Eastern Market

I went to Eastern Market this morning to pick up some eggs. I also like to look around and see if anyone is selling used tools. While I was poking through the booths I rounded the corner by the donut stand and saw a stunning girl with a small stand selling what looked like vintage clothing. She was sitting in a chair reading a book and never looked up. She had long wavy blond hair, and powder-white skin. She was wearing a white cotton dress, much like the ones she was selling. I knew the guy at the booth next to her and have bought a few things from him in the past, so I lingered for a while making believe I was browsing his wares. All I was really browsing was her. I don't know what I was holding, maybe an old fishing reel, when I caught myself staring. "Move on" I thought "Nothing to see here," A few months ago I would have walked right over, picked up a dress and held it up to my chest, anything to start up a conversation, but not this morning.

I made my way to the egg guy and asked for a dozen brown eggs. The vendor cracked a few jokes, egg jokes, I suppose, something to do with bringing back the empty carton and he would give it back to the hens to fill. "What the hell are you talking about?", I think I muttered half aloud. I paid for the eggs then perused the fruit. After a few minutes I found myself back at her booth.

I walked by again, slower this time, and checked out what she was selling. Earrings, a few plastic necklaces, maybe a couple of scarves, and more of those wispy white dresses lined up on a rack. "What are you going to do, ask if she has anything in a 32 waist, or a 16 neck?"

Here's the point, no matter how good you have it there is always someone else, someone different, to look at. Booth girl was beautiful, but so were fifty other women at the market today. Am I not capable of being with one girl, a girl that I really like and that seems to like me? Is there a girl out there that if I was with her, I would not look at other women?

She looked up for a second, "Oh shit." I scurried away, back to the fishing reel. "Oh, this will be great for all the fishing you do, IN THE CITY." The vendor said "That's for deep sea fishing, I got a rod here that it would fit on". He held up this short, fat rod, clearly designed to catch a whale "Yeah, that would do it. I'm going to look around some more. Thanks." From where I was standing I could now see her legs. I had been hoping her thighs were chunky so I could get back on the bike and go home. But they were thin and super-toned. To make matters worse (or better, depending on how you look at it) she had on those "woven rope" high heel shoes, which I think are really sexy.

My friends father had a saying "When you get married you can look at the dessert menu, you just can't order from it." This was a tasty looking dessert and I'm not married.

Ultimately I decided to go home, no sense in torturing myself.

Later in the afternoon my friend Chuck and I took a very spirited ride on our bikes up towards Potomac, MD. I was behind him on the Clara Barton screaming along in first gear at 12,000rpm, I looked at the digital speedo, it read 67mph. I had never been on this road before and figured it was crawling with cops looking for clowns like us, so I didn't get too crazy. Chuck's hand came down to his left and he waved me past him, he must have heard me or sensed I was on his ass. I shifted up to second and cranked my wrist down. So much for not getting crazy. In two seconds I passed him at 97mph, almost double the speed limit. At that speed your vision narrows, all you see is the road in front of you, your peripheral vision goes dark, like being in a tunnel. The white dashed lines in the road elongate and become one white stripe. But I could smell flowers, leaves, and freshly cut grass. You feel the most minute changes in temperature or humidity. Your senses are heightened at this speed. It's a cliche, but you really do feel more alive when you're this close to death.

These bikes will easily do 150mph, 195 if you nurse the gears. It's insane, for $10,000 you can buy a stock Japanese bike that will whip any car from Italy. I kept it in second gear to keep my speed "reasonable". A sharp right curve was coming up fast, I looked back down at the speedo, 106mph. I flipped my right wrist forward, the engine gurgled and the bike's nose dipped down hard. V-twin's are nice like that, you can use the engine to brake. I slid to the right in the seat and flared out my right knee, pressing it towards the pavement. I passed a Volkswagen SUV like it was standing still, not much more than a dark blur to my left. As I passed it the sound of my exhaust bounced off the car and sounded twice as load. I apexed the curve, my knee a few inches from the pavement protected only by a thin layer of denim. "Damn, that girl was hot." Generally I don't think about much except the road when I ride, but I was a little distracted. A small patch of sand or gravel caused my front tire, then the rear, to lose their hold on the road and I drifted off my line. "Wooooops, pay attention dumb-dumb!" I didn't have to do anything, these high performance rice-burners are basically self-correcting. The front tire grabbed hold of the road and I never left my lane. I got back on the gas and rode on until the yellow gas light flashed on signaling it was time to refuel.

I took it easier on the rest of the ride and got Eastern Market girl out of my head.

Kay is a good girl, and good for me. I need to stay focused.

Labor Day Weekend

Kay leaves tomorrow for a few days R&R with her sister in Nashville. I think they chose Nashville because it's cheap and her sister can drive there. I've been to Nashville many times and have always had a good time, but I don't know about spending a whole week there. To each his, or her, own.



I asked Kay what she wanted to do next weekend and she wants to go out on the bike. I didn't make plans to board my dog so I am going to ask my new tenant to feed the hound one of the nights, which limits our trip to just an overnight. The dilemma is, where to go for just one evening. I would like to choose a route that minimizes our time on the highway, it's much more enjoyable to take back roads. The ride should be no more than three hours each way (about 100-150 miles). If you look at a map of DC, the options aren't all that interesting.



Our options are: Baltimore, Annapolis, Richmond, shoreline points, Shenandoah Valley, and Gettysburg.



Right away I crossed off Baltimore and Richmond. Kay hates Baltimore, and I spend a ton of time in Richmond and am pretty sick of it. We went to Annapolis a few weeks ago, so someplace new may be nice, but I will keep that on the short-list. I do know someone who charters a boat out of Annapolis, it could be fun to rent that for a night and stay on board. Shenandoah is an option, but I feel that's a bit too much like what we did last weekend. The shore is nice, but the ride sucks, especially just for an overnight. I put Gettysburg on there because the ride is beautiful, but as far as fun or romantic destinations go, it really doesn't rank very high.

I still have never been to the Outerbanks, that could have been a cool trip, but it's pretty far.

I'll run these options by Kay tonight and see what she thinks.

It never stops being strange

I went on Facebook a few minutes ago for my monthly visit and spotted an odd picture of my ex's on the beach, holding a bouquet of roses, wearing a white dress. I thought "She must have been a bridesmaid in a wedding. But, she's wearing white?". I opened the album, and sure enough, she's fucking married. The girl is Poland.

Poland is that crazy chick that slapped the shit out of me the first time we had sex.

I went through the the photo album of my ex - Yes, it's stalkerish. No, I don't care that it is. If she wanted it to be private she wouldn't have posted it on the Internet - and the dude looks just like me. He's my height, my build, same hair, same nationality, it's really weird. It never stops being strange seeing an ex get married. I want to send them a wedding gift with a card to the husband that just says "Hey, congratulations! How does my dick taste?"

Did I mention that I have attended a wedding of one of my ex girlfriends? Man, talk about an odd evening.

Anyway, so Poland is married now. God I wish I could post one of those pictures for you, it's like a really cheesy Hugo Boss ad. It's Poland and my doppelganger frolicking in the sand in San Diego in a white dress and a white linen suit. I did a double-take on every picture because the guy looked so much like me. I kept wishing one of the huge waves in the background would come to life and swallow them up so I wouldn't have to endure photo 113/1056.

OK, that's enough on that.

I helped Kay hang her plasma TV on the wall of her new apartment last night. I brought my tool belt along and, as predicted, it got her all hot and bothered. "Fucking working-class towns, man. Girls here see a tool belt and they get moist." -Steve from the movie Beautiful Girls. Anyway, after I hung the TV we ate, hung out, then had a couple of rounds of great, but quiet, sex (her roommate was home).

