Monday, January 31

Let's Talk About Sex

[Let's Talk About Sex]

There's been a lot of sex in the news recently, gentle readers. And, the most of the stories were depressing . . . .

First, let's consider the teenagers:
  • Our government has stated that abstinence programs prevent teens from having sex, but, they’re wrong.

  • If a teen, unprepared for the consequences of sex because of her narrowly-focused abstinence-only sex education, becomes pregnant, someone — perhaps a trusted aunt or older sister — assisting her in obtaining an abortion may, if the Child Custody Protection Act becomes federal law, serve up to a year in prison.
Of course, tolerance is a continuing issue:If all that's not enough to ponder, there are the stories about sexual offenders:Time for for some distracting TV and a really bad snack.

Saturday, January 29

Mea Culpa

[Mea Culpa]

I dislike talking to people when all I can think to do is whine, and so, when I'm feeling particulary crappy, I tend to avoid contact. I feel that I shouldn't call if all I'm going to do is complain.

This morning I awoke less depressed and less skittish —  for many reasons including but not limited to the end of a long, slow reorg at my company.

And I started thinking about all of the people with whom I've been out of touch. So, I started apologizing to everyone I've been neglecting. I wrote emails. I called people. I posted on boards I'd not visited in some time. The general message was that I'm sorry I've been out of touch and that I'd like to be in touch.

This afternoon, I've become saddened by a new thought: I fear that for some of my relationships this contact is too late. I was too neglectful for too long, said "no" to too many offers, failed to call too many times when I claimed I would, didn't feel like talking too many times when they called me.

And now, I don't think there's much I can do about it.

Tuesday, January 25

Just One Coffee

[Just One Coffee]

I've been claiming that I usually have just one coffee beverage a day. This is technically true. I just haven't been specifiying that the beverage is a Grande Quad-Shot Latté Brevé. Jeeeesh, do I feel tweaky.

Sunday, January 23

Nail Biting

[Nail Biting]

I can't watch the game. I mean, I'm kinda watching the game [wearing a boy beater because I can't find my Bettis shirt] wandering in and out of the room. If New England wins, I shall be inconsolable.

Saturday, January 22



Since late yesterday, on about every other call I receive, there's an echo where I can hear what I'm saying a fraction of a second after I say it. This is unnerving. I have to hang up and call back.

I dislike the sound of my voice: to me, it sounds mid-toned but too deep for the girlish lilt; snarky but cute with Midwestern/standard-trans-Atlantic pronunciations but a Northeastern nasality. I feel terribly self conscious when I hear it.

It makes me wonder whether I should listen to it more, so that I have a better understanding of what I sound like to others. But, the thought listening to a recording of myself conversing makes me edgy and nervous: I want to know but I fear that knowing would make me embarrassed and prone to affectation.

It makes me wonder whether any individual likes the sound of his or her own voice.

Thursday, January 20

Lovely Day

[Lovely Day]

I spent this afternoon and evening with one of the most wonderful women I know. We kvetched over the coronation. We commiserated about work. We went to a salon where I got a super sassy Mia-Farrow-in-Rosemary's-Baby-short haircut. We had sushi with hot saki. We had cocktails and kvetched and commiserated more. Then, I came home. Lovely day, really.

Tuesday, January 18

Let it Snow | Let it Snow | Let it Snow

[Let it Snow | Let it Snow | Let it Snow]

Well, I hadn't been paying attention enough to see this coming:

Tonight's Low = 23°F

Tomorrow's High = 31°F

Tomorrow Night's Low = 21°F

Thursday's High = 26°F

Thursday Night's Low = 16°F

Friday's High = 24°F

Friday Night's Low = 16°F

Saturday's High = 24°F

I think I'm going to regret having not gotten around to buying new snowboots. Perhaps I'll make it to Saturday . . . .

Monday, January 17



I was out shopping yesterday, and I purchased, against the guidance of my companion, a 10X magnifying mirror. I thought it would be helpful in plucking my eyebrows: the magnifying mirror I already had was only a 5X, and I was bound to be missing something.

