Random Esquire

Ayup.

Let’s have a big ol’ entry about nothing.  Stream of thought ahead.

Let’s see…

I didn’t see my work girlfriend yesterday.  She was in negotiations until about 9 p.m.  What’s the point of going into the office on a Tuesday if I don’t get to see Instigator?  Precious little, I can tell you.

Oh, however, Fresh Express did come by to let me know that the building would be providing breakfast for everyone tomorrow.  Like that one time her boyfriend came into the office just for breakfast and fell asleep at a conference table with a chocolate eclair in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other.

Speaking of, she hasn’t cut out any newspaper articles for me recently.  Which, I am sure, the library is quite pleased about.

My sister called me today and told me that movies like Saw and Hostel scare her.  I don’t really enjoy those movies but they don’t much scare me.  And then we had a discussion about stranger danger which I seemingly have none of.  But don’t worry.  I still hate people.  (I love mankind! It’s people I can’t stand. -LVP)

And the stranger danger made me think of Boss who had massive kinds of stranger danger.  Also, I thought about her when Debra from Rubbermoon told me she bought a stamp.

Boss invited me to her kindergarten classroom for Christmas.  Lots of donations for the kids, many of whom didn’t have Halloween costumes.  We used to sponsor some kindergarten kids in Detroit. I wanted to go to take pictures of them getting their gifts and then have them printed for the families but she had to move the dates around and it didn’t happen.  Sure the kids were really happy. heh.

I found a gray hair earlier in the week.  At first I thought, “What the hell? I’m only 36!”  Then I remembered that this is the third of fourth one I’ve found this year.  Then I thought, “Well,whatthefuckever.”

I’ve been obsessing the last few days over something I am not sure how to handle.

I think part of what is bugging me is that I have not made plans for a large trip out of the country yet for 2010. I usually go in May.  I need 2 weeks away and I suspect it will be Spain this year – Barcelona and Madrid for 9 days and then London for 4.

I sleep with my patio door cracked open because I like the cold air.  When I wake, it is usually about 58 degrees.  I call this perfect sleeping weather.

I feel like taking a risk.

Let’s hope I don’t quit my job.

Who knows?  Who gives a shit?

1.  I saw a pregnant woman wearing a bluetooth device today.  It made me think of Groucho Marx.

Hear me out.

There’s a long rumored (and widely suspected untrue) story that during a taping of You Bet Your Life, Groucho Marx interviewed a pregnant woman who already had something like 17 children.  He asked her, more or less, why she had so many children.  She said something along the lines of, “I love my children who are my purpose here on Earth…and I love my husband.”

To which Groucho replied, “Lady, I love my cigar but I take it out of my mouth once in a while.”

That’s a paraphrase of this rumor.  But you get my point.  When I looked at this woman I thought, “I know you love that thing but take it out of your ear once in a while.”

2.  The Ballerina IM’d me earlier today – a little excited to tell me about a dream she had.  I was on a conference call so I watched as she told the story:

“OMG.”

“i just remembered”

“so i had this dream last night.”

“i was at some sort of . . . camp.”

“it was all girls.”

(*PAUSE*  Are you smiling?  So was I.  *RESUME*)

“and i was new or something”

“so we all slept in one room like in bunks”

(*bastard smile*)

“and then i was shown to the other room where each girl had a little cubby to hang her PANTIES”

(*BLINK*)

“it was a room entirely dedicated to storing everyone’s panties, by camper.”

“so naturally i felt pressured to make sure my best panties were always on display.”

By this point, I was trying hard not to laugh during my call.  I asked if I could re-tell this little ditty.  The Ballerina said:

“you know naturally i assume all conversations with you are fodder for the internet.”

Busted.  But look, if you’re going to have dreams about a campsite full of girls who leave their panties in another room, well, yes, you can very well expect that I am going to blog about it in just the worst possible way.

It’s what I do.

I. . .

am a blogger.

Let’s say you decided to go on vacation just for a quick 3 or 4 day getaway.  Now, stay with me here…

And you decided on..hm…Sunny Panama.

And you were looking at Royal Decameron.

And you decided to check out the accomodations.

And as you scrolled down….you saw the hotel’s picture of its Ocean View Guestroom…. nice, nice…tile and bed spread leave something to be desired…but typical…not bad.

Then there’s the superior guestroom…not bad….larger, with a table and chairs…

OH AND THEN THERE IS THE STANDARD GUEST ROOM:

*Ring* *Ring*

“Royal Decameron Resort. How may I help you?”

“I’d like to reserve a standard guestroom please.”

1.  This morning, a friend sent this tweet: “I do it once a season: I’ll catch Josh Groban singing O Holy Night and by the second bar I’m sobbing and have nearly blown out my speakers.”

