Why I agree to these things I'll never know.
My friend L has been trying to arrange a singles dinner night for weeks. The ill-fated event took place last night. The premise was that each person bring a single member of the opposite sex that they are not interested in to meet other singles no one is interested in. You can imagine how fun a mixer full of uninteresting people is...
I arrived at Winchester's in Ventura early to meet L for a drink. We downed a pint each before the others came straggling in. L has been single as long as I've known her but has made great strides in getting out and actually dating in the past year so I can't say anything bad about her. I just thank god I got her that vibrator for Hanukah last year...'Nuff said.
The first unwanted single to arrive was M, L's neighbor. L has been trying to set me up with M for a while. She has lauded him as perfect for me - older, active, attractive, adventurous, well-traveled, intelligent. My hopes were as high as a chronically single girls' hopes can get...Unfortunately M arrived in white pants with a baggy white shirt, longish thinning hair and a lisp. The resemblance to Ricardo Montalban was such that I was sure he was going to say "Welcome to Fantasy Island". To make matters worse, he was a constant hands folder. You know how when a person is talking to you and they lean back in their chair, clasp their hands as if to prey and then fold and unfold them? That was what M was doing while talking to me. M's favorite topic of conversation is his dog, Pearl. I am open-minded but I've never met a straight man with a pet named Pearl. In fact, the only time I've heard a man refer to pearls of any sort was to less-than-tactfully offer me a pearl necklace - and we weren't near a jewelry store. Back to M and Pearl...I just about lost it when he later cut up his steak into little pieces just for Pearl...Who was waiting for him out in the car! Correct me if I'm wrong but I thought it was single women who had the little dogs named Pearl and Diamond that they dress up and take everywhere with them???
Next to arrive was T, whom I'd never met. T arrived around 8 pm as the sun was setting. Funny thing about T was that she had these super-dark sunglasses on. Remember the old Vaurnet's from the 80's? They were a knock-off of those. She kept them on through introductions and dinner. It was very odd. She sat directly across the table from me so I had plenty of time to consider the reasons behind her sunglasses-at-night style. Having lived in Humboldt County I have seen the phenomenon before, but not in a 30 to 40-something professional female. I eventually inquired whether she'd been to the optometrist to have her pupils dilated that day. She seemed surprised that I noticed her sunglasses then briefly flashed her eyes for all to see and complained of a sensitivity to light. After a couple of beers the shades did come off and she proceeded to tell us all about her $6,000 boob job. Why is it that people with boob jobs feel compelled to tell everyone about them? I have another friend who had a boob job and she loves to show them to everyone. Since we have the same size boobs she likes to do the real vs. fake comparison at parties. Problem is that I've had mine since puberty and don't feel the same compulsion to show them to everyone. But I digress...Back to singles night.
My contribution to the event (other than my charm, of course) arrived next. The ink on P's divorce filing had just dried the day of singles night so I invited him. That's right, the filing, not the decree. Anyhow, he's an attractive late 30's single guy and I figured he might meet someone at the dinner. P was on his best behavior even though I could tell he was bored and even a bit frightened by the sunglasses-at-night character and Pearl's father. By this time my friend L was a sheet and a half to the wind and we were discussing the merits of waterproof vs traditional female massage toys. She wanted to march down the street to the store to get a waterproof model before dinner arrived. I advised her to just order a bigger cut of meat...
The final arrival was J, a recently divorced mid-30's male massage therapist I had met before. I think he looks like Tom Hanks but no one else does so who knows? J announced that he was late because he had a date. I usually go to singles outings after a date too...don't want to put all my eggs in one basket, right? I think he made up the date story to make himself appear desirable. I won't spend much time on him because, well, this blog is getting too long for such a lame topic.
Dinner was basically uneventful but the best part of the night was after M had ordered an appetizer. The waitress came by the table and asked him, "Was it you who wanted the sausage?" I just about choked on my duck strip. I don't think anyone else noticed.
And people wonder why I'm still single...
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Thursday, July 08, 2004
CATWOMAN
Seeing all the promos for the new Catwoman this week reminded me of my own unique experience (at least I hope not many girls had to go through this!) while I was in college at HSU...
Being a typical undergrad I had a crush on my scruffy, intellectual, not-yet-tenured-because-he-was-too-recalcitrant philosophy teacher. He was a typical philosopher - he drank, smoked and partook in certain other less-than-legal substances. The crush was derived from the combination of his roguishness, a missing finger and the scent of Obsession that wafted my way as he passed my desk during lectures. I'll just refer to him as A and admit it was a phase I was going through and haven't revisted...