At work today one of my coworkers tried to set me up with her recently-divorced friends. The dating curve is like a reverse bell curve. The pool of eligible women starts off huge in your 20's. As people start getting married the pool becomes smaller, then decreases exponentially. The good news is that it can't get smaller than zero, and then it starts to increase as people get divorced. I always knew the day would come when a lot of my potential dates would be recently divorced. However, it's really strange now that it is actually here. I declined the set-up, but thanked her for thinking of me. It's pretty flattering, so long as she's not a pig.

The weekend is almost here. Kay is going away with her sister, and I am going to look at Harley's again. I'm getting very antsy. I have the cash to buy one, but I would prefer to sell one of my other bikes first. There's really no reason to have three at once. We'll see how that goes.

Background

I have a lull at work and thought I would give a little background on myself. Some have emailed me wondering what happened in my past to create such a callous, heartless, prick. Below is a dime-tour of the tangled wreckage of my past relationships. Surprisingly, I am more comfortable sharing this with a group of complete strangers than even my closest friends.


Cuba:
Cuba was my first college "girlfriend". We met early in my freshmen year of college and only dated for a little more than a semester. However, in college, with all that new freedom, it seemed like a fairly long time. I certainly loved her, though I never said so to her. Cuba and I broke up for many irrelevant reasons, and shortly thereafter she began dating some dude that I almost jumped on several occasions because seeing him incited instant rage. In the end I saw little good in throttling the guy, which turned out to be a good thing because he later became a good friend of mine. Cuba was a virgin when we met, but did lots of experimentation after we broke up, which ate away at me. We continued to hook up all through college, but it was only that, hooking up.


Throughout college I had tons of sex and "dated" lots of girls, but I think I compared most to Cuba, and all fell short until I met Sam the last weekend of my junior year. The two relationships were similar.


Sam:
Sam didn't go to my college, she was a "townie" and worked as a bartender at my favorite watering hole. Sam was super hot, rode a Harley, and nearly every guy at my school - and in town for that matter - pined after her. She was about 5 years older than me which added to her mystique. I am still not sure how I caught her eye, but I did one weekend just before I left school for summer break. When I got back the following fall I immediately went to Sam's bar, and she came home with me that night. Sam and I dated from August through about April that year. We got along really well, had a lot in common, but were from very different backgrounds, something we both knew would be difficult to overcome. I really liked her though, and again, was in love with her but never said anything. The relationship ended as the school year came to a close. I became very possessive towards the end, likely because I wasn't sure what to do about her. In hind sight, I was moving home that May and Sam certainly couldn't come with me, and it was really affecting me. We never formally had a fight, or broke up, I just went home and we never talked again. We both knew that the relationship had run its course.


Graduation from college was much like graduation from high school. After, I proceeded to go on an 18-month sexual bender, nailing every girl in sight. But I wasn't as naive at that point. My skin was thicker, I had been burned a few times.


My next major relationship was with Lee in my hometown. I had an apartment by then, and we spent a lot of time together. A few times, while drunk, Lee said she loved me, but I didn't feel the same (at least I don't think I did) so I never reciprocated. Eventually, Lee cheated on me with her now-husband and that was the end. I was upset at the time, but I didn't have strong feelings for her, so I got over it very quickly.


Soon thereafter Lee I was working in NYC where there are more than enough distractions to keep your mind of a cheating ex. I jumped right back into the life of wild no-strings sex like a crack addict would pick the pipe back up after a stint in rehab. It's easy to slide back into that lifestyle. I worked my way up and down the bars on the east side of Manhattan until I met the Ballerina.


Ballerina:
The Ballerina was just 17 when I met her, and I was 25. Yes, this is statutory rape in many states, but she turned 18 a few months after we met and it became a non-issue. I dated the Ballerina for a tumultuous 10-months. She said she loved me many times, but again I just didn't feel that I was in love with her, and told her so. I saw no point in lying. I did learn a lesson, here; there is a very short window to reciprocate saying "I love you" once a girl says it to you. When that window closes, if you haven't reciprocated, you have to move on. In this case that window was about 6 weeks. She became obsessed with hanging onto me, which obviously only drove me away. Clinginess is not a trait I admire.


Right after I broke up with the Ballerina I met Lando.

Lando:
I had seen Lando around town many times. I would see her in nice restaurants being wined and dined by guys who seemed much older and wealthier than I. One night I was stopped at a red light downtown and looked at the car to my left. Behind the slightly tinted windows of a brand new BMW M5 was Lando. I remember thinking, "This chick is so hot, and I see her all over town, I should find out who she is." The light changed and I didn't see her again until one night, about 8 months later. I had been laid off and was in a bar drinking heavily with some friends. Lando walked in and sat at the bar near a buddy and I. We talked for a while and apparently she took pity on me and agreed to give me a ride home that night. After that we were inseparable for a year. Unfortunately, the situation was similar to my prior two relationships. Lando was in love with me but I just didn't feel the same about her. Lando sensed this, and ultimately decided that the reason I wasn't in love with her was because I was cheating (which I wasn't). She began going through my trash for evidence, following me, double-checking "stories" about my whereabouts. Eventually I had had enough and broke it off.


By now you should see a trend. Date, break up, bang lots of girls. Date. bang. Date. Bang. After a few months and a few girls I met Jenna.


Jenna:
Jenna was a wild girl. She had lived in Europe in a jet-set crowd of finaciers and aristo-brats. When that ended she moved back to the States and hooked up with yet another millionaire, Tim, a client of mine. I met Jenna through Tim and we worked together for a while on real estate projects while she was living with him. Tim and I had a falling out (unrelated to Jenna) but months later I saw Jenna in a bar and said hello. I asked how Tim was and she said they were no longer together. I got her number and we began dating shortly after that. Jenna and I dated for about a year until I moved to DC, at which point I broke it off with her. Sometimes I think I loved her, but other times I think I was just in love with the concept of her. She was beautiful, sexually aggressive, and well traveled. People were naturally drawn to her. But Jenna had no direction in life and was unbelievably spoiled. We were not a good couple.


Fast forward two years and fifteen more random girls to Rojo. I met Rojo through a good friend of mine.


Rojo:
Rojo was the polar opposite of Jenna, which is likely what attracted me to her. She was beautiful, but she was grounded, had a good family life, and a stable career. She had a plan for her life. Soon after I met Rojo she wrote me into that plan, but her feelings for me were stronger than mine were for her. I woke up one morning and realized I wasn't in love with Rojo, and that my feelings were not getting stronger for her. I was never going to marry her, so that night I broke it off. As she left she said that she had been in love with me for many months, but was afraid to say anything because she didn't think I felt the same way. Did I mention she was smart?


Am I a brat? Am I emotionally bankrupt? Am I too immature to be in an adult relationship? Do I fear marriage? Some people would probably say yes to some or all of these, but I would like to think that there is a method to my madness. I mean, I know lots of guys who would have killed to have some of these women as a wife. But I knew that I could never be truly happy with any of them, so I would say I avoided a few divorces by NOT marrying any of them. Ultimately, I could never have been happy with any of them in the long run.


They say those that ignore history are doomed repeat it, so what have I learned? Something that is not lost on me is that, for better or worse, I seem to be seeking perfection in my mate. What is perfection, you ask? Well, I don't know. What I do know is that I seem to excel at finding flaws in my girlfriends. Certainly, what is perfect for me might not be someone else's definition, but I would like to think I will know it when it comes along.


What else have I learned? I understand that I am not a stellar communicator. I don't convey my feelings very well, and I close up when women convey theirs to me. I'm working on this.

The reason I brought all this up now is that I am really enjoying my time with Kay and want to avoid past pitfalls and let her know that I care for her. She is rebounding from a failed relationship and I still sense a lot of apprehension from her. In the end I may get burned, but I think it would be worse to know that I botched a relationship because of something I didn't say, unlike so many that I ruin by things I do say.