Well, I was missing a lot. A lot of tiny little hairs all over the place. Pores that needed cleansed. Teensy rough spots. I don't see myself going as overboard on the cleansing as I've gone before, but I'm trying not to be obsessive about this, and it's difficult.

I realize that no one is going to notice these flaws unless they're looking at me with a 10X magnifying glass, but it doesn't matter because now I know that they exist.

Why does it matter? Why are these things so annoying to me, even though I wouldn't have known about them at all if I hadn't purchased the mirror?

Something to think about . . . .

Thursday, January 13

Prerequisite | Perquisite

[Prerequisite | Perquisite]

For various reasons — including but not limited to some rather pointed questions — I've been pondering what makes people sexually compatible.

I've glibly stated that when it comes to sexual compatibility a big cock is a prerequisite and not a perquisite [I heard something similar once, I forget where, about a big diversified portfolio]. But, and this is a really big but, that's not entirely true. And, even if were true — for me or for the portfolio seeker — it couldn't be the biggest prerequisite.

Let's back up a bit . . . . 

The things that make two individuals sexually attractive to one another are not necessarily the same things that will make those people sexually compatible, and it takes a bit of trial and error to figure that out.

Many people aren't honest with themselves about their preferred attributes and they go about seeking the supposed preferred attributes of their peers [or the prime preferred attributes featured in the media].

Although new-crush lust can carry almost any pairing through an initial [and, perhaps, more than a few subsequent] interactions, once these individuals are adjusted to the pheromone levels and the endorphins wear off, the presence or lack of each one's preferences will become an issue.

The things that will make two individuals sexually compatible with one another are not all — particularly one's not-publicly visible grooming preferences and body particularites and one's predilections — ascertainable through non-sexual interactions. It is difficult, for example, to ascertain the trim of a chick's bikini line or whether her breasts are natural, or the size of a guy's cock, just by looking at them. It's even more difficult to ascertain the predilections of an individual without point-blank questioning that would — in many if not most cases, especially if this happens quite early in a pair's interactions — be met with either answers that are crafted for the questioner [if not outright lies] or with silence and offence.

Even if predilections are aligned, there are the issues of timing and frequency. Let's say that a couple agrees on their like or dislike of a whole list of practices: positions, locations, bondage, use of toys, oral sex, anal sex, etcetera. If one person wants something on this list occasionally, and the other one wants it every night and three times on Saturday, there will undoubtedly be issues. If one person likes to fuck in the morning, and the other one hates it, there will be issues. If one person needs to relax before having sex and the other one likes to have sex to become relaxed, there may be issues.

[I hear some of you thinking aloud, gentle readers, that compromises can be made. I don't think so. This may be the type of situation where compromise means that nobody gets what they really want.]

Even if all that appears to be aligned, no matter how prepared one believes one is, no matter how well one has gotten one's hopes up, and even if everything else works out — all of the other things that would make a couple good friends and partners outside of the bed, perhaps including but not limited to being in love — sometimes, it still just doesn't work out. Why? Because of the presence or lack of some undefinable prerequisite. The biggest prerequisite.

Without knowing what that is, I don't know how one can determine whether one will be sexually compatible with another person in the long run without just trying . . . . and running the risk of being befuddled and disappointed.

Monday, January 10



There are questions one cannot answer truthfully:
  • Isn't that the most beautiful wedding gown you've ever seen?
    Uh, no, it's garish.

  • Isn't that the best spaghetti sauce?
    Uh, isn't that tomato soup?

  • Don't you just love the way he's decorated?
    Uh, no, it looks like somebody barfed sunflowers.

  • Isn't that pretty?
    Uh, are you smoking crack?

  • Isn't she the most beautiful baby you've ever laid eyes on?
    Uh, no, well, maybe except for that gigantic flat spot on the side of her head.

  • Isn't he just the sweetest?
    Uh, he's an ass, he's always been an ass, and he talks about the size of your ass when you're not around.
I realize that there are times when these questions are asked sarcastically, with tongue planted firmly in cheek and with the expectation that the respondent will banter in kind. I get that.

What I don't understand is anyone would ask these questions guilelessly: why do you ask a question that will force the responder to lie? Is your need for praise so extreme that you don't care whether the praise is honest?

