Random Esquire

Meg Ryan is very down to earth and far prettier in person than you’d expect.

Okay, so that’s not really Meg Ryan.  And it wasn’t a date.  But it could be Meg Ryan. About 20 years ago.  Before she was over plasticized.  You know. When she was cute.  Quite appropriately then,…this is QTMama who certainly lives up to her moniker.

I met QTMama and her friend, Jenn, last night.  We drank, laughed, and ate our way through a good four hours before walking to an Irish pub for more drinks and laughter.   Here’s QTMama’s re-cap of the evening.  Tonight is dinner and dancing.   Some small shots from last night.

QTMama holding her drink:

After dinner drinks, one of which QTMama aptly identified as reminiscent of the scent of her grandfather’s garage. Damned if that wasn’t spot on.  One was coffee based, another slightly sweeter and mild and the last had enough capsaicin in it to make me cough just from sipping it.

Off to stir up more trouble with the ladies.

1.  Plush and I were in bed, canoodle-snuggling.  I won’t go into how this topic arose, but suffice to say that at one point, Plush said, “I fuckin’ love Kenny Rogers.”

*blink*

No one says that they fuckin’ love Kenny Rogers.  Well, maybe his plastic surgeon.  But that’s about it.  No one else fuckin’ loves Kenny Rogers.  Let alone says it.  In bed.

Especially since…I am not Kenny Rogers.

2. Plush told me some of the things she might blog about here, while I am away.  Of the topics she brought up…well, all I can say, people, is that you’re in for a completely different experience.   She is open to suggestions or questions, if you have any.  You can leave them in the comments section.

I don’t know if I’m more nervous for you…or for me.

3.   The Italian and I spoke today.  He paused as we were talking and said, “You…you have..in your voice..how shall I say it… Post sex conceit.  That ‘sex with a hot girl’ conceit.”

I said, “Oh.  Like I’m…peacocking?”

He said, “EXACTLY.”

Guilty.

1. Plush dancing = sexy.

2. No woman on her back can be naked enough.

3. Flirting = sexy.

4. Aggressive women = sexy.

5. Plush smells great. Have I mentioned?

As you may have noticed, I have a thing for Emma Thompson. She’s my soccer mom crush. Check out those blonde high-lights. That’s got soccer mom written all over it.

Mmmmm, soccer mom.

I just had this conversation with my buddy:

Me: Dude, I want you to go find Emma Thompson and get me a date. Like, Emma Thompson from Much Ado About Nothing.

Buddy: Oh yeah, she was hot in that.

Me: Yeah, she was. Man, I’d do her now.

Buddy: Heh, totally.

Me: Dude, I’d Nanny McPhee her.

Buddy: Hey, I’m gonna get off the phone now.

Mmmmmm….Soccer mom.

I am too tempered. Too measured. I’ve decided this today.

A friend of mine in college would call me and say, “We’re going to dinner. Will you come? It would make me happy.”

I remember being struck by how easily she said this. That she did not care that it made her a little raw or naked.

I like people who can be this honest and bare. People who say, “I’d love to!” instead of, “that sounds good.” People who express feelings by dropping them at your feet instead of requiring the dust of their words to settle like tea leaves, waiting for interpretation.

I like.

1. I love meatloaf.

God help me, I know it’s an actual loaf of meat held together with a 15 cent egg and crumbs from the bottom of your toaster, but I truly love meatloaf. The golden age of meatloaf has taken a sharp decline in the Random household since the advent of Boss. This caused some meatloaf nostalgia today when I realized that Little Filthy has not known the beauty of the loaf d’meat.

2. I have marching orders from an old co-worker – the one I rather ineptly compared to a horse when, as she bemoaned being single for life, I said to her, “You’re not going to be single for life. You’re tall, leggy, blonde, you just lost 20 pounds and you look fantastic, you have huge boobs, and you love NASCAR and beer. For God’s sake, if you were a horse, I’d bet on you.”

