When you give up on giving love, you will cease to receive it. And that sux!
It’s spring! The right time to plant the seeds of love, peace, laughter, and happiness!
There is no better way to celebrate spring than to go out and jump in the puddles! Spring is a renewal, a rebirth. Be young again and smile, jump in the puddles, laugh, and have fun!
Good morning world! Are you ready for me? Because I’m ready for you! 🙂
So about a week ago I get a message from a woman how she won’t go out with me because it turns out her best friend’s daughter is best friends with someone I know, and that person doesn’t like me because of blah, blah, blah, and says blah, blah, blah about me. Well, I do know the person she speaks of. This person is an imbecile. I’m not name calling when I say that. Really. Seriously. This person is a real, authentic, genuine imbecile. In fact, in my mutual social circles, who knows this person, those friends and acquaintances, knows that this person is an imbecile. We use the person’s name as a punchline when discussing morons and imbeciles. It is public knowledge to anyone who knows this moron, that this moron is an imbecile. And believe me, I’m not name calling when I say that. And scientifically speaking, this persons IQ is so low, that you can freeze water into ice with their really low IQ. Now please bear with me. Through deductive reasoning, I can conclude that this woman’s best friend’s daughter is an imbecile, because she stated that this daughter is best friends with the imbecile. Only imbeciles are best friends with imbeciles. You don’t see Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, Richard Branson, astronauts, or scientists best friends with an imbecile, do you? Okay. We have safely concluded that. Now we can conclude that the daughter’s mother is also an imbecile. How? Because if your kid is an imbecile, you must have been an imbecile as a parent for raising such an imbecile, right? You never taught your kid to stay away from imbeciles? Safe to conclude? Say yes. Don’t be an imbecile. Say yes. So, through deductive reasoning, if the daughter’s mother is an imbecile, and the woman who wrote to me is best friends with that mother, we can conclude she too is an imbecile, since we applied that same theory to the daughter being an imbecile for being best friends with another known imbecile. Therefore the woman who wrote me is an imbecile. Again, I’m not name calling. Just presenting the facts. And the lessons here is, I saved at least $60 bucks on movie and a dinner with an imbecile, and the second lesson is sometimes when you think that something bad happened, it was really a good thing that happened…
True Story. Back when I was twenty, I lived in New York City. I was working as a promotional model for a few of the major cosmetic companies in the major department stores. This particular time, I was working at Bloomingdale’s and was completely smitten with a girl who worked for a major cosmetic company. We became friends fast and always hung out at work together and went to lunch and dinner together. This one particular day, she asked me if I would escort her back to her place, because she had a problem with roaches, and hated using pesticides and asked if I would do it for her. I was crazy about this girl. Go back to her place? Hell, yeah. Help this girls predicament out, so I look good to her? Hell, yes! So, we began on our journey walking and talking through the streets of New York back to her place. On the way, I stop off in a little grocery store to buy a soda, and we continue on. At one point she asks if she can have a sip of my pop. I oblige. She reaches in her purse and pulls out her birth control pills, pops one, puts it in her mouth, then grabs my soda to wash it down. I stare at her speechless. She hands me back my soda, and says, “I don’t want you thinking I’m presumptuous or anything.” I’m quiet for a minute, taking all of this in. I say, “You mean, promiscuous?” and without missing a beat, she coughs on her pill, and says, “Yeah. And that too.”
We get back to her place. I’m getting to work. My hands in latex rubber gloves, and a bottle of borax, spraying around the walls for the roaches. Which she did have. I get done. I’m sitting on her bed in her bedroom, with the latex gloves on, covered in borax, and she takes off all her clothes, telling me about her bitch boss at work. She is just in her panties. That’s it. Gorgeous specimen. She lights a cigarette (I did not smoke at the time), and is going on in a full soliloquy about what a bitch her boss is, fully animated, talking with her hands fully animated and gestured to her rant in sync, completely naked except for the panties, with her cigarette flying around. She’s barking about her boss. Getting more emotional and angry talking about her boss. And she is so psychotically animated, she’s waving her lit cigarette around, and I’m dodging and weaving my head, away from getting stabbed in the eye with her cigarette or her nipple, take my pick. After avoiding getting her cigarette put out in my eye, her friend shows up. She lights another cigarette and proceeds to reenact her monologue with her friend, just as angry and animated, going on about her boss. Then out of nowhere, she introduces me to her friend, and invites me to a manage a trios! I’m freaking out! Sorry guys! I’m sitting there with latex gloves on, covered in borax, listening to this girl go crazy with a burning instrument in her hand, and I’m thinking, yeah, then they’re going to kill me. This is New York City after all. This is how I will die. They will have sex with me, then freakin’ kill me! I am so freaking out at how weird this whole thing has gotten! I’m twenty years old, I don’t want to have sex with these two women covered in borax and then have them kill me, like some perverted serial sex killer thing! So, I make a quick excuse and bail. As I’m walking to the subway, a car pulls up. The two girls are inside! My little, cute, shy, Armenian girl, says, “Flemming, what are you doing? Come on. It’s too late to take a subway alone. Come on, we’ll buy you dinner!”
I make an excuse. “Flemming, we’ll buy you a hamburger! I know you love hamburgers, honey!” I continue to make excuses. “Get in the car!” Finally, she says, “Okay, okay. You won’t have a hamburger and you won’t come home with us. Let us at least drive you home to Brooklyn, so we know you are safe.” I reluctantly get in. They speed off with me in the back seat, headed back to her place. I fumble for the door. Damn it, if it didn’t have childproof safety locks! Aka, mafia doors! I couldn’t get out! She says to me, “I will get you a good hamburger, and you can eat back at my place.” Oh my god! They are going to kill me! She’ll feed me, then make me have sex with her and her friend, then kill me! I can’t do this! We stop at a red light, and I manage to roll the window down and climb out of it head first, falling on my face into the pavement. They scream at me for being crazy. I run to the nearest subway and go home to find a LOT of messages from her on my machine begging me to reconsider. Days later, I see her at work. I avoid her. Lunchtime, I’m eating in a nearby park. She approaches me and talks to me, apologizing for scaring me and freaking me out. I say that it is okay. She says, “Will you call me?” I say, “Yes, I’ll call you.” She says, “You don’t really mean that. You’re not going to call me are you?” I respond, “No. I’m not.” She looked very sad when she got up and left. I felt bad because I really, really liked her until the birth control thing came up.
When there is a fight in a relationship it is because at least one party cares. To keep the love maintained, the lines of communication must be wide open and the settlement must be reached in order for things to be resolved, and the love can grow deeper.