It’s summer. I had a party.
Totals:
Guests: 42
Dead Soldiers: Countless
Girl’s Hair Bands Found: 2
Hook-ups Facilitated by the Party (that I’ve heard about): 5
I’d call that a successful gathering.
This is what I’ve decided: all women who I am attracted to are taken. Not “all the women in L.A.” are taken, or “all the women I’ve come across lately”… all women, everywhere, that I’m attracted to, are taken.
For instance, I went to a party tonight at Saints & Sinners, and there she was. Gorgeous, of course, and interesting, and talkative, and blah blah engaged blah blah.
sigh
And I’m so sick in the head, I had to talk myself out of really hitting on her (as oppossed to my usual low-level flirtation that is always ALWAYS on and part of what I like to think of as my charm but is probably taken more as my sleeziness).
I had to call a girl friend of mine wih my emergency and literally say, “Engaged equals bad, right? Walk away, right?” and I was asking in earnest with sincerity. “Dude!” she said, a little flabbergasted that I could really be so stupid. I mean, I seem like a reasonably intelligent guy, so ‘Dude!’ seemed appropriate. “But she’s here alone,” I countered, “I mean, no fiancee with her? What’s that about?” To which my friend replied with a sigh, “dude…”
It’s sad… especially because I’ve fallen so far from grace that I’m even thinking about if I should have explored things further some 2 hours later. Of course I shouldn’t have explored things further and what I did do was the right thing with my, “Very nice to meet you, good luck with your etc etc” even though she was clearly my soulmate.
I think it’s frustration. I’m coming from what Jules likes to call being a Serial Monogomist to this encoded list:
Silent Talker
Aimee II
Married?
The bride’s sister
Pilates
Moving
Wide Kisser
Proper Lighting
Jesus
Rockstar
Sweet
Not sweet
Fake
Almost
Brazillian
Mistake
Insane
St. Louis
USC
And that’s just who I can remember, I have the sneaking suspicion that there are at least a half a dozen more that I’ve already forgotten.
That’s not bravado, that’s a call for help.
Clearly, it’s not a question of meeting anyone, it’s a question of meeting the right one. I have to admit, though, it’s been a hell of a good time.
It occurs to me, that there is the ever so slight chance that it’s not actually the women of LA’s fault. It may be someone, or a group of someones, else’s fault. Perhaps an unholy cabal bent on world domination.
OK, or maybe it’s even my deal.
More importantly, I’m having a party next weekend. Who’s coming?
I saw Superman Returns last night. 3.5 out of 5 stars.
I actually really liked it… the most striking thing for me was how Bryan Singer made Superman seem “real”. That sounds stupid; but, when he flew around there was none of that “Up, Up, and AWAAAaaayyy!” crap or fake “swoosh” noise as he lifted off. There was still, of course, the conceit that a simple pair of glasses somehow make someone look enitrely different and unrecognizable; but if you forgive that bit of storytelling, the rest of it was pretty good. I hope they make more.
I’ve been too busy to post as of late; which my blog shouldn’t take personally because I’ve also been too busy to do laundry, go to the market, pay my bills, get my car fixed, work on my apartment, build a bookshelf, or win the lottery. I did, however, fail to do any of those things over the weekend, and instead spent 4 days going to the beach.
I do not feel guilty.
Work has been stressful for the last few months, and I need a vacation. Thinking back, I haven’t really had a vacation for a few years now, the last one being to Playa del Carmen with ADG… something that must have been at least 2 years ago by now? Something like that. Granted, I’ve spent several weekends in Vegas, and went on a 4-day cruise to Mexico that ended with a lot of stories involving bachelorettes, but a vacation, a real one, I haven’t had in a long time.
And like I said, I need one. I’m more irritable than I should be considering how good my life is; and, more pressing, I’m incredibly hard to get motivated, lately. It was a minor miracle that I actually bought wood Monday for the bookshelf I’m going to build. the fact that I didn’t clean out the garage to give me space to work is a bad sign, though. All I have to do is load a bunch of boxes for Goodwill into my truck and then drop them off… but that would impact my procrastination schedule, you see. If I had a solid week or so to just take off for a while, I think it would definitely recharge me.
But I don’t have anyone to go with, and I think that’s the real problem. The idea of going on a solo vacation, though empowering, just doesn’t sound like fun like it should be. And by saying I don’t have anyone to go with, I don’t mean I don’t have anyone to go with; I mean by going with “anyone” that would prematurely make them more Someone than I’m ready for them to be at this point.
I’m sure you don’t catch my drift even a little bit.
Happy 4th
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZ9fmGMuX98]
I had to wear shoes for the first time since my minor bike accident the other night and it was… well it just wasn’t a whole lot of fun.
I am impressed and perplexed, both, by (1) what a wuss I am, and (2) how a series of minor scrapes on your foot can pretty much cripple your ability to walk like a normal person for weeks at a time. Granted, I replaced some pretty good-sized chunks of my foot with asphalt, but it’s not like I broke anything, you know?
At any rate, I am lucky to live in SoCal where the weather, and the dress-code pretty much guarantees that I can get away with sandals nearly 100% of the time. ‘Cause that’s how we roll by the beach, y’all.
I’ve been taking it back to the ol’ skool like an ol’ fool, lately, and listening to a lot of stuff like Guns N’ (Fuckin’) Roses, Anthrax, old Metallica, Steve Vai and Jose Satriani, and then last night that quintessential rock quartet, Mr. Big.
I don’t know what happened, one second I’m all, “Like, ohmygod, isn’t My Chemical Romance like the most amazing band, like, EVER?!” and the next thing I know I’m putting Slayer iron-ons on an old jean-jacket.
By the way, though… GNR? They fucking rock! Re-check them out and remember.
As proof of their rock-cred, Axl Rose was arrested in Stockholm for, you know, biting a security guard. Cause that’s how you roll when you’re a has-been rock-star.
Speaking of rock-stars, The Thai Singer is one, even if it’s a Monday night in West LA at Club Good Hurt. Let this be a lesson to all of you club owners out there, by the way: putting your super-hot waitresses in super-hot nurse’s outfits is really just an excellent idea.
My hats off to the marketing team.
Maybe there is a God after all:
Comedy Central is going back to the Futurama.Three years after the show last aired on prime time, the cable net has signed a deal to resurrect the former Fox animated series for a minimum 13-episode run.
I have this recurring waking fantasy where, as I’m walking out to my car in the morning, unbeknownst to me ADG is watching me from an undescript location… sometimes from her new boyfriend’s car, sometimes from her own far away and unnoticed. She’s come because she wants to reinforce that her life is so much better without me in it, and to privately gloat a little bit at her own relative success.
So I walk out, SoCal tanned and with a spring in my step, and ADG pauses, not expecting me to look as good as I do, or to exude the level of relaxed confidence that I am. All of the sudden, the whole plan is in doubt. What has she given up? How could she have been so stupid as to let this god amongst men go? And then I get in my truck and drive away with the sun shining behind me, some appropriate rock anthem (possibly from Journey) blasting out of my stereo, and the faint sound of the general populace all turning their heads to look in my direction (a sound like smooth rocks gently slipping over themselves like playful sea otters).
And then there is the crushing regret, and she hangs her head sadly with longing and resignation.
All of this, of course, being only fantasy. At least I’m not bitter, right?
Right?