Links

I added a new section to my blog called "Random Links". A guy who follows the blog sent me an email and asked if I would put a link to his site on my page. I don't see how my talking about pubic hairs is going to help him sell sunglasses, but what the heck.

Cleanse

Tony is a coworker of mine who sits across the hall from me. He's a pretty funny guy that marches to the beat of his own drummer. He has crazy, nubby, little dreads and a long go-tee, both of which are unusual for our office environment (this is a gross understatement). Tony started here just a few months ago. I usually leave my office around 4pm, go workout for an hour or so, then come back up and work for a few more hours. After observing this for a couple of weeks Tony asked where I go and I told him about the gym in the building. The next week he started going as well, and we've talked about workouts a couple of times since then.

Last Thursday Tony came by my office and told me about this tea "cleanse" that he was doing in conjunction with a new lifting schedule. The cleanse involved drinking several different types of teas a day for a few weeks. I don't necessarily buy into the holistic medicine school of thought, but I don't think it's total bunk, I'm sure some of the herbs have positive effects. A little while later Tony dropped off a couple bags of the teas he's drinking and told me I should give it a shot. I said "These aren't going to make me shit my pants, are they?", and he assured me they wouldn't. I was apprehensive about drinking them before I had to pick up Kay and spend the rest of the afternoon in the car with her, so I thanked him and put the bags in my desk drawer.

Yesterday morning Tony asked me what I thought of the teas and I said I hadn't tried them yet, but that I was going to drink it later on that morning. Actually, I had completely forgotten about them. I had drank two strong cups of coffee already that morning, but I figured I would give them a shot. I poured out the rest of my coffee and filled the mug with hot water. I let the tea steep for 20 minutes then drank it down. I threw out the package the bag came in and I don't recall the name, I wish I had saved it. Later that afternoon I drank the second tea Tony gave me, something called the Bija Deep Cleanse. I think it took about 25 minutes before I was running down the hallway to the men's room. That was the first of roughly five visits I made to the stall that afternoon, plus a few more that night at home. I decided not to workout last night, I was afraid all that pushing and pulling would not agree with my stomach. I'm still not right and it has been 24 hours since I drank those fucking things. I want to strangle Tony, I can't wait to see him today.

I dropped some movies off at Blockbuster last night and ran into Bear. I was on the bike stopped at a red light and she was running across the street in front of me. I beeped the horn and she waved, and held her hand up to her head making the "I'll call you" gesture. She was clearly in a hurry. She called me later and asked if I wanted to meet up for drinks tonight (Tuesday). I don't think Bear is looking to hook up or get back together, and I am not either, so I don't have a problem with it. However, I do realize that does give the appearance of impropriety.

So here's the conundrum of the week: Kay is on the pill and we have unprotected sex. I would like to have a discussion with her about how this is risky behavior if either of us are seeing other people. If we mutually decide we want to see other people we need to use protection. If not, we need to agree that we are in a monogamous relationship. Normally, this would not be a conversation I would be anxious to have because I generally don't want to be pinned down, and I am NEVER anxious to define my relationships. Perhaps on some level I am looking for a way to show that I am committed to Kay. But I also don't want to pick up an STD. The real conundrum is that Kay leaves on Friday for vacation with her sister, and I don't want to time this discussion with her vacation because I don't want her to get the impression that I am trying to pin HER down.

Lastly, Kay and I talked about taking a motorcycle trip over Labor Day Weekend. I am going to look at my biker maps and see if there are any short but scenic rides in VA, maybe up near the vineyards.

Rafting II

Aside from a few aches in my back and right hip, I feel surprisingly good today.

Thursday night Kay and I drove to Roanoke, VA and checked into the Hotel Roanoke, which is a very old hotel/lodge that was recently refurbished. It was cool given the surroundings. I had to work Friday so Kay ran and went shopping during the day. When I was done with work we got in the car and drove to Fayetteville, WV.

The drive to WV was uneventful except for a nasty tractor trailer accident that closed all lanes of traffic on the highway. The accident happened just before we got there, so emergency vehicles were arriving when we pulled up. A few trucks and cars in front of us were turning around and driving south down the northbound lane to a spot where they could get into the southbound lanes and drive around the accident. Kay simply said "oh boy" when I turned the Jeep around and drove down the grass median then cut across the highway and into the southbound lane. We followed some hillbilly through the back roads at break-neck speed on what turned out to be a great detour.

My GPS couldn't find the rafting company's address in Fayetteville. Actually, the GPS only had 10 streets on file for the whole town, so I did a little creative navigating (and lucky guessing) to find the site.

When we arrived at the rafting camp I finally got to meet Tony, who ran the office. I walked into the office and introduced myself and Kate to him. Tony and I spoke many times on the phone, but it was like he had never even heard of my name before when I said who I was. For reasons he would later affirm over and over, I gave Tony the nick name "Smart Tony". I incorrectly figured he was very busy. In fact, he was borderline retarded. To give you the visual, Tony was tall and skinny with a full-blown mullet and a thin mustache. He was wearing a sleeveless white t-shirt, Jams shorts (remember those), and old school Reebok high-tops with very tall white socks. After 3 minutes of excruciating chit chat I said "Tony, we had a hard time finding this place, our GPS didn't know the road, is there a landmark I can give my buddy who is on his way here?". Smart Tony let out a little chuckle and picked up a rock on his desk he was using as a paper weight and said "You can give him a rock.". I shot Kay a sideways glance, eyebrows scrunched, and said "What?". Smart Tony continued "Or, we sell t-shirts, you can get him one a them." I burst out laughing right in his face, I couldn't help it, "No, Tony, I need a landmark, a place I can tell my buddy to drive to, not a souvenir." Now Smart Tony was the one with the scrunched up eyebrows, he had no idea what I was talking about. I said "Thanks!" and Kay and I walked away. It was the first of many interactions we had with "locals" that weekend that would leave Kay and I in hysterics.

We set up camp and drove into "town" for dinner. Dinner at Gumbo's, a New Orleans Creole joint, was surprisingly quite good and very reasonably priced. If you ever find yourself hopelessly lost in West Virginia hills, and stumble upon Gumbo's, it's worth stopping. After dinner we met our friends at the campsite and drank until about 1am, then hit the tents. I woke at 3am to the sound of heavy rain hitting the roof of the tent, it sounded like we were sleeping in a snare drum. Honestly, I cannot recall a time I camped when it didn't rain. I actually expected it. I started cycling through all the things that may have been left outside that would be ruined by rain. "Cell phone? Uhhh, no, in my pants pocket in the tent. Flash lights? In the tent. I-pod? Nope, in the car. Wait, the car windows are open!" I ran out of the tent wearing only my dick and my diamonds and quickly closed the windows. I was outside maybe 25 seconds, but I was soaked from head to toe. Back in the tent I dried myself off with my t-shirt, the only thing I had that was dry, and got back under the covers of the air mattress. Kay almost flew through the top of the tent. "You're freezing! And soaked!". I don't think I said anything, I just pulled her in close to try and warm up. She stopped squirming after a few minutes and accepted the fact that she wasn't getting away. What can I say, this is what happens in West Virginia.

In the morning we signed our lives away, literally, on the rafting waiver and hopped in the rafts on the New River. The day started off cool and overcast, but it quickly warmed up and the clouds burned off. By 11am it was beautiful out and we took every opportunity we had to jump out of the raft to cool off in the river. The rafting went well except for one really hard hit. Most of us got tossed into the center of the raft and I smashed helmets with the guy sitting next to me. Kay was directly behind me, so when I got my bearings again I turned around to make sure she was OK, but she was gone. "This isn't good", I thought. I looked to my left, nothing. I looked to my right, and there, 30 feet from the raft was Kay, in the water, being swept down river in a fairly swift current. There wasn't much danger in that particular rapid so the guide turned the boat and Kay managed to swim out of of the current and towards the boat. I held out a paddle to her and she was back in within a few minutes. No biggie.

