Half Past Maria

Observation

2007-04-18T14:54:00.000-05:00

All of my exes were either vegetarians already or became vegetarians during or after their relationship with me.

White Man Ban

2007-03-21T01:10:00.000-05:00

So I've noticed a bit of a problem now that I'm done with white boys (The White Man Ban, if you will).

Here in the land of milk and honey, there's an awful lot of Caucasian floating around. And not much sexual chocolate, Latin heat, or... whatever clever phrase you want to tag boys of the Asian persuasion.

Having sex with white men was like shooting fish in a barrel; they're everywhere and always eager to lay a brooding girl with long black hair and a wan complexion instead of the rosy-cheeked, bouncy blondes that account for 90% of a bar's clientele on any given night. But now my barrel is empty. It's so fucked up; I look right through them now like they're not even there. I'll scan the room for men of color and, if I don't see any, declare the place a bust and move on to the next bar.

I haven't been laid in two months, people.

This must be remedied. But how? I guess I just need to find the non-white boys, because they're not hanging out at my regular haunts. Where can a creamy sister find a nice brotha? Or a sweet Chicano with interests ranging beyond marriage and procreation? I've already had a couple of Southeast Asian guys -- come to think of it, they're some all-stars in my sexual hall of fame -- but I can't remember how I met them. Where do those boys hang?

Over Them

2007-02-28T01:30:00.000-06:00

I'm off of Midwestern white boys. I don't want to talk about it tonight, because it's way too late to go into all the bulletpoints of why I'm swearing them off, but I just wanted to announce it now.

Libra Woman

2007-02-20T18:28:00.000-06:00

More from Sextrology: The Astrology of Sex and the Sexes:

Libra woman is the zodiac's activist: The most principled person on the astrological wheel, she can't separate herself from her aerial convictions. To her, the world requires a redesign, as it lacks the very ideals that she most urgently seeks to project... Of all women, Libra is most comely and fair--rarely one ever to be labeled sultry or even sexy--but on this score, and many others, Libra's looks can be deceiving. Prized for her demure charms, she may risk being objectified as ornamentation, classy arm candy used by men for their own validation or as a means of impressing others. Meanwhile, her own agenda in love is to fall in with a true friend and equal, a liberal freethinker who shares her infamous love of the arts and all things aesthetic, as well as her often radical political views and egalitarian visions.

... Here, in the sign of Scales, beauty, grace, and charm are elevated to the status of abstract principles. As such, Libra woman sees the world as a system of inherently divine order, a unified environment ruled by the cosmic law of cause and effect, wherein justice will, and indeed must, be done. In Lybian mythology it is the goddess Libera (Greek: Astroarche, Roman: Astraea), the Lady of the Scales, who enacts the equalizing effects of karma on the universe. And, anybody intimately acquainted with a Libra woman would readily agree that, when she walks into a room, one can't help but think: Here comes the judge... In her defense, Libra's intentions are typically for the democratic good, as least as she perceives it. Strictly speaking, no matter how tough a form or manner her proclamations take, this sharp-witted daughter of Venus acts out of love, albeit not as personal expression but rather as a universal prescript.

The sign of Libra is associated with the ages 42-49, the famed female prime of life, when a woman's focus shifts from childbearing to childrearing--bringing up, teaching, and preparing offspring for adulthood. Indeed, such an epoch is distinguished by the imparting of knowledge, the instilling of ideals, and the designing of future fates of those under one's protection. The literary character who has most poignantly immortalized this period of prime is Miss Jean Brodie--the name Jean means gracious and merciful, and Brodie is derived from broderie (embroidery), as the charismatic character is, like all Fate goddesses, a weaver of destinies. Throughout her life, Libra woman draws on this prime archetype, forever taking on the role of the freethinking, if not freewheeling, instructor who enlightens and empowers others, indeed casting her charges into such roles as she sees fit... Libra assigns everyone she meets with a purpose, particularly those individuals who might be of service to her, Still, she sees others in their best light--so much so that one is often hard-pressed to live up to her expectations. She may sometimes miss the mark, prejudging rashly, over- or underestimating one's talents or, one of her most notable flaws, failing to sniff out self-serving hidden agendas. So preoccupied is Libra with grand conceits, putting her beautiful all-seeing notions and ideals "out there", that she can be oblivious to the intricacies of life looming just under her nose.

