Three X’s but far from porn

There are times when I question my health. Not so much my liver, more so the lining of my stomach, and pancreas. I’ve already been diagnosed with an ulcer back around 2005’ish when excruciating stomach pain put me in the ER. And what a joy that afternoon was. If you don’t know anyone who’s been tested for an ulcer it’s a series of x-rays, a glorious morphine IV drip, a laxative, a white semi clear bucket specifically designed to go over the toilet for when the laxative kicks in, and a horribly disgruntled intern. Fun times. Retrieving the bucket is a job I imagine doctors give the intern they hate the most. 

Somewhere between ages 41 and 50 men unclench from homophobia and become absolute determined nut jobs who don’t want to die alone. If I was a lesser woman everything grossly contrary to maternal instincts I could easily manipulate...

Oh wait.

Look, I don’t want to die alone either. Or live alone. And sure I have the stray cat who comes and goes but I need more. That little fur ball won’t even hang out long enough to watch a complete movie. 

It’s a battle, you know. Good and evil. Which monster is more powerful. Good is just as much of a monster as evil. 

Someone recently said to me, “Men who move to Vegas couldn’t cut it anywhere else.” The person who said that was a male friend of mine from Wisconsin. Not Aramis. He still lives in Studio City.

Next month will be 7 months I lived in this apartment. It still feels like I just moved in. I have no idea what I’m doing here anymore.

Living.

Breathing.

Dying.

I’m meeting a man for drinks today who has three X’s in his name. Not his real name of course. It’s his James Bond internet name. When you come to Vegas, a man must have a cool James Bond three X’s internet name. 

I don’t know what my name is anymore. I’m not even sure it’s the name I sign on my artwork. 

But Mr three X’s doesn’t eat fish or sushi. 

Sigh. Guess that means we’ll fall madly in love. 

Mahatma Christ, how hard is it to find a man who eats fish and sushi. 

If I can’t eat with you AND sleep with you, than this monster fight will have no bounds. 

Just once I’d like to put on lipstick like I’m not about to mate and murder a man. 

Metaphorically speaking.

The gangster of love

I have re-entered the dating world. You would think at my age men would have matured a little since we were in our 20’s but NO, not all men. Yesterday a seemingly nice man, Vegas real estate mogul in his 50’s, talked me into meeting him very early for breakfast even after I said I got zero sleep the night before. Breakfast was nice. We met for 2 hours. Typical breakfast date. I intended seeing him again UNTIL he did this from 11pm to 4am last night. He text me I think that’s 17/18 times and called (what is that) 10 times!  Wow 🙀🤭 It never occurred to him at 11pm I might have been sleeping! And he has a 23 year old daughter. Is this your dad? 🤬

I like how he says he’s done but then keeps texting. Remind you of anyone?

“And another thing!” 

This nutjob is the second man I went out on a date with. The first man I went out with was very nice. He just moved to Vegas a month ago. We went to Binions steakhouse had a few cocktails and nice dinner, made out in the car in front of my apartment building. Typical first date stuff I guess. I haven’t dated since 2002. 

And that’s why I use kik, Rachel! That’s why I use kik! 

GO FU...

I’ve come to the conclusion that most American men in their 40’s and 50’s need to dump their cell phones. They don’t know how to use them.

“What’s kik?”

“What’s FaceTime? I have an iPhone. I still don’t know what FaceTime is.”

“What’s Skype?”

“What’s WhatsApp?”

“What do you mean chat? How do we chat?”

“What’s instant message?”

“What’s texting?”

“You’re a beautiful woman. First round of drinks are on me.”

No jackass ALL THE DRINKS are on you. You’re a man. You do the man parts. Be a man. My father is rolling in his grave. If there’s one thing that drove my dad crazy it’s men who expect women to go Dutch on dates. “It’s not a date then!” My dad would scold. Amen pops. Those men can go home and blow them damn selves. 

My dad raised my brothers like thus: If you want dates or a girlfriend you need a job and MONEY and a car. Your job as a man is to earn MONEY. Or you better learn how to blow your damn self. 

Ok dad never said that last part, but it’s what he meant. And you know it. 

“You’re so beautiful. Your skin is amazing. You look so young.”

Blah blah blah. I did my part. Now you do yours! 

If you’re a man in America and you’re divorced or single, AT LEAST learn how to use your phone. Christ. No wonder ya’ll die yeeeears sooner before us. 

#1 stud

Look at the legs on this kid!

 Suck it Shawn Mendes, Noah Centineo, and Calvin Klein. 

Stupid is as stupid D’oh!

“Well my stupidity isn’t as stupid as his stupidity so my stupidity is forgivable and kinda cute.”

