The pick-up line that I had absolutely no response for:
"Let's go get tested together so we can be monogamous."
cheesy, yes. Clever, definitely. Effective, not really. But it really goes to show how times, they are a changing.
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Monday, May 24, 2004
Innovative
I finally ran out of Raisin Bran. I bought five boxes at once a couple of months ago, and finally finished them. I think I crave to be regular. And to think, I still like Raisin Bran, still want it. So I had to get more. I haven't been staying at home, I've been in a somewhat unfamiliar area, so I went to the grocery store during the day, since I don't know where there's a korean around here. It's been a while since I've been to a grocery during "normal" hours, when people are actually doing their weekly/monthly shopping. People clutching their coupons, 20-somethings reading nutrition labels and grabbing "Atkins friendly" items, women grabbing cans of Chef Boyrdee with their kids leashed to the carts, bachelors with carts full of Lean Cuisine (we are in LA), scanning the isles for women with single serving food in their baskets. Those are all people of lore previously. I'm used to seeing the graveyard shift, blue collar workers, looking for the tried and true brands, the insomniac writers and artists, with carts full of sugar products to help summon their muse, or the strung out druggies and drunks, shoving an entire pack of starburst into their mouths and asking a clerk if frozen pizza is okay to eat uncooked. I don't identify with any of the above, I just don't like crowds or lines, or people seeing that I'm buying five boxes of Raisin Bran at a time that's not on sale. But this time, this time the store is bustling, I have to park over 50 yards away and I am confused. I immediately walk into the store to hit the customer service desk with an elderly woman trying to return her ice cream because it tastes "funny". The desk person is thinking of a way to tell this sweet old woman that the ice cream she bought was "Frosty Paws", ice cream made for dogs. And instantly, I am cheered. I see a perfectly coifed woman offering five bucks to the "special" (read:retarded) bag boy to help her to her car. She is perfectly capable, but this boy feels needed and helpful now. So this is what I am missing during the daylight hours, when I'm usually holed up studying somewhere. I've been missing out on all of this goodness, but nice, and absurd. I peruse the fully stocked aisles, with lots of stock people stocking as people are taking. I see items I've never seen before because they are always gone at 2am. I finally see what a smucker's uncrustables looks like. I see, get this, cocoa flavored potatoes by ore ida. Yes, they are cocoa flavored french fries. ????? I find coupons on the floor, I see women trading coupons in the deli section, I meet a Samoan woman with an awesome recipe for spam musubi. And I am there for a total of 20 minutes. I am hooked and fascinated. I need to get a life.
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Thursday, May 20, 2004
Root behavior
When you frequent a dog park, there are behaviors that you just get accustomed to that would be considered awkward or rude or just plain not right. Like the crotch sniff. No one apologizes, it's just a naturally occurrence, stinky snatch or not. So when I saw a big, lumbering dog come towards me with his nose poised in the air, I knew what was coming, so I readied myself to do the "stoop and swoop" maneuver, consisting of stooping down to the dog and swooping it in your arms for a little lovin'. I wasn't expecting him to be so fast, and he beat me to it. But the odd thing is (compared to all of my other oddities), he didn't do the crotch sniff. No, he stuck his entire head in between my legs and shook his head back and forth. And then just kept it there. Okay, now I'm feeling awkward. A little stunned, and awkward. What am I supposed to do? And why does this feel so familiar? Then his owner saw what he was up to and told me she didn't know where he learned that or why he does it. And I couldn't help but think, He does it because no one taught him otherwise, and if he learned it from you, there must be a very unsatisfied Mr. or Missus at home! And then it hit me: I know why this feels so familiar, it's very much like a technique that my last boyfriend would use! And he's also really hairy and kind of smelly! He was also very fond of the "pig (or dog, not saying the ex was a pig) rooting for truffles" technique. Shove his head between my legs and shake his head back and forth like he's looking for something. Except I don't know why he found it so hard to find the truffle. It's not like it's hidden in a huge forest or anything. But I digress.
True, the dog didn't learn this behavior. They never learn this behavior because no one taught them the proper behavior. Much like our men. You'd think it would be easy to find the truffle, but apparently, it's at the same level of difficulty as the New York Times crossword. Takes just as long too. I see books and books on how to give men the ultimate blow job, but nothing about men finding a woman's truffle. This is something that should be taught in high school with sex ed. Just think what a happier, healthier world this would be if women got theirs once in a while. I'm thinking along the lines of world peace and no hunger. So how about it boys, have coffee with a lesbian and promote goodwill to all mankind.
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Monday, May 17, 2004
Excuse me, you dropped something
Miss, you just dropped another name...
Just as I'm getting used to LA again, something has to remind me of all the stupid stereotypes that this place is known for.
I have a, what I like to think of as, 'non-Hollywood' type friend. We're pretty close. I tell her dirty stories, she informs me of her latest yeast infection, that kind of close. We're both single and dislike children, we bond. We try and hang out every couple of weeks and eat. One of the last times, she brought one of her roommates. I had never met her, but friend likes her a lot. I finally meet said roommate and am instantly slapped back into Hollywood-land. An aspiring actress who works with 'artist management', that manages B-level actors with looks and boobage rather than talent, Carmen Electra, for example. Oh, she doesn't manage them, she works in the office. But she's like THIS with them, you know. Uh huh, sure. If there's one thing I can't stand (but let's face it, we all know there are MANY things I can't stand), it's people who live for celebrity and pop culture. She's a perfectly nice person, a bit much to handle sometimes, but tolerable. But our clashing personalities led to an interesting night. I don't understand the need to personalize celebrities by referring to them by their first name only. Like by calling them "Ashton" or "Dave" will put the person on the same level. And that caused problems by the fact that I often didn't know who she was talking about. Dave? Dave who? Duchovny, Caruso, Bowie, Byrne? There are a lot of friggin' Dave's out there my dear, narrowing it down might help a bit. Navarro? Who the fuck cares about a washed up rock star? But I have to say, I don't envy her having to deal with me either. My lack of knowledge of all things popular and hip must be irritating, and a pain since I obviously am not a step on her way to stardom. When it was discovered that I was unfamiliar with a song by Outkast called "Hey yeah", I was close to being ostrasized and thrown out of the car, but the car was mine. My only previous dealings with Outkast happens to be from when the ex was into them, and they were known to be gangsta rap, and I never listened to anything he listened to because he's a geek and has odd taste. Then Trigger 'serenaded' my voicemail because he can't groove and leave a message at the same time, he has to groove, and then leave a message. But as lovely as that was, I can't entirely depend on his rendition as to be an appropriate representation of the song, seeing as Trigger is very white, and very suburban. Point being, it is appalling that I am not aware of Outkasts' current opus on the airwaves and that I think of 'Car Talk' and 'Prairie Home Companion' as popular radio, and the cd in my car happens to be Tom Waits and the other cd in my car is the soundtrack to Blade Runner. The only thing that "saved" me in her eyes was the fact that I have recently slept with a rock star.
As it were, my friend is completely enamored with her new roommate and is starstruck when attending B-level parties with her, and I worry that my friend is going to turn to the dark side. But I've learned the hard way, you can't beat the Hollywood out of someone. There's nothing there.
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Saturday, May 15, 2004
I'm Back
Sorry I've been absent. I got that stupid Sasser virus and was robbed of ALL of my data on my hard drive (nekkid pictures included) and left without a computer for two weeks. So now I'm back and ready to amuse.
