Crazed Sex Poodle!

So recently, Al Gore was alleged to have attacked a masseuse- this happened 2 years ago, but the allegations are just now surfacing, and she, in an effort to make him stop, called him a "crazed sex poodle."

I am now jealous. No one has ever yet called me a "crazed sex poodle," a title I highly covet. What a great combination of words, like "electric joy pig." I plan on demanding people call me this.

Particularly my-I am thinking it is too early to change my Facebook status, right? But this has been fantastic. Thus far.

Unlike on the job front! There just aren't any. People have been asking me, how's the job hunt? And I say, it's like a snipe hunt! None exist on the North American Continent. Then people say I Haven't Used that Word in 35 Years and I say You Now have an Opportunity to Use This Sadly Underutilised Word.

Mens. Dey beez lak da rainbowz. Dey comes into yo life, no one knows where dey comes frum, and den dey brightens it up for a wile, and deys be all beaufur and den dey disappears an no one knows where dey goes to, but you happy dey wuz dere.

Yah, I went there. So I am really hoping that this is not going to be like that. Most guys do vanish. It's like some kind of magic act, "Watch me make this guy disappear!"

And no, I don't do anything weird. So there.

My concept of a pleasant date evening is, I cook food, then we have dinner and wine and some more wine and read poetry to each other and then have crazed sex poodle antics. Is that so bad?

We saw the Francis Ford Coppola version of "Dracula" which- that wasn't intended to be a comedy, was it?

First of all, it had Keanu Reeves trying to act, which is like looking at videos of babies sucking on lemons for the first time. Hi. Lar. I. Ous.

Then it had- Dracula was wearing a cape/train thing, that was at least 30 feet long. It looked ridiculous and inconvenient. Can you imagine trying to pounce on a victim with a 30 foot train? You'd constantly get caught in it.


Now this chap has many questions for me, some of which I feel like answering right away and some of which I do not.

"What did you do with 'Robin'?"

"Why do all the guys disappear?"

"What kind of dating experiences have you had?"

"What do you find physically attractive?"

"What parts of your body do you like the most?"

"What do you like to do for fun?"

He asks lots of questions, which is a Great Thing, because he is interested in me. This has been fairly rare.

I skirt some of the "Robin" involved details- do you know I've known him nearly 2 years? Time flies, doesn't it, and am rather left with, I went to Nashville, and I cooked.

This is largely true. Sometimes, we went to the bookstore. Sometimes, we went to Opry Mills. Once, he took me shopping, in an outdoor mall, in 15 degree weather, to which I loudly objected.

I don't know why all the guys disappear, or where I go on dates. Actually, I don't go anywhere usually, I stay at home and then they come over, or I go there, sometimes, and that's pretty much it. Perhaps they disappear because they are treating me like a whore, because I am acting like one. That has been posited by a number of people. What with being unemployed and such, it is difficult to go on "dates" where you spend "money" and such. Also, I am a little agoraphobic. Why leave the house when everything you need is at hand? And if it isn't, it should be.

I have had disappointing dating experiences. I do not mean to sound shallow because people have plenty of inner beauty and all but I do not want to dig through layers of fugly to get to it. I don't dislike someone because they're fugly, I just don't want to date them. K? Then the ones I like, vanish.

Then there's "Robin" who is neither fugly nor has vanished but lives in Memphis and - that may, and probably has, gone as far as it's going to go.

I find it easier to define physical attraction in terms of NOT. Not hairy, not fat, not pasty, you know, nice build, soft smooth skin, handsome, etc . . .

I like all the parts of my body, thank you very much, and don't plan on giving them up any time soon. I also find this an odd question, I do not want to play favourites with my body parts, and also, what if, for example, I didn't particularly like my, say, elbows? What would I do about it? I'm not going to pull-a-part for people to exchange. I would not, personally, mind exchanging my body for that of, say, Vin Diesel or Mark Wahlberg but that is not a choice.

For fun, I tend to take apart the car, and sometimes I can put it back together, and I like to plant heads and things in the yard, and I like to can things and make beer, and drive around real fast with the tops off the car and wave at people. Please note: this last activity involves leaving the house. I also like to go to Pull-A-Part.

I am trying to remember what I did at one point when I had a life, before I started teaching and had the rental house and all of that that involved 80 hours of work a week and no $.

I would theoretically go to plays, we used to do that.

I like the Opera.

I like to (theoretically) play tennis, having done it probably twice in the last 10 years.

I like to go to state parks (I don't like to go downtown/midtown or anywhere there are homeless people and inconvenient parking).

I like to go to Stone Mountain at night.

I like to go thrifting.

I like to eat in restaurants but not the MTM kind of restaurant; I do not like trendy food. I like large portions of well prepared tasty food. Grandma food, from a variety of ethnicities.

I do not see movies in the cinema. They are too expensive and awful. Like, "Avatar," which had blue people in it and was some kind of fantasy.

Some time ago, I was accused of not being able to appreciate fantasy, largely because the films I reserve my highest appreciation for involve Joan Crawford arguing with someone, then slapping them into next week.

I do appreciate fantasy! This is not true. I lead a rich and interesting life of the imagination. Some of which, I am willing to share here, and some of which I am not, and you had best be glad about THAT. But my fantasies tend to involve- at least the repeatable ones- arguing with someone, and then slapping them into next week. So blue people or whatever has no relevance to me. My brain refuses to process it.

I don't go to bars- very, very rarely, because- first of all, you can't smoke in bars in most places anymore so what fun is that. Then, you're going to spend your evening talking with the same people you would have talked to anyway had you stayed home and spent $1 a beer instead of $6 a beer. And you can play your own music at home also, and then you don't have to worry about driving.

On the other hand, home involves a slightly higher degree of risk that RHS will take off her clothes and make you see her private parts, which- I have seen more of that girl's vajayjay than I EVER have needed to. Which was exactly none.

I don't like shopping much, and I did not know this as much as I do now until I met "Robin."

I don't want to have brunch in Piedmont Park post clubbing with a bunch of queens.

I am sure as the situation develops I will have more to tell y'all. MMM! It has been a whole lot of hotness!