Technical Difficulties...

Many apologies for the inconvenience, however the author is experiencing incapacitating heart ache as if there were a large elephant standing precisely on her upper left anterior torso.  We hope to return to our normal schedule of creativity and humor tomorrow...

The Dugout Method: Sping, Cujo, and other hygenic attrocities that can kill the UHAUL. A series.

Yet another impending date for yet another really good friend. Not a blind date however.  This one has been 'rehearsed' a few times.  Never the less, she expressed exhaustion at the hassles of  date preparation such as shaving, tweezing, etc., due to still being within the confines of newness and behind the 3 month threshold.  This led to an interesting discussion in which the Top 5 hygenic areas (above the belt) were identified and strategically termed the The Dugout.  I'll explain later.  Moving forward...thorough grooming and self awareness is of the utmost importance during this fresh phase of impressive facades and sizing up whether you plan on taking it to more serious levels within the relationship.  You know what I'm talking about...the levels where you can be completely gross with each other and it have no impact on the relationship.  An 'open door policy' if you will.  For those of you that have seen Going the Distance with Drew Barrymore, you know what I'm talking about.  Ehemmm...until this status is reached however, there are aspects of personal hygeine that under no circumstances can be neglected during this incredibly important dance of seduction in which you lure your object of desire into even wanting to entertain such intimacy with you in the future.  We shall begin the first part of this series with Lips...the gateway to conversation, laughter, and hopefully other recreational activities. Lips can be incredibly inviting, seductive,....or completely crippling. There are two evilities that effect the lips. Let's discuss Sping. Sping can be the death of ALL progress no matter how well things are going.  Sping = that tiny string of spit that has somehow glued itself between the top and bottom lip, usually smack dab in the center, and has elastic properties that would make even spider man envious.  Unless there is a need for a vertical escape route via those fleshy flaps on the face, Sping is NEVER a good thing. Soon, no conversation is heard as all concentration is magically sucked into the Sping vortex like a bad infomercial.  For me, this is just a breaking point I can't move past.  I either offer her a drink, make hand gestures that will hopefully prompt her subconscious to examine the area in question, or I simply have to stop looking at her. Call me shallow but it's better than throwing up on my date.  The second chunk churner is Cujo Corners. It's that incredible 'how do you not notice the thick white spit making a nest in the corners of your mouth' kind of gross that might just trump Sping depending on the severity.  It's like a double whammy, becasue it never just happens on one side...and it usually gets worse. I don't care how attracted I am to my date, if she starts turning into Cujo, all bets are off. I can't help it. Now thus far, I have addressed these issues as though it's your date experiencing these unfortunate, physiological anomolies.  However, this must not give you a false sense of security that you are immune to such deal breakers.  This brings me back to The Dugout method. The areas we will be discussing in the next few days are all conveniently located on the head/face.  The lips, teeth, nose, eyes, and ears.  With the close proximity of the aforementioned, a bit of practice can make even a less than coordinated Don Juan get through The Dugout Method with a well seasoned third base coach's subtleties.  It's all in the head tilt, the laugh, and the casual movements.  A Dugout Pro can manage a 'clean sweep' in well under 15 seconds.  With a mirror or a close friend who can manageably control their laughter, you can create your very own Dugout routine and be confident in your immunity to UHAUL killers like Sping and Cujo Corners. That is all for now kids.  Tune in again tomorrow for a titilating discussion on Furry Enamel and Garlic Nots.

Tall Women. Tall Personalities. Blind Dates. Nipple Piercings.

Height is a funny thing.  There's no way to shrink 'tallness' unlike the capability of shorter women that can wear heels of varying lengths to falsely advertise vertical prowess. I however, am not a partaker in wearing  sticks strategically and uncomfortably placed under my feet in order to dwell at higher altitudes.  It simply has never suited me even before I cut my hair and embraced my boyishly cute persona.  Which leads me to recall a hilarious conversation with one of my closest friends this morning.  Tall women vs. tall personalities. Blind dates and body piercings.  While both she and I are conveniently housed in small-ish frames (5'2-5'5), we undoubtedly have rather tall personalities.  I'd say at least in the 6 foot realm.  We're both confident (but not cocky), capable of controling a conversation if necessary or comfortably listening and observing, charming, funny, and in mutual opinions of one another, devestatingly cute.  All of which somehow magically adds inches to our frames...and maybe even our egos and self awareness.  Both of us have dated taller women but interestingly enough, my friend is struggling with an impending 'blind date' with a woman several inches taller than her, boastful of her 13 tattoos, pierced nipples and of an unknown height/weight proportion.  Given that no face to face introductions have yet taken place, this woman's English accent has my friend drooling all over her cell phone even when mystery woman speaks of needing a cigarette and cup of coffee....neither of these vices attractive in the least for my dear friend (well at least not the smoking part).  However, something about her pronunciations helps to slightly filter and soften the reality of potentially kissing an ash tray in a few weeks.  Depending on their height difference, those piercings could prove to be dangerous for my dear friend.  No accent is worth losing an eye over.  And even though she and I have 6' tall personalities, dating taller, mystery women of various size and piercing placement can be dangerous business.  Words of caution to ponder on this fine evening here in California.

