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Well, dear readers, I have an update for you, and, as anonymous posted, I think this one is entertaining.

Six days after my last interaction with the crazy woman, I discovered, cleverly hidden in the back of my car, a pair of her $200 Versace sunglasses. Now, I'm not the kind of man who just chucks this sort of thing, and am bound to return it. As it happens, once a week, I go to a house a block from where she live(d) anyway. I text her to tell her that I'll drop them by on my way over.

There's a little clever backstory to this though. On our second date, we went to the beach, and it being a sunny day, she complained about how some guy had stolen her sunglasses. This very same pair, purple with rhinestones, and not in any way sunglasses a guy would wear. I explained to her carefully, that it was game. This guy had kept them to give him an excuse to talk to her later. She 'didn't know' guys did that. That's what made it so clever to have her have stashed these same glasses in my car during our brief attempt at reunion.

At 2 am the next morning, as I was watching the second broadcast of the excellent Survivorman, my phone rings. It's her. Apparently, the guy she loved and left me for has been beating her. She's scared. She's got nobody else to call.

Now, those of you who know me know I have this thing about damsels in distress. I drive in. I get there, no violence, and she tells me what she really wants is to rent a room from me. I say no way, she dumped me and I'm bitter. I drive home.

On the way, I find a text from her, sent before the call, asking for another chance. We text, and ultimately I decide, because I'm horny and stupid, to give her the chance to explain. I turn around and drive back. I get there, and am texted with "I'm staying with friends tonight, can we do this tomorrow?" I drive home.

Tomorrow comes, and it's all explanations of how bad this guy treated her, how he's an untreated mental patient and unemployed pothead, and how much she needs a friend right now. I take her to her family, and I go home. I guess we're friends at this point.

Monday comes around. She calls me up and tells me that she's really sorry, and she was really wrong, and that she loved me all along, and will do anything to prove it to me. She wants to move in with me.

I tell her I need a night to sleep on it.

Now, you might all question my sanity, dear readers, in not just taking advantage of the situation. After all, at this point, any reasonable man might have been pushed far enough to let her do "anything" to prove herself, even if he didn't care, and then kick her to the curb. That's not how I roll.

I talk to my crew. Those closest to me get the question. I'll say it's interesting to see just what advice your closest friends give on a subject like this. All of it good. All of it heeded.

Ultimately, I decide that what I need is one more date, to see if I really still want this woman, before I'm going to let her move in and steal all my furniture. That date gets made, for today, lunch.

This morning, there's a flurry of texting, where she goes crazy about how she never was attracted to me, and never loved me, and hopes I can find someone else.

I tell her that this behaviour is unacceptable. That she's a psycho. Also, that she should have these conversations voice, because texting this shit makes people not respect you.

She calls. Tells me "I was just trying to make your life easier. I'm pregnant, and you don't need to be part of that."

OOOoooK. It's not mine. It's the pothead mental patient's (I think).

I'm done. I'm walking away from this table. I'm on break.

I've dodged another bullet. I'm single again. I think I'll lie about that for a while, because ever since I started seeing this girl, my friends have been trying to hook me up with other women.

I'm, uh, seeing another crazy teenager, yeah, thats it. There's tons of better women out there for me, and you'd all better hook me up with them before I make a mistake with this one. Definitely. That's my story.

Line forms to the left.
Current Mood: Bulletproof
Current Music: I'm so sick-Flyleaf
11 August 2007 @ 09:40 pm
I have found, on careful consideration, that asking the woman who dumps you by text message for the phone number of her tall single friend, also by text message, is an excellent motivation for her to talk to you.

I did this horrible thing, and I did it with the intent to put a knife between her ribs.

It took a couple of days, and she came back all angry, asking why I didn't put more into chasing her.

I chased, a little, against my better judgement.

She briefly acted like all was okay. Then reality set in.

No fairy tale ending.

At least she told me she was in love with someone else. So there's that.

Advice- Never take a date to see a psychic. They might tell her something you don't want her to hear. And she might believe it.

Current Mood: quixoticquixotic
10 August 2007 @ 07:39 pm
So, it's been a million years since I've posted anything. Here's a new one.

For the past month and a half, I've been battling some low grade infection that I've been on antibiotics for. The drug - Cipro - has a string of incredible side effects, many of which I've experienced. They disrupt your sleep patterns, give you wierd dreams, cause visual hallucinations when bright lights hit you, make you generally feel a little funny, and according to the warnings, can cause suicidal depression. There's a warning about prescribing it to teenagers. WTF?