I responded, “That sort of made me laugh and then feel badly about it after.” I’m telling you, if I saw that happen, I wouldn’t be able to help myself.  I’d laugh.  In fact, I sort of feel like playing the song the next time I see my friend.

And then I realized that shameful laughter is really the best.  The kind where you’re laughing because it’s funny but also just slightly nervous that someone will call you out on in.  Sort of like QT laughing when people fall down. Or like Two Assholes Talking in which we may have said a woman looked like a Dr. Seuss Who.  You sort of feel badly.  But not enough not to laugh.

2.  Someone pointed out to me that all the women in my life lived in a constant state of limbo between laughing and crying.  I found this strangely rewarding.  I’m sure, however, that if you asked Besos or Boss, they might not quite see it that way.  Plush, however, would probably delightfully clap her hands.  Women are complicated.

3.  I have a Playlist on my iPod that includes: Fortunate Son, Give Peace a Chance, Run Through the Jungle, You Really Got Me, War (What is it good for?) and Imagine.  My neighbor was over and heard it and looked at my iPod in the player and said, “You named the playlist… The Hanoi Hilton Remix?”    And see, this is why I don’t listen to music. Everyone’s a critic.

Got mine today!

Don’t forget, if you buy a stamp before the 15th of December, I’ll be entering your name into a drawing for $50.  Debra has been kind enough to enter you upon order. (Thank you, Debra!)

All profits go to the American Cancer Society.  Another big thank you for Debra at Rubbermoon and Gretchen Ehrsam, the artist.  Thank you.

GET YOUR STAMP HERE.

As you know, I run a break-up service.  My primary client is QTMama.  However, as I plan on expanding my client base, it makes good sense to show you my work.  Below, you will see three letters I have most recently drafted for QT.

Please feel free to contact me should you be needing my services.  I guarantee 100% closure.

THE CLIENT LETTER

Dear QT,

We’ve received your most recent order for one break up letter and have three from which you may make your selection.  Please let our office know your selection at your earliest convenience.

RE Breakup Letters, Inc.

Selection #1:  The Attorney Style, on behalf of QT

Dear Mr. Jackpot,

I am writing on behalf of my client, Ms. QTMama, whom I represent in this matter.  It has come to her unfortunate attention that you are not so much Jackpot as Crackpot.  Or, perhaps, in an effort to maintain the theme of this relationship, one might say that you have come up Snake Eyes.  You’ve Crapped Out.  You Busted.  You bet against the House and lost it all.

As Trustee of Ms. QTMama’s feelings, I must tell you that I am disgusted at how you managed her emotional funds while they were in your care.  Your negligence has consequences, not only for her, but primarily, for you.  That consequence is that you are no longer entitled to manage said funds and are cut off from receiving additional funds.  Please act like a gentleman and do not attempt to beg for more funds from the coffers.

As a gambler, I am sure you know that if you squander the funds entrusted to you, you eventually ruin your credit and no more will be extended to you.

Cordially,

Random Esq.

2.  The Poetic Style, with apologies to Joyce Kilmer

To Whom It May Concern:

I think that I shall never see
A man as foolish as are thee.

A man whose feelings run amuck,
like a gambler, out of luck;

A man that sucks the fun from life,
with needless toil and worthless strife;

A man that may not ever lay
his hand upon my great snacktray;

Upon my bosom, men have lain,
but your attempts will be in vain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But not as big a fool as thee.

-QT

3.  The Short and Sweet Style

Dear Jackpot,

I do not like you anymore.

-QT

Again, please let us know your selection as soon as possible.  Most sincerely,  -Your Cookie, RandomEsq.

p.s. QT asks that you let us know which letter you prefer.

1.  I heard Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer today.  I just gotta ask, when is there ever a warm, moist air mass moving over the North Pole on Christmas Eve?  Is fog really an issue at the North Pole?  So I decided to figure it out.  Turns out that because the air is so bitterly cold, it takes a really small amount of water in the air before it saturates, resulting in fog.  But not of water droplets – of ice crystals.  And this is not an infrequent thing.  So I guess the song does sort of make sense.

2.  And then I realized that I’d spent far too much time thinking about that.  Because, really, is the fog part where the song loses credibility for me?  Not the anthropomorphic reindeer?  Or Santa or the LED nose animal?   No.  See, I quickly pinpoint the fog and question that.

Sometimes, my brain is useless.

3.  You may have heard – I have a new service that I’m offering.  But you’ll have to visit QT’s blog Friday morning to hear more about it.

Speaking of, check out that little Meg Ryan.

4.  I am the product of miscegenation.  This means that rarely a week will go by when someone does not ask me about my ethnicity.  However, I fully admit that it sometimes gets tiresome.  I would probably not mind except that most people seem to think that this is an acceptable way to inquire about your ethnicity:  “What are you?”

Sometimes, because I have decided to be playfully difficult, the conversation goes like this:

Person: “What are you?”

