Random Esquire

1. I find it humorous that I somehow manage to be a bit of a foodie and to enjoy some incredible meals and yet yesterday, I found myself banging two frozen waffles together over the sink wondering if too much ice had formed on them to get them crispy. And then I burned them in the toaster oven. Foodie FAIL.

2. I noticed a bulge in the bathroom ceiling yesterday. I quickly figured out that the air conditioner’s condensation drain was clogged (the AC is above the bathroom) and that the kill switch to prevent the pan overflow had obviously failed. But for a moment, as I stared at the bulge, I hoped that it would beat and pulse and indicate the presence of a evil spirit or poltergeist in the hopes that I could avoid calling AC repair and just opt for a priest or crazy little old lady to tell me that ‘this house is clean.’

3. Last night I saw Plush and she is just as great as ever. She’s a peach, that one.

4. My friend (new nickname: Sitcom) had a bit of a wild night at a bar a while back. It began with a bit of a slap-fight that turned into kissing that then ended with a night of passion, as they say. So life continued on after that evening and then Sitcom finds out that this person she’d had this fight/night with? Yeah, he won an Oscar. Sitcom calls up her friend to tell said friend about this bit of news but before she begins her story, Sitcom’s friend excitedly tells her story…that she (friend) just slept with a guy who designed a Target circular and wasn’t that terribly exciting?! Sitcom’s friend was so excited to have actually slept with the guy who decides if the video games belong in electronics or toys. And Sitcom then had to tell her that her wild fling was with an Oscar winner. Talk about raining on someone’s parade.

This made me think that I need a more exciting job.

My work on Friday afternoon was diverted with The Italian called me.  And he wished to talk Plush.  So we talked Plush.  Then, he broke out in song.  About Plush.  I told him he should sing to her and, never one to shy from a dare, he said, “Then call her!  Let’s conference her in.”

So I called her.  Mind you, The Italian and Plush have never met.  I said, “I have someone on the other line who wants to say something to you.”  Plush, completely unfazed, said, “Okay!”  So I made the connection and then…then, my friends, The Italian serenaded Plush with…Brandy.  As in, “Plush, you’re fine girl, what a good wife you would be! But my life, my love and my lady is the sea.”

Seriously.

Plush laughed and complimented his singing.  This was generous of her because Plush…well, suffice to say that Plush can sing.  Then I told the Italian that he should sing the theme song from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (one of his favorite things to do).  He asked her to sing along.  Did I mention that Plush was at the gym and on the ab machine?  Yeah.  So I pointed my handy Treo at the phone and recorded it as they both sang the entire song…The Italian while driving and Plush while doing crunches.

These two must never meet.  Complete chaos would ensue.  However, it is hopeless to wish some things never to come to pass because the Italian is coming to Chicago to visit this summer and I know he will not rest until he has a dose of Plush.

Prepare thyself, Random.

1. While in Paris, a conversation struck up amongst us Americans about bidets. One young woman said that her friend at home in Michigan had a bidet …and that said friend’s teenage daughter loved it.

*blink*

I’m not judgin’. I’m just sayin’.

2. Despite crawling through my front door very late on Sunday, I managed to get to the office on Monday morning and take The Ballerina to dinner that night. After we watched some TV and I dropped her off at home, I think I’d been awake about 50 hours straight. Anyway, back to my point – when making dinner plans with The Ballerina, she sent me a text that said she was buying perfume. At dinner, I learned that it was her “Summer perfume.” I must have looked puzzled because she told me that she buys a new perfume for each season. She shoved a wrist across the table and I smelled. I admit. She smelled nice. You know, it’s sort of ridiculous that I find these high maintenance habits charming in a person.

3. While in Italy, I was rather aggressively approached by someone who, in a not so subtle manner, suggested making love for two hours. A complete stranger, mind you. This was in front of a group of people who broke out into wide grins and watched my awkward handling of the situation. Had it been someone else *cough* in Italy, I’d have gladly grabbed her hand and ran off to the nearest dark corner but, as it was….not so much.