Pancake Coma and Winter Preparation

It's a Bloody Mary kind of Sunday morning.  The kind with just a tad too much horseradish that makes you squint your eyes and sip it a bit slower.  No celery stalk though. I'm not a fan of useless decoration in my drink. Especially decorations that either poke me in the eye or obnoxiously go straight up my nose if I'm not paying attention. However, my hankering will go unfulfilled due to my cabinets being empty of the needed ingredients. This isn't total devestation though.  I love my coffee.  It too can have mind tingling properties depending on the number of cups I deem appropriate for my mood.
Today's forecast: Slow moving clouds of pancake coma followed by a sunny afternoon of hiking up the challenging trails on 'Firgit Abowter' Peak. Crisp winds of change from the east will likely bring another cold front but with it the need for my favorite attire and snow filled weekend getaways. Hoodies, fuzzy hats, vests, favorite jeans and good old fashioned cuddling up by the fire with a hot cup of  Single Tea.  Sounds like a winter I can weather.

Pocahontas sightings and the fine art of Beersby

Thanks to a good neighbor/friend of mine, tonight I was introduced to the fine art of Beersby.  It's a simple game.  Two 5' poles spread approximately 25 feet apart with a lone beer perched atop each.  Players earn points by accurately flinging a frisbee to knock the other teams said beer off of said pole while the opponents must catch both said frisbee and beer, while simultaneously holding their own bottle of beer in one hand.  It was mindless fun which couldn't have been more precisely what I needed for my swirling noggin of contemplations.  The best part of this party was that it was outside on one of the most beautiful plots of farmland I have ever had the pleasure of setting foot.  The serene glow of the golden, rolling hillsides, the hum and laughter of the party goers, the melodic rhythm of conversation mingling with the evening crickets... the beautiful girl who looked like Pocohantas...kindof...but in a much more modern, sexy, I drive a pick-up truck and I camp in a tent, not a tee-p, kind of way.  We locked eyes a few times in the awkward way flirtatious tension tends to provoke.  She looked at me, I gave a crooked smile and glanced away. I looked at her again, she spilled her drink. It was a good time.  My friend left early while her daughter and I finished up the semi-finals of this new found pleasant past time. We secured our victorious last place honors and headed home.  Something about the air tonight feels different.  Maybe it's a feeling of slowly belonging. Maybe it's a feeling of letting go. Or perhaps it's just the night air turning cooler that's making me smile as I pull up my driveway, happy for a hot cup of tea and contentment.  Either way, Beersby and Pocohantas have given me hope for something more in this town.

One Sided Conversations

A friend recently remarked that blogging was rather something to scoff at, assimilating it to nothing more than a one-sided conversation.  Perhaps even something 'we might have to break up' over in her account of my present ambitions as a writer.  An insinuation that implies value can only be derived from two people sharing thoughts and deliberations versus an individual's thoughts conveying substance to contemplate.  While she perhaps has a one-sided point, I can't help but to chuckle regarding her knee jerk reaction missing the mark when it comes to the value that many a one-sided conversation has brought upon our existence.  Take for example the musings of  Plato, Aristotle, Ghandi, Rachel Maddow, and Eminem...icons of the human expression of thoughts, opinion, and instigators of both controversy and insight.  I mean, really? Had it not been for generations of individual thought and one-sided expression, things such as books (conveyors of information as she pointed out) would not be in existence.  I don't hold this particular viewpoint of my dear friend in contempt, however.  Given her present existence in the life sucking undertow that is grad school, I can almost understand her ridicule of any thoughts that live outside the realm of exploding brain cells wired to receive information that is to be regurgitated.  I admire her ability to thrive without emotional and tangible watering of her right sided lobe.  She is nothing short of my antithesis when it comes to the wiring of our 'noodles'.  I navigate with charm, prose, passion, and humor while she charts her course with hard facts, sharp edges, paper cuts and a tenacity that manifests miracles out of cyclic bonds and chemical reactions.  She compartmentalizes, I color outside the lines. She sees the facts, I see the possibilities. Both of us have our place in contributing to conversation, whether one sided or not.  Without our differences, there would be a crippling truth to her opinion of my decision to share the musings of my little deviant noodle ;)