No. No it’s not. How about finding presidential candidates who aren’t stupid. How about that? How about raising the bar. How about demanding them to be better.

Cory Booker

Kamala Harris

Elizabeth Warren

Seriously?

So what you’re saying is, you want to lose the election. Because if these your best Democratic Party presidential nominees...

You’re gonna lose. 

Americans outside of CA hate these people. And I’m pretty sure I can find Americans residing in CA who hate these people also. No media coverage necessary. All Americans have to do is watch these idiots speak and tweet.

Still

It’s going to be fun watching these three morons duke it out. 

I hope Elizabeth Warren wins the nomination because watching her stress out on camera is pure gold. Apparently no one in the Democratic Party nowadays knows how to speak on camera, or debate, or interview with so much as a grain of plausible educated guessing. 

The only candidate who truly has a shot with Democrat and Independent voters is Bernie Sanders. Just like last time. Only Hillary wasn’t having none of that, and...

Well you know how it turned out. 😉

Tryin’ to loosen my load

I’ve lived in this apartment for 6 months. It’s been 6 months. 6 months! Holy shit.

I went past this cottage again today. It’s still for rent. It’s always for rent. Why hasn’t it been rented?

I looked at this little cottage house 6 months ago, and it’s still for rent. Is it haunted? Aliens? Murder crime scene? What? I didn’t move into it because the moment the owner saw me he suddenly raised the rent like $75 above what was originally advertised. Shady.

How much do you think those condos go for near the Bonneville transit center? The ones above that pho restaurant. I would love to live above a pho restaurant. Love pho. But no. Even if I could afford it, it would be horrible for Miso. 

I didn’t get the job calling Bingo. The casino hired someone more qualified they said. She better be 21 years old with perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect skin, and perfectly upright D-cups, because that’s the only way someone would be more qualified to yell bingo numbers. 

Are we all watching THE DIRT on Netflix next month? I so am. Are you kidding me? I’m a Tommy Lee, girl. First of all I have a thing for tall guys. I don’t know why but it seems tall white guys have the numbers when it comes to being hot. Plus he’s hung and that used to matter to me once upon a time. Not so much anymore. Now I just don’t give a shit about anything. Except Miso. The cat. Not the soup. Miso soup is ridiculous. Chicken broth with tofu. Ick. 

PHO, or Tom Kha Gai, or seafood ramen, now those are some soups right there! 😋

Mmmmm seafood ramen 🍜 

What was I talking about? 

Right, Miso.

In people years Miso is about 14. And he’s driving me crazy. He’s SO moody. I wouldn’t be surprised if he strutted into my apartment one day soon with choppy black fur over one eye, and wearing a Cure tee shirt. Few nights ago he ran up into my apartment all quiet. He didn’t want to eat, or sleep, or be pet. He kept hissing at me for no reason. And then 5 minutes later he ran back out of my apartment. WTF? But then last night he was all sweet and cuddly for a long time, like 7 hours, before demanding to go out again, which drove me crazy because it’s below freezing out. But I also can’t have him waking up my building at 2am with his meowing. He’s not even supposed to be in the building to begin with so I let him out. Then I went looking for him a half hour later (because it’s below freezing out) but he was long gone. 

THIS in part is why having children never appealed to me. My tolerance level for pain is purely physical. I have zero tolerance for pain mentally. I get a headache I’m popping every pill under the sun with a bottle of alcohol to get rid of it. Which is why I’ll never have another straight male roommate ever (fucking ever!) again because I just cannot relate to the batshit crazy loony toonacy of their goddamn girlfriends. And in making up Miso’s brand wear all I kept thinking was - he’s an irritating moody fucking teenage boy. It conflicted with the humor of my original MISO HORNY stud-wear idea.

Did I tell you guys alongside applying for a job as a bingo caller, I also applied for a job as a meat seller? I’ll know about that job on Thursday. And no, I’m not purposely applying for ridiculous jobs, but I live in the desert. The desert. With actual blowing tumbleweeds and cactus.

And so...

Here I am, in the desert, sometimes with an irritating teenage cat, quite possibly selling meat. I suppose that explains why I attract men who hunt. I hate hunting. But these damn hunters keep asking me out. If no one killed chickens, fish, pigs, or cows, I simply wouldn’t eat them. But as long as there’s meat being sold at grocery stores and restaurants, I’ll eat them. I just couldn’t kill an animal myself. Not in my old deteriorating degenerative senior softy years. 

I don’t know. Maybe it’s time to move back to LA. I don’t know what’s happening to me out here. I’m drawings pictures of cats for fuck sake.

I was recently scolded at by another artist on social media. An artist I’ve long respected. “What’s with the cats?!”

Well, actually Michael, it’s just the one cat and he’s...

