|
2001-05-30 / 7:34 p.m. ~It's raining men, oh fuck it!~
How could I forget to mention in yesterday's zoo description the wonder and joy at walking up on the elephants just in time to see one piss like....well, like an elephant, and shit like one too. Fascinating. A "morning constitutional" of sorts, which my friend's mother-in-law and I said at the same time. We'd interrupted this moment, but none of us looked away. No, it's, er, educational, right? It's amazing is what it is! Have you ever seen an elephant take a piss? How about a giraffe? No? It goes on and on and on, a huge stream, like water from a bucket. Animals are wondrous. Today I went back to work, told my coworkers of my zoo adventure (just wait 'til I get the pictures developed...whoo hoo!) and for a time this morning, before I sank into the daily grind, I missed the animals, not just my cats left at home to sleep the day away, but all those wondermous animals at the Zoo!! What were they doing?, I wondered. Ah well. Last night while I was watching the New Jersey Devils kick some Colorado Avalanche butt, as it should be, Scott called. I was telling him the game stats so far, figuring that's why he was calling, but no, he wanted to let me know his brother had asked for my email address, and was it okay to give it to him. About time! is what I thought. Uh, yeah, of course, I like him, sure, why not, okay, go ahead, he wanted it, really? I told Scott about the sportscaster, that I gave him my phone number, that I'm reeling the men in, and later I thought about that, pictured myself with some large fishing net, throwing it out into the sea, dragging back all these manly relics, these weird specimens I have to weed through, throw so many back into the sea. Today the brother wrote to me, not much, just a note really, thanking me for having the opportunity to write to me. Hmmm...a bit too gallant, too gentlemanly, just jump in man, tell me what it is that is on your mind! Don't beat around some bush, proverbial or otherwise. He I will have to work upon. The sportscaster wrote too. We've been writing for days, he responded to my Personal ad, and why do I have a Personal (note upper case "P") ad running? Why the hell not?! I love the attention, the men catching in my net, squirming, gasping for air, asking, no, begging for me to free them, to make them mine. Total ego boost. That's why. Isn't that enough? And well, what if I met "someone"? Would that be so bad? It happens, so "they" say, the internet romance thingie. So, he writes, the one from Nebraska, the sportscaster who doesn't like hockey, and he's looked at my online photos some more (why the FUCK did I ever give him that link?!), and he says he doesn't like "the sandals/one toe painted blue look" of me in the limousine. Well, ALL my toes were painted that day dude, and the sandals are Birks and if you have a problem with that let me buy a pair of Doc Martens and we'll see if that's more your style! This guy needs a good swift kick. He goes on to ask what "category" he should place me in, pseudo-hippie or some other such shit, "budding yuppie" (WTF?!), etc. OMIGOD I was really pissed. And, I still am. I had to wait until I got home from work to write back - I'd checked my email at home on my lunch break. Oh, I wrote back all right, accused him of stereotyping, of closed-mindedness, of being judgmental, etc. It was bad, downright scathing, and it was what he deserved. He ended up calling me a "young lady" - for some reason he had it in for me today. I said, "I'm fucking 40 years old!" even though I tried really hard not to swear, seeing as how he's in the small town Nebraska boy category. Fuck it. Really. And then there's the one who I know I am not attracted to, yet he writes and writes and writes, send me photos, as he's a photographer. Great. He actually called too, a couple days ago, and talked and talked and talked. Um, now he writes every single day. I finally said I don't communicate with ANYONE that often. Just the cats, and that's only because we live together. There is no one out there I want to be with. Should this make me sad? Well, last night I really wanted to have sex with a man, and sometimes I do, sometimes I want to kiss, to touch, but hell, other than that, what's the point? It's all a bunch of misunderstandings, compromise, explaining, much more than I want or need. Like I told the sportscaster, the Nebraska boy, I want neither to be criticized nor judged, and if that's what he, or anyone else, is offering, take the high road! Oh, I'm keeping my ad running. I think I get off on the rejection part.......sure, send me your pic, that'd be great. Let's have a look, yuck, don't respond. Sorry, didn't make the cut, toss back to sea. Cost of the War in Iraq
(JavaScript Error)
Recent Entries: It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012 Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012 As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009 I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009 Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009 
  |