Famous Libra women: Gwyneth Paltrow, Monica Bellucci, Rita Hayworth, Linda McCartney, Susan Anton, Sigourney Weaver, PJ Harvey, Ani DiFranco, Janeane Garafolo, Emily Post, Donna Karan, Barbara Walters, Annie Liebowitz, Mary McFadden, Anne Rice, Moon Zappa, Sarah Ferguson

Entertainment

2007-02-14T14:45:00.000-06:00

You gotta love Maury for keepin' it real, even on Valentine's Day. Today's episode is a smorgasboard of paternity tests, lie detector tests, and cheating spouses caught on tape.

Okay, I realize that these people are, for the most part, desperate to just be on television, and not like the aforementioned Tyra and Montel guests of higher esteem. But isn't it kind of funny when they get booed as they come onstage?

So how have I spent this most special lovers' holiday? Getting a PAP. At least she was gentle.

More Real Reality

2007-02-01T13:35:00.000-06:00

Daytime TV is so awesome today. First, Tyra has a bunch of models on her show to talk about anorexia and eating disorders and how the typical model's image destroys teenage girls' self-esteems. Then Montel has people addicted to Vicodin, one of which is a lady who's already popped 20 by the time they started taping the show.

This stuff is the original reality TV, so everyone who looks down their nose on those of us that live for these talk shows can bite me. Keep your American Idol or Survivor or whatever. This stuff is ten times more real.

Decisions, Decisions

2007-01-26T00:05:00.000-06:00

The cable company jacked up all their prices and, for some reason, Internet only now costs the exact same as Internet + Basic Cable. I suspect the jack-up in price is a ploy to get me to upgrade my Internet-only service by adding a few channels to my TV lineup, thereby making me hungry for more. Sure, I have TBS and I can watch all the Seinfeld and Friends reruns I want, but all my friends have Basic 2 Cable, which means they have Bravo and are watching The Real Housewives of Orange County.

"Oh, you haven't seen it? You gotta watch it. What do you mean you don't have Bravo? I thought you said you had cable."

I just can't justify the cost of going with Basic 2 Cable, though. It's like another $15.00 a month. However, I totally went for the Basic Cable trick (which is the same price as just Internet, remember) and had the cable guy over here a couple of days ago to install it. Amber and D were also here to help me kill time during the 3-hour appointment window.

So the guy gets here, does what he has to do, then passes me his phone number in the kitchen before he leaves. Why? He says he can come back in a few weeks and juice me up to Basic 2 Cable for free. But he has to wait a while, since the cable company comes out to follow up on installation appointments to, of course, make sure their guys aren't juicing up customers for free.

So here's the question: Do I call the guy in a couple of weeks?

It's certainly not an ethics issue; I don't give a God damn about the cable company not getting the extra $15.00 per month from me, especially after jacking prices up so much in the first place. My problem with calling the cable guy is that I totally wasn't attracted to him, and I don't want to do anything besides buy him a beer or two in exchange for his extra services. What if he takes a real shine to me? Not only does the guy know where I live, but he knows what kind of locks I have on the doors.

Cultural References

2007-01-21T20:31:00.000-06:00

I just saw an Arby's commercial with a pretty obvious Seinfeld reference. Have you seen that one? "They're real, and they're spectacular."

Is it just me, or are Seinfeld references are like a second language that everybody speaks? My spell check doesn't even flag "Seinfeld".

Alone

2007-01-17T00:05:00.000-06:00

Every living creature on Earth dies alone. That's how it goes, right? It seems like such a sad thing to think about, but I actually get great relief just from saying it out loud.

Every living creature on Earth dies alone.

Some of us are born apart from others. Not close to our mothers, not close to our fathers. Too young or too old to connect with our siblings, if they're even still alive. Two or three friends, no one so close. Slipping into romantic relationships, gliding out just as easily, knowing that the other person never had the ability to get close to you in the first place.

Who has that ability? Who can get close to me? No one, but it's okay. Once I realized that I will, in the physical and/or emotional senses, be alone until I cease to exist, I was just fine.

