Origins
Gringa Alta Prima is trying to sleep, one afternoon a couple of years ago, and can't, because I keep giggling. I don't want to have to explain to her that, for some reason, my mind has seen fit to send me pictures that afternoon. The one I am considering is of a promotional album for some German music variety show called, "Please Stop Fucking Tickling Me". Its host is a smarmy, beaming dork in a bright yellow cardigan.
Matter of fact, as I have already mentioned, one can see many interesting things when one Googles the phrase "please stop tickling me". Mostly it's porn; "Please Master, please stop tickling me!" Sometimes it's some family's home page.
All the boys on the teevee show have named me Condor. This is due to the fact that last summer, when I was approached by the lady who co-owns the production company I work for, she said, "My husband told me to come out here and look for the guy who looks like mid-'70's Robert Redford."
"That's me!" I said, but I don't really think it's true. Lots of people keep telling me I look like the 'Ford, but I think it might be laziness on their part. I am a damn handsome man, mind you, but I am proportioned a bit more like Beck, I think. Even that's laziness, though; he's just blonde n' floppy.
My cat is approaching. I can hear her because she's the size of a bread maker. That whole Feline Stealth thing will elude her for the rest of her days; too heavy to sneak up on a damn thing. I would swear that she gave me a look, the other evening upon my return, that said, "And where the hell have you been?" She is fond of snuggling in the morning, reaching out, in ecstasy, to touch my face with her paw. It's cute, if unsanitary as all get out.
I was dancing with Wrong Again Evans a couple months ago, to her boss's band. She and I were easily the youngest people there, and I had all sorts of drunk people in their sixties all over me. One was a lady who said, "If you hurt her, I'll hunt you down and kill you." Then, the little obligatory laugh that follows this never funny statement. People, as I say, watch too many movies, and are constantly trying to act them out. As a joke, it falls flat, as a threat, it is disproportionate to the case at hand. In any case, on that evening, I finally found the perfect response to it: "You oughta see what's gonna happen to you if she hurts me."
Which she did, come to think of it. I need to mobilize the Red Team. Excuse me.
Matter of fact, as I have already mentioned, one can see many interesting things when one Googles the phrase "please stop tickling me". Mostly it's porn; "Please Master, please stop tickling me!" Sometimes it's some family's home page.
All the boys on the teevee show have named me Condor. This is due to the fact that last summer, when I was approached by the lady who co-owns the production company I work for, she said, "My husband told me to come out here and look for the guy who looks like mid-'70's Robert Redford."
"That's me!" I said, but I don't really think it's true. Lots of people keep telling me I look like the 'Ford, but I think it might be laziness on their part. I am a damn handsome man, mind you, but I am proportioned a bit more like Beck, I think. Even that's laziness, though; he's just blonde n' floppy.
My cat is approaching. I can hear her because she's the size of a bread maker. That whole Feline Stealth thing will elude her for the rest of her days; too heavy to sneak up on a damn thing. I would swear that she gave me a look, the other evening upon my return, that said, "And where the hell have you been?" She is fond of snuggling in the morning, reaching out, in ecstasy, to touch my face with her paw. It's cute, if unsanitary as all get out.
I was dancing with Wrong Again Evans a couple months ago, to her boss's band. She and I were easily the youngest people there, and I had all sorts of drunk people in their sixties all over me. One was a lady who said, "If you hurt her, I'll hunt you down and kill you." Then, the little obligatory laugh that follows this never funny statement. People, as I say, watch too many movies, and are constantly trying to act them out. As a joke, it falls flat, as a threat, it is disproportionate to the case at hand. In any case, on that evening, I finally found the perfect response to it: "You oughta see what's gonna happen to you if she hurts me."
Which she did, come to think of it. I need to mobilize the Red Team. Excuse me.
Labels: my personals
posted by rich bachelor | 11:52 AM
3 Comments:
I would be glad to remake any mix material that got deleted, assuming that I still have the music. And yes, removing the tabs is a really good idea.
I don't really think I look like Beck, either; it's just the other one I keep on getting.
Always nice to read someone who shares the gift of fantastic hair.
Here's to your coiffe.
Hey everybody: go look at castor oil's thing. 'S worth it.
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