A: "You know, I'm going to stop visiting your blog."
Me: "I know what you're trying to do. It's not going to work."
A: "Yep, I'm trying to force you to post."
Me: "It's hard to come up with things that are post-worthy."
A: "Oh, come on...I KNOW you think of at least one funny thing a day!"
Hmmm, I'm not so sure that's true. It's shortly after noon and I haven't had one funny thought yet. In my defense, though, I only got out of bed about an hour ago, and am still working on my first cup of coffee. It's a yummy blend of pumpkin-spice flavors I found at Bloom.
So far this morning I have regretted not letting my cats in the backyard yesterday because now it has rained and is too wet to take them out. Or....was it wet yesterday, too, and I just did not notice? That's a possibility. I was consumed with getting-ready-for-Christmas indoor tasks and barely looked out the window.
This morning I have also wondered if I should revisit a project I'd abandoned -- making my cats an elaborate play-tunnel. Many weeks ago, I'd read about a woman who had fashioned a tunnel for her cats out of grocery-store paper bags. I'd begun collecting bags of my own and had linked four of them together already, but there's a major design flaw which I need to address. The tunnel won't stand up by itself.
This morning I've also had an interesting......um.....scenario or two flicker through my head. They relate to a dream I had last night, which relates to a website I stumbled upon recently. An interesting sort of fellow was attempting to describe the S&M culture -- and, most notably, practices -- to the uninitiated. Fascinating stuff. I didn't bookmark the link, though. Sorry. I could've shared it with you.
Well, I think that's about all that has crossed my mind this morning, and, as I'm sure you agree, none of it can be classified as funny. Weird-catlady-ish, maybe. Inappropriate-for-middle-class-America, maybe.
But not funny.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Sunday, December 9, 2007
If stuff like this didn't happen to me, I suppose I'd be bored
So this guy -- a young man whom I'd just met about 20 minutes before -- hops on top of the table next to me. I was already sitting on one of the tables.
"Do what I do," he says.
"OK...sure," I reply. "Show me."
The short, ever-so-slightly plump, dark-haired, khakis-wearing, 20s-something professional swings his legs behind him, twists around, and in a smooth motion gets on all fours. I look around the room and no one seems to be paying us any attention at all. Perhaps this is a normal thing in this establishment.
He's looking at me expectantly. Chuckling, I take a deep breath, and in a second I, too, am on all fours on top of my own table. I turn my head to look at him, and he's beaming at me. Yes, I said beaming. It's odd to be beaming in this particular situation, I think to myself. And odd, too, that he's not saying anything. Just beaming.
"What's next?" I ask, trying to ignore the beaming.
"Have you ever been in this position before?" he asks.
I just stare at him blankly for a lonnnnnnnggg few seconds while I process this question. Does he think I never played "doggie" as a child? Never cleaned that hard-to-reach corner behind my toilet? Never gardened? Never played with a pet in the summer grass? Never knocked the kitty toys from underneath my coffee table? Good lord, there are a countless number of things requiring an all-fours position.
And, of course, you -- dear reader -- know me well enough by now to realize that all those innocent things flash through my head at lightspeed. The scenarios conjured by my inner pervert are the things which linger. A lecherous giggle-fit is dangerously close to the surface, but I don't allow it. I'm pretty good at suppressing lecherous giggle-fits.
"Have I ever been in this position before?" I ask him back, hoping to kill a little time while my brain comes up with an appropriate answer.
"Yes," he says.
That was no help.
"You mean....have I ever been on all fours before?"
"Yes," he says again.
"Umm......" My brain was coming up with nothing. "Yyyyyeeeeess......"
"Good. Has anyone ever made you do this?" I watch as he demonstrates.
"Oh, that thing! It's useless. It doesn't DO anything." I quickly mimic his demonstration, then follow with my own, more creative move. When I'm done, I sit up on my knees and look over at him. He's sitting on the edge of the table again, looking at me with wide eyes.
"Hrmmp," he says.
"Do what I do," he says.
"OK...sure," I reply. "Show me."
The short, ever-so-slightly plump, dark-haired, khakis-wearing, 20s-something professional swings his legs behind him, twists around, and in a smooth motion gets on all fours. I look around the room and no one seems to be paying us any attention at all. Perhaps this is a normal thing in this establishment.
He's looking at me expectantly. Chuckling, I take a deep breath, and in a second I, too, am on all fours on top of my own table. I turn my head to look at him, and he's beaming at me. Yes, I said beaming. It's odd to be beaming in this particular situation, I think to myself. And odd, too, that he's not saying anything. Just beaming.
"What's next?" I ask, trying to ignore the beaming.
"Have you ever been in this position before?" he asks.
I just stare at him blankly for a lonnnnnnnggg few seconds while I process this question. Does he think I never played "doggie" as a child? Never cleaned that hard-to-reach corner behind my toilet? Never gardened? Never played with a pet in the summer grass? Never knocked the kitty toys from underneath my coffee table? Good lord, there are a countless number of things requiring an all-fours position.
And, of course, you -- dear reader -- know me well enough by now to realize that all those innocent things flash through my head at lightspeed. The scenarios conjured by my inner pervert are the things which linger. A lecherous giggle-fit is dangerously close to the surface, but I don't allow it. I'm pretty good at suppressing lecherous giggle-fits.
"Have I ever been in this position before?" I ask him back, hoping to kill a little time while my brain comes up with an appropriate answer.
"Yes," he says.
That was no help.
"You mean....have I ever been on all fours before?"
"Yes," he says again.
"Umm......" My brain was coming up with nothing. "Yyyyyeeeeess......"
"Good. Has anyone ever made you do this?" I watch as he demonstrates.
"Oh, that thing! It's useless. It doesn't DO anything." I quickly mimic his demonstration, then follow with my own, more creative move. When I'm done, I sit up on my knees and look over at him. He's sitting on the edge of the table again, looking at me with wide eyes.
"Hrmmp," he says.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Parking lot diversion
This week I found myself with some time to kill in a nearly-deserted bowling alley parking lot. There was a Nikon burning in my hand and a muse whispering in my ear. Well....sort of. I think the muse was actually a drunk, slightly dimwitted pixie, but sometimes you just have to take what you can get.
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