I am happy. My family, my friends; I'm grateful that they're near me, healthy and alive. They mean everything to me. And I am capable of having the occasional fulfilling emotional encounter with someone I'm fucking. Don't misunderstand me; I'm not crying over here. I'm just saying it's a thing I've made peace with, however sad it sounds. I'm always alone, but it's okay.

Mammaries

2007-01-04T02:05:00.000-06:00

I always feel a little cheated, the months when I get the soreness but not the swelling.

Idle

2007-01-03T21:31:00.000-06:00

I have to move.

Shift. Shake. Slide.

Do something, go somewhere. I feel idle, like stagnant. My surroundings haven't changed in too long. My apartment, my car, my friends.

I need to move.

Why, when everything seems to be going just fine, is there still that first tiny then looming feeling that something's gotta change now before everything falls apart?

Sick

2006-12-20T17:41:00.000-06:00

Damn, the neti pot really works. The concept is slightly icky, the sensation is quite strange, and the taste of salt water running through your nasal passages isn't exactly pleasant, but, my God, I can breathe again.

Just thought I'd let everyone know I'm still alive, but with debilitating sinus issues. It just sucks because there's nothing I hate more than sitting home and healing. I have nothing to do. I don't feel like going out. I look like shit. I'm stuck here, and the worst part about that is, I know it's the best thing for me.

At least the cat keeps me company, even though she just sleeps all damn day. I wish I could sleep like that.

Which person do you go to when you need soup and medicine, when you're the one who's everyone else's go-to person? Add that to the list of reasons to have a boyfriend:

1. To help carry groceries
2. To run to the store when you're sick

After a year of being single, that's still all I've got.

Bangin'

2006-12-13T02:00:00.000-06:00

Flirtatious Married Restauranteur: "Damn girl, you're bangin'."

[He rubs my thighs and back.]

Me: "You're married."

FMR: "Yeah, but I'm not dead. Besides, what am I supposed to do? You can't come over here looking like that and not expect me to want you."

Me: "I can do whatever I want. I'm not the married one. I'm not even dating anyone."

FMR: "Yeah, well girls who say they aren't dating anyone are actually dating everyone."

*****

I had no comeback for that one. It made me want him, actually. Imagine that.

Signs

2006-12-03T17:19:00.000-06:00

So Amber told me over lunch the other day that it's prime time for Scorpios to get their romantic swerve on. Something about all of our planets or moons or something being in alignment this week. Step right up, boys.

Scorpio Woman:

Nobody has a higher opinion of herself than the Scorpio woman. Too self-possessed to struggle, Scorpio achieves her ambitions by amassing supporters who pave the way, if not roll out the red carpet, for her. She oozes feminie allure and forboding egotism in equal measure, bidding would-be mates to "come hither", but to do so at their own peril. The zodiac's indisputable femme fatale, she appears unmoved by a man's advances, using such insouciance to bait him into working ever-increasingly for her attention. She's all mystery, wearing a perpetual poker face--cajoling, challenging, and holding all the cards.

Nobody has a better handle on her own feelings than the Scorpio woman. As the zodiac's only fixed water sign, the element symbolizing emotion, she seeks to control sensation so as to never have it control her. Indeed, this fixed-water status can often make her seem frozen.

Scorpio woman wears an expectant expression, as if perpetually watching and waiting for something to occur, or someone to arrive. In conversation, she anticipates one's every word, often hurrying conversation along with quick nods or hissed yeses, visibly annoyed by even slight digressions. Never much satisfied with face-value discourse, she scans for signs of subtext, disingenuousness, or deceit, noting the ease or lack thereof in a person's voice or mannerisms. Befitting her fixed-water status, Scorpio woman is like a crystal radio, zeroing in on unspoken signals.

Even when convinced a man isn't "the one", she'd still rather take him on, as a hobby if not a hubby, occupying her mind with making him over in her image--chewing him up only to spit him out again, to her mind, better than she found him. In this and most of her relationship scenarios, Scorpio is convinced she's doing a man a favor by being with him, whether for a fortnight or forever. As vampiristic as it may sound, any man she takes up with is in some way hers, everlastingly. Given the indelible mark she makes on the men she's been with, they'd all be first to agree.

