Cops and fire engines gathered around the corner in my otherwise quiet neighborhood tonight, complete with a woman crying on the front porch. I saw the lights first, but there was no sign of an ambulance. Small comfort, I suppose. It appears an ass was at fault, but since I didn’t see anything, that just conjecture.
This incident makes twice this summer, so I may go to the effort necessary to obtain the police report so I can sort out what’s causing the trouble and steer clear. Nuisance.
I took a long circular business trip today to “observe” two project sites and visit my best clients. Fuck-ups aside, everything went reasonably well. The trip puts me behind on other work, but the visit was productive and generated some future projects probably starting next year. Coupled with projects ending this month and beginning next month, things appear encouraging. Wonders never cease.
Also, I’ve got some more control over some personal finances. As I said, wonders never cease.
As you may already know, Romney spoke to an exclusive fund raisers’ group earlier this year and stated at that gathering that he wasn’t courting those Americans who aren’t paying taxes because those Americans have nothing to gain from a Romney presidency.
Duh. We all knew that. Obama supporters just don’t like admitting that they’re not self supporting. I don’t understand why. After all, they “didn’t build that,” the government did. Never mind how that government is funded.
The Patriarchy hears your protest against the restriction of fashionable women’s garments. Your right to wear as much or as little of whatever textile or alternative cover you choose is hereby recognized. Be advised that certain responsibilities accrue.
[The following list is my own. It is not transcribed or compiled. Do not use without permission.]
1. A woman dressed such that her physical beauty cannot be assessed will not be admired for her beauty. Do not expect compliments regarding the unseen and unobserved.
2. We prefer all women be nude, especially the ugly ones. Cosmetics are not excepted. Your beauty, or lack thereof, makes surprisingly little difference to us with regard to long-term commitment. How else are there still so many of you who are ugly? If you look in the mirror and despair, have hope. Your mother can’t possibly be that pretty, and somehow she managed you.
3. Allure may be a tempting mode. Do not be fooled: we see this as an invitation to remove your clothing. Why else show us any skin?
4. Bright colors may attract us, but shiny things lose their appeal if substantial maintenance is required. If we need to baby something, we purchase classic machines. Be practical and inexpensive. We respond to bargains.
5. We know you evaluate us based on income, capital, and potential; be not surprised if we conceal these when evaluating your potential loyalty. The most disappointing deadbeat may be worth millions if you play smart.
6. Show us your tits. Really.
7. Shave. We see plenty of hair already in the mirror. We don’t care if it’s unnatural. So are cosmetics, and you use those when it suits you.
8. You aren’t full-figured, you’re fat. We do evaluate you according to whether you can jog alongside us. That’s more likely if you’re height-weight proportionate.
9. Leave the hat or scarf at home. We are not impressed.
10. If you wear a “fuck-me” dress, do not be surprised if we invite you to fuck.
11. You may dress to impress one another. As a result, we may ignore you. Do not complain that you are ignored by us. See #10.
12. It is possible to engage us regardless of your attire. Please don’t be stupid. We already have enough of such among ourselves. If you are stupid, or do not wish to talk, see #10.
13. Some of us are loyal. If you are intent on overcoming such loyalty, don’t “skirt” the issue: that’s dishonorable. Sort it out among yourselves. Most of us are available to all comers provided you don’t expect one of us to pay for the pleasure of another.
14. Unbutton one more button than is comfortable. Do this also with your blouse.
15. We want to touch you. Do not be so delicately clothed that touching is prohibited. You will be ignored.
16. Bare shoulders is easy to accomplish. Do that more.
17. Crotchless panties are wasteful. Go commando.
18. Modest dress is deceitful. We know you want us. Show it.
19. Only the envious among you enforce modest dress. We are not to blame. We barely comprehend the motivation behind bras. Padded bras confound us.
20. Don’t bother dressing young. We’re looking for the limbal ring in your eyes to gauge your age. Dress your attitude. See #10.
21. To our mothers: don’t ask us to judge your clothing. You don’t want our honest opinion, whatever it is. Think about it.
