Random Esquire

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.

I created a new word today.

Mexitude.

Would you like to know what it means?

I think you can guess.