Famous Scorpio women: Parker Posey, Winona Ryder, Toni Collette, Jodie Foster, Vivien Leigh, Margaret Mitchell, Grace Kelly, Demi Moore, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Calista Flockhart, Bjork, kd Lang, Fran Liebowitz, Georgia O'Keeffe, Sylvia Plath, Marie Antoinette, Indira Gandhi, Marie Curie.

From Sextrology: The Astrology of Sex and the Sexes

Sounds perfect! Any takers?

Asshole

2006-11-30T01:38:00.000-06:00

Some boys don't deserve their Blue Moon.

What kind of guy walks out on the fuck of the year? Just because I want to capture our precious moment on film?

Lame.

I know it's not me, so it's gotta be him. Who the hell does he think he is?

On an unrelated note, if Amber keeps frequenting Ground Zero, it's only a matter of time before she runs in to my ex-boyfriend. He doesn't really fall into the category of "you don't know what you're missing, asshole" since he sorta came out of the closet after we broke up.

Should I have picked up on the signs while we were together? His penchant for shemale porn, his complete lack of interest in breasts, his nightly request to get blindfolded, whipped, and blown prior to anal-only sex?

Probably. But I had a lot of other shit on my mind at the time.

Preferences

2006-11-29T12:01:00.000-06:00

5 Beers I'd Rather Drink Than Blue Moon (But Sometimes a Girl's Gotta Make Sacrifices):

5. Budweiser (It's the King.)
4. Dos Equis Amber (Con lima, por favor.)
3. WARSTEINER (In CAPS because whenever saying WARSTEINER, one should always sound like they front a German goth metal band. WARSTEINER!!!)
2. McEwan's Scotch Ale (One of few heavyweight beers I'll actually drink, partly because it's so damn strong.)
1. Hoegaarden (My favorite Belgian white. Fruity, snappy, delicious!)

I'm Actually Not

2006-11-21T02:01:00.000-06:00

Ugh, what a boring start to what promises to be a lame week. Nothing of interest over on Missed Connections, the only item in entertainment news is O.J.'s book being pulled (big fucking surprise), Diablo's contemplating dying her pubic hair pink (actually not a bad idea; I may join her), and the Minneapolis police fucked up again.

Yawn.

Just get me through this week, just get me through this week. Can't I even count on the internet to get me through this week?

Thanksgiving is my absolute least favorite holiday of the year, as I usually spend it surrounded by people I barely know. People I've barely known for the last 29 years. I prefer to crawl into a corner and stick my nose in a fashion magazine for the duration. A little trick Steve taught me, actually, except he does it with a tome. Works every time; these people who've known you for three decades are just relieved that they don't have to labor through awkward post-dinner conversation.

"So... what is it you do again? I can never quite understand your job."

"I'm a prostitute, but don't tell Grandma. What do you think of these fingerless gloves?"

It's a bullshit holiday, anyway. How many other countries celebrate genocide with a gorging feast?

Numbers

2006-11-13T19:48:00.000-06:00

Him: "Have you ever made... 'a list', and then over the following days, kept 'remembering' people to add to that list?"

Me: "You know, I hadn't done that in years, but recently decided that it was time again. I got first and last names for everyone except That Guy in the Blue Hoodie. So what do you have? Come on, you can tell me."

Him: "Are we keeping score? If so, you have to tell me first. I do have two Melissas, a couple Jennifers, and a couple Angelas. I got nobody named Maria, however. I tried."

Me: "I've got two Petes, but otherwise no duplicate names. I'm at an even 30, counting two girls."

Him: "No kidding, I'm at 31. But that counts these two girls in Thailand. Technically, it was one event. Does that count as two still? If not, we're tied. I didn't even pad the numbers with 'close calls' either."

Me: "Wouldn't it be fun to start a Myspace-type website of people you've slept with? It would bring the whole 'you've had sex with everyone your partner's had sex with' STD-awareness thing together with the six-degrees of separation aspect of social networking sites. Think of how many people you and I have shared. We've probably done each other twice over."

Him: "I wonder if we have any overlap? We should definitely try to fix that."

Me: "I'm guessing if we actually sat down and thought about it, we'd find more friends in common, then some sort of overlap. Of course, we could always just cut right to the chase."