4. Since I returned from Europe, I have a new goal: I am going to become an alcoholic. I realize this is setting the bar rather low for most attorneys but as someone who just doesn’t drink much, I now realize that it wasn’t for any other reason other than I’d been drinking the wrong thing. Now, however, I have seen the light. By 10 a.m. this morning, I’d purchased a 12 pack of Erdinger Weisbier and Warsteiner Dunkel. Nothing will quite recapture Switzerland, Austria or Germany but I’ll give it a go. Maybe I should ask Plush to wear this:

Let’s share a few flaws, shall we?

RandomEsq has taken great pleasure in sharing some of my more desirable traits with the readers of this blog, and I’m not complaining (it’s nice to have someone notice those things, and even more nice to have someone notice these other things too but choose to focus on the good stuff!). But I think it’s time I threw a few curveballs out there, so here are my Top 5 Faults (in no particular order):

1) I am a smoker.
I’ve quit a few times, and I have been intending to quit again for months…but I always figured I’d really quit when my body told me it was time, and frankly, I haven’t felt the climactic moment hit yet. That, and…

2) I have very little willpower.
It’s true – I’m a sucker for Camels, and also for Crunch-flavored Dibs, boxes of Lucky Charms, and various flavors of ice cream. My metabolism is currently doing a weird thing where I don’t gain weight like I probably should, so my candy indulgence is going unchecked for now. But this isn’t just a sweet tooth – I can honestly go into a room with a bowl of M&M’s, tell myself I don’t want them, recognize that I’m not even hungry, and still have to figure out a good explanation for why the M&M’s are all gone half an hour later.

3) I get cranky easily.
RE has mentioned this in a few posts, I believe, commenting on a rather odd preference for cranky women. Thank goodness for that, because seriously, I’m an absolute bitch in the morning unless a few very strict rules are followed. These rules, which generally include things like kissing me until I smile and then demanding absolutely nothing of me for the first hour I’m awake, are subject to change without notice.

4) I’m a quitter.
This one is rather embarrassing, and I didn’t know this until recently, but I’ve come to realize that I am, in fact, a quitter (except, of course, when it comes to Camel Ultra Lights). I never had to practice piano back in the days of piano lessons, I never had to study, and whenever I’ve encountered a situation that requires hard work, I somehow manage to convince myself that it’s just not meant to be. How, you may ask, has a successful and accomplished adult managed to make it through her life thus far when she’s a frickin’ quitter? I’ll get back to you on that one, ’cause I’m not sure how I did it either.

5) I have really calloused feet. Okay, this one’s not as personal and deep as the rest, but honestly, it’s ridiculous. I love to be barefoot and tend to wear nothing but sandals and high heels in the spring, summer, and fall, until my toes are frozen and I admit defeat. But this leads to big callouses, and I have spent most of my adult life battling them with various forms of pumace, harsh scrubs, foot soaks, and lotions. I recently invested in an actual electric pumace thingy, handheld with 3 different attachments (no, it doesn’t vibrate, sadly) and my feet won that fight within 5 minutes. At the moment, however, thanks to 2 hours of work yesterday, my feet are baby butt smooth.

I’m over at a friend’s family’s house, and the rest of the folks here have passed out. I’m somehow still awake, the only one not knocked unconscious by heavy drinking, which is unusual considering my moderately light tolerance…guess I wasn’t trying hard enough. Though spelling is a little difficult…thank goodness bloggers have spellcheck…

So a bit tipsy and sitting outside with a dying fire, I’m feeling introspective (okay, it doesn’t take alcohol and fires to make me introspective, I’m that way normally) and just wanted to put it out there:

Don’t ever take the ones you love for granted.