We were all exhausted Saturday night and went to bed fairly early. We woke up at 8am Sunday morning and all had a great breakfast at a place called Cathedral's in "downtown" Fayetteville on the recommendation of one of the river guides. I have three words for you: "Croissant French Toast".

On the drive home Kay and I talked a lot about past relationships. I learned that Kay has been in three serious relationships in the past twelve years, all back-to-back. Basically, she dated the same guy all through college, then one guys for seven strait years. She broke up with that dude when she met Martin, whom she immediately moved in with. She has been single since about March. I'm really growing to like her, but part of me can't help but think that she should probably get out into the market and date a little. I say this not because this is what I want her to do, but because I feel you really can't know what you want until you experience many different things. There has to be a part of her that wants to play the field and have a few wild years.

I'll have to wait and see what happens.

Rafting

Kay and I leave tonight for our trip. I cannot believe how much gear it takes to camp for two nights.

When I got home from work last night I went into the garage and started rooting around for my camping gear. I have two sets of gear; the light equipment that I use if I have to carry it on a hike, and the bulky gear that is heavier, but generally larger and more comfortable. Since we aren't planning on hiking I can use the bigger gear. I haven't used this stuff in two years, so it took me a while to find it. Once I did I was amazed at how much crap I had. I tossed everything down from the rafters and then spread it out on the lawn in my back yard.

This is what I deemed "essential":

- one "zero degree" sleeping bag
- 8'x10' tent
- Aero mattress
- two Mexican woven blankets
- two pillows
- one hatchet
- large rolling cooler
- two travel chairs
- waterproof tarp
- large backpack filled with all manner of gear, including: knife, 2 lighters, headlamp, 2 flashlights, two sets extra batteries, leatherman tool, compass, 3 emergency Snickers bars, 100% DEET bug spray, whistle, two water-proof stuff sacs, and one deck of playing cards.

In addition to all this shit, I also have an "emergency" bag in my Jeep that has jumper cables, a 30' tow strap, tie-down straps, 100' of 1/2" nylon rope, one gallon of water, a mag light, a wool hat, sweatshirt, and leather work gloves. I used to keep a 9mm pistol hidden in a spot no one would ever find, but I removed that once I moved to the city. I may take one along for the trip, though.

About 70% of these items fall into the "you never know" category. Each time I go away on an excursion like this I am missing some piece of equipment that I vow never to leave home without again.

Gear splayed out in my back yard, I chuckled. Did I really need all this? Will it all fit in the truck? No, I don't think so. I ended up removing the backseat of my Jeep (Sorry, LL Cool J).

I have a duffel bag with some clothes, but if Kay is anything like the rest of the women on Earth, she will have at least one huge and one medium suitcase as well.

We will be camping at the rafting company's "base camp". This consists of a covered pavilion for eating, a large barn for the rafts, an office, and two large restrooms on about 15 acres. Despite all these amenities, we will still be deep in the woods/mountains of WV. There is a gas station and a tiny bar about 1 mile from the property, but these are the only things signaling civilization for about 30 miles. So, it seems fairly desolate. The reason I say this is because Kay is sure to "hear" something in the middle of the night. Also, Kay must pee 5 times a night. At home this is not a big deal, but when you have to walk 100 yards through the woods in the dark to get to the bathrooms, it could be an interesting evening. I can already imagine Kay nudging me at 3am, "Um, I have to go to the bathroom". Since this is still the early stage of the relationship I will probably escort her all 5 times. However, if things last for a few more months this treatment will end.

Yes, it's going to be interesting.

Golf

My buddy Chuck played golf the other day with Kay's ex, Martin. Chuck said he had to be careful about what he said. While they were golfing Martin was talking about all the chicks he's banging. Chicks from work, whatever. Chuck was glad to hear that he was doing well, but he tread lightly on the topic.

Like I've said, I don't care so much about making Martin angry because we are not close, I just don't want to cause a riff with his sister and her husband, who I am friends with.

Philly

My good friend DEA (he's an agent) bought a house in Philly August 1st, so I went up to give him a hand with a few home improvement projects this weekend. DEA got married a two years ago to a girl from my hometown who I really like, and they had a little girl last DEcember. DEA is a wild guy, so it's strange to see him smelling for dirty diapers and riding a huge sit-down lawn mower. Just a few years ago he was sniffing panties and ripping through town on a motorcycle.

I stayed at their place and spent two days peering into the life of a married couple with kids and it was very scary to me. I'm not unaccustomed to being around children, I have nine nieces and nephews, but I have never been around my friends and their families for extended periods of time. My two take-aways from the weekend are that children are exhausting and messy. I can see the reward and satisfaction factors, but I still just don't understand the appeal of bringing another life into the world. I truly believe it is hormonal, you just have this primal urge to reproduce.

For some, reproduction is their only reason for existing. They feel that some higher being put them on Earth to "go forth and multiply". That argument just doesn't hold water for me, take a walk through any poor urban area and you can see that's not working out for anyone. Just because you can have kids doesn't mean you should. In this case DEA and his wife are in a committed relationship and can afford to raise this child. Even with the committed relationship part taken out of the equation, just because you can afford to have a baby does that mean you should? Conversely, if you CAN'T afford to have a baby does that mean you SHOULDN'T? Things get scary when the sword swings both ways. Personally, I believe you shouldn't have kids if you can't adequately provide for them, but I don't think I would be comfortable with a formal government definition of "adequately".

Well, my head was spinning by the time I left Sunday afternoon. I got in my Jeep, dropped the top, and hit the road back to DC. I have been thinking about buying a Harley so I took a detour on the way home and stopped at Mike's Harley Davidson in Delaware, which is right at the Delaware Memorial Bridge. I was pretty ratty from working with DEA. I had on filthy shorts, a dirty white t-shirt, flip flops, and a dirty baseball hat. I certainly didn't look the part of a biker, at least not a Harley owner. Regardless, I walked into the showroom and looked at a few used bikes. A couple of bikes with the high handle bars (ape hangers) caught my attention and I sat on them to see if the bars would be comfortable to ride with. As soon as I got on the bike this young sales girl came over and introduced herself. I didn't want any help, I really just wanted to get the feel for a few different style bikes I thought were interesting, but the store's policy is that you can't sit on bikes unless a sales associate is present. I can't blame them, you're sitting on some very expensive iron that they don't want tipped over.

Anyway, this girl, who couldn't have been older than 21 followed me around the store for 40 minutes. I asked her for a specific model and she said they had one in the service area that she could show me. Sure enough, in the very back of the shop was a black Wide Glide with everything I wanted. I sat on the bike and she flipped through her paperwork and said (there's another one in the tent in back". I followed her as she went to the tent and tried out that bike as well. While I was sitting on the bike she put her hand on the back of my neck and leaned against my arm while she asked me some question that I can no longer recall. The bike had super-tall handle bars, so her boob was pressing against my forearm. I'm a pretty cynical guy, so I chalked this up to good salesmanship. It was a little uncomfortable, though. I mean, if the sales person was a he instead of a she I think I would have had just cause to punch him in the larynx. The other thing that made me a little nervous is that we were way out behind the store, there wasn't a sole around. The girl was pretty slutty looking, I think there was at least a 75% chance I could have bent her over a bike out there, but you never know if she's dating the owner, or some maniac mechanic. I told her I had seen enough bikes and we made our way back to the showroom.