Stellar student (and cute blonde?) that I am, I somehow managed to attract A's attention in class. One day after class he mentioned that he would be hanging out at Jambalaya downtown to listen to some blues that night. I took this as an invite and showed up. We ended up dancing and having a blast. One thing led to another and, needless to say, a relationship (and an A in philosophy) ensued.
Early on in the relationship I learned that A's wife had died and he was somewhat obsessed with her. I also found that my resemblance to her was nothing less than freakish. Also freakish was a fetish of A's that I was soon introduced to...
It began innocently enough, he asked me to wear some of the wife's lingerie. Being open-minded and eager to please, I complied. The next week he brought home more racy lingerie. The next it was a school girl outfit, followed by a Little Bo Peep outfit (ironic since my parents are ranchers with sheep), cheerleader outfit, and even a request for my Navy dress whites. With each outfit I would be expected to be in character upon arrival. I'll admit I found it a bit disturbing as he would also assume a role - teacher, big bad wolf, football player, commanding officer, etc. After each session I would return home to tell my roommates of the latest activity. I admit that near the end I was only continuing to see A so I would have great stories to tell my friends the next day. It was actually more entertaining to them than me.
Everyone has their limits, even me. The final straw occurred on a rainy Saturday night that I still remember as if it were yesterdat. I arrived at A's as usual. The house was pretty dark. Downstairs in the extra bedroom was my attire for the night - none other than a CATWOMAN outfit - leotard, ears, tail, the whole works. I donned my outfit and applied some whiskers reluctantly, not quite knowing how to get into character for this one. I went upstairs where A was waiting. He asked me to get on the bed like a good kitty. I was perched on the bed on all fours when he began petting me and rubbing behind my ears. I was doing all I could to hold back my laughter when he suddenly said, "Meow for me little kitty." I couldn't take it. I rolled over convulsing in laughter. He was so serious, telling me I wasn't acting like a kitty at all. It just made me laugh more. Once I was partially composed I went home, in my catwoman suit for my roommates to see. We all about died laughing that night and still have the code of "Meow for me" when we talk on the phone. You can bet I'll be at the movies to see how Halle Berry pulls off her Catwoman gig...
Being a typical undergrad I had a crush on my scruffy, intellectual, not-yet-tenured-because-he-was-too-recalcitrant philosophy teacher. He was a typical philosopher - he drank, smoked and partook in certain other less-than-legal substances. The crush was derived from the combination of his roguishness, a missing finger and the scent of Obsession that wafted my way as he passed my desk during lectures. I'll just refer to him as A and admit it was a phase I was going through and haven't revisted...
Stellar student (and cute blonde?) that I am, I somehow managed to attract A's attention in class. One day after class he mentioned that he would be hanging out at Jambalaya downtown to listen to some blues that night. I took this as an invite and showed up. We ended up dancing and having a blast. One thing led to another and, needless to say, a relationship (and an A in philosophy) ensued.
Early on in the relationship I learned that A's wife had died and he was somewhat obsessed with her. I also found that my resemblance to her was nothing less than freakish. Also freakish was a fetish of A's that I was soon introduced to...
It began innocently enough, he asked me to wear some of the wife's lingerie. Being open-minded and eager to please, I complied. The next week he brought home more racy lingerie. The next it was a school girl outfit, followed by a Little Bo Peep outfit (ironic since my parents are ranchers with sheep), cheerleader outfit, and even a request for my Navy dress whites. With each outfit I would be expected to be in character upon arrival. I'll admit I found it a bit disturbing as he would also assume a role - teacher, big bad wolf, football player, commanding officer, etc. After each session I would return home to tell my roommates of the latest activity. I admit that near the end I was only continuing to see A so I would have great stories to tell my friends the next day. It was actually more entertaining to them than me.
Everyone has their limits, even me. The final straw occurred on a rainy Saturday night that I still remember as if it were yesterdat. I arrived at A's as usual. The house was pretty dark. Downstairs in the extra bedroom was my attire for the night - none other than a CATWOMAN outfit - leotard, ears, tail, the whole works. I donned my outfit and applied some whiskers reluctantly, not quite knowing how to get into character for this one. I went upstairs where A was waiting. He asked me to get on the bed like a good kitty. I was perched on the bed on all fours when he began petting me and rubbing behind my ears. I was doing all I could to hold back my laughter when he suddenly said, "Meow for me little kitty." I couldn't take it. I rolled over convulsing in laughter. He was so serious, telling me I wasn't acting like a kitty at all. It just made me laugh more. Once I was partially composed I went home, in my catwoman suit for my roommates to see. We all about died laughing that night and still have the code of "Meow for me" when we talk on the phone. You can bet I'll be at the movies to see how Halle Berry pulls off her Catwoman gig...
