Random Esquire

Besos and I each took the personality inventory test out of this book.   Her dominant personality style/trait was Sensitive.  Mine was Conscientious.   So, the cool thing about this book is that there’s a section in which it gives you some tips on how to be a better other half to each particular personality trait.  I turned to the section on how to be good to the Sensitive person in your life.

The first paragraph says:  “Count your blessings.”

After reading that, we turned to the section on how to be good for the Conscientious person in your life.

It said:  “Be humorously tolerant.”

*Blink*

Let me get this straight.  The advice for me on how to be good for Besos is to count my blessings.  And her advice on how to deal with me is to, effectively, grin and bear it?

I call Shenanigans!

You may have heard.  It’s cold in Chicago.  Lots of snow and ice and salt on the roads and sidewalks.  All of that ice, snow and salt gets caught in Little Filthy’s paws.  Today, while on the couch, I glanced over and saw a slight cut on one of the pads of Little Filthy’s back foot.  I frowned and went to get some anti-biotic cream.  I applied some of the cream to his paw with a Q-tip.  It was then that I noticed that the pads of his feet looked pretty dry and beat up from the snow and ice.  I got this idea to put Aquaphor (which is predominantly petroleum jelly – aka vaseline) on the pads of his feet.

I rolled him on to his back so his paws stuck straight up into the air.  Little Filthy likes to have his feet touched so I figured this would be easy.  I squeezed out some Aquaphor and began to rub it into the pads of his feet.  Pretty soon, front and back paws looked black and healthy and good to go.  I was pretty proud of myself and Little Filthy seemed okay with it, too.

Until…(did I mention that I have hard wood floors?)

Until there was a noise in the hallway and he jumped off the couch, raced down the hall on the rug…and then off the rug… and then promptly slid the last 10 or so feet on the hard wood floor and smack into the front door.

He was unfazed but I scooped him up and quickly made sure there was no excess Aquaphor on his feet.  Then I cleaned up the skid marks he’d left in the hall.

Good thing the little monster is box trained.  I think we’ll just stay inside for a bit.

Sorry, Little Filthy.

1.  I decided to make hot buttered rum.  I am now officially an alcoholic.

2.  I think I may be headed to Spain in May and to Monaco to see the Grand Prix.  Travel is good.

3.  I went to a Christmas party last night and the main topic of conversation was if guys in porn have smaller testicles than your average guy.  HAPPY HOLIDAYS.

4.  The second most popular topic of conversation was manscaping and maintenance.  I gotta tell you, I don’t know if could  er…fully enjoy a woman who didn’t maintain.  The way I see it is this…if someone dropped a crumb on it and it could get stuck, it’s too much.  Plain and simple.  It’s like a man’s beard.  If food could get lost in there, it’s a no-go.  Time to trim/shave/maintain.

5.  Little Filthy has moved on from his duck (the head is now removed) and is workin’ on a hedgehog.

6.  What’s the biggest item on your Christmas list?

1.  There is an ad that runs during the Today Show.  It is for women’s panties called “Vanishing Edge” and the ad says that they have “patented stay-put technology.”

Now, I’m just going to assume that means they stay in place.  That makes some sense to me.  But calling it “stay-put technology” is a little like ..well, it isn’t like a prostitute leaving chocolates on your pillow but it’s definitely more to-do than called for.

2.  Blagojevich has a 7% approval rating.  I don’t find that low number remarkable – what I want to know is who the hell makes up that 7%.

3.  Little Filthy ate string or twine or something like that.  I do not know where he got it but it is exiting his system.  Slowly. Scissors have been required.

4.  I’m trying to drink port again.  I bought a better port and this one doesn’t taste like alcoholic raisin juice.  It’s a step in the right direction.

5.  Britney Spears is getting vaguely hot again.  I’m telling you, it really f*cks with my head.

6.  I think it’s time for another food picture post.

7.  I made cranberry sauce.  Why? Because I didn’t have any on Thanksgiving.  Do you know how hard it is to actually use up cranberry sauce when you don’t have turkey leftovers?  Well, let me tell you:  it’s hard.

8.  The funny thing about that journalist throwing shoes at President Bush is that everyone simply paused and politely waited while he leaned back down to get his other shoe to hurl.  Security FAIL.  Common Courtesy FTW!

9.  My family is not big into the holidays.  Or traditions.  Or celebrating.  Or even loving each other, really.  Okay, I made up that last one.  My mother did always decorate for Christmas and make cookies and we’d go look at lights and people singing about how it’s such a great time of the year and all that crap – but my sister and I just never quite bought it.  I will not be a Scrooge, however, because Besos seems to like Christmas and I am hoping it rubs off on me.

10.  Sitcom’s dog has his own blog.  My personal favorite entry?

Stoned Pants

I got Little Filthy a toy.  It’s a duck that quacks.  It meant that I woke up the next morning to quacks and cries and growls.  I can’t really describe the odd noises he makes so I made a video.  Enjoy.

It has been a nice evening.  I made a roasted chicken and vegetables for dinner with Besos.  She came over and we started with roasted garlic and hot bread before dining.  We’re about 75% through a bottle of wine.  After dinner, I banished her from the kitchen and she’s now in the bathtub with candles.  Carley Simon is softly crooning about clouds in her coffee.  I went back to peek in at Besos and saw her, half submerged, head dipped back in the water, breasts covered with bubbles out of the hot water.