Him: "I'm all for cutting right to the chase. And I just decided to start a second list of 'People, No Matter What My Current Situation is, I Would Bend the Rules to be With'. In case you were wondering, yes, you made the list."

Me: "I don't have a 'current situation', but I'll also make a second list and put you on it."

Him: "I'm so flattered! I got on a list. Now it's time to get on that other list."

Snacks

2006-11-12T21:14:00.000-06:00

Top five reasons to eat at the mall:

5. Häagen-Dazs
4. Mrs. Field's
3. Godiva
2. Auntie Annie's
1. Cinnabon

The Science

2006-11-10T00:17:00.000-06:00

Have I mastered the science of hooking up, and therefore need to move on?

I have a 100% success rate when I go to the bars alone, but yet I insist on frequently going out with my girls. Why is that?

Perhaps there's more to observe. My girls, they're different than I am. I watch and respect their methods. The way they approach and talk to men. The way they tell all about themselves in every conversation. It's fucking fascinating. Most men walk away from me without knowing anything about me.

Yet I'm so totally bored with men most of the time that watching my girlfriends interact with them is sometimes more entertaining than screwing with them myself.

Perhaps a sign of age? Perhaps a sign of boredom?

I vote for the latter. YAWN.

SWF ISO Ryan Phillipe

2006-11-06T00:13:00.000-06:00

Dear Ryan,

I hear things aren't going so well between you and Reese. Aww, that's a shame. Listen, I know you guys have kids and all, but if it's not working out, it's not working out. You need to officiate that divorce and give me a call. I'll gladly play the role of Weekend Mommy.

XOXO

Apple Trees

2006-11-04T22:47:00.000-06:00

I've been big on analogies lately, and everyone around me seems to be having relationship problems, so let's try this one: A man is an apple tree. After yelling "MAKE ORANGES!" at him for long enough, does he actually start giving you oranges? No, of course not. He can only give apples.

Women grow and change, but men are forever twelve years old. This is the great dichotomy; God's twisted little joke. He will always chew with his mouth open. He will always leave his dirty socks in the bathroom. He will always forget your birthday. No matter how hard you try, you will fail at trying to change him.

So you accept men for what they are. You abstain from elevating your expectations. You abolish the idea of the perfect man. You refuse to set yourself up for failure.

Do you swear off men forever? No, of course not. Eventually, someone will come along with only a handful of tolerable inadequacies. You accept the sum of his parts, because he's nothing greater than that.

For now, you just relax and have fun. There's no need to settle for some fucked up lunatic just so you can turn him into a project. That's nothing more than self-torture (or self-aggrandization, depending on how you look at it).

Cherish thyself.

Use As Directed

2006-11-01T13:57:00.000-06:00

Alright. Back in the saddle after one of those weekends that just didn't go quite as planned.

First, I'd just like to point out that I'm not happy about having to miss Amber and Rich's Halloween party. But when duty calls, I must answer. It sucks sometimes having to go completely under the radar when the job calls for it, but a girl's gotta make a living.

So I duck out of society for a day to get some shit done for a client who runs a big club in town. The toughest task on the list? Finding 100 unique, Halloween-themed refrigerator magnets for the guests of his party. Some of the easy stuff? Two ounces of choice kind bud, a pair of authentic blue suede shoes, and ten of the prettiest party girls (complete with costumes) you've ever seen.

By the way, Minneapolis nightclub owners really do hire groups of beautiful women to stand around and look good; it's not just for L.A. and New York. I've been asked by this particular club owner to round up some ladies five times to date, so I'm able to assemble a super group of choice girls on 24-hours' notice now. They absolutely love me, too. I should work towards becoming the Heidi Fleiss of the Twin Cities or something.

Anyway, after I was done rounding up all that shit for my client, and setting up the party, and staying until the wee hours to make sure there were no snags on the front end, I decided to hop in my car and head out of town by myself. I checked into a Super 8 in Chisago County and collapsed almost immediately upon walking into my room. Oh, and I don't mean I fell asleep. I mean I collapsed because I fainted from exhaustion. I came to a minute later (I think) and drank a couple glasses of water. I flipped on HBO and fell asleep watching some Ashley Judd crime drama.