When I left she handed me her business card and told me to call her. She said she is in DC a lot, and that we should get together sometime. I'm not interested, though, and pitched her card.

This Thursday I leave for my rafting trip with Kay. I will certainly have some good stories next week.

Rogue Wave

I worked from home yesterday because the washer/dryer in my rental unit mysteriously died right when my new tenant moved in, so the new one was delivered in the afternoon ($1300). User error? Hard to prove. I told my tenant (some chick from the mid-west) the delivery date, and time window. I then called thirty minutes before the truck was to arrive just to give her further notice. I heard the truck pull up and went down to her unit to let them in. This chick, who is a lawyer, comes out in jeans, a VERY loose tank top, and a bra. The tank top was so loose it may as well have not even been on, her tits were hanging out all over the place. Put something on, will you.

Kay came over last night for dinner. She is free Wednesday nights so we have been getting together pretty regularly mid week in addition to the weekends. I cooked dinner and we ate outside since it cooled off a bit last night. I love to cook, but it's a challenge because I am a carnivore, and she is strictly a vegetarian. Most of the things I end up cooking are essentially meat-free, but I cook meat on the side for myself and toss it on top. It's not much fun, to be honest.

After dinner we hung out and talked for a while. Kay asked if we could go in the tub, so we went downstairs to change. I had all good intentions of going directly to the tub until she took off her skirt and I spotted the super-sexy thong she had on. She didn't have a chance, I tossed her over my shoulder and carried her to the bed. We had a quick session in bed then moved to the tub. We relaxed in the tub for about 45 minutes then started up again. Kay was on top grinding pretty hard when I noticed that a big wave was moving perfectly back and forth across the surface of the water. Usually when you splash around in the water there are a series of equal-size waves, but here there was just one big one. It sloshed from front to back in perfect rhythm to our movements until it bounced off the back wall and rushed back into us. When the wave hit Kay's back she lurched forward. I saw it coming, it looked like a rogue wave, and it looked like it could actually break. Water went everywhere like when a wave sneaks up on you at the beach. This morning I noticed that he tub was a solid four inches low on water.

I don't know if it was the spicy Thai food I made, or the weather, or moon, or what, but we were both worked up last night. After the tub we went to bed and had a long session that bounced all over the bed. Then there was a 3am session that was payback for my tenant breaking my washer/dryer. We only went at it for about 30 minutes that time, but it was loud and certainly woke her up.

I'm going to Philly this weekend to help a friend do a couple of home improvement projects.

Patience

I am not a patient person. I am a busy guy living in a crowded city, get the fuck out of my way.

I completely understand when a postal worker whips out a gun and blows away three of four customers who can't decide between Elvis or President Lincoln stamps. I DON'T condone it, but I understand the circumstances that led him or her to believe first degree murder was the solution.

Case and point: Last night I went to Harris Teeter at 5pm. I realize this is not a good time to go grocery shopping, but it was my best option. So there I am in "the short line", which always turns out to be the slowest line, with my three items behind about 4 other people. Right when the cashier is done ringing up the front customer's items the customer dashes off (as fast as a woman 125 pounds overweight can dash) to fetch tooth paste or something. So there we are, 5 other customers anxious to get home, standing in line because she can't write or read a goddamn grocery list. When she walks, yes walks, back the cashier finishes ringing up the order and tells her the total. The customer pays then decides to take out her coupons. What? I think (OK, and yell) "Are you kidding me?". The cashier, who is probably 16 and making $5 an hour, doesn't care how slowly the line moves because she makes the same money regardless of the turn rate at the register. She presses a thousand keys on the register and opens the transaction back up so that lady can save forty-two cents. I feel obligated to point out that the customer paid with a DC food voucher, which essentially means you and I paid for her groceries. So in some small way I guess I am glad she used the coupon. Infuriated, but strangely glad.

Put down the cell phones. No, you're not that important that you need to be sending text messages while trying to cross Pennsylvania Ave at 5:30pm. If a bus hits you while you're doing this, good, it's Natural Selection at work. You're thinning out the pack so the rest of us have two square feet more on the sidewalk. Oh, and by the way, the box on the light post on the other side of the street with the big red blinking "hand", that's a sign telling you not to fucking walk. You don't even have to know how to read to understand this. If you step off that sidewalk while the hand is flashing I'm gunning for you. All those liberal pussies who say "pedestrians ALWAYS have the right of way" should try crossing the street in front of me against the signal. I won't kill you, I'll just clip you. If you yell I'll stop, but not to say I'm sorry. READ THE SIGN! I don't run red lights, don't j-walk in front of me. That goes for all you twits in DuPont circle, too. Every time I drive through that circle some numb-nut steps off the sidewalk right in front of me. That is exactly why Detroit equipped my car with a horn, and why I added an extra steel bumper.

Change. Obama is for change, I'm against it, at least in terms of coins. I vote we do away with all coins. Honestly, can you get anything for less than a dollar these days? If you can, make it two for a buck, they must be small. Round off the prices of everything to the nearest whole number (including tax, if you must), and that's the price. Imagine how much time we will all save by not having to wait for granny to count out seventy eight cents from the loose change in the bottom of her purse. The other great thing is that the homeless people would all have to say "you got any spare dollars", and let's face it, most of the people who give them change aren't going to cough up a buck for Roger the crazy guy at 7-11.

Speaking of homeless people. "Got any spare change?", of course I do, but I'm not giving it to you so you can get drunk or high. Why should you get to be drunk while I work all day? You don't think I'd rather be sitting in a park with a bottle of wine and my lady-friend? Get out of here. Instead of selling that rag Street Sense and giving the proceeds to the homeless, why don't we take the money and put the homeless on a bus to another city. I'd pay fifty bucks for a copy of that paper if it meant I was accosted by one less drug addict in Chinatown looking for a fix. As a matter of fact, sign me up for a year with home delivery.

Cabbies. You motherfuckers. Yeah, you're a necessary evil. I wish mass transit here was just a bit more efficient and widespread so we can kick all those pricks out of town. Turns without blinkers, illegal U-turns, driving 4mph while you look for a fare, constantly honking. Every city would be a better place if you were taxed to the teeth and pushed out of town.

Tourists. Ugh, another necessary evil. You shouldn't be allowed to drive in DC with out-of-state plates. Utah license plate during rush hour? BAM, right into the metro parking lot in Arlington you go. NYC tried this a few years ago, but it didn't pass. Too bad. There should also be a tourist lane on the sidewalk. This would be the lane where you walk around staring at the sky while you carry a map, and your wife and kids walk at a glacial pace. They have commuter lanes on the highway, why not the sidewalk?

That should do it for today, go about your business.

L-L The Retard Boy

My buddy D-Ron has a travel company that runs adventure trips all over the US and in Mexico. I try to go on at least one of his trips a year, sometimes we do two together. They are usually totally insane, and coming from me, that's saying a lot. One year we rode ATV's in Baja on terrain and at speeds that would never have been allowed outside of a third-world country. Last year we hiked 20 treacherous miles in an afternoon, then rafted two fairly tough rivers in the next two days. We white water raft in West Virginia every year, usually in the early spring or late fall when the water is good. Accommodations are rough, we camped two nights last October in 20-degree weather. However, there is a tremendous feeling of satisfaction when you finish a weekend like that and I always look forward to those trips. This year D-Ron can't make it rafting, but we're going to canoe a river (not sure which one yet), probably covering 80-100 miles in 2-3 days.

Kay knew I had a buddy who ran these trips and asked if I would put a few of her friends in contact with D-Ron. I did, and they did some rafting last weekend. Kay is really interested in going, so I am trying to set up a weekend to take her.

