George and that Darn Motorcycle
I’ve told him time and time again to get rid of that motorcycle. Also, I’ve said “don’t pass on the right”. In addition, I’ve said “don’t date other women and take them out on the motorcycle” and “Why don’t we just elope? You could wear that Armani tux, I could wear something flowing that would make me look deceptively tall and then we could just lounge at your villa for the next decade or so”. But would he listen? No. Thankfully, he is alright. I have, of course, magnanimously offered to help in his recovery process. I have been told that I have mad sponge bath skills.
Seriously, I hope he and his friend are ok.
That Rain Thing
Ok, when I said I’d like to see rain here in California, I meant that I’d like a day where I can read curled up with my blankie while listening to the dulcet tones of rain gently pitter pattering off the tin roof above my head. What I did not mean—anything so violent that I am woken up from a sound sleep, heart pounding and grabbing my spork and chair because I think we’re under attack. That is not what I meant. You really do have to be rather specific with the universe, otherwise it takes all sorts of liberties.
I Love Spies
I love spies. James Bond—love him even though he’s often a bit of a whore. Lee Stetson (aka Scarecrow)—love him because even though he wants to be a rogue, he’s really not. Michael Vaughn—love him. Michael Westin—clearly destined for greatness. Now I realize that I’ve just described characters, and that in real life they might not be all manly and manly and manly… but I love them anyway.
Even though all these characters are fine examples of “rugged-but-look-fine-in-a-tux”-ness, I think I love them because they are so darn capable. It is blazingly obvious that I need a capable man. He needs to be able to enjoy a night (or more realistically early afternoon) out watching musical theater, and then he needs to take me home and build me something out of wood. Wait, that sounds wrong… well, not entirely wrong… uh, you get the idea.
LA, Where Dating Comes to Die
Good news! The “LA, Where Dating Comes to Die” line of merchandise should be coming soon. I’m seriously in the process of trademarking and designing. My love life is ridiculous—I should at least profit from its insanity.
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