Archive for May, 2015

Sometimes You Have To Consider The Possibility That Reality Might Be Funnier Than You Are

May 15, 2015

As my week of snark continues, I was glancing over a drink menu last night and found myself contemplating how drink names have gone from the mildly risqué “Sex on the Beach” (And if this is the first time you’ve ever heard of that drink, welcome to the Internet!  Enjoy your first day.) to legitimate grounds for sexual harassment, and I’m not talking about the drink.  (Because, of course, there is one.(1))

In light of that, I found myself tempted to saunter up to the bar and order the most fantastically offensive list of random words and concepts I could string together, the sort of thing that if I posted here I’d ended up self-censoring out every word except for “the” and assorted prepositions, just to see what happened, but in the end(2) I restrained myself.

NOT because I was afraid of causing offense, mind you . . . but for fear the bartender would just nod and start mixing my drink.

*****

(1) Yes, I noticed the typo too, but I suspect so long as all the alcoholic components are spelled correctly, typos don’t really matter in drink recipes.

(2) I will neither confirm nor deny the possibility that particular phrase might contain a clue to some of the words/concepts I was considering including.

Sometimes My Manners Just Stink

May 14, 2015

Last night I was being introduced to a couple of nice folks in an airport when I found myself being put on the spot.

“Doesn’t she look too good for him?” the person introducing us asked teasingly.

As I was saying something about not wanting to get involved, the “she” in question shyly mumbled something about “I’m not even wearing deodorant.”

Have I ever mentioned I tend to get snarky when I’m put on the spot? (Particularly this week.)

“Well,” I heard myself saying.  “Fortunately the question wasn’t do you smell too good for him . . .”

Mood Check. Yep, Still In A Mood

May 13, 2015

Start every day off with a smile and get it over with.

W. C. Fields

Two If I Was English

May 12, 2015

Today my mood is best described in the words of L’s mother when she was at her sickest recently:

Look at me, I only have the enthusiasm to raise one finger to give you a high five.

Some Times This Is As Optimistic As I Get

May 11, 2015

I know full well that I’m not the first person in history to occasionally glance out over the horizon on a quiet night and wonder if they are fated to bear witness to the end of life as they know it.

But so long as I’m not the last person to do so, we should all be okay . . . for a little while, at least.

Today I Passed, Tomorrow Is Yet Unwritten

May 8, 2015

One of the biggest tests of maturity is not giving into the temptation to believe the lie that you were about to draw a line in the sand over “general principles,” when the truth of the matter is you were about to act like a jerk just because you were feeling peevish.

Time For A Tactical Shift

May 7, 2015

And today, after weeks of this household passing germs around with each other, I believe I have finally learned on a visceral level the difference between focusing on “keeping going,” and focusing on “getting well.”

I Could Almost Hear the Laugh Track In The Background

May 6, 2015

To prepare for an upcoming wedding, Lala had her nails done a while back and, (foolishly) thinking myself prepared for the answer, I asked her how much it had cost. I (thought I) knew it had to have been something ridiculous since me cutting my nails myself is more or less a five-minute procedure, and this had taken her well over an hour to have done, so I felt myself sufficiently prepared for any answer . . .

. . . except, of course, the one she gave me.

In that one moment, I could actually feel my modern, 21st century self fading away to be replaced by a black and white version of me better suited to a guest appearance on Father Knows Best as I fought to keep myself from incredulously shouting, “You spent how much on your nails?!”

Windows Of (False) Opportunity

May 5, 2015

As much as I enjoy fantasy art, its frequent portrayal of improbably shaped women in impractical costumes almost never fails to make me shake my head a bit.

Oh, not at the improbably shaped women (It’s fantasy art, after all, and, like it or not, those improbably shaped women are some people’s fantasies.), but at the “armor” (or lack thereof) that frequently seems to include a large gaping hole over the heart area.  I always pitied those poor women warriors going into battle with such a . . . dramatic flaw in their protection.

The other night though, I started to wonder if I had been wrong all along.  Maybe those breast windows are there to give their opponents a false sense of security, because as I considered one particular piece of art, I suddenly realized that to support a chest of that size, this woman’s breastbone simply had to be magically reinforced . . .

Sometimes The Truth Is Just Disappointing

May 4, 2015

It’s been an unusually quiet day around here today (I’m writing this early Sunday evening to free up my schedule for tomorrow), and I find myself feeling pensive over how often we tend to lie, particularly when we’re younger, and even more particularly about sex.  Everybody seems to have a “first time” story, and if there’s one common thread, especially among males in this culture, it’s that it was always “Great!” . . . provided, of course, that the audience is large enough to require such a sentiment.

Not to imply that many people’s first times aren’t, in fact, great, but over the years I started to notice just how differently the story could be told if the telling was private enough.  For the record, my own first time was significantly less than great.  She was more “experienced” than I was, but those experiences hadn’t been very positive ones, so we both ended up muddling through things more out of some mutual sense of obligation than any actual desire.  Yes, things got better with practice . . . a lot better, but that first time?

Meh.