She is a big Justin Timberlake fan. I am to tell Justin that she would like to have his children. I am not entirely sure how I am supposed to relay this to him. In addition, I know that deep in her heart, she would prefer to be with Dale Earnheardt Jr., raising little NASCAR JonBenets.

3. My CPA was called by David Letterman’s show and asked to be on. Speaking of my accountant…he, too, loves meatloaf. Anyway, he is not famous. In fact, he was asked to go specifically so that David could make fun of him. It is more like he is in the running to be the new Larry Bud Melman. More updates as events warrant.

Instigator and I were discussing Michael Vick and dogfighting today. We agree that he should get the book thrown at him. I mentioned that I thought bullfighting was unusually cruel, as well. Sticking a bunch of barbs in an animal? Seems pretty rough to me.

And that brought up cockfighting. For some reason, neither of us had that gut reaction of disgust at cockfighting. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s bad. But for some reason, if it has feathers instead of fur, I just don’t get as worked up.

Well, maybe if they were baby ducks. Baby ducks are cute. That would be disturbing. I don’t think I could stomach a bloody baby duck. Okay, so feathers aren’t the key. Maybe it’s size? The bigger the animal, the more tragic it seems.

And then it hit me: Siamese Fighting Fish.

It’s perfect. They’re small and they have neither fur nor feathers. Put two of them together and they duke it out to the death. Easy to maintain – it’s brilliant! I’m going to start collecting some beauties and taking bets. I’ll put a large tank in the middle of my living room and have some seats built around it. I’ll hang a sign on the side of the bowl that says, “Two Fish Enter, One Fish Leaves.” And clean-up is a snap. Er, a flush.

Get in on the action.

Let me be the first person to say that Ann Coulter is a complete nutcase.

Having said that, I will admit that I did laugh when I read her statement about John Edwards just because I was so taken aback with her brazen words:

“I was going to have a few comments on the other Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards, but it turns out you have to go into rehab if you use the word ‘faggot,’ so I — so kind of an impasse, can’t really talk about Edwards,” Ann Coulter told GOP activists attending the annual Conservative Political Action Conference on Friday.

That’s totally nuts! If Kathy Griffin had said it, it would have been hilarious because Kathy Griffin loves her gays and would have meant it to be funny. Ann Coulter? You know that evil woman is just…well, evil.

Stuff it, Ann Coulter.

1. I don’t quite understand my co-worker. I asked him today if he’d rather have his nuts or his penis cut off. He hesitated. I almost yelled at him. What’s there to think about? I said, “What are you even thinking about? Where are you planning on poking your nuts? Penis or nuts?” He said, “Maybe one nut.” I said, “That’s not a choice. Penis or nuts. Besides, why would you want just one nut?” He said, “Well, it’d just look so funny with no nuts.” I said, “Like it wouldn’t be funny looking with some nuts and no penis?” He said, yes, okay, he’d get his nuts cut off.

This is my co-worker who wants to have a baby. Maybe that’s why he wants a reserve nut. All dressed up and no place to go, if you ask me.

2. I noticed, when I asked my administrative assistant for some hanging file folders, that she was wearing plastic baggies on her feet inside her shoes. I wish I could say that this was the most unusual thing about her. However, her habit of keeping (and carrying around) a spare pair of underwear in a recycled prepared salad bag has earned her the nickname Fresh Express. So, you see, the plastic baggies really didn’t phase me that much.

That was my day.

Boss came home to me installing our new TiVo today. I felt like the only kid in the gang who hadn’t tried television crack. People who have TiVo refer to normal television as “Live TV.” And they say things like, “I can’t even imagine watcing Live TV anymore. I mean, those commercials!”

I admit. I’m excited. But I hate that, because we have satellite, we can’t watch one show and record at the same time. What the hell is that about? I almost popped my f-word cherry when I found that out. Tsk. How the hell am I supposed to be recording Survivor while Boss watches The O.C.? It may be time to get another satellite box for the other television.

I’m still excited. I feel dirty.