the Olympic Team is incredibly talented and it seemed like they could not miss a shot. Maribel was brilliant, at
least in my opinion, scoring 21 points, and adding 8 assists and 14 rebounds. She also blocked three shots, including one by Candice Parker. She was usually covered by Parker, Lisa Leslie, or Sylvia Fowles, all of whom are taller than she, and yet she was still able to get off shots or find open teammates. Maribel also played tough defense, forcing the Olympians to take many outside shots. However, they made most of those shots, hence the eventual wide difference in the score. Maribel says she does not want to play professional basketball, but her play did have a few interested parties taking note.

On a different topic, you may have heard on the news that, despite promises to the contrary, China is restricting access to certain internet sites. Among those expected to be censored are those that are “morally questionable.” It is expected that virtually all blogs will be restricted because their authors just might say something critical about Chinese government. Spanking blogs will likely be right out because the Chinese masters don’t seem to think as highly of spanking as we dedicated spankos are. I guess that flaming bamboo shoots up ones fingernails are okay, but spanking is not. Some people just have no sense of humor.

You probably think that means that Fantastic Spanking will therefore be dark for a couple of weeks, or that I might publish prewritten material whilst I am away. Fear not, my loyal readers. I shall be offering regular updates from Beijing. Now, you may be wondering how this is possible. The answer is simple. Since I am indeed an imaginary being, I can do anything I want. There are advantages to not actually existing.

My passport has arrived. The plane tickets are here. My bags are packed. Okay, that last one isn’t true as I never pack for a trip until the last possible instant. However, the excitement level continues to rise as the Games get closer. Maribel talks about the trip 24 hours a day, even when she is sleeping. I just remain silent and smile. And, of course, I share my thoughts with you, my loyal readers. And I do that because, well, because anyone who reads my thoughts simply must be fantastic.

* - Longest run-on sentence in the history of Fantastic Spanking.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?