1.  I am spending the weekend with Legs. (She is amazing, did I mention?)

2.  Last night, we went to dinner and the theatre. I was ready to go and was waiting in the kitchen when Legs walked out of the bedroom in a black dress. I lit up.

I said, ‘You look fantastic!”

She looked at me and said, “I’m going to change clothes.”

*Blink*

Then she returned in a different black dress.

A shorter, smaller black dress.

I said, “Wow.  You look great.”

She looked at me and then turned back toward the bedroom. She called back to me, “Maybe I should put on underwear.”

3.  We were waiting for the cab outside when I leaned in and kissed her. I said, “I already got a kiss, this early in the date! This date is going well.”

She said, “You’ve already scored today.”

Touche.

+1 Legs

4.  We just walked to a little diner and had breakfast. We were holding hands, walking down the street and I said, “When you walk to the breakfast between 10 and 11 on a Sunday morning, it’s obvious that you had sex instead of going to church.”

Legs said, “We were walking the dog!”

I said, “We walked him after we had sex.”

She grinned.

+1 Random

5.  Legs was kind enough to let me take a picture of her t-shirt (above). By that, I mean that she put one hand on her hip and lifted her other hand, as if to say, “Fine. Go ahead, if you must.”

She is not a blogger. She does not use Twitter. My writing about her and tweeting about her is a new experience for her – one that sometimes both appalls and tickles her. Speaking of, she got the nickname “Legs” on Twitter and it has stuck.

I informed her of this.

She’s okay with it.

LEGS.

If you order flowers for a woman and don’t make a point to request ‘no carnations’, you might suck. Because carnations are bullshit.

2.  My aforementioned female guest (with the great legs) left behind a thong.  I figure that’s permission to wear it as an eye patch. Especially if I took it off of her. Right?

Right.

3.  My text conversation with said lovely woman:

Her: “So, how many women have you flirted with while at the park?”

Me: “All of them. Twice. For good measure. I have 28 dates next week.”

Her: “You’re an ass.”

4. It gets better. This morning’s conversation:

Her: “The way you write about things makes them… interesting.”

Me: “Thank y…..”

Her: “Wait, no, that’s not it. It makes them…. semi-relevant.”

It’s a tough crowd over here, folks.

“You look pretty Mexican.”

She slowly turned her head and stared at me.

I said, “…You.  Look.  Pretty.”

She turned back to the television.

2.  Besos celebrated a birthday on Friday.  This means that on Thursday, I had to sneak a bouquet of flowers into the place and hide them so I could wake up at 4 a.m. and put them out so she could wake up to flowers.  It’d be sort of bogus if she woke up without flowers.  Then we went to dinner and she was pleasantly surprised to find roses at the table already, waiting for her.

Girl + Flowers =

3.  At dinner, I ate a really good ribeye (on the bone) that had been aged 4 weeks.  It makes me want to get a small fridge just to age meat.

Little Filthy got, for the first time in his life, a bone.  Mind you, I didn’t just hand it to him because I’m pretty sure he’d scuttle under the bed to enjoy his treat.  Rather, I held the frenched end in my hand and let him gnaw away – which he did at a furiously fast pace.

For instance, I had a friend who was a complete know it all and I thought his phrase should be: “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

Then there is Avitania who manages to say the most offensive thing you’ve ever heard.  Every time you see her.  Her phrase would be: “One step too far.  One step too far.”

QTMama’s phrase? “One for the road!”

Then there is my buddy:  “I know a guy.”

Little Filthy’s phrase would be, “I’d eat that.”

The other night, in bed, I asked Besos, “What would my phrase be?”

She thought for a while and said, “Sit on my dick?”

I froze in place and then turned my head toward her, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Then, I realized.

The other day, I was talking about some situation and I used the phrase ‘get off my dick‘.  (I was not using the phrase toward Besos but rather describing a situation.)  I then had to explain the phrase to Besos as meaning “lay off” or “get off my back”.

This, apparently, was the first phrase that came to her mind.  Or, rather, some variation of it.

I said, “honey, the phrase is ‘get off my dick‘ and that wouldn’t be my phrase!”

She just grinned.

So it’s a toss up between “I can’t be bothered” or “Who gives a shit?”

What’s your phrase?

Besos spoke with her family tonight.  Afterwards, she looked at me and said, “That was my grandmother.”

Besos continued, “She said, ‘I just had surgery in one eye and the other one doesn’t work.’”

I paused and looked up.