I have an office in Roanoke, VA and I am overdue to go down and audit the property. I generally use that business trip as the staging area for my annual adventures. One year I rode my Triumph 955i, a super fun bike, down the majority of Skyline Drive to that office, then spent the weekend carving up the mountains. Last year I left from Roanoke and met D-Ron for the hike and rafting. It's only a few hours from Roanoke to one of his outfitters in WV, and I can expense my mileage and meals, so the trip basically costs me nothing. I am thinking about inviting Kay along this year since D-Ron can't make it.

We would drive to Roanoke Thursday night. I would work Friday and she would have to entertain herself for the day. That night we would drive to WV and camp at a friends rafting company. The place has a lot of nice land and decent facilities. There are restrooms with showers and two lodges (OK, lodges may be a generous term) and a bunch of fire pits. It's pretty cushy as far as camping goes. We would camp Friday, raft all day Saturday, camp again that night, then head home Sunday.

When I explained this plan to D-Ron his email response back was:

"i thought this chick was hard to get....now you got her? aren't you tired of looking like an asshole with that helmet on...you really want her to see that....how bout we show her the picture of L-L the retard boy?"

The helmet referenced is an ill-fitting yellow piece of plastic that all rafters must wear. They are absurdly small and make everyone look like they are prone to seizures. The picture of "L-L the retard boy" (LL is me) is a now-famous snap shot of me and a group of college buddies on our first rafting trip. I was caught making a really special face, while wearing the above-mentioned helmet, and a wet suit that was about 3 sizes too small. It is truly classic. True, rafting outfits are not designed to be sexy, but if we're both wearing one I should be OK.

The bigger question is how will she do with the camping. Sure, there are plenty of hotels and Bed-and-Breakfasts in the area, but I prefer to push is a bit. She isn't high maintenance at all, but it could be interesting.

It's not that it would be a deal breaker if she wasn't down for camping, but it's nice to know exactly what you're getting yourself into. It's also a good idea to set the bar low on the first trip away together.

Frankie, no!

Last week I was hanging out with a couple of friends after work and one guy was saying that his girlfriend caught him jerking off, and how embarrassing it was. We all told our most embarrassing dating stories, and I thought I would share mine.

About five years ago I met this girl from Texas at a wedding (we'll call her Dallas). I've mentioned her before, she was really hot but really into herself. Her favorite sexual position was any one where she could watch herself in the mirror.

Anyway, we met at a wedding, fooled around a bit back in my hotel room that night, but that was all. Dallas was 27 at the time and had just divorced her high-school sweetheart husband, so I guess I was a rebound. After the wedding we talked a few times on the phone, and she came to visit me for a weekend. About 2 months later I went down to Dallas to hang out with her for a long weekend.

I flew down on a Wednesday night and planned to stay until Sunday evening. We toured the city, had dinner with the couple from the wedding a few times, and it was just a chill weekend. The only problem with the weekend was that Dallas had just moved into this very chic loft that had almost no walls. The bathroom was semi-enclosed, so if you went into the bathroom and stunk the place up, it was going to be really obvious. Needless to say, I wasn't comfortable doing that at this early stage of the relationship, so I took a couple of quick dueces at restaurants.

That Saturday we slept in and had a late breakfast. At noon we made a pitcher of Margaritas and went to the pool in her building. As I said, the building was ultra-chic and had this great pool. It is true what they say, everything is bigger in Texas. I have never seen so many tall, blond, big breasted women in one spot in my whole life. Everyone who lived in that building must have been 6' tall with d-cups (Dallas was only 5'9"), and they were all at the pool.

By 1pm we were out of drinks and I really needed to take a crap. In the fastest talk I could muster I told Dallas that I was going to run upstairs and make us another pitcher. She started to say that she would do it, but I grabbed her keys and the pitcher before she could even finish her sentence and ran upstairs.

When I got to her apartment I locked the door, threw the pitcher in the sink, and brushed aside her little $3,000 dog, Frankie, that thought I had come upstairs to play with him. I ran into the bathroom and did unkind things to that toilet while Frankie ran in and out of the bathroom area. When I was done I flushed and washed my hands. While I was at the sink I looked over at the toilet and saw that it had clogged and the water was dangerously close to overflowing. A hot wave of panic flooded my body. I yelled out loud, "Oh shit! Quick, find a plunger!". I looked all over the house but there was no plunger. Out of logical solutions I talked to the toilet "Pleasepleaseplease go down. Go down!". A few minutes passed and the water level stayed put just a few inches from the top of the bowl. There's a time for talk and a time for action. I "gently" kicked the base of the toilet with my heel, hoping to dislodge the stubborn turd. Nothing. I kicked again, and the water splashed a bit. I kicked harder. More splashing, and more kicking. Nothing.

Time was wasting, Dallas was surely wondering where I was by now and I was afraid I might knock the toilet off the base. I decided to make the drinks then come back to the toilet issue later. They say drinking is only a temporary solution to your problems, but that would have been just fine for me at that point.

I made the drinks while little Frankie, who was a Brussels Griffon (like Verdell from As Good As It Gets), danced and yapped for affection. I really liked Frankie, but he was treading on my last nerve, so I gave him a gentle swat with my foot and said "Beat it, Frankie!"

With the drinks made I turned my attention back on the toilet. The water had receded a little, "Maybe the kicking worked!", I thought. I carefully studied the water level, I knew this was a critical moment. If it was still clogged, the next flush would send the water rushing everywhere. To flush or not to flush? If it was still clogged and I walked away, it was the equivalent of leaving a grenade with the pin pulled, the next person to touch that handle would cause a shit-filled flood. Without thinking I pushed the handle and watched in terror as the water crept up to the top of the bowl, then up and over! Fecal water went everywhere. With no walls and concrete floors in the damn apartment the water spread from the bathroom to the bedroom to the kitchen. I ran to the kitchen for a mop. I opened every closet, but no mop. I was now yelling "Frankie, get out of my way! No fucking plunger! No fucking MOP! Who lives like this?". I needed help.

I ran out of the apartment and into the hallway, all I needed to do was find one guy, any guy, and explain what had happened. It was in the man-code that he would have to help me. I stood in that hallway, in my bathing suit, for five minutes and only beautiful blond women passed. "You're fucking kidding me, right? How can there only be chicks in this place?", I thought, exasperated. I went back into the apartment to re-look for a mop and plunger, even though I had already checked three times. As I was going through the kitchen I heard splashing, "NOW WHAT?", I yelled. I followed the splashing into the bathroom. There, in the crap/urine water was Frankie, frolicking and splashing around. "Frankie, no!"

I grabbed a towel of the vanity and scooped up the filthy little bastard. I brought him into the kitchen and put him into the kitchen sink. Even on his hind legs he was 3 inches too short to get out. I squirted some Palmolive dish soap on him and turned on the faucet. After a quick rinse I dried him off then put him in his crate.

All this mayhem had taken only 25 minutes. I was in a frenzy, and out of ideas. I washed my hands again, grabbed the pitcher and walked down to the pool. When I got down there Dallas said "What took so long, everything OK?". I said "There is good news and bad news, which do you want to hear first?". "The good news", she said. "There was just enough tequila to make one more batch of drinks." she shrugged and said "Then what's the bad news?". I said "The bad news is that this place has very weak plumbing and your toilet is overflowing."

Dallas was pretty cool about it. I told her we had to go to Home Depot and pick up a few things. She tried to go upstairs to change but I told her there was no way that was happening. I had a t-shirt and my wallet, so I made her drive me to Home Depot in her bikini. She waited in the car while I bought a plunger, mop, and disinfectant. I then made her go back to the pool while I disinfected her apartment and dog.

I flew out that next day, and Dallas came to visit me one more time, but things didn't pan out after that.

