Monday, June 10, 2013

Aural Sex

I live in a tight (geographically) townhouse community. Saturday night was warm and most of the courtyard dwellers had their central air conditioners running and windows closed. Most of them. I came outside for my last cigarette of the night at around 11:30 pm. My next door neighbors had BOTH their A/C running AND their bedroom windows open. Kind of eco-unfriendly, but hey, it ain't my electric bill.

(*I'm working outside and my neighbor across the way just got home from work. Right now, he's taking a shower with the window cracked. No, I can't see him. Not my type anyway. I'll let you know if I can smell what he's cooking for dinner in an hour or so.*)

Separately, I'd given Luke my last anti-emetic pill when he came home from a no-sleep-sleepover, had eaten 4 donuts and rode his bike like 10 miles, & barfed at his buddy's house, when he came home Saturday afternoon.

I digress.

You're mostly intelligent people. Mostly.

Solve the following equation: Me + Smoking on the patio, dark and in silence + neighbors' open windows + 2 people *not* as hot as...I dunno, pick ANYONE x Sounds Similar to a Gazelle Being Chased by a Cheetah / Utterances of  "YES! GOD! YES! GOD!"  = SOLVE FOR "WHY."

(Which, please, is SO Linda Lovelace acting as a bad Linda Lovelace in a bad remake of a Linda Lovelace movie...)

It wasn't a charismatic evangelical revival of Elijah or whomever, or even Lot licking his wife for the first time in 34 years of marriage after God turned her into a pillar of salt, or angels swooping down from Heaven in a burning ark a'flame with the Powers of the Holy Ghost arm-wrestling Satan's minions, and Goliath's eyeballs weren't popping out because What's His Face nicked him with a slingshot.

It was THAT. And it was THAT which I DID NOT NEED TO HEAR. It'd have been funny had it not been such a damaging imaginary visual.

If I had any gumption, I'd have brought my laptop out and played the incidental theme from "The Omen" at full volume:



For the sake of fuck, literally! Must they bring the omnipresent/omniscient/omnigrossedout Lord into their shenaniganathon? CLOSE YOUR GODDAMN WINDOWS.

Luke was still awake, in his room, and he's not an innocent idiot. He came in my room to say goodnight and I started laughing/wretching & in very little detail simply described a vague notion of what was going on outside and soon enough, we were both rifling through the medicine bag looking for a stray Zofran. Suffice it to say, we'd have sooner eaten haggis than been exposed to THAT again.

Living with my mother DEFINITELY doesn't help my not-intimate-chances-at-no-intimacy-in-my-non-existent-lack-of-life. And, for the last time, I'm not attracted to either hipsters OR businessmen, so drop it! No pressure..... :/

Maybe I'm just hanging out with the wrong people in the wrong places. Like, I should go to the Hustler store with, like, Richard Simmons.


Yeah, I know. My lips are lonesome. As with most things which I find erred in the universe, I blame Guy.

Come on, Guy. It's not like I'm inviting you out to another NC-17 movie.

He rang me up Friday, but I was hanging out in Osco fluttering about while this guy who looked JUST LIKE Neil Peart circa '82 but even cuter was finding someone to find someone to find something for me. As I fumbled, all I heard coming out of my purse was *his* ringtone (yes, I assigned him one) and my phone saying "CALL FROM GUY. CALL FROM GUY. CALL FROM GUY." (Except it's his actual name.)

I must've missed my scheduled weekly check-in because he never phoned back. He's not a voicemailer. We both had a busy week, I'm sure, and mine was especially trying and annoying and panic-inducing; hence, Meg and I are adventuring out this week, and after our yippety-skippety at our local haunt (GAWD, I hope hockey's not on), I think we're taking The Offbeat Drummer for Something More Relaxing Actually Than a Massage: Yes, kids. Fresh ink.

Of what, pray tell? The Irish Trinity. Look, y'all, it's the closest thing to a threesome that'll ever penetrate my skin....

UPDATE: I GOT IT:



Interestingly, if I count back (which takes a while), I've been with 5 Irish-blooded-in-some-way men, married one of them & contributed to the breeding of another....must be an innate preference.

OH GOD! OH GOD! OH YES!

I'm so frustrated, I'm listening to Bowie. Never gonna fall for modern love.





5 comments:

Kate said...


Joy Division turned into New Order and maybe you should
listen to "Bizarre Love Triangle".
More appropriate .
You are not the shy wallflower your blog suggests you are. You are one Grade A Man Magnet.
( Believe me , I know her ! )

Andrea Miklasz said...

Kate, I found an even more apropos one! I heard this in the car today.

Love, love, love "Bizarre Love Triangle." Great high school song for me.

Man magnet? I've managed to zone in on one I want to kiss at length. Don't ask me why....

Anonymous said...

I guess it remains to be seen whether or not Guy Friend has been blessed or cursed being "zoned in on" by who is, without a doubt, the young woman with the world's most volcanic libido.

Andrea Miklasz said...

Wow! The neighbor's huge dog is barking outside, so I looked, and the laid neighbor is walking up the courtyard from work. You know dogs...

BMF said...

The tattoo came out really awesomely! Looks great! Did your mom notice it yet?

I love it and you told me what it represents to you..actually, very fitting.