Random Esquire

Last Wednesday, I took off work so I could accompany Besos to the hospital for an endoscopy.  I took along my camera.  This is because it is not every day that you get to see the inside of someone’s stomach and I wanted to document said procedure for posterity.  And when I say “for posterity”, I mean “for the blog.”

This may come as a shock but sometimes, I am annoying.  Like, really annoying.  That is exactly how I seemed when I bounced into her place, big grin on and camera ready to rock and roll.  Except, did you know this …?  that being the person who is going to get the endoscopy is actually a lot less fun than being the person who gets to stare at the inside of a stomach?

Me:  “Do you think they’ll let me in with you? Do you think they’ll let me film it?”

Besos:  “NO AND NO.”

Me:  “I think if you consent, maybe I can watch.”

Besos:  “We’ll see.”

Me:  “Do you think they’ll let me film it?”

Besos: “NO.  I am telling you NO.  You can not film it. I am saying NO.”

Me:  *Sad Trombone Sound*

Guess what?  They didn’t let me in.   Otherwise, I could be showing you a picture of the inside of a Besostomach.  I know! Bogus, right?

So, that was Wednesday.  My day for the hospital came last night. (more…)

Besos read and and watched the Twilight series/movies.  I, however, find the vampire kick completely boring and rather ridiculous.  The other day, however, I recorded the first Twilight movie on DVR so she could watch it again.  And today, I cleaned out the DVR and saw it and thought, “Okay, I can do this. Let’s see what the excitement is about.”

I made it an hour in before I had turn it off.

First of all – that brown haired duded who plays the native american friend of the main chick – whatshername (WHN).  That guy is as good an actor as John Goodman – which is to say: not at all.  And he’s dating Taylor Swift, right?  I don’t listen to country music but she seems quite nice and I’m sure they are quite nice together (if they still are together) but my first thought upon seeing him was that if he and Taylor Swift had kids, the kids might end up tan or pale, brunette or blond – but one thing was for sure.

They’d have some momofuku squinty-ass eyes.

Okay, next.

This kid who is a vampire.  This kid looks like some one frying panned him in the face.  By that, I mean that he has an unusually flat face.  I mean, he really has quite the melon on that neck and sometimes, I’m surprised he doesn’t topple forward but what the hell do I know – maybe he has and that’s why he’s flatfaced?

Then I gather that WHN figures out that FlatFace is a vampire and he says that she should see him for what he really is – out in the sunlight.  So NOW I started to pay attention because I was thinking that this was going to be like when the mask gets ripped off the Phantom or the burlap sack gets lifted off the Elephant man.  Flatface is all, “Wait until you see WHO I REALLY AM. You will be SO SCARED.”

And then the jackass steps into some sunlight and…

he sparkles.

Like a kindergarten art project.  Like…all glittery.

WTF?

For real?  That’s *IT*?

No skin blistering?  No blood red eyes?  No blood curdling scream from the girl?  He just sparkles like someone dipped him in glue and he rolled around in glitter? What the HELL?

And that’s when I turned it off.

How did your parents meet each other?

My father was in the army and was stationed overseas. He met my mother through a friend.  They were married on an army base.

That’s the short and sweet of it.  I thought of it recently because it occurred to me that everyone in my family seems drawn to someone of a different ethnic background.  If you take either of my parents, my sister or me – each of us is married to (or, in my case, dating) someone with a different first language.

I attribute this to the fact that in order for anyone to tolerate dating someone in the family, he or she needs to have the option of chalking up half of the crap that comes out of our mouths to a “lost in translation” type of misunderstanding.  Because not only are the first languages different from our own – none of them are alike.

We like DIFFERENT.

So, I’m curious… How did your parents meet? Are they pretty alike? or different?

1.  Yesterday, on my way home from work, I was in a train car with a positively stunning woman.  She was blonde, wearing a skirt and heels and had great legs.  She had very blue eyes.  She looked about 45 or so.  Perhaps closer to 50.  Partly what made her look so stunning was that she was so elegant looking.  We got off at the same stop.  I live near a dance studio and I was unsurprised to see her walk into the front door.  Ahhh, a dancer.  Well, that explains the legs.  Anyway, I remembered the incident because in my head, I thought to myself, “Ah, now she is a woman.”

2.  Yes, everybody, peanut butter goes bad.  Besos had managed to find a jar of peanut butter from the back of some cupboard that had gone untouched since my break-up with Boss.  How do I know this?  Because Boss likes creamy peanut butter and I like chunky.  Besos had found some old jar of creamy peanut butter.

Only spoiled kids get creamy peanut butter.  Down to earth kids get chunky.  We have to make that shit creamy.  In our mouths.