Now, just so you all know, I'm not suicidally depressed.

I am however, a little heartbroken right at the moment.

Y'see, for the same month and a half, I've also been dating this girl who was kindly introduced to me by my oldest and bestest friend. We saw kind of a lot of each other. There was some drama. There was a lot of time. I met her family.

She seduced me with the second sexiest thing I've ever had a woman say to me, "Why is it that a man like you is still available?" (which ranks right after "Baby, do you think we can start a merc unit?" Ok, you had to be there)

So here I was, fallen for this girl, despite all wisdom and most advice (because she was crazy). She broke up with me, out of the blue, by text message.

I cant c u anymore

Which, by the way, is really a rotten way to get dumped.

So, with me, it takes five days to really hit. Today it got to me. Bad.

It gives me the answer to her sexy question though: because the women I fall for decide that I should be. Shitty answer.

If anyone reading this happens to be a woman who has been harboring a secret crush, now would be a good time to call.
Current Mood: crushedcrushed
Current Music: Wolf like me-T.V. on the radio
10 August 2007 @ 07:35 pm
Hi everybody. It's me. Im writing from that most civilized of lands down under, New Zealand. Don't worry. I'm doing this because I'm really tired and between plans. It was through no strange compulsion, other than to get out of the sun for awhile.

Let's see. I'm sure there are things you all might want to know about this place.
Let's start. The water in the toilet: doesn't go the other way. I think. They use a different design here, that just sorta flows straight down. Perhaps it's to avoid confusing us northern hemisphere folks.

Speaking of which. This hemisphere confuses me in exactly one way. I have a natural sense of direction, which here, is 180 degrees backward. What I think is north, is invariably south. I don't know why. Maybe it has something to do with the curvature of the earth. Maybe not.

Curvature...I have to share something with you all. New Zealand is populated by the cutest women on the planet. They are everywhere. Young or old, white, maori, chinese, or japanese, indian, arab, martian, and any other ethnicity that I might have missed, they are all cute. Healthy, bouncy and cute. And they all have the accent. I know, I should have expected that part, but, there it is. I guess they don't all have it, there are a lot of chinese here, who come here for university to learn english, but you get the idea. The men aren't bad looking either, which is too bad, as I was hoping that they would all be twisted freaks, or better, would be absent altogether.

That's the thing about Auckland. It's not unrealistic in it's beauty, it's just there. There is graffiti, just not very much, and it's the same with litter. There is gum on the streets, but again, not so much. Even the cigarettes they smoke here have less chemical additives. They don't stink of burning ammonia.

Auckland is, simply put, the most beautiful city I have ever seen. It is mammoth huge, second only to Los Angeles in sheer ground covered. There are only 1.2 million people here. Sure, that's 1/4 the population of New Zealand, but it's way less than LA. The roads are confusing, I'm sure moreso to drive, but nice. The sidewalks are wide, and shaded by more trees than I have ever imagined in an urban setting. The skyscrapers don't so much scrape, as gently point at the sky, few are more than 14 story. There are parks. Albert park, with it's dense trees, walking paths, fountains and lawns, right in the middle of the city, and Domain park, which is more of the same, but is so large there are areas of it that don't necessarily get maintained regualarly, and are just a tad wild. Still, it's gorgeous, and is where the Auckland Museum is, sitting right in the middle, on top of a hill, in the middle of the crater of an active volcano (not spitting lava yet, but it's only a matter of time) because that's how they roll here. Giant city with a quarter of the population, built right on a volcanic mass that has erupted before (and built the islands) and no doubt will again.

I digressed there. I was talking about parks, they are everywhere, and many don't even have names. They all have lawns. People are always lounging on them. In shorts and T's, In evening gowns and suits. Lounging.

I love this place.

The terrain is hilly, but none are too extreme, and the population is friendly and attractive. Imagine if you will, the bastard child of San Luis Obispo, and Chicago.
Or perhaps, LA, if you killed 90% of the population, quietly, so that nobody was upset about it. It looks perfect for runners.

It might also be perfect for the blind. Which is odd, because it's so pretty. The traffic lights for pedestrians have these little noisemakers that let you know when it's safe to cross. Also, they have cicadas here.

