Bowling For Concubines November 11, 2007

Holy moly hoo-ha! This has been one crazy mamajama of a week. I met a fantastic new eHarmony guy, which aided and abetted in Dwandy’s pecking order tumble (oh, he helped too!) Rico got his “benefits” and Don Juan got me drunk. Ozzy and I had The Talk … Again. Oh, and Spader texted me this gem: “what would u say if i said i wanted to kiss ur breasts?” — which nearly caused me to run off the road in laughter. Good times, good times. ;-)

So I’ll begin with Dwandy and I rockin’ the bowling alley the other night. Now perhaps I’m just mental (very likely!) but every time I go bowling, the song “Score Tonight” from Grease 2 plays over and over in my head like a mantra. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s the tune that the T-Birds and Pink Ladies sing whilst shaking their asses around their local bowling alley. And as you can imagine, the lyrics are knee-deep in sexual innuendo. Sample lyric:

we’re gonna rock, we’re gonna roll
we’re gonna bop, we’re gonna bowl
we’re gonna score, score, score, score, scoooooooore
TONIGHT!

I know … Why it was never a Barry White classic is beyond me. ;-)

Despite the ridiculous soundtrack, I happen to love bowling, although my skillz are poor enough that getting in the triple digits is cause for a victory dance. I had assumed that Dwandy was a fan as well, but as we got to the alley he muttered something about being tired and having no energy. Mind you, this bowling shindig was his idea — so once again, a difficult ‘tude was destined to be on the menu.

I’ll spare you the gory details of my bowling pin shrapnel (non-existent), but it was nearly over before it began, with Dwandy copping out after two quick games. He hemmed and hawed about wanting to get something to eat, but we finally just ended up at my place, at which time I sat him on the couch and declared those four dirty words that no one ever likes to hear:

“We need to talk.”

In times past, I might have put up with someone’s cranky demeanor, making excuses and assuming it was something that I was doing wrong. But life is short, baby! I don’t have time to sort out someone else’s melodrama, so it was time to put my finger on the pulse of the issue and then rip into that vein like a vampire with some serious blood lust …

Aww yeah!

“I’ve been picking up some mixed signals the last few times we’ve hung out, so what’s the happs with that?” I asked. “If you don’t want to ‘date’ anymore, just get it out in the open. I’m not going to go all arsonist on your apartment or bring the Chuck Norris on your ass. So why the sketchiness?”

Dwandy sighed. “I’m not very good at this and my experience is limited, as you know. I guess I’m just trying to pull back because I don’t want things to go too fast. I’m more of a slow and methodical type. I like to research things and take my time. If I’m going to buy a DVD player, I read the reviews and compare prices and try to find the best one that’s out there.”

I snickered. “Dude, I am like the Blu-Ray High Def Monster DVD Playa of your dreams! How can you resist?”

Success! Dwandy finally cracked a smile.

“Listen,” I continued. “I like your way of thinking, but you’ve mentioned before that you only date one person at a time.” He nodded. “So how can you figure out how you feel if you don’t have anything to compare and contrast with? That would be like wandering into Best Buy and all the shelves are filled with one brand and model of DVD player. You might think that it has to be the best because it’s the only one on the shelf, but maybe the selection at CompUSA would blow your mind!”

He laughed. “I don’t think CompUSA sells DVD players …”

“Not the point!” I playfully punched his shoulder. “Anyway, I think you should try meeting some other eHarmony chicks. See who else is out there before you make up your mind. And in the meantime, let’s keep dating — but be the guy you were in the beginning! You know I’m not picking out baby names or diamond rings just yet.” I laughed as Dwandy shuddered. “And if I may get cheesy for a moment, perhaps this will end up being a funny story we tell the grandkids someday!”

“You are so lame,” he snorted.

And then I killed him.

Oh alright, I took him home with all of his man parts intact and we have tentative plans for this Wednesday. I want to give this guy a chance because he appeals to that spicy part of my personality that likes a good challenge. (Ozzy could learn a few things from this one!) But games are only fun to play if you can forsee a chance at victory. It’s a delicate balance … If a bowling lane had no gutters, you could chuck that ball with wild abandon and expect to at least knock over a few pins. And likewise, if the pins were bolted to the floor, not even Chuck Norris could bring the smackdown!