RE:  “American.”  Big smile.

Person: “No, I mean, like, where are you from?”

RE: “Oh!  Sorry – I’m from Chicago.”  Big smile.

Person: “Where were you born?”

RE: “Ohhh, Minnesota.”  Winning smile.

Person: “But what language do you speak?”

RE: “…English.”  Confused look.

Person: “I meant other than English.”

RE:  “Oh!  French.”

I don’t look French – even though I am 1/4 French.  I do appreciate the curiosity but sometimes, I want to make something up.  So I’ve decided to start saying, “I’m Caraway.  Perhaps you’ve heard of our seeds.”

5.  I realize that I have shifted this posture to Little Filthy. Once, while dining al fresco with the pooch under the table, a man walked by, did a double take at him and clearly wondered what breed he was.  The beast is pug-chihuahua.  The man said slowly, “What….is he?”

I said slowly, “He…is   a     dog…”

Remember how I said that I was going to give up chasing women and just let someone seduce me?  I’m failing miserably.  What can I say?  I like to chase.

Anyway, in a somewhat related conversation, I asked QT what adjective she’d use to describe her dating style.  Not necessarily how you see yourself but what is it that tends to draw people to you.  What over-arching characteristic about you tends to attract people?  For example, I think that when people see QT, they think: “FUN.”  That’s the word that first pops into my head.  She’s usually laughing or, at the very least, has a smile on her face.  That kind of energy attracts people to her.

I asked her what word she’s use for me.

She thought and said, “So, what is the ONE word that describes a…”

I listened closely and was pleased to hear her say “self aware, financially stable,…”

and then it went downhill.

“…boob loving, motorboating, does-not-put-up-with-women-emotions-but-dates-women kind of person?”

I’m sure I curled my lip a little.

I said, “EVOLVED?  It is EVOLVED?”

And then she said this:

“Well, I don’t think anyone would look at you and say FUN.”

*Blink*

I had to laugh because I think the first thing most people learn about me is that I have an active sense of humor.  I find pretty much everything around me amusing on some level.  And, just to clarify – I actually tend to find emotional women very attractive.  I just have limits.  They are high – but they are there.  *cough*

Anyway, we did not come up with a good one for me.   We tentatively agreed on ‘politely aggressive’ but that makes me sound a little like an ape with some manners and doesn’t really answer the question, I don’t think.  I like to think that I’m very respectful of women.  Maybe that is my style?  I don’t know what my style would be because, well, I think I’d have to ask the women I’ve dated.

As for styles I like? I suppose it depends and evolves as I do.  Strong, confident women are attractive – especially if they are teasing me just a bit.  I enjoy a good tease because I like to chase.  No one wants to chase someone in a straight line until they catch them.  That’s call catching up.  I like to chase.

I think I just decided that I’m respectfully aggressive.  I’m a socially conscious ape.  Fabulous.

So how would you describe your dating style? What is it about you that you think attracts people to you? Is there a particular over-arching personality trait that you find irresistible in someone?

I have been blogging for years and the very best part about it has been the readers.  I am impressed and touched by the kindness and consideration virtual strangers have for each other.  It reinforces this hope/wish/belief that people really do want to come together and be with each other in some unique fashion.  So I was really touched when Debra from Rubbermoon contacted me with the idea of creating a rubber stamp… of Little Filthy.

And she made it happen.  Starting now, you can buy a rubber stamp of Little Filthy.  Artist Gretchen Ehrsam drew Little Filthy for the stamp.  And you know what’s even more cool?  All of the profit from Little Filthy stamps will go to the American Cancer Society.  Debra asked me what charity I would like to receive the money and I chose the ACS because…

…because everyone reading this can probably complete that sentence.  That’s why.

So!  If you want a little bit of Little Filthy in your life… please buy a stamp.

To make this more fun for us all, if you buy a stamp from Debra in the next week, I will stick your name in a drawing that I’ll do for a $50 gift certificate to a store of your choice.  Oh, and dude, you get a freakin’ Little Filthy stamp!  How cool is that??

Thank you, Debra.  Thank you, Gretchen.  Thank you, readers.

And thank you, Little Filthy.  You’re a good dog.

I’ve been teaching Little Filthy not to eat kleenex.  He has recently discovered how to remove them from the box.  Would you like to see how it’s going?

I planted a crumpled up kleenex on the end of my coffee table and started recording.  Then I left the room, walked down the hall and into the bathroom and closed the door for about a minute.  He followed me down the hall and watched me close the door.  Then, apparently, he waited a bit before trotting right back into the living room and getting the kleenex off of the table.

You can hear me walk away right at the beginning of the video. Then, if you skip ahead to about :36, you’ll start to hear him trot back and then commit the dirty crime.

This has to stop.  His butt has become a kleenex dispenser of its own.