I don’t just mean that in the idea that you shouldn’t assume they’ll handle things they could do for you, or in any other trivial way. This week has been tough on my friends and family – an alarming number of people have wound up in the hospital or actually died during the past 7 days, and I’m feeling nervous whenever the phone rings right now. Today I got word that a friend’s dad had died, and not only was it unexpected, but the circumstances were just heartbreaking – this friend was out celebrating his bachelor party weekend, and his dad died while swimming in the ocean with his daughter, a 21-year old lifeguard. He was healthy and in decent shape, but the undertow caught him and there was just nothing she could do…

My folks are out of touch right now, up north at our cabin, and I’m going to be on high alert until they call me on Monday to let me know they’re heading home; RandomEsq is somewhere wandering around Europe and I’m going to be checking my email at insanely regular intervals to be sure that no emergency overseas flights are necessary; and my puppy is going to be leashed and watched like a hawk until this passes.

I’m not sure why I’m compelled to post this, as I’m not in need of sympathy or anything for myself. I guess that, in my drunken state, I just wanted to put it out there that life can change in an instant.

I was reading one of the Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff books recently, waiting for my highlights to set at the salon, and got caught up by one section in a similar vein. It said that you should always act toward your loved ones as if this might be the last time you’re going to see them – never letting an argument continue out the door, never going to bed angry, never leaving for work without kissing someone goodbye and telling them you love them. I’d already taken that sentiment to heart but now…let’s just say that now, ain’t no way my loved ones are hanging up the phone or leaving for work without hearing just how much I love them. It’s worth every extra second.

Got your attention?

I was hanging out with Benefactor the other night, and he’s reading the new Chuck Palahniuk book: Snuff. I haven’t read any of Palahniuk’s books, despite good intentions (I used to read 3 or 4 books at a time but have been oddly slacking lately…), but I’ve heard stories about his last book causing actual spontaneous vomiting during live readings. I read that particular story, and it was admittedly horrifyingly gross, but I can’t imagine actually throwing up in public just because someone read it out loud. *shrug*

Anyway, this one is supposedly the story of an attempt to break the world record for a gang bang. 600 men, one woman, and a film crew. It’s told from the point of view of 3 of the men (numbers 72, 137, and 600) in graphic detail – supposedly Palahniuk did a lot of field research before writing the book.

The thing about it for me is that I’m kind of jealous. Not of the characters (can you imagine how pulverized you’d be down there after 600…never mind, just UGH), but of the writer. How great must it be to just put it all out there, something so taboo and yet so train-wreck-intriguing, and to be able to do it in such a way that it actually comes off as an intellectual work of art. I’ve written a lot of crazy stuff (I actually used to post regularly on Literotica…) but can’t imagine any of it as a best-seller…

I reached for my phone this evening to call RandomEsq. Imagine my disappointment when I realized that no one was going to answer.

I don’t remember if there was a specific post about how we met…I think we kind of left it as one of the many mysteries in this anonymous blogosphere. And I think we did that on purpose because honestly, how many people want to admit that they met online? Yeah, yeah, we met online, but not the way you’re thinking – I’ve never even been to Match.com. No, we met because we both have cute little wrinkly dogs, and I was relatively new to the city, so we got together for a drink one night to talk about our cute little wrinkly dogs, and, well – here I am!

That night, by the way, was easily the best date-that-I-wasn’t-sure-was-a-date-until-we-were-making-out I’ve ever had. Just saying.

So speaking of dates, I’m curious about a rather odd trend among my male friends – specifically the shy, kind of awkward but genuinely great guys. The stereotypical “nice guys.” The two I’m thinking of are both very smart, sweet, great listeners, the whole deal, they’re just not so great at the flirting. They’ve had girlfriends, they’ve been in love, they’re not socially inept by any means. But they’re the ones you’d see sitting quietly in the corner of the party, content to watch everyone else get wild and paw at each other while they smile, sip their drink, and kind of wish they had the nerve to jump in.