By the way, I have no idea why I’m so fascinated with the Chuckster lately. Must be that bloody writer’s strike in Hollywood. Hey, I support them wholeheartedly, but no more new Office episodes? (Heart attack pending.) Suddenly those re-runs of Walker, Texas Ranger are looking strangely appealing … ;-)

Weird Science November 4, 2007

So I’m a little OCD about my cell phone, I have to admit. It’s a beat up pink Sanyo with a bent antenna and a wonky camera and its lack of T9-word intelligence drives me fucking! mental! … But I just love that wee chunk o’ plastic and circuitry! While I may not treat the phone itself with the most delicate hand, I have great reverence for the data that passes through it, which is why I’m constantly clearing my call history, deleting my sent/received texts, and pruning my contact list. These seem to be pretty foreign practices for most of my friends, but I guess I have a bit of paranoia about my phone being stolen by some miscreant who might use my cheeky texts and evidence of late night phone calls against me. Let’s just say that I probably shouldn’t kiss my mama with the same mouth that’s spoken some choice words through that particular speaker. And we won’t even talk about the naughtiness my fingers have been up to …

Typing fingers, ya pervs! ;-)

And thus, it was during the other day’s ritual Contact List Deletion Ceremony (during which Duke and Belding met their final demises!) that my eyes caught another name that gave me pause for consideration. Dear readers, meet Brando.

Ahhh, Brando … So named because he’s a tough Italian with a fantastic New York accent and an intense personality that makes me think of a Mafia boss. He also happens to be my high-school chemistry teacher. Just wait, it gets better!

Now before you go and get your unmentionables all twisted, we had a completely innocent student/teacher bond. Initially he scared me on the first few days of school, but it was part of an act to weed out the kids who couldn’t handle his teaching style, and we ended up being each-other’s favorites that year. He sat me in the front row and performed experiments over my head, and I worked my ass off to pull the highest grade on the final in five years — and this from a girl who had previously had no interest in science. Brando had a knack for relating to his students like we were on the same level, made easier by the fact that he was in his mid-20’s at the time. My family moved around a lot while I was growing up so I only stayed at that particular high-school for a year, but I always remembered him fondly and once in a while over the years I’d throw his name into Google to see if I could find an email address.

Long(er) story short, I managed to find him two years ago and we struck up an email friendship. We were supposed to meet in the summer of 2006, but something came up and he was mysteriously unavailable when I was back in town. So we gave it another go this past summer, meeting for drinks at a quiet pub a few miles from the place where we’d been student and teacher … And for about five minutes, it was all kinds of sketchy! Think about it — this is someone who was always an authority figure in your eyes, and now you’re all grown up and there’s only about 12 or 13 years between you in age, and you realize that things are in a completely different league on a different level. Kinda sexy in a taboo sort of way, but it still took a bit of getting used to! ;-)

So we spent a few hours catching up, and before parting ways for the night, Brando suggested that we meet for dinner the day before I had to fly out. But once again he bailed on me without explanation, and this time I decided that it wasn’t worth my trouble and I wouldn’t bother keeping in touch with him again. And that was the thought wandering through my mind when I scrolled to his name in my contacts and clicked “delete”.

But fate is a tricky bastard, and an hour ago my phone rings with a New York area code. Since I’m eternally curious and it would have been ridiculously late back east, I answered. And what do I hear but Brando’s blurry, raspy baritone asking for my forgiveness. Ha! Drunk dialing is such good times!

We chatted for about 20 minutes — and yes, I gave him hell for bailing on me which he apologized about 80 times for. He then swore up, down, and sideways that the next time he’s in Vegas (likely in mid-winter), he wants to fly me out and take me out on the town and “make it up” to me. I don’t know the guy well enough to ascertain if that means he’ll buy me some drinks and coerce me into shaking my groove thang at Rum Jungle, or if he has more “adult” ideas in mind … I gotta say that I’m intrigued though! Yes, he’s a borderline wanker, but dammit if that marginally cocky attitude doesn’t get to me! I figure as long as I’m cognizant of the wankerness, it means I can play along a little. And let’s be honest — who doesn’t have a few sordid fantasies about being “hot for teacher”? ;-)