Monday, November 29, 2010

Novembeard

As you can see, I grew a beard so voluminous this month, that I became unable to fully smile due to its weight. To combat this issue, I decided to get a professional barber shave for the first time in my life...and went in expecting it not to go well.

My history of getting massages and colonics has been well documented and is not pretty. I have been sexually assaulted repeatedly by people in the "service industry" and simply have to live with that fact (while I quietly cry myself to sleep at night). So, going into a situation where I would be exposing my neck to a barber with a very sharp razor had catastrophe written all over it. Somehow. Someway. I was going to end up with my pants off and my penis cut. I just knew it.

(To save anyone reading this the agony of the payoff...my penis was not harmed in any way, shape, or form...I will not be commenting on the location of my pants).

Overall, I did have a very pleasant experience getting my first "real shave." There were so many steps, I can't recount them all, but there were numerous hot towels, multiple types of lotions and oils, shoulder and face massages, and the barber didn't make stupid chit chat. In fact, she (yes, she), barely talked at all! So let me get this straight, you are female, can handle a blade, like to remove body/facial hair, and are very quiet...if she had liked Cal Football, I may have found my new best friend!

This being me, there were a few moments of awkwardness, truth be told. First of all, the blade tickled the right side of my neck. Not the left side. Just the right. The sharp-ass, could-easily-kill-me, don't-make-any-sudden-movements-or-your-tongue-will-be-sticking-out-of-your-neck blade TICKLED my neck. What the shit is that? Who the Hell would be tickled by a razor???? So while she scraped-scraped-scraped hair off that side, I was paralyzed in agonizing fear. All I wanted to do was turn my neck away from the blade, but I HAD to sit still and take the tickling. Absolute torture!

I also found the face massages a bit weird. Every time she would put a hot towel on my face, she would remove it by doing some sensual rubbing of my cheeks, temples, and chin. This was all well and good after the first hot towel...but as we got to towel three to four, I just really didn't want my face rubbed anymore. If nothing else, I learned something about myself today...it IS possible to have your face rubbed one too many times. And THAT is a very valuable lesson.

Novembeard is finally over...and I can now go back to shaving and rubbing my own head....just in time for Decemporn.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Maggie: Her Inner Bitch, Revealed

We have stereotypes in our society. I'm not saying I buy into them. Endorse them. Or even fully understand them. But there is something I know for sure:

Morrie (my male pug) can run circles around Maggie (my female pug).

As the differences in their athletic abilities have become more and more pronounced, I have noticed a shift in Maggie. Slowly. In time. What used to be good natured play has turned into a mini-rivalry. And sometimes. Sometimes. When Maggie is in a bad mood, she'll play dirty. So I know for a fact what Maggie did yesterday was not out of love nor fairness...and it wasn't an accident.

Maggie laid Morrie out with a Troy Polamalu-esque blow. And she'd do it again.

***

Let's take a step back and really investigate how Maggie's deep hatred for Morrie's energy and athletic ability started.

We have about a ten-yard span from our front door to our back-kitchen door, and when both are open, the dogs can run in a huge circle from the back-kitchen door out the front door, through our yard and return into the back-kitchen door (about a total forty-yard run).

When Morrie gets excited, he'll run and run and run this forty-yard loop, yelping, smiling, tail wagging. Maggie, on the other hand, will run the loop once (maybe twice), and then do something very interesting: She'll run to the front door with Morrie, and then as he runs the thirty yards around the outside of the house, Maggie will walk the ten yards directly to the back door and wait for him. When he returns, she'll then bite the shit out of him through the living room and once again stop at the front door. Morrie will then run all the way around again....and she'll walk back to the back-kitchen door.

She is a lazy, fat-assed cheat on the one hand. Or, she is a plotting, vindictive bitch on the other. Either choice...not so good.

***

We went to the park yesterday, and Morrie was AMPED. The park has a good fifty-yard length right next to a busy road, and he was running up and back, up and back, up and back, chasing every car that went by. Maggie tried to keep up. For about two minutes. And then, I saw her get an idea.