3.  Kennedy came into my office yesterday and I tossed him one of the apples I had brought in with me.  We sat there with our feet on my desk and ate apples.  And talked about apples.  And we both decided that honey crisp apples are great.  Any mushy apples suck it.  And we wondered who was eating mushy apples?  And then I remembered this entry in which I told this story:

“Speaking of Boss, the other day, we were in the grocery store buying apples. Actually, we were buying many different things because we have bulk buying issues. However, at this point, we were in front of the apples. There were quite a few varieties to choose from. She said she likes softer apples. I said I like crisp apples. She said she doesn’t like it when a big piece breaks off when she takes a bite. I said I love it! And we stood there and stared at each other as if we’d never met. No one thinks to ask these important questions until it’s too late and you fall in love and then you’re stuck buying two different kinds of apples for eternity.”

4.  You know, in retrospect, I’d have chosen a different nickname for Besos on my blog.  Perhaps a name that was more than one letter away from the nickname of my Ex.  I’m pretty sure that one day I will screw up and and swap Besos for Boss or Boss for Besos and then I will have at least one woman angry with me.

And I’m pretty sure that woman will be a Latina sporting some Mexitude.

And if you’ve got any goddamn sense at all… you know… you know never to screw with a Mexitude-fueled Latina.

Of course, the problem is that I have so little sense at all.

1.  On Friday, Besos met me at my office.  She wanted to see where I work.  Why?  I don’t know.  I don’t like to see where I work on a daily basis so I can’t explain these things.

2.  On the walk to the train, we contemplated eating downtown before deciding to cook at my place.  I stopped into a bread/cheese/wine store to get a baguette.  Then, about a half block later, we decided to eat at a restaurant we passed.  This meant I had a 2 1/2 foot baguette perched next to my chair as we ate.  And that I was carrying it along with us on the street afterwards.  I realized that it would not be much good to us tomorrow and I really couldn’t be bothered to continue carrying it so I told Besos I was going to give it away.  And less than a half block later, we walked by a woman holding a sign that said, “I’m just hungry.”  So I handed her the baguette.

She looked at me like I was crazy.

I said to Besos, “I gave away the bread.”  She said, “Aw, you gave bread to the hungry lady who is really just hungry for crack.”

3.  I printed and framed about 20 photos this weekend.  Almost all of them 18 x 12.  A few much larger than that.  About 12 are for other people.  A few black and white series of my parents with my sister’s kids. Will surprise them.  I also finally framed the poster below (though mine is 2008/2009).  I managed to sweet talk the poster away (for free!) from a certain member of the opposite sex who was plastering them up throughout Venice when I was in Italy last spring.  WOOT!

1.  You know how I said that marriage was basically a higher form of adoption?  I just want to make it clear that I think Woody Allen took that a bit far.

2.  So… I was invited to a Halloween party by a young woman.  Said party is an “Eyes Wide Shut” Halloween party.  The servers?  Costumed and masked models.

!!!

Said young woman is not Besos.

So I politely declined.

That doesn’t mean I won’t still dress up like this to terrorize Besos.

3.  My mother called me this afternoon while I was in the office.  She was also downtown.  I said, “Would you like to go to lunch?”  She said, “It’s too late for lunch… but I am doing volunteer work until 6.”

I know a hint when I hear one.

I said, “Oh! That’s perfect.  How about we get dinner together?”

What do you know? She said yes.

4.  Remember when I climbed on top of my kitchen counter to get picture of Little Filthy nabbing banana?

I think may try a series of pictures of him in the bathtub.  Except I’m pretty sure that the angle I want may require me to be in the bathtub at the same time.  Negotiations are ongoing.

5.  I went to a conference this morning.  It was mainly nerds.  In fact, during one of the keynote speakers, I looked around and realized that there were about 10 women I could see in a room of over 1,000 men.  And you know what?  I swear every one of those nerds was wearing cologne.  I wanted to clobber them all.

First, you don’t marinate in it.  Second, you’re at a conference.  Not a speed dating seminar.  Third, there are 10 women here.  Even if you mouth breathers had a fight to the death, those women would be long gone by the time you found your inhaler after Round 3.

Huh.  Turns out I really am a little surly on Wednesdays.

1.  It’s like some sort of Murphy’s Law.  At least one out of the three Jeopardy contestants must be just a little bit jacked up in some way.  Either a weird name, weird outfit or just weird looking.  Today, both male contestants have pork chop sideburns down to their neck.  WTH.

2.  Besos came over last night.  We took Little Filthy for a walk.  I ordered take out from a restaurant nearby and we strolled over in the warm air and picked up a half herb roasted chicken.  Back to my place where Little Filthy stretched out on the couch and I made some vegetables.  We had a nice dinner together.

I’m domesticated!

3.  Tonight, I didn’t feel like cooking so I dug around in the fridge and found a bag of broccoli that I could steam in the microwave.

I ate half of it for dinner.

So maybe not so much domesticated as trainable.