22. We use that public speaking trick whenever you join us clothed. It works. We feel much less intimidated.
23. Yes, you look fat in that. What are we? Blind?
24. Yes, we look fat in this. We know. That’s why we never ask your opinion.
25. You don’t care how we “look” except when you need to impress yourselves.
26. We don’t care how we “look”except when we need to impress you. After you see our financial statements, you don’t care, either.
27. Don’t dictate our clothing choices after co-opting ours. It took centuries to develop slacks and pants from primitive garments without crotches. The zipper is a magnificent feat of engineering for pissing with pants up. Go find your own solution to squatting and let us enjoy ours in peace.
28. If you wish to walk about topless, please don’t stop on our account. Don’t complain if we stare at your tits when you do. Wouldn’t you find the alternative disheartening? See #19.
29. Heels are a mixed blessing. Heels make you taller, which intimidates the weak and small among us. The strong and tall among us commend this effort for reducing competition and favorably displaying your ass.
30. If it clings to you when wet, it is a good choice.
Lest you be concerned, the subject is over 18. I happen to draw the line at 21.
I was on a business trip in Orlando about ten years ago, so I would have been in my early thirties; from the vantage of 40+, that seems sufficiently young. The conference included a fair share of college-age pre-professionals, and some women among them, rare in my profession, but this was a regional conference, so the pros were in smaller than normal numbers since we don’t usually turn out except for training or networking with clients which were nowheres about. Unlike many similar trips, this one was fully Disneyfied and women were also represented among the grown-ups, so the strip clubs were off-limits and I didn’t invest in a rental car for the convenience an easy escape. But, as it happened, I did manage to make an acquaintance with a pair of young folks who let me feel a little less “old” than I would otherwise have felt -for a while.
Late the second evening, the “event” of the evening was a trip to the Universal Studios equivalent of Downtown Disney. We all went to dinner (I think; it’s been a while) then hit the “clubs.” That’s where things got interesting. She was under 21, so admission to the club was unlawful. So, I got asked to help with admission, as it were. How does a guy over 30 accomplish this? You get uncomfortably close to the woman under 21. That, BTW, is kinda fun, but only slightly better than a lap dance. From my present vantage, it reminds me of dancing with other men’s wives: temporary thrill with a hard-core letdown at the end of the tune.
And so it went with this apparent hook-up couple. There wasn’t anything to be had once I got her through the door, which was to be expected and for which I won’t fault her or him. Still, it stung a little all the same, and drove home to me that I was no longer a youth. The story of “Young Dr. Sade” had come to an abrupt and harsh end.
I came away from being in the audience of a discussion panel yesterday feeling like the only sane person in the room. At the end of the panel discussion, one of the audience members complimented a parent in the room for his support of his child, a panelist. The topic was adult (I would classify this as at least PG-13, probably R for adult themes), the child was clearly lacking full maturity, and while the audience was friendly, I could see how this might play very badly in the future to a less-polite crowd of well-educated opponents. I got up and left as she began her praise lest I hear enough that my anger got the better of me and the full force of my own opinion spewed forth. I managed a brief conversation with a kind soul in the room, followed by the another conversation down the hall, but after that, I just needed to get home and start drinking. A lot. This morning, I found myself so frustrated and angry that I stayed home and puttered about the house resolving minor nuisances like “what’s that smell in the refrigerator ,” and similar tasks. I finally made it to the office tonight. As it happens, I missed one phone call but not much else. My life invariably works that way.
Part of my escape from reality included indulging a missed season of The Glades: a crime procedural that ultimately focuses on the relationship between a homicide detective and a nurse cum doctor. The crime puzzles are mildly engaging, but I’m much more interested in the intricacies of the characters’ negotiation of their romance than anything else. Which brings me to the point of this post.
I’ve realized, after some introspection today, that what’s missing from this blog is a reason for you to read it. I read blogs for the interpersonal narratives: boy meets girl, boy gets girl, and all that falls between. That may seem a pansey-ass thing to admit, but I think even most men read stories for the characters and for the eventual closure of those characters’ stories. So, I’m going to switch tracks for a little while and provide a little back story while I work up the guts to be more forthcoming about my present circumstances.
Do you ever feel like the only sane person in the room?