I woke up to the sound of a husky Honduran maid trying to get in past the little lever lock thing (what the hell are those called?). Apparently, they thought I was dead or something. I didn't even hear the phone ring when the front desk guy called to remind me that checkout was an hour ago. Needless to say, they weren't receptive to the idea of me staying another night, which was kinda the point of me going out of town. When things get too hectic in the city, I have to head out to the country for a day or two. Where the locals breathe a little slower (albeit through their mouths), where people aren't screaming through cell phone lines, and, even though it's a huge fucking inconvenience for a vegetarian, where the only meat-free item on the menu is the house salad. It's a weird sort of solace.

So I drove back home and settled for the artificial version. I popped a Xanax and turned off my ringer. I slept for nearly 17 hours, with the last 3 or 4 of them being that sweet in-and-out sleep, when you roll over and pet your cat and think about getting up, but close your eyes and just sink back in again.

I could be the only person I know who uses prescription drugs sparingly and as directed.

Not Tonight

2006-10-31T18:11:00.000-06:00

"I'll have a Dos Equis and a shot of Grand Marnier."

Sip one, gulp the other. Waves of warmth. Your cheeks flush. Fingers, once stiff and cold, are now hot and nimble. Eyes flicker around the bar. Glass chandeliers hover. He says they look like upside-down bouquets.

***

"Two more, baby."

Slip off your barstool to find the bathroom. Push through the stall door, unzipping. Sit. Cleavage check. Bikini line inspection. Flush. Ice-cold water and rose-scented soap.

***

"Sure, yeah, another round."

Go outside. (Alone. He doesn't smoke.) Light up, look back through the window. He's tall, sexy, smart. No reason not to go home with him.

Except that tonight you just don't feel like it. He catches your eyes in a quick stare. He looks like a photograph; centered through the window frame, perched on his barstool, glass in hand, smiling.

That's what it is. Too perfect.

No rough edges.

No twists and turns.

***

I don't like them crazy. Just a little bit wicked.

Meow

2006-10-26T01:21:00.000-05:00

Phew.

I feel like I've been working nonstop for a week straight. Oh wait, I have. I barely have the energy to update this blog tonight, but I figure if I didn't, D might think I was dead or something. I haven't talked to her since last weekend when she ditched me at the bar and ran off with Steve.

You know, which reminds me. Are there any sweet, attractive, psychiatrically healthy men out there that want to meet my girl, D? And I mean completely psychiatrically healthy. Because her last man was a neurotic freak, and, if I don't do something, she could be headed down that same road again.

Any takers? Come on, she's a real kitten in the sack.

Hardy Har

2006-10-19T13:06:00.000-05:00

FACT: I am not a big drinker. While it's essential that I possess the ability to cocktail every night of the week, I don't necessarily drink a whole lot.

FACT: My gay friend, Daniel is a busy restauranteur with a strong penchant for champagne, liqueurs, beer, vodka, and anything else containing alcohol. His daily drinking habits are impressive.

FACT: When Daniel and I go out for drinks, I allow myself to keep up with him. We generally go to gay bars, which are safe places for me when I want to let my hair down a little. Daniel is a caring individual, who would never allow me to make bad decisions. Unless, of course, he thought it was really funny.

FACT: I woke up Monday morning with a girl's number in my pocket.

FACT: I am not gay.

FACT: I'm pissed off at Daniel this week.

Small Town

2006-10-16T03:14:00.000-05:00

Well, that backfired.

Why is this city so goddamn small? How is it that you can't go anywhere anymore without running into anyone?

Drunkfest

2006-10-12T15:40:00.000-05:00

Look, I said it because I believe that the kind of car a guy drives is important. It determines whether he's someone I spend one night with or someone I spend one year with. I was with my ex-boyfriend for three years, and he had three nice cars. Coincidence? No.

I'm worth about $200K.

Anyway, onto another topic. It's becoming glaringly obvious that D needs to get totally plastered with me. We've been hanging out a lot since she expelled the parasite, but haven't done the traditional drunkfest that occurs between best friends after one of them suffers a breakup.