While Morrie ran up fifty yards and back fifty yards...she went and stood in the middle of the park. She waited. SHE WAITED. And when he was mid-sprint and looking up at a car...our little, friendly, loving, female pug went into action.

In a full sprint, she TACKLED THE PISS out of Morrie, flung him UP into the air, and slammed him into the dog-park fence. I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure I heard her say as she hovered over him:

"Who's running now, bitch?"

Morrie, got up, wiped himself off, and went back to running up and back...but he wasn't quite as carefree. He was hearing footsteps. Little, female, puggy footsteps, in the back of his mind.

Mission accomplished, Maggie. Mission Accomplished. That one was for women everywhere!

Monday, November 15, 2010

Five Feet of Crazy

A few weekends ago, I went to a conference in LA. I got up at 5 AM. Three other people met me at my house by 6. On a Saturday. Our plan was to be in LA by 8:30 when the conference started...and return back at 3:30 when the conference ended.

4 hours of driving
6 hours of conference
1 hour of lunch

This blog has nothing to do with the conference. This blog is about how I could have been murdered.

***

During the morning, she came into one of the sessions I attended. I noticed her because she was wearing a grey muumuu. With a belt. And red shoes. Her hair was salt and pepper...and she was short. Very short. About five feet of short. What I noticed most about her were her eyes. They darted and wouldn't focus. They would look at you without looking. She made me feel uncomfortable...so I didn't talk to her. Yet.

***

After driving all morning and having no break, by the time lunch came around, I was HUNGRY. I was in a courtyard, distracted by thirst, by hunger...refilling my ice tea (why did I need more ice tea???) when I felt her. I could feel those darting eyes looking at me and they made me stop...I shit you not, her eyes made me stop walking. Dead. In my tracks.

Her muumuu flowed in the light breeze of the afternoon as she quickly shuffled her little red shoes toward me. Our eyes were locked, I couldn't move, and I found myself being more thankful for a belt than I had ever been in my entire life. Without her belt...and that steady breeze....shudder.

She only came up to my nipples. And her darting eyes looked up at me as we spoke for the first time in our lives:

"Are you from San Diego?" she oddly asked.

I didn't know, then, why she was asking. Like I said...I had never spoken to this person before in my life. In our morning session, we did have to introduce ourselves...and I instantly tried to remember Did I say I was from San Diego...or is this crazy-ass lady stalking me? What did I say? What do I do? This is really odd.

But all I managed was "Yes."

Before I could even get to the "S," in "Yes," she had asked me...and my mind swirled:

Who is this lady? Do I know her? That is an hour from here! There is something not right about her. Why do these things always...always happen to me?

But all I managed again was "Yes" in retort to her request: "I live in Irvine. Can you give me a ride home?"

I think what frightened me the most was how much she was not frightened of me. How many women walk up to some guy at a conference and ask if he can drive them an hour south? So this started to get me worried Maybe she isn't scared of me because she is going to kill me??? Rape me??? Steal my car??? Never trust a little old lady in a muumuu (with a belt)!!! So there I was...a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier...and I felt totally nervous. So I did the only thing I could do to protect myself, pass the buck onto my friends:

"Oh, you know...I actually have three other women with me in my car. We should check with them first."

And I walked her over to my carmates, and introduced her as the person we could be driving to Irvine (unless anyone had an issue of being overcrowded)...but my hopes for one of them to put up a stink failed. They all smiled as she walked away...and I was asked where I met my new girlfriend in the grey muumuu, belt, and red shoes.

"I...uh...well...I was getting ice tea...and...well...she...so...I..."

So. I drove her home.

***

When we got to my car, I suggested everyone put all their bags in the trunk...mostly because I didn't want any secret knives, guns, ropes, or other muumuus in my backseat.