These are also, apparently, the kind of guys who are invited on all-expenses paid trips overseas to have no-strings-attached sex with women they barely know.

About a year ago, guy #1 and I met for lunch, and he looked unusually giddy. Giddy with a dollop of perplexed. He had met a lovely woman at a friend’s party, and they’d hit it off and had been emailing and talking on the phone regularly. The catch was that she lived in Australia, and was only in town for a few weeks. The perplexed giddiness was that she’d just offered to fly him to Australia for a weekend, get carnal in her beach house, then part ways with no commitments.

About a month ago, guy #2 and I were chatting about relationships, and he mentioned that he’d recently run into a girl he’d known in college. She had the hots for him back then, and was apparently still hoping that they could hook up. However, she lives in northern California, he lives in the Midwest. The solution? They’re spending this weekend in her friend’s penthouse in Dubai. She paid for his ticket.

All I’ve gotta say is, score one for the nice guys.

Well, RandomEsq is somewhere in the air over the Atlantic right now, and that means you’re stuck with me for the next few weeks. I’m going to try to blog daily, but if by some chance I miss a day, I’ll make up for it somehow.

If you have any fun and interesting questions for me, send ‘em along – we can play a little truth or dare.

QTMama wrote an entry here about how she likes an Irish accent.  Specifically, she likes to hear it out of the mouth of a certain Irish gentleman she’s seeing.

I don’t get it.

Well, not entirely.   I admit that I dated a girl from Puerto Rico whose primary language was Spanish – but she didn’t have much of an accent.  And it certainly didn’t boil me but, it was charming enough.  I guess.  Maybe.  Honestly, I can’t remember.  But in almost all of my relationships, I’ve been the more multi-cultured of the pair and I do not have an accent.  Unless a slight Chicago accent counts.  And let’s face it, no one is dropping their britches over a Chicago accent.

Plush told me that if she spoke to me in another language or with an accent, it would be completely wasted on me.  She knows, however, that I tend to like a little high-maintenance and crabbiness in mah womenz.

She said, “Now, if I speak cranky to you…”

I yelled, “YES!”

I mean, there is seriously something wrong with me.

1. I was invited to a cocktail party at the Chicago Opera House tomorrow night – to the 2008 Gala of the Alliance Francaise de Chicago, in support of this non-profit organization that promotes film, music, theater, literature, cooking and all things l’art de vivre. Providing food and drink at the dinner will be The Ritz Paris, L’Ecole Ritz Escoffier, Colin Field & the Hemingway Bar, and Djordje Varda & l’Atelier Floral du Ritz. I have not yet decided if I will attend but if I do, it will be to people watch as the National Restaurant Association gathering is here in Chicago this weekend and there will surely be some notables about.

2. I have spent much of the past week concentrating on finalizing work issues and packing for my trip. In the upcoming weeks, I will go to France, Switzerland, Austria, Germany and Italy. I am looking forward to a bit of adventure and, of course, a bit of trouble. This will be the longest vacation I have ever taken and the first I have taken alone in many years. It is…thrilling.

3. I have a very nice next door neighbor. Last summer, she gave me a potted geranium for my patio. I suspect this may have been because her patio was an array of many colored geraniums and mine looks positively dreadful next to it. My only decoration is a grill. I might plant some fresh herbs this year. But really, I can’t be bothered much with plants or flowers. I don’t get it. Tonight, she knocked on my door and gave me a very nice fold out chair for my patio. She said she had three and simply didn’t have the room. This means I will be able to work, reclined out in the sunshine, with my laptop. I will be sure to find her something nice while I am traveling.

4. The reigns to the blog will be handed over to Plush while I am away. I imagine that with the multitude of internet cafes, I may post something but I haven’t decided if this should also be a vacation away from even this, my favorite hobby. I had no reservations about turning things over to Plush but after a few reassurances from her that she would not do certain things…then I began to think about it. But, I simply do not care. I trust her and hope she scandalizes you all.