Weekend

Friday night I took it easy. Some friends went out to the bars but I decided to stay in, drink a few beers, and watch TV. I have been spending a lot of money so a night in sounded like a good idea. I talked to Kay that afternoon and told her to be ready for a bike ride Saturday morning at 10am. I know it's early, but neither of us sleep-in much.

Saturday morning I got the Ducati out of the garage and after a lot of pleading, swearing and dirty-talk I finally got it started (like Italian women, Italian motorcycles are very beautiful, but very tempermental and run extremely hot). Kay was staying at a friend's house watching their dogs, so I rode out to Alexandria and picked her up. Kay had never been to Annapolis so my plan was to take her there for the afternoon.

Annapolis was a great time. We rode around the town for a little while then stopped and had lunch at one of the spots on the harbor. After lunch we toured the USNA campus and took in the sights.

At 4pm we decided to head back into the city. I started the bike but it stalled twice, then it made an awful buzzing noise when I tried to start it again. Fuck. I took off the seat, and raised the tank to expose the battery. The positive terminal on the battery had melted and the wire was dangling. This was not good. I was proably 40 miles from the nearest place that would sell a battery for that bike, but that didn't matter because there was no way it would have a charged battery for me at that hour of the day (it takes 6 hours to charge the battery). Basically, we were fucked. I took out my tool pouch and disconnected the battery, which had started smoking. I was thinking "You know what would be awesome, if my bike caught fire right here on the street, just a few feet from multi-million dollar yachts and hundreds of people". Long story short, I used the pliers to mash the nut for the wire into the melted terminal post and gingerly rewired it back into the bike. I put the battery back in the cradle, tightened everything up and hit the starter. There were lots of sparks, so I gave a few screws a couple more turns and hit the starter again. It turned over and I cranked the throttle wide open. Blue flames shot a foot out of the exhaust pipes, scaring the shit out of half a dozen people on the sidewalk (yes, this amuses me). I put the seat back on the bike, Kay and I threw on our helmets, and we got the hell out of there.

The ride home was a little tense for me because I wasn't sure exactly what would happen if the positive wire shook lose from the battery. I knew that the bike would lose power, but I didn't know if the bike would sputter and slow or if the back tire would lock up (which is not a good thing). On Sunday I tested this on my Honda and found that the back tire does in fact lock up when you turn off the power. Ignorance is bliss, I guess, so we cruised home at a moderate 75mph.

Back at my house Kay and I had a very sweaty session before trading the bike for my car and driving back to Alexandria. That night we went out in Clarendon and I spent the night with Kay at our friend's house. They have a really nice back yard so we sat outside and drank some wine, then went to bed in the guest room. Kay was a little less inhibited, probably because my tenant wasn't below us, so the sex was great.

Broken Bed, Broken House

Yesterday was one of the strangest days I have had in the city, everywhere I went I was involved in one sort of nonsense or another.

My day started off on the wrong foot when I overslept by an hour, so I decided to work from home. My clumsy tenant broke the bed in the unit downstairs (I didn't ask how), so I had a 2pm appointment to pick up one I bought off craigslist in the U Street area.

I worked all morning and at noon I called it a day and decided to clean up my yard a little. I weed whacked, and raked, and swept my paths. I also trimmed all the weeds in the alley and at the entrance to the alley where an older man and his lazy-waste-of-life-free-loading-non-working grandson and three great grand kids live. I clearly have no respect for the grandson who just smokes blunts all day, but the little kids are cute and I feel badly for them. They run around in diapers and play unattended on the sidewalk. On occasion the neighbors and I clean up their yard, and yesterday was my turn. When I was done some guy came out of a neighboring house and asked me what I would charge to trim around the trees near his sidewalk. I told him the charge was nothing and trimmed them up for him. He introduced himself then said "You look hot, you should come over for a cold beer and relax", the guy was a little "fancy" so I politely declined, and walked back to my house. I appreciated the gesture, but I didn't know what his motives were.

As I was walking down the alley back to my place I heard skidding, then a series of crunches, then what sounded like three dumpsters being thrown off a building into the street. I went back to the street and saw cars in varying degrees of demolition, strewn all over the place. With the help of Fancy and a few other neighbors they pieced the event together for me. Apparently a guy in an SUV lost control of his vehicle at a high rate of speed and hit a parked car. That car rammed into another parked car in front of it. The first car went over the curb, over the sidewalk, and into a stone wall. The second car bucked off a car in front of it, skeeted left, and landed about where I was trimming weeds 5 minutes before still with The Club on the steering wheel. The SUV continued to skim against the sides of cars until it came to rest 75 feet away. No one was hurt, but wow, close call. Good thing those kids weren't outside playing. The cops came but I don't know if or how drunk the driver was.

The second part of the day was spent picking up a used IKEA bed frame. When I showed up at the house a young woman and a dude met me at the driveway. They helped carry out the frame, and I wrapped the parts in blankets and strapped them to my trailer. When it was done I reached into my pocket for the cash, but when I looked up the girl was crying inconsolably. The guy was hugging her, but she just bawled, sobbed, and was almost on the verge of hyper-ventilating. I stood there for a good five minutes with the cash in an outstretched hand before I tapped the dude on the shoulder and said "Here's the money, thanks for the bed". He took the cash and I drove off totally bewildered. I am very glad I do not have to sleep on that bed.

When I got home to get rid of the old bed and set up the new one my tenants dog slipped around me and out the door. I grabbed him by the collar but he spun like an NFL tailback, backed out of his collar, and took off running down the street THROUGH traffic. FUCK! I ran off after him, but he was a block away in the time it took me to go three steps. I called him and he began to do the old head fake playing routine. Just when I was an inch away he would take off again. This was futile, I ran back to her apartment, grabbed a leash and a box of Cheerios, and ran back after him. As soon as I saw him I shook the box and started screaming "cookiestreatsCheeriosfooddinnerfuckinggoodstuffhere", not sure what the buzz word would be that would draw him back. "Dinner" seemed to do the trick and he ran back to me then sat perfectly at my toes. I jumped on him, put him in a headlock and put on his collar. He tried to back out again but I twisted the collar (a trick from my dog) and dragged him back him. I should point out that he's some kind of Sheppard/Husky mix, a big dog, and more than a little scary looking. Once in the door I threw a handful of Cheerios on the floor and then almost collapsed from heat stroke/cardiac arrest.

The day finally turned around when I had dinner with Kay, followed by three rounds of great sex. She continues to wet my bed with cum but I love it. I just throw a towel over the wet spot and we collapse for the night.

Lobster or leftovers

My buddy says that women and work are like dinner: it's either lobster or leftovers. You're either riding high or scrounging just to get by. Nothing could be more true. Actually, he also says "Women are like buses, they are all the same, and a new one comes along every ten minutes." They seem a little contradicting, so let's ignore the second saying for now, I will use it another time.

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting at my desk when my personal cell phone (as opposed to my work cell) rang with a number I didn't recognize. Normally that sucker would have gone right to VM, but I was expecting a call from a contractor, and I have a new high-maintenance tenant, so I thought it could have been important. When I picked up I immediately recognized the voice, it was Lavita, the tattoo chick from Saturday night.

Lavita: I am calling this girl Lavita because it's similar to her real name, which I think adds to the overall wackiness of her that really needs to be conveyed. Lavita is probably around my age, 5'5", dark hair, light skin, great body, and artsy. She wears black square-framed glasses, which give a kind of nerdy vibe. But they are offset but tons of tattoos that are anything but nerdy. She has a huge dragon that covers most of her back, both arms have big pieces, she has one covering her left breast that runs up her chest towards her neck, and a few more here and there. They are hard-core, not your typical tramp stamp on the lower back ("might as well be a bulls-eye"), but they are still somehow feminine. Lavita is a graphic designer, though I am not sure in what capacity. Oh yeah, she's bi.