Then the story telling began...and what a story teller she was. She wanted to know if we knew a student who she used to know...who now lives and works in TJ. All of us said no...but she told us about him for thirty minutes...ten of which were her trying to spell his name: "His last name is S...A...E...N...Z...Do you know him....no...wait...it's S...A...I...N...Z...have you read his columns...no...wait..." On and on she went.

During the ride, it came out that her husband had dropped her off, but didn't want to stay...so she would just find her way home...somehow...from LA...to Irvine. True love there....what would have happened if I didn't get that second ice tea?

When we got to her exit, she suggested I just drop her off on the freeway...and she would walk the rest of the way. I joked that I wouldn't even slow all the way down, and should just push her out. All my other carmates laughed. She did not. Through the rearview mirror...I felt those eyes. And she just stared through the laughs.

I didn't speak again.

***

I have been afraid to type this blog...wondering if she knows who I am...what my last name is...and is checking in on me and my San Diego dwelling.

So if I end up dead...and you see tiny, little footprints next to my body...please let Seinze or Sainz or Sienz know. He will tell my story...maybe in Spanish, it will make more sense.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Yes. I am This McPathetic.

It was like stars aligning:

(A) I hadn't been to McDonald's in about a year-ish;
(B) Someone had given me a coupon for free Medium Fries;
(C) I had another coupon for a free Onion and Cheddar McChicken Sandwich; and
(D) The McRib is out right now (and I love the McRib, btw).

And when the stars speak, I listen.

So, the following is a (mostly) true conversation on how I coerced my way into eating like shit...for free. I bring you, The Mind Fuck:


McHigh School Drive-thru Guy: Welcome to McDonald's.

Me: Yeah...you guys have the McRib right now, right?

MHSDTG: Yup.

Me: Can I get one of those. I LOVE them. The are so McRib-y.

MHSDTG: Um...oooooook. The meal?

Me: (Pishaw...the meal...he doesn't know about my coupons.) No...but I do have a couple of coupons I would like to use.

MHSDTG: OK

Me: I have one for a free McChicken with cheddar and onions...and one for a free medium fries.

MHSDTG: How many people are in the car with you, sir?

Me: What?

MHSDTG: How many people are in the car with you? You can only use one coupon per person.

Me: (uh oh) Well...it's just me.

MHSDTG: You are going to have to pick one coupon or the other, then.

Me: (Hmmm...but I just want to use the coupons...I don't even care about the food...I know. I will reason with him.) No.

MHSDTG: What do you mean "No"?

Me: I mean, I would like to use both.

MHSDTG: I understand that...but I can't let you do that.

Me: (OK...he wants to dance. Let's dance.) What if I drove through twice?

MHSDTG: We wouldn't let you do that, sir.

Me: But how would you know? What if I just did it without saying I was going to do it?

MHSDTG: We would know. We would ask you to come back later.

Me: (So...he wants to be like that) But it would be later.

MHSDTG: OK...well, we would ask you to go to a different McDonald's.

Me: (I'm not THAT pathetic...driving to another McDonald's is out of the question. I am only pathetic enough to argue.) What if I ordered one in the drive-thru and one inside?

MHSDTG: We wouldn't let you do that.

Me: You wouldn't let me? I'm trying to save an extra $1.00 here...you wouldn't let me do that?

MHSDTG: No, sir.

Me: (Time to pull out the big guns) OK...what if I said there actually ARE two people in the car.

MHSDTG: Well, then, that would be ok!

Me: OK...there are two people in the car. I hope my friend is still in the car by the time I get up to your window.

MHSDTG: Sir?

Me: He likes to jump out of my car a lot.

MHSDTG: HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Me: (OK...I got him to laugh! I'm in) Look..can't you just pretend I have another person in the car with me? I really want to use these coupons.

MHSDTG: Hold on.

And off he went...I got "permission" to use my two coupons...and I ate my McRib, a McChicken (with cheddar and onions), and medium fries.

I presently feel like shit...does this mean I won? And I wonder how much they spit on my sandwich, too? Was it like a lot of spit or mostly just dropped on the floor?

Sigh.