2003-09-16 - 1:52 p.m.
Warning: entry not for kidlets.
You know how in porn*, there's frequently a scene where some huge-breasted blond woman gets abruptly done from behind? She's in the kitchen, chopping veggies, until a 5'2" ugly guy with a hairy back pushes her over and starts popping away - no prep, no warning? Well let me tell you, that's only fun if you are actually turned on by the guy. Otherwise, what you're thinking is I have carrot peelings under my fingernails and how long is he going to take and ow, damnit, take it easy! As Adam Corolla** once said, "welcome to chafes-ville". Hey, that hurts! is exactly how I feel about life right now. Events are just a skanky guy in dirty underwear who won't let me stand upright - or at least get turned on first.
On Sunday afternoon I went to Miss A/Fish Guy's place to bbq. The girls were all out back, doing the "soft cheese and white wine thing". The guys were deep into the NFL. I said hello to the ladies and opened a beer. I grabbed some dip and toasted bread. And I plopped myself straight onto a football-devoted couch with the men.
For two whole hours, I didn't need to talk. Nobody asked me for anything. When my empty bottle was magically replaced with a fresh Heineken, it was a message. I was welcome. And after a while, I fell asleep, head and feet cushioned by friends.
So the next time that the toothless Karmic Carnie decides to bend me over, I'm going to pretend I'm back on that couch, supported. Quiet. Safe.
*I am giving away far too much here, but whatever.
**Honest, I was an intellectual once. I used to write literary deconstructions of Goethe in German; now I quote Loveline.
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