Lavita and I talked at the bar on Saturday night. This was before Kay and I talked, and I was still fairly certain I was being blown off, so I was on the prowl. Lavita and I struck up a conversation at the bar, danced a bit, and sat outside while she smoked cigarettes. At the end of the night I said "OK, I've had enough, I'm going home, care to join me?". The look on her face was really funny, it was very serious, but emotionless, and she said "You are a very attractive guy, but I am not going home with you.". She then handed me her phone and just said "Put in your number".

Based on her look, and a few other cues from the night, this girl would be BUCK WILD in bed. I am sure she would teach me things that never would have even crossed my mind. So I am intrigued.

Anyway, Lavita called me and we shot the shit for a few minutes. I told her I would call her later this week, but I don't think I am going to. However, I may keep her on a back burner in case things don't work out with Kay.

Kristi, a girl that I met at a golf tournament in June emailed me last night. About every two weeks we email each other and suggest we get together for happy hour, but we never follow-through on this. Kristi has a bunch of single friends she wants to hook me up with, but they all live out in Dulles. I've seen some pictures, they are all these super-tall, super beautiful blond sorority-looking-chicks. But fuck, Dulles? Really? I hate crossing Dupont circle because of the traffic, how would I ever motivate to go all the way the hell out to Dulles?

Lastly, I have two new Facebook stalkers. I need to get off that site, it's more trouble than it's worth.

Trying to put all this out of my head. I have had three dates with Kay, two of which I cooked her dinner. We are going to try and get together tonight for dinner, but I think it's time I took her out someplace. I will see if there's a place she's been wanting to go to and take her there. Also, she's dog-sitting for friends this weekend, so I may go stay with her since she will be "in lockdown".

Scent

I have made commitments and promises to my friends and one sister that I will not crush Kay's heart by being my normal dick-head self. I have been threatened with bodily harm if I go back on these promises. I like Kay, and have no intentions of hurting her, but the gods are conspiring against me.

The timing is so (im)perfect it's laughable. Yesterday, after hundreds of unnecessary hours in the gym, GG decided to...well, not ignore me. It's as if men give off a hormone when they are trying to be "good guys", some sort of scent that women find irresistible.

I was standing in the lobby of my building waiting for some coworkers to join me for lunch when GG walked out of the elevator looking stunning. Jesus she's tall! I looked up from my Blackberry, smiled, then looked back down. I didn't even say hi because she was a good twenty feet away from me and with the girl she usually works out with. A second later I felt a hand grasp my bicep and when I looked up GG was walking past and said "Hey, how are you?", I nearly shit my pants, clearly she thought I was someone else. I let out an impish noise that could only loosely be interpreted as "hello" and she walked off looking back once with a smile. She had walked out of her way to say hi, what the hell is that all about?

I realize she only touched my arm and said hello, it's not like she blew me, but put in context of her virtually ignoring my existence up until then, it caught me off guard.

On a completely different topic, my crazy neighbor made a comment on my Facebook page about the "noises" she heard coming from my patio on Sunday night. The noises were Kay and I in the hot tub, so it's really inappropriate for her to make any comments about that. I ignored her.

Sunday Night Plans

Saturday night was just as debaucherous at Friday night, and I wound up meeting some girl Madam's Organ and getting her phone number. She was hot, but COVERED in tattoos. I have a thing for tats, but it was probably a bit much. I was out with some people who know Kay and they weren't pleased that I was getting this girls number, but as I saw it I was kind of getting screwed over by Kay and was free to do whatever I wanted. Sunday afternoon almost confirmed this.

Kay and I had plans to dinner Sunday night, so I called her and left a voicemail to give me a ring and we could figure out what we wanted to do. She called me back a little while later and said she was slammed at work and would be in the office until late that night, and asked if we could reschedule for Wednesday. I suppressed the growing internal rage. Long story short I basically told her that if she didn't want to hang out that's fine, but that I didn't appreciate being strung along. I explained that I enjoyed her company, and understood that she just got out of a bad relationship. I didn't want her to feel like I was putting any pressure on her, but that she had cancelled on me twice and I wasn't too happy about it. I said she can call me next week if she wanted to get together and said goodbye.

I was pissed, but there was a calming effect because I had now confirmed that she wasn't interested. At least the uncertainty was gone. I was not going to all Kay again, I wrote her off.

Ten minutes later the phone rang, it was Kay. I answered and she apologized and asked if I wanted to hang out that night. The question seemed preposterous. She knew I wanted to see her, Kay had to decide if she wanted to see me, and I told her that.

We met up and after dinner had a talk about what was going on. I found out that a few people had warned Kay that I didn't have a history of stable relationships, and that she should be very careful because I would end up hurting her. This didn't come as any great surprise to me, I figured that talk would happen. I explained to Kay how much I liked being with her, and that I had no intention of hurting her. Kay admitted that she tried to put a little distance between us because of what she had been told about me. Again, this is understandable.

In the end our talk cleared a lot of issues that could have been avoided by having this discussion earlier. Kay stayed at my place and I think we kept my new tenant up most of the night.

Kidnapped Friday Night

Friday night I went to a few bars and spent WAY too much money, even by my warped standards. I spent all the cash I had on me then moved on to damage my credit card. When the bar closed and my friends and I stumbled into the street, I knew it was going to be difficult to get home because the weather sucked. I finally hailed a cab and jumped in.

As soon as I got into the cab I asked the driver if he took credit cards, otherwise we would have to stop at an ATM. He said he took cards and drove on. When we got to my house I handed him the card and he said "OK, $50...." and just let that hang in the air for a second. I calmly reached over the seat and pluck the card from his hand and said "$50? You drove me 2 miles!", he responded "$30 credit card service charge". I was now putting the card back in my wallet and said "I was born at night but night last night fucko, take me to an ATM." This really irritated him. He began to scream and shout at me, sometimes in a foreign language. I said "Scream all you want, I'm not paying you $50. Not now, not ever. So fuck off." I was clearly drunk.

So now we had a standoff. We both knew that if he stopped that cab at an ATM there was no way in hell I was coming back to pay him, so he locked the doors and kept saying "Give me card" (I think he was middle-eastern). At the next stop light I had had enough fun and tried to get out, but he had the child locks on, so I was trapped. I looked at him, now really mad, and said "Look, Taliban, this is called kidnapping, unlock the doors." He really went crazy now, and I started to get a little nervous. He was heading West on Maryland Ave towards Benning Rd. Drunk as I was I knew that was not an area I wanted to be brought to, especially by this guy. I had a new plan. While we were driving I lowered the window. At the next light I started to climb out. I made it out to my waist but he punched the gas and ran the light. I almost fell out but managed to get back in the car before he got going really fast. Now I was super pissed and was running dangerously low on "towel-head" based ethnic slurs.

I was mentally weighing two options. The first was that I was going to choke him out from behind until he unlocked the doors. The second is that I was going to call 911 and report a kidnapping. The next day I consulted with several attorney friends and they thought either option were well within my rights at that point. However, I opted for number 2 and started dialing. While I did I said "Hey, Al Qaida, I'm calling the cops, you're going to be in Guantanamo by morning, let me know how that water boarding works out" and hit send on my phone. As the phone was ringing the driver spotted a cop car and pulled up along next to the guy. The cabbie and I both began yelling our sides of the story, and cop just shook his head like he had seen this a million times that night. We were a block from a 7-11 store, so he ended up telling the driver to take me there and he would make sure I didn't run from him before paying. I thought this was equitable and agreed (I decided not to press for kidnapping charges after the cop shot me a deadly look for even suggesting it).

While I counted out the fare I made a couple references to him sleeping with his camel then got the hell out of there. Obviously there was no tipping.