Random Esquire

Instigator and I had an interesting conversation about Tim Russert yesterday.  Instigator was saddened by his death and lamented the fact that someone else less meaningful to her hadn’t died, instead.

In fact, what she said was, “Why wasn’t it…I don’t know,…Ann Curry, for example.”

I barked, “Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Whoa.  Whoa.”

I like Ann Curry.

I said, “Why didn’t you say someone like Rush Limbaugh?  Or Ann Coulter?”

But her point was that those were such obvious choices and she was trying to name someone she didn’t wish death upon, but simply someone whose death would not have saddened her quite so much.   I offered up Katie Couric in lieu of Ann Curry.  No one is watching CBS evening news.  It might be a week before anyone even noticed.

1. I did not have lunch with Instigator today. This is because she is on a task-force of sorts to handle deals worth a lot of scratch. Suspiciously sounding like an honor, it is actually more of a burden which we refer to as a “big fuckin’ deal” – much like one might say “who the fuck cares.” We have an understanding. If either of us is busy and the other walks into our office, we simply give that look that says, “Get out” and the other doesn’t take it personally. Today was my day to not take it personally because Instigator was up to her neck in some big fuckin’ deal. Bah!

2. My sister sometimes says things that strike me as ridiculous. She was watching me change my niece’s diaper to make sure I was doing it right. I sprinkled some powder and my sister said, “You’re salt and peppering the baby.” Is it just me or does that strike anyone else as offensively funny in a way? Then, there was the time she said she would show her children the movie Mystic River as a cautionary tale against running away by telling them, “That’s what happens to kids who run away.” The other day, she was talking about my niece and potty training and said something like, “Getting her off of diapers is like pulling her from a line of coke.” Dude. That’s just wrong.

3. I took a sleep-aid 90 minutes ago. This is because I am trying to go to bed earlier to reset my clock before I head overseas. I typically go to bed around 1 in the morning. Bad. It is now 10 p.m. and I am still wide awake. Dumb pills. Maybe I didn’t wash them down with enough whiskey chaser.

4. I have not yet told Little Filthy that he will be staying at Chez Parents while I am gone. He…has a bit of a reputation staying with them. Sort of like a rock star at a hotel. There was the time he baked a potato on my mother’s expensive oriental rug – which my pregnant sister discovered. With her foot. Or the time he ate my father’s ear plugs…which I discovered when he returned home and promptly pooped them out…all told in a nice little picture story here.

5. I, stupidly, taught Little Filthy how to lick on command. I say, “Kiss. Do it!” in my certified broken, third half-ass language and he will run up and give my cheek a lick, after which he is rewarded with a small treat. Unfortunately, Little Filthy does not associate his obeying the command with a treat so much as the actual licking. And so if he decides he wants a treat, he’ll just lick the shit out of me. *sigh*

1. I went to lunch with Instigator today. It’s my Tuesday ritual with my work-girlfriend. I remarked that I welcomed the arrival of short skirts and heels. Instigator politely ignored me. I did not steal anyone’s lunch.

2. Dinner out tonight was great. I threw together a gathering of a bunch of people (who brought more people) and we all went to a French restaurant and indulged in great food, wine, and conversation. Plush, Benefactor, and The Ballerina came. There were ten of us in all and the conversation was lively and fun. Met some really great people. I dig it.

3. The Italian and I have been stretched to the outermost limits of our patience the last few days. I remain convinced that some of my sales people could be cut in two and they would simply re-grow like earthworms.

4. Have you ever taken a sleeping pill?

Instigator was out of town last week. She cordially sent a picture from the beach-side pool in Cabo to me, in the office. She refrained, tastefully, from sending me a picture of the butler who came with their hotel room. She returned on Monday and sent me an e-mail recapping her conversation with Fresh Express, complete with her inner thoughts, captured here for your enjoyment.

Fresh Express: “You back? From your vacation?”