4.  Instigator is funny.  While I am not exactly what you might call reserved,… in the office, I tend to default to unfailingly polite. To the point of ridiculousness, really.  So today, when the lawyers in the office joined a conference call to discuss some matters and it was clear that someone on the call had their telephone near their keyboard while they pounded away… my response was to more or less roll my eyes at his or her poor conference call etiquette  and leave it at that.   As the typer continued to bang away furiously, I sent an instant message to Instigator:

RE:  “It’s like some sort of rule that someone be typing furiously and loudly on every call.”

And I am not kidding when I say that within a second of hitting the return key, I heard Instigator’s voice on the call:

“Whoever that is typing, put your phone on mute…

*pause*

…Please.”

I coughed on my coffee and started laughing in my office.  What I loved most about it was the complete throw-away ‘Please‘ she added at the end her request.

Naturally, I had to take her to lunch after that.  Besides, what’s the point of a work girlfriend if you don’t get to take her to lunch?

Besos and I were graciously invited to a cocktail/dinner party on Saturday by a friend of mine.  It was very interesting – a large tent set up in the host’s back yard with candles everywhere, a large marble table with a fire in the center, heaters around and strings of lights everywhere.  And the servers?  There was talk that they were all models.  I’m unsure if that was serious but they could have been, certainly.  Did I mention that there was a film crew capturing the dinner?  I’ll be interested to see if we ended up in the short film they were creating.  We were interviewed and I suspect will be in it.  I did not bring all of my camera gear so these were taken by my phone.

The host had guests from Spain in town and decided to have a large dinner party to bring  a large group of people together over food.  Along with catching up with a friend (which was awesome), we met some really great new people and sampled food from a young chef from Chicago.  He served three spit roasted suckling pigs along with some very seasonal sides.  A really great fall dinner.

Below, the young chef describes the meal he has prepared for the guests.

So, you may recall that Besos has long, straight hair.

Exhibit 1

Exhibit 2

Except, not really.

Besos has straight hair like soccer moms have blond hair.  That is to say:  She totally does not.

I know this.  But I rarely *see* the alternative.  This is because she will blow dry it straight.

Except, last weekend, I did not give her much opportunity to blow dry her hair after her shower.  Or dry off, for that matter, before I chased her down the hall.

The result?

Her hair was a wild mane of curls.  Ringlets and big curls.

At some point, while *cough* making with the whoopie pancakes, I realized that I found the wild hair very, very attractive.

And then I realized part of the reason why I found it so attractive.

Because it was like having sex with a different woman.

Like sex with another woman and we’re having sex for the first time and I know exactly what she likes and she does everything I like.

WTF!

I wondered, briefly, if I should feel badly about this.  I decided to consult Bev.  Her diagnosis?  “Guys like variety.”

Hmm.

I concluded that I needn’t feel badly.  Mainly because I think it’s normal.  And also because I told Besos and she laughed and said she was glad I liked her hair.

I informed her tonight that while I am seeing straight haired Besos, I am having an affair on the side with curly haired Besos and curly hair Besos was dirty minded and completely uninhibited.

She said we could test that theory.

But then I realized…straight haired Besos is dirty minded and completely uninhibited.

Random FTW!

1.  It’s chilly in Chicago.

My solution was to light the fireplace.

Little Filthy’s solution is to lean against me the entire night, leaching off my body heat.

2.  You know that kid?  The one supposedly in the balloon?  Yeah.  I’m already sick of that kid.

3.  I telecommuted today.  I hit the gym, walked home and jumped into the shower.

Why do people say that they ‘jumped’ into the shower?  I didn’t jump into the shower.  I actually just stepped over the side of the bathtub into the shower.

Anyway, when I got out of the shower, I decided I’d comb my hair in a completely different way to see if I could make it stand up in all different directions.  Except I don’t own a comb.  So I just ran my hands through my hair in all different directions.  No, I don’t have any good reason why I would do this.  None other than the fact that it is my head and I was curious and didn’t have to ask anyone’s permission.

My hair is naturally wavy so in about 20 minutes, I had quite the shaggy mess going on.  My hair is short but long enough to go wavy crazy, apparently.  I was pleased.

Except I had also been battling a headache all morning and QTMama convinced me to go get some Excedrin since I suspected a lack of caffeine was contributing to my headache and Excedrin has caffeine.

This meant I had to go out. With the wild hair.

I didn’t care.  You know why?

Because I don’t give a shit.

4.  I’m evolving.  Or reforming.  Whatever.  Basically, what I mean is that Besos said she wanted to see a movie and knew that I would not go see it with her because it is a chick flick.

Instead of complimenting her on her astute observation on my movie watching preferences, I said, “NO, I WILL BE HAPPY TO TAKE YOU. LET US GO PARTAKE IN SAID CHICK FLICK.”

So we’re going to see Whip It on Sunday.  Which, actually, shouldn’t be that bad as long as no one around me ends up bawling or something.

Bawling is a good word.

5.  I was going to have a #5 but it’s so stupid, I think I will make it its own blog entry.