I'm talking about shot-for-shot until the 1.75 of whiskey is empty. I'm talking about half a case of wine gone, getting 86'd from the bar, holding each other up as we wait for a cab, sobbing into one another's hair.

You've gotta purge that shit every once in a while. And D's just a bit pent up at the moment.

No Saturns

2006-10-11T15:28:00.000-05:00

Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time.

black-haired beauty in black and yellow hoodie - m4w - 26

you were walking towards the parking lot yesterday, I was stopped at the light. you definitely saw me: brown hair, aviator sunglasses in a blue saturn. I smiled at you but you were too shy to smile back. I would love to take you out for coffee.

That was definitely me, leaving the bar. But guess what, sweetie. I wasn't too shy to smile back; I just wasn't interested. See, you were cute and all, but let's face it: you drive a Saturn.

Smooth Operator

2006-10-10T00:36:00.000-05:00

I got a little backed up with work last week and totally slacked off on my Missed Connections. This shit is like a pathetic, daily tabloid. I love it.

My fave from last week:

Jag girl at Sally's

I was serious when I asked if I could take you out after I bought the shot from you. Me: tall guy in blue by the front window. Hope to hear from you.

Writing a Missed Connection to the SHOT GIRL at SALLY'S because you were too drunk that night (especially after that SHOT) to follow up on whatever genius line you delivered as you slapped a one dollar tip in her hand is sooo smooth.

Godspeed, Brent or Brandon or Brody or whatever the fuck your name probably is. I'm sure she's just too busy with work to email you back.

Has the whole world gone crazy?

2006-10-06T18:27:00.000-05:00

God damn, I've been running all week trying to track down some ~~anti-psychotic~~ anti-anxiety meds for Steve, with little luck. My usual channels are cut off right now for some fucking reason, so I'm gonna have to get creative with this job.

The good news is, I think I've got an ace up my sleeve. When you're livelihood depends on getting things that cannot easily be gotten, you always find a way.

Speaking of total nutjobs, Amber is moving in with her ex-boyfriend. While some may view this as a harmless act of a friend helping out a friend (don't get me wrong, I see that part) I'm suspicious of Rich's other motives. Amber, dear, you're panting and sweating all over your posts--Already! And how far are we into your little Man Ban?--making comments about how the next guy to lay you will be a puddle of spent mess when you're done with him. Why do you think Rich is so eager to have you slinking around his house in your jammies? He's banking on the fact that, one night, you come home just a little more than tipsy.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: all men are basically the same. They're all born to do two things: making women want to procreate with them, and then procreating. There are, of course, exceptions to the rule, so spare me the Ghandi/Mandela/homosexual speech, but there is obvious truth to what I'm saying.

Amber is Just Jealous

2006-10-05T11:40:00.000-05:00

Three Strikes

2006-09-27T15:47:00.000-05:00

When your list of hobbies includes bedding bartenders, you expect to get stood up once in a while.

Once in a while.

But three strikes and you're out, baby. I don't care how pretty you are.

Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with guys these days? Every goddamn one I know is caught between his instinctive urge to screw anything that moves and his emotional longing to shack up and find a bride before his 30th birthday. Like it's a shameful thing to be a bachelor in this town. Minneapolis is home to the most beautiful women in the country! Get out there and get laid, for chrissakes.

My boy du jour is having some sort of crisis over our sex-only relationship. Who cares if I don't want to have dinner first? That's fifty bucks he just saved. Who cares if I don't invite him out for drinks with my friends? My friends are boring. Who cares if I don't want to talk about my job? Trust me, he doesn't want to know some of the shit I do on a daily basis.

*drums fingers*

I'm bored. I need something to occupy my mind and body tonight.

Is That Bad?

2006-09-20T23:17:00.000-05:00

Brief phone conversation between Eva and me tonight:

M: So I had an overnight guest Monday night.
E: Who was it?
M: Guess.
E: John.
M: No.
E: Alex.
M: No.
E: Chad.
M: No.
E: Jake.
M: No.
E: Brad.
M: Yep. Shit, is that bad that you had to go through five names?

Breaking Up

2006-09-20T12:40:00.000-05:00

Has anyone else seen this show?

Breaking Up with Shannen Doherty

Man, I wish I could host a show like this. I'd be so damn good at it. "Hey, time for a reality check. Your relationship is going nowhere and you're better off alone."

It's only Wednesday and we already have a tie for my favorite Missed Connection post of the week:

to my excessively loud and randy neighbors

she is TOTALLY faking.

every time.

Hmm. Makes me wonder if I should apologize to my neighbors for the random bedroom activities that go on over here. Shit gets a little loud sometimes.

Lamplighter Lovely

I'm in love with a stripper......OK not really. I did see the most beautiful dancer tonight though. Here is a description: skinny blonde, two tattoo's (one on back, one one on shoulder), and a weird belly button ring. I know this probably describes half the dancers, but there were only a couple blondes working tonight.

I was the guy with a black stripped button-up shirt, who tried his hardest to look at your face when you danced. :) I know you caught me looking somewhere else a couple times. Anyway if you know a dancer at the Lamplighter who fits this description.........please pass this on to her.

I know it's a long shot I'll here from you, but I had to try.

Aww, he's got a crush on a stripper. How fucking cute. Gee, I bet that never happens to her.

Booty Text

2006-09-19T13:26:00.000-05:00

Wow. It's amazing how a 3am booty text can turn into a 36-hour fuck fest.

I feel like I just dropped off the face of the earth for 2 days, not answering my phone or checking my email. It's a good thing I didn't have any work to do yesterday or today.

Shit, D... I'm sorry I haven't called you back yet. The past two weeks have been kinda crazy. When you get home, let's go out and get drinks. I went out with my girl Amber on Friday and we had a blast. If you're not too tired, the 3 of us should go round up some trouble this weekend. I know Amber will say "no boys allowed", but I'm not making any promises.

Anyway, I think my bed is broken now. If any handymen are reading this, please send me a text.

I Hate Sundays

2006-09-17T15:05:00.000-05:00

It's true, I really hate Sundays.

Nothing to do but clean, do laundry, and catch up on correspondence. Ugh. Plus, the lamest DJs are always on the radio on Sundays. Why is that? (Of course, I type that just as Elliot Smith starts playing. But I'm sure the next song will completely suck and cancel that one out...

... Iron & Wine. I was right.)

Barely sixty degrees outside and I'm still line-drying my clothes. I have to fix this dryer situation. See, I have a refurbished laundromat dryer here in the basement. When I moved in, I didn't have to put quarters in to use it because my landlord had taken the quarter box off. However, at the start of summer, she decided to put the box back on, claiming that it was for "wear and tear" of the dryer.

I'd, of course, have no problem with this if it wasn't for the fact that I PAY THE UTILITIES.

So, because she's being cheap (and a little nefarious, no?), I have to pay double my laundry utility bills for the convenience of being able to do it at home. Lame.

I should probably just call Steve and have him rig something up for me. I'm sure he already has a stolen landromat key lying around his apartment somewhere. Not to mention the fact that he owes me a favor or two.

Stranger Friends

2006-09-15T11:32:00.000-05:00

Well, if anyone knows how to grab someone's attention with a Craigslist Missed Connection, it's this girl:

My Litlle [sic] Sex Slave

I would like to get your email address Dave!! I had alot of fun at Bumpers.. The girls bathroom, the booth and my car. Very interesting man you are, crazy but interesting.. I likey.... Next time I will bring the handcuffs! :)

Maybe I should email her. It sounds like we could get into some trouble together.

Rule Number One

2006-09-13T13:22:00.000-05:00

I called Jay around 11:00 last night, since we were supposed to meet up for a drink after his shift. All was well--I was on my way to our favorite rendezvous point--but then he called to say he had drama.

Fucking drama. Back it up two weeks:

So he hooked up with this girl from the bar. No big deal, right? Except it's his bar. The bar he drinks at nearly every night. (Also, technically my bar for the same reason.) He says the sex is killer, but things with her will never go anywhere. So when she calls and wants to do something other than fuck, Jay gives her some excuse why he can't, and then we go out drinking.

So guess where she showed up last night? That's right. She busted him sitting at the bar waiting for me.

Jay got an earful from me today. I guess I wasn't so much pissed about getting ditched, just disappointed in him for breaking Rule Number One: Don't ever mess with anyone at your bar.