Instigator: (. o O Since I’m sitting in my office, safe bet.) “Yes. It was nice.”

Fresh Express: “Really? Was it?”

Instigator: “Yes, really nice.”

<awkward silence>

Instigator: “We were in Mexico.” (. o O Will you please go away now??)

Fresh Express: “Really? It was nice, huh?”

Instigator: “Yes.”

Fresh Express: “You walk around in your bathing suit?”

Instigator: “Yes.”

Fresh Express: “Really? You’re kidding. Wow.”

Instigator: (. o O WTF?)

<more awkward silence>

Fresh Express: Did your daughter enjoy it?

Instigator: “She didn’t go; she stayed home with babysitters.”

Fresh Express: “Oh, like your regular sitter?”

Instigator: (. o O No, a stranger off the street. What do you think, crazy lady?) “Yes. She had fun, too.”

Fresh Express: “Well, sure. She’s a latchkey kid. Just like me. It’s fine – I turned out OK. I mean, what, you know? They say it’s bad but look at me. I’m fine. You know?”

Instigator: (. o O OMG. Way to make me feel guilty and terrified all at once. However, technically, she is not a latchkey kid since she is six and has no key. In any event, I’m not going to accept that she will turn out “OK” like you, you lunatic.)

<awkward silence>

“Yes.”

I have a buddy who, how shall I say this,… resembles a sunny-side up egg – in a good way. In the way that makes you think of purity and sunshine, wide-eyed and blinking. The interesting thing is that my buddy does computer forensics and is an expert in porn. New Nickname: Chris Hansen. Chris sneaks into the building at night, Mission Impossibles a hard drive from someone’s computer and then analyzes it. Is this job cool or what?

Don’t get me wrong; I’ve seen porn. I admit this. But Chris has seen…weird porn. Like a hard drive filled with images and videos of feet, slipping in and out of shoes. Some in pantyhose, some nude…Apparently, someone had a foot fetish. I didn’t know that foot fetish porn consisted of such normal activity as slipping in and out of shoes. That seems like a relatively trigger sensitive thing to live with. What if you’re in a meeting and a woman just slips off a heel? I wonder if women have foot fetishes for male feet. Somehow, I can’t imagine that but what the hell do I know?

“You know, you’ve got your standard porn. That needs no explanation. Then there’s cartoon porn. Chicks are normally perfect. Normally wearing skirts for easy access. Violent porn, which isn’t fun to watch. And then some people like animal porn.”

I thought of bestiality but I was wrong. There’s that, too, but this is like National Geographic stuff. It’s animals mating. People seriously get off on watching this? I don’t get it. I wouldn’t be surprised to come home and find Little Filthy in front of the television watching but I’d at least expect him to be modestly ashamed or something.

“You’ve got your fat people porn, humiliation and domination porn, fetish porn,…and old people porn.”

Excuse me? Chris isn’t talking about people in their 60′s. More like 80′s. Which really begs the question on if Viagra is such a good thing. Plus, do even 80 year olds like watching themselves have sex? I’m pretty sure 80 year olds wear blindfolds during sex. I’ve yet to see an 80 year old with mirrors on the ceiling. I’m thinking that the average dirty 80 year old man is putting in a video of 20 somethings and harkens back to times gone by. I want to make a blanket statement that horror movies and porn should not include anyone over the age of 60.

After hearing all of this, I had to go into the office the next morning. It made Mission Impossibling the packets of coffee from Fresh Express seem terribly, terribly dull.

*sigh*

I took some pictures of things I see on my way to and from work. Damn, I love Chicago.

1. Would you believe it takes more than 30 minutes to learn how to take a great photograph? Even with a new camera? I don’t know why I thought it would be like new shoes that made me run faster.