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
BENCH HUMPER
I know it's been a while but it's tough to force myself to come up with clever tales to tell. Fortunately for me there are plenty of interesting people that cross my path and lead to such tales...
I went up to the No Doubt concert at the Santa Barbara Bowl on Saturday night. I met my friends D, S, R, & J (I only use initials to protect the guilty...). They had procured some prime tickets in the exclusive 'H' section - which means you ought to bring binoculars or get really drunk so you don't care...We chose the latter option. The five of us met up at Pasqual's for drinks before the show. Of course, everyone at Pasqual's seemed to lubing up before the concert as well so it was a good time. I downed three melon balls and was hit on by a young Brad Pitt look-a-like and was happily on my way once I was able to fit my inflated head out the door.
I don't remember how we got to the concert area other than that we roared through the closed parking lot and found a spot as the parking attendants yelled that we couldn't park there but were too lazy to walk over and enforce the threats. D, S and I were all wearing heels and did not want to stumble up the hill to the bowl so we haled a poor 140 lb pedi-cab to take the three of us (approximately 400 lbs total) UP the hill to the bowl. The poor kid was standing on the pedals and even popped a wheelie at one point due to our combined tonnage. All the while the three of us were commenting on his assets. At least we gave him a good tip.
Upon arrival at the concert we hit the bar for more drinks then went to find our seats. Being a friendly group and immediately struck up a conversation with three fellow imbibers seated directly behind us. The group consisted of one man flanked by two typical 40-something Santa Barbara blonds - roots showing and faces swollen from recent Botox injections. They were fun and we were all laughing and having a great time. Gwen and the boys soon took the stage and the show began. I was consumed by my own version of modern dance (a variation of the hokey pokey and the white girl groove) when D pointed out the chap behind us. He was performing the rare and often overlooked bench humper dance. The man was literally straddling the back of the bench, with one foot on the bench seat and the other on the concrete behind the seat, ass in the air, humping the bench. I mean he was down on it grinding away! He even made a spanking motion as if he were riding a horse. His two companions had long since disappeared to seek out more libations - or perhaps to disassociate themselves from the aluminum bench fornicating man. What was unbelievable was that he continued to hump the bench in various manners and contortions throughout the entire show. Needless to say, D and I nearly peed ourselves laughing at the guy. He saw us laughing and just grinded more. I had never seen such a sight and the vision is still very clear in my head. I just can't believe the man had made it through life without someone advising that public bench-humping is a no-no...
I went up to the No Doubt concert at the Santa Barbara Bowl on Saturday night. I met my friends D, S, R, & J (I only use initials to protect the guilty...). They had procured some prime tickets in the exclusive 'H' section - which means you ought to bring binoculars or get really drunk so you don't care...We chose the latter option. The five of us met up at Pasqual's for drinks before the show. Of course, everyone at Pasqual's seemed to lubing up before the concert as well so it was a good time. I downed three melon balls and was hit on by a young Brad Pitt look-a-like and was happily on my way once I was able to fit my inflated head out the door.
I don't remember how we got to the concert area other than that we roared through the closed parking lot and found a spot as the parking attendants yelled that we couldn't park there but were too lazy to walk over and enforce the threats. D, S and I were all wearing heels and did not want to stumble up the hill to the bowl so we haled a poor 140 lb pedi-cab to take the three of us (approximately 400 lbs total) UP the hill to the bowl. The poor kid was standing on the pedals and even popped a wheelie at one point due to our combined tonnage. All the while the three of us were commenting on his assets. At least we gave him a good tip.
Upon arrival at the concert we hit the bar for more drinks then went to find our seats. Being a friendly group and immediately struck up a conversation with three fellow imbibers seated directly behind us. The group consisted of one man flanked by two typical 40-something Santa Barbara blonds - roots showing and faces swollen from recent Botox injections. They were fun and we were all laughing and having a great time. Gwen and the boys soon took the stage and the show began. I was consumed by my own version of modern dance (a variation of the hokey pokey and the white girl groove) when D pointed out the chap behind us. He was performing the rare and often overlooked bench humper dance. The man was literally straddling the back of the bench, with one foot on the bench seat and the other on the concrete behind the seat, ass in the air, humping the bench. I mean he was down on it grinding away! He even made a spanking motion as if he were riding a horse. His two companions had long since disappeared to seek out more libations - or perhaps to disassociate themselves from the aluminum bench fornicating man. What was unbelievable was that he continued to hump the bench in various manners and contortions throughout the entire show. Needless to say, D and I nearly peed ourselves laughing at the guy. He saw us laughing and just grinded more. I had never seen such a sight and the vision is still very clear in my head. I just can't believe the man had made it through life without someone advising that public bench-humping is a no-no...
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