False compliments disgust me. And the people who seek them? I used to think they deserved our pity. Now, I'm beginning to think they just deserve our honesty.

Thursday, January 6

Nous Sommes des Singe-Porcs

[Nous Sommes des Singe-Porcs]

I got a bit drunk last night. It was my first day back to work, and of course it seemed like a good idea to go out for one cocktail. There were six of us, and the last few hours of our conversation concerned comparative religion / Christian doctrines including but not limited to:
  • The existence of Hell in various texts [it's not in the OT, gentle readers].

  • Satan is never mentioned in Job [it's God who tests Job].

  • The reason Lucifer became pissed off [because God wanted him, and all of the Angels to love and respect Man as much as they love and respect God and Lucifer wished to prove that Man is unworthy of it].

  • The Immaculate Conception concerns Mary being born with a sinless soul, not Jesus being born unto Mary without her having carnal knowledge, and this was decided at the Council of Nicea.
And on and on and on.

A bit heavy for loud drunken folks, but entertaining. When I left the bar at around nine-thirty or so it seemed like a good idea to take a taxi even though there were a few inches of snow on the streets.

As luck would have it, my cab driver was on his own religious rant:
  • The White Man is going down soon [I'm not sure what he identified me as, being a neutral-ethnic looking at-least-part-Polynesian chick in the back of a dark taxi would mean that I probably didn't look White-White enough to him to identify with The White Man].

  • The reason Muhammad instructed that pigs and monkeys must not be eaten is because pigs and monkeys are people too, the first of them were humans that were turned into monkeys and pigs . . . . God doesn't turn humans into monkeys or pigs any more because Muhammad asked Him not to.

  • Hundreds of prostitutes have been carved up and inserted into pork products in manufacturing facilities in Minnesota and the consumers never noticed.

  • WWIII shall commence with a major bombing within the next three weeks and I should get out of the country and away from The White Men . . . . he recommended Costa Rica.
Interesting, I mean I've never been to Costa Rica. I told him that I'd rather go to Iceland. His response? "Iceland is filled with White People."

And then, I stumbled out of the cab thinking mostly about how tasty some St Louis cut ribs would be. Hmmmmmmmm pork. A Samoan boy [well, a 6'9" 450-pound young Samoan man] once told me that the reason that the Polynesian peoples like Spam so much is that Spam tastes like people, and, well, it's not politically correct to eat people any more, is it? But, if pigs are people . . . . Crude, I know. Crude, crude, crude.

Tuesday, January 4

Someone Else's Devices | Catching Up

[Someone Else's Devices | Catching Up]

There are things I did on my trip [because others were doing them and it would have been rude to get out of it/or there was nothing else to do] that I never do when left to my own devices:
  • Watch Montel
  • Use Creamora
  • Watch Maury
  • Eat at a Grocery Store
  • Watch Barry Manilow on Breakfast With the Arts
  • Read People Magazine
  • Watch Lifetime Movies
  • Play Video Poker/Slots
If that is the fabled Real America, I'm not unhappy to have been completely out-of-touch with it. If it weren't for the last item, which is perhaps-not-so-surprisingly hypnotizing, I might have gone crazy.

I was, thankfully, able to visit some people. Of course, I saw my Mama Person, who was as doting as ever. There was a family holiday gathering where I got to see how much and how well or poorly everyone was aging. I had a lovely chatty dinner with my high-school best friend whom I'd not seen several years [who is aging terrifically well]. I visited a dear friend and her daughter [my Dutch Niecelet who calls me Auntie Coco] and would have had a better visit with them if I hadn't come down with a stomach flu for a day and a half.

All-in-all, I'm really glad I went, but, it's nice to be home.

Things I've Seen

[Things I've Seen]

Chiffon on Bay Window
Fried Cauliflower on Plastic Plate
Nicotine Stained Fingers on Doctor's Hand
Union Bumper Sticker aside Bush Bumper Sticker on 4-Wheel-Drive Japanese Wagon
Mustache on Matriarch
Lamé Flower on Guest Towel
Funeral Parlor Advertisement on Emery Board
Sale Sticker on Sole of Shoe
Chain Lock on Hollow Door