2. Kennedy is a fool. When he sits at his computer, his back is to his office door, monitor displayed to the world. I don’t get that. Not that I am browsing the web all day or something like that. Mainly, because Kennedy is so often browsing. Today, I walked into his office, managed to get all the way behind him and peer over his shoulder before saying, “Whatcha doin’?” He almost came unglued. He was buying a carburetor for his boat.

3. Here is something odd. Little Filthy is a pug and chihuahua mix. But his bark sounds like a German Shepard or something. He just sounds like a much bigger dog. People have told me this when they hear him bark on the phone but it was painfully obvious when I answered the door and the UPS guy said, “That’s what was barking at me?”

4. I’m having drinks after work Wednesday night with the aforementioned journalist with aspirations of law school. Apparently, she is dating an attorney and has a relationship issue. She said, “I need counsel. The advice I need has to be lawyerly.” I said that was good, as I was a lawyer. The first thing I’d advise is not to date a lawyer.

5. Has anyone ever said to you, “I need your honest opinion.”? Someone said that to me today. Again, I was tempted to blurt out, “I hate your hair,” before hearing on what they wished me to opine. I can’t help it. I just instantly get Blank Face and brace myself to upset them.

6. I’m hungry. Perpetually hungry. In fact, I’m pretty sure that if I ever got a tattoo, the only thing I could get would be the writing, “I’m hungry” because it would be the only thing I know will still be true 50 years from now. Do you have a tattoo?

Instigator sent me an instant message at work today that said, “Are you taking me to lunch?!” I patted my pockets for money and then went to get her.

We ate in a cafe, surrounded with business people sitting down to their lunch. I watched over Instigator’s shoulder as a guy put down a tray, sandwich, salad and soda ready for consumption. He glanced around and I could tell he was looking for where to get some silverware. He got up to get some and then paused and looked back at his stuff, sitting alone at the table, clearly debating if he should walk away from it. He opted to walk away.

At that exact moment, I wanted to dash over and steal his sandwich.

I know this is wrong. I had already eaten my lunch. But it’s the kind of absurd thing that might strike me as funny – to see him come back and stare in disbelief at his plate. And I, of course, would sit at the nearby table and eat his sandwich, watching him.

I relayed this thought to Instigator. Mid-story, I watched a woman walk by, behind Instigator. Instigator looked at me, as if to say, “What?” I said, “Sorry, that woman…she walked by…her blouse was too tight and the buttons were..like stretching….”

Instigator stared at me. I could tell she was wondering why she’d mentioned lunch.

She said, “That is not attractive. You don’t think that’s attractive, do you?”

I said, “Uh…um…it’s not fashionable. I know that.”

She sighed.

I’m a sin to tolerate.

1. My new television came yesterday. The UPS guy was cool and did not leave my packages in the mail room but hauled them all up to my door. (I had four large packages, in total.) I thanked him and he said, “I’m your regular UPS guy and I like to bring big packages up.” He got about halfway down the hall before a thought occurred to me and I yelled down to him, “Wait! This TV is replacing another one…would you like it?” So we both got something new for the weekend.

2. Plush and I went out last night. I do not quite know where to begin to explain the evening…except to say that a stranger planned out our lives for us and it included both children and an early retirement. I believe the names of the children were even decided. Plush kindly talked said stranger out of naming the child Vance.

3. Earlier in the week, Instigator relayed to me that Fresh Express was in the restroom taking, more or less, a sponge bath…except with paper towels. We have both decided that telling strangers stories about Fresh Express makes us look a bit like the teller of tall tales or outright liars. We could not make this stuff up.

I am working from home today. I got an e-mail from Instigator, who is in the office. This is what she said:

“There are 2 brown paper coffee cups and 2 white paper coffee cups and 2 contact lens cases on the file cabinet. Meanwhile, some type of contact lens case soaking in a ceramic coffee mug is happening in the kitchen. Fresh Express said she is already worn out. Who can blame her really.”

That e-mail really captures the weirdness that is Fresh Express and the awesomeness that is Instigator.