It struck me that my life has changed tremendously in the past year.  And for all of that, I am thankful.  It has been a difficult year but the past few months have been …well, I am grateful for them.

Thank you, whoever is looking after me.  Thank you.

I watched Spartacus last night.  I don’t really know why other than it has gladiators.  And Besos wasn’t there to kindly suggest we watch House instead.  Some observations:

1.  Kirk Douglas has a full on divot in his chin.  It looks like a belly button.  WTF.

2.  I finally saw the full “oysters and snails” scene. If you’re not familiar with it, it shows General Crassus (played by Laurence Olivier) being washed in a bath by his slave Antoninus (played by Tony Curtis). Here’s the transcript:

Crassus: Do you eat oysters?
Antoninus: When I have them, master.
Crassus: Do you eat snails?
Antoninus: No, master.
Crassus: Do you consider the eating of oysters to be moral and the eating of snails to be immoral?
Antoninus: No, master.
Crassus: Of course not. It is all a matter of taste, isn’t it?
Antoninus: Yes, master.
Crassus: And taste is not the same as appetite, and therefore not a question of morals.
Antoninus: It could be argued so, master.
Crassus: My robe, Antoninus. My taste includes both snails and oysters.

I eat oysters, not snails.  But I don’t give a damn if you eat snails and don’t really consider it anyone’s concern if you like/eat oysters or snails.  Or if you eat them topped with butter or slurp them out of a shell. Whatever makes your clock tick.

3.  As the slaves marched across Italy, I noticed some dogs in the masses.  It made me wonder if Little Filthy would survive a trek across Italy.  I am pretty sure that by day 3, the slaves would have pug chops on the menu.  I should say Chug Chops since he’s half chihuahua.  My point is that Little Filthy is used to regular feedings, filtered water and DVR’d Animal Planet.  Have you ever seen Animal Cops? Where cops go and bust people who don’t take care of their animals?  What sort of makes me laugh is that Animal Cops is seriously like they made the show Cops…but for dogs.  For some reason, this cracks me up.  But I digress.

4.  Many of the slaves had mullets.  I realized that this must be because the mullet is an extremely utilitarian hair style and makes perfect sense.  You don’t want a ton of hair in your face, flying in the wind – so you cut the front and sides short.  But you don’t want the back of your neck freezing or getting a sunburn – so you keep it long back there.  Of course, that was thousands of years ago.  In our modern age of hair clips, barbers and scarves, I’m not so sure a mullet serves any purpose other than birth control.  You know, like Birkenstocks.

5.  What should I watch next?

The only thing better than watching people fall asleep unintentionally is watching dogs do it.  (This is not Little Filthy.)

Besos was not so much in a good mood today.  She didn’t know why.  Which baffled me.  But then she said she had PMS.

Ooohhhhh.

So when she came over tonight, I did climb all over her but stopped and drew a bath for her, got some candles, wine, a bathbomb from Lush (from an earlier gift to her), played some soft music, helped her into the tub and then I got the hell out of her way.  Just now she called me in to scrub her back which I dutifully did before I beat another hasty retreat.

I’ve learned that sometimes, the best way to treat a girlfriend’s PMS is to not treat her to the pleasure of my company.  Of course, it doesn’t do to ignore the situation.  The goal is to be there without being there.  Which is a little like wanting sunshine while it rains… but there you have it.

I admit.  I’m not sure what to do when she gets out of the tub.  There are some natural inclinations, of course, but I think I’m supposed to forgo them.  I’ll just go with the old stand-by.  The massage.  And no talking.

Besos and I had dinner with a long-time friend of mine last night.  I glanced over at Besos a few times as my friend relayed stories of me sliding across a bar on my knees while singing to Elvis and about crazy ex-girlfriends of mine.  I think her mouth was open at some points.  Hey, I haven’t always been a stuffy attorney.  I cultivated this over the course of years.

My friend relayed a story about some of her cousins – a pair of sisters.  Their father had died and neither one of them would go pick up the ashes from the funeral home.  Finally, one of them did and they stuck the ashes in a bag.  A paper bag.  At one point, he was upgraded to a Nieman-Marcus bag.  Of course, the bag was resigned to the trunk of a car.  But on Memorial Day, they took out the bag and went bar hopping with his ashes.

My friend and her husband (also a friend of mine) are…rather known for having wild/creative sex, especially in public places.  Her husband once surprised her when she pulled her car in the garage by peeking out of the other car in the garage – buck naked.  There was also the time when he answered the door for her wearing a hard hat, tool belt and work books and nothing else.  Apparently, their latest gig is having sex at a local college.  She sighed and said in a resigned tone, “He just likes having sex in a classroom.”  I, of course, found this hilarious.  She had recently confessed this public sex habit to a close friend…and then one morning, she and her husband went for a brisk morning walk along a golf course where they spotted the friend’s husband, who, naturally, probably assumed they’d been having sex on the links.  She said, “I wanted to yell, ‘We just like walking! We weren’t having sex!’”

Except they probably were.  There’s probably a spot on the 9th with matted down grass in the shape of one body.  By the way, did I mention that my friend and her husband are in their mid/late 50’s?  Pretty damn awesome, no?

So, last night, with Besos and I tucked in bed, I turned to her and said, “If THEY had sex in a classroom, WE have to have sex in a classroom.”  She patted my head and said, “We will.  I’m sure.”

It’s a good thing she agreed.  If she had said no, I was fully prepared to say, “Bev lets me.“