She said, “So I said, “Oh…., well, use your imagination, Grandma.‘”

I burst out laughing.  I said, “Seriously?”

She laughed and said, “Well, what was I supposed to say??  Besides…she didn’t hear me.”

I said, “She didn’t hear you?”

She said, “No…she’s gone deaf.”

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing again.

We’re going to hell.

Because I have childhood fantasies, people. That’s why.

2.  I am leaving for NYC on Saturday morning. Work threatens to explode while I am gone.  This displeases me.

3.  Instigator’s daughter calmly explained the mechanics of sex to a peer.  This cracks me up.

4.  Little Filthy will be staying with my parents while I am out of town.  I suspect he will celebrate by baking a potato on my mother’s rug, as is his habit.  She will be delighted, no doubt.

5.  I will be meeting up with the Seattle Crew while in NYC.  They will all meet my sister.  This should be interesting!

My sister started laughing and said, “What?!”

And then we discussed whether or not it had any merit.

So what say you, readers?  We all know it isn’t true all the time – I’m just curious about if you think there’s some truth to it at all.

What do you think?

You remember him, right?

He’s the Jewish guy.

Glad we’re on the same page.

The Italian has resumed his former love affair with a Venezuelan woman.  The most obvious indication of this is that he can not stop talking at 100 miles per minute.  Here’s a snippet of our most recent conversation which we held over the phone while in the office.  Vinnie is his co-worker.

The Italian: “You are a very attractive man. And I do mean that sexually.  That’s my favorite thing to say. I say that to everyone. Mainly to my boyfriend, Vinnie. Did you know Vinnie was my boyfriend?  Oh, she [hot Venezuelan girlfriend] hates it when I call him that. But I call him that. VINNIE! Do you like it when I call you my girlfriend??”

[Heard in the background]: *SIGH* “I’m better with it since you started seeing [hot Venezuelan girlfriend] again.”

The Italian: “HA HA HA, He doesn’t mind! He’s my boyfriend! He’s in the next cube! We share a cubical wall!”

RandomEsq: “Is there a glory hole in your cubicle wall? You can tell me. I am your friend.”

The Italian: “Oh no no no no, no glory hole! RIGHT, VINNIE?! Oh, I just love Vinnie. He’s my boyfriend.”

RandomEsq:  “Is your dick in the glory hole right now?”

The Italian:  “HAHAHAHA! NO.”

RandomEsq:  “You’ve been getting a lot of sex, haven’t you?”

Whenever The Italian gets a lot of sex, he is wound up like a whirling dervish.

The Italian:  “OHhhhh yessssssss. LOTS OF SEX.  The best. We can never break up again. It can’t happen. I’m short, bald, and ugly.  I can never break up with [hot Venezuelan girlfriend] again!”

RandomEsq:  “DUDE. What is wrong with you!”

The Italian:  “Drugs. NOOooo, ha ha ha!  NOW THIS IS THE STORY ALL ABOUT HOW MY LIFE GOT FLIPPED TURNED UPSIDE DOWN…”

and then he was off. Singing Fresh Prince.

Yes.  Seriously.

I almost want to give out his number so you call can experience it.

RE:  What about Gordon Ramsey?

Beth: Gordon’s attractive in a what-an-asshole! way.

RE: See right there. That kills me – That there even is a “what an asshole” way of attractiveness.

Beth: Oh, I guess it’s like the whole bad-boy thing women are attracted to.

RE: This just stumps me. When I think of what I want in a chick, I never think I’d like a whore with spending problems.

Beth: As for sleeping with Gordon, I’d go on a date with him and see what he was like as a “real” person.

RE:  Wait wait wait.  Back up.  What do you mean “what he was like as a ‘real’ person”?  You want him to actually be nice?

Beth:  Well, I presume he has as TV persona that’s more extreme than his everyday persona. I’d want him to be interesting. And yes, kind.

RE:  So, the thing that first attracted you to him, you don’t actually find attractive?  Man, seriously, women love faux assholes.

Beth:  I think it’s his take-charge-ness that really attracts me.

RE:   Guys don’t want to date a girl who is a whore, take her home, and then find out she’s a prude.  They like a girl who is sweet and then are pleasantly surprised when she turns out to be a whore.  See how that works?  That makes sense to me.

If I may now direct your attention to my earlier post:  Do men like whores?

So, tell me… Do women like bad boys and if so, why? I have a theory on this but want to hear what you all have to say.