(Sigh)

Here kitty kitty

Management moved in a creep as fuck weird guy downstairs. Every time I open my apartment door he opens his. Last night when I went out, he leapt out of his apartment and yelled after me, “Where are you going?!” 

Creep as fuck.

This morning he was just standing on the sidewalk when I came home from running errands. 

Creep as fuck.

How have I never seen a Henri YouTube video before? I watched all of them this morning. Brilliant! 

https://youtu.be/Q34z5dCmC4M

And then I went out to feed and play with my own tuxedo cat, Miso. I had things to do this morning and really hated leaving him. I looked for him when I got home but he’s not around anymore.

I looked at apartments this morning that allow pets. They charge an extra $200 non refundable cleaning fee, and $20 a month pet rent. Yeah. Ok sure. I’ll pay that when management also charges parents for kid rent. Kids make more noise and make a thousand times more mess than a cat. You know I’m right. 

Ok back to drawing and Netflix. 

Why are Orson Welles movies so loud? Loud as in unnecessarily unnerving noise! I’m watching ‘The Magnificent Ambersons’ and it’s actually louder than ‘A Touch of Evil’ which was unbearably loud. 

Check out Ken Jeong’s ‘You Complete Me, Ho’ it’s great. My Korean brother from another mother! 

I’m at a loss how to draw Miso’s image. But I think it would be fun to have cards that read

NO MONEY, NO HONEY

Miso Handsome

And

MOMMA’S LITTLE BRUISER

Miso Handsome

And

💯 STREET

Miso Handsome

I don’t know it just makes me laugh. 

Today is one of those days I wish I knew someone I could call over for tea and cake. I picked up a little chocolate pound cake. But Vegas isn’t really that kind of town. There’s people I work with, and people I go drinking with. That’s it. I guess that’s why Miso means so much to me. He’s just a cat I can chill with. 

Miso Handsome

Momma’s little bruiser

Miso Handsome

He’s a hooker with a heart of gold.

💯 street. 

Working on the artwork. I don’t draw cartoons. This is totally new for me. But then again I never drew a ballerina before until I picked up my pencils and just did it. 

I’m driving everyone nuts with my cat obsession. I don’t know what’s going on. I really don’t. I wanted a dog, or a boyfriend, or both, but I really bonded with this kitty cat. He just showed up in my life and turned my world upside down. He’s so personable and animated, I’m actually looking for an apartment for us. I mean I’m actually looking to move in with this cat! WTF is going on? 

He’s momma’s little bruiser, Miso Handsome. That’s the ad line. 

What a perfect day for a brain aneurysms.  Aaany minute now. 

“Do you just sit home all day and think up stupid cat shit to...”

No. Sometimes I’m at a bar, or a casino. 

Aramis is the one with a professional gig at Guggenheim. I just bug him all day with ideas and he either gives me a 👍🏻 or 👎🏻. Sometimes he just flat out tells me when I’m being ridiculous, but he hasn’t done that yet. 

Yet.

Ok back to drawing Miso. 

I don’t know who drew this but I really like it. I wish it was my drawing. I can’t read the name.

 I don’t steal other people’s work. Unlike SOME PEOPLE. *cough Turner cough*

OMG why have I never heard of Henri until just now? 

Love this! https://youtu.be/Q34z5dCmC4M

❤️ RALPHTHEREX

The best valentine on social media.

Twitter RALPHtheREX 

Especially 

After this bullshit message...

“How long u ben on website 4?”

Go fuck yourself. You’re 40 years old and this is how you write someone? 🙄

Help me Ralph! This idiot couple have written me four times in the last 24 hours and apparently when someone deletes their emails it sends a message to their zombie brains to write again, and again, and again...

I just want a job calling numbers out at Bingo games. Then come home to my handsome bruiser kitty cat Miso. 

I think Aramis and I are making a coffee table book of our hobo chronicles. We both have stockpiles of beautiful images taken over the years and many travels. He’s getting edgy cuz of all the cat stuff I’ve been doing lately. I know. I know. I’ll get back on track once I move Miso and me into a proper domicile. 

I wonder if this is how HELLO KITTY got started? 

I could do a line of handsome little bruiser cat cards? He might need a tougher name than Miso. 

Hell yea that’s my kitty. Mission accomplished, BITCH.

Heaven is in your eyes

Dear Backpages Lonely Hearts

I’ve been alone since my divorce in 2012. It’s taken me a long time to unravel from the brutal psychological clench of marriage. And while on occasion I hungered for company of a companion or two, I still needed to breathe the free air again and live life selfishly without compromise, on my own terms come rapture or ruin. But now, I seek a partner with a heart like my own. Someone I live for, rather than someone I merely live with. And I will love him unconditionally until my very end. 

RESPONSE

“Oh