Now, you might not be familliar with cicadas. I wasn't. Sure, I was vaguely aware of them as some sort of locust like, grasshopper bug. I assumed that when they came, they ate everything, and more or less sucked for everybody. That's not quite true. They are locust like grasshoppers (about an inch and a half long, maybe 2) they do eat everything, but not as fast as it grows here, so they are just hanging around, and they sing. They make the most amazing racket. I'm talking 90 decibels in the middle of the park racket. I'm talking you know where every tree within 100 feet is only by the sound, and that's over traffic.

But even that is pretty.

Now, I'm an unreliable narrator here: I've wanted to come to NZ since I was about 6. I've really looked forward to it, and I'm on vacation, so I'm inclined to be forgiving. But honest. It's kinda pretty, in a different, wierd sort of way.

This is getting a little long, but I guess I have to talk about the food. I've had some marvelous food here in the past two days. Dinner last night and lunch today were both terrific. I expect that, I went to a 5 star restaurant, Dine by Peter Gordon, last night. I had a grain fed filet mignon cooked with a magnificent chili sauce. It was fork tender and delicious, served over fresh snow peas and yellow carrots, cooked to perfection. I also had a spinach salad that was served with a variety of delicious vegetables, including pickled blueberries which were better than I could have imagined. It was topped with some sort of french, I think, cheese, lightly fried, which when set upon the perfect spinach slighly wilted it. Some sort of chili dill dressing as well, made with fresh dill. It was followed by a chocolate torte so dark it was almost bitter, covered with house made honey ice cream, and fresh, marvelous raspberries. They even had my Laphroaig to make it complete.
19 February 2007 @ 03:24 pm
Hi all. I just had to share something.

It's been a busy February. I've had my sister and her husband move in with me from Chicago. They are relocating to the central coast after 18 years away, so that's cool.
It has made me a little less social than usual. I spend more time with the fam.

As big as that news may be, it gets better. Tomorrow evening, I depart on one of those big metal birds to fly half-round the globe to the tiny north island of New Zealand! For me there will be no February 21st, as I leave the 20th, and arrive the 22nd. That's okay and all, I get to travel back in time on my return flight. I'm being shipped home previous day air.

Anyhoo. I'm finally going to go see those islands (actually just the north one, gotta save something for later.) And it promises to be cool. I'm staying in luxury hotels in auckland, and some really cool little place in the bay of islands called "Kauri Cliffs". They offer wild boar hunts, mano-a-mano with a knife, as the locals do it. I don't think I'm gonna work in a boar hunt, but with me, you never know.

I'm taking my new 10 megapixel camera with me, so there should probably be some photos when I get back.
Current Mood: excitedexcited
Current Music: The Red Elvises-Love Pipe
This is the first entry of 2007. There are many like it but this one is mine. Without me my first entry of 2007 is useless, without my first entry of 2007...not so much.

I thought to celebrate I would post the recipes of two of my drinky inventions. These are entirely mine, and really, you should have one.

#1. The Unspeakable Horror.

1 Shot 151
1 Shot Bombay Sapphire
1/2 shot Malibu Coconut rum
2 tsp (or thereabouts) either Margarita mix (good) Sweet and sour (better) or sweetened lime (best)

Serve over ice.
This drink is a one-punch knockout. I've seen it drop full grown alcoholics at 20 paces. I've found them hidden behind potted plants. I've been asked never to serve them again before a party and then begged for them at the party. Enjoy. The horror...

#2.The Kentucky Sunrise.

Mix 4 oz. Orange juice
4 oz. Cranberry Juice
and a double shot of Jack Daniels.

Again, over ice. This is a really nice party drink. Everybody gets the ingredients. It fills those little red plastic cups. It smells like booze, but is sweet and nice enough that anyone will drink it. Also, it's not girly. This is a good drink to remember that it's 5:00 somewhere with.

Enjoy! Your liver will thank you. Except for the horrors.

the horror...

Happy New Year everybody!
27 November 2006 @ 02:51 pm
Hi everybody! If you check here, there will be a party at my place, Saturday, December 2.
Doors to open 8-ish. Usual party time.

Please spread the word.

If you don't know where my place is, please ask. If you don't know where you are, please invite me to your parties.
15 November 2006 @ 02:08 pm
Greetings and Salutations.

Out of a sense of community, and a greater sense of boredom, I have decided to create this.

Many of you wonderful people are friends I know. Perhaps some will be friends I haven't met yet.
It is remotely possible you may be an enemy. If so, schedule an appointment, duels will be held in thunderdome as soon as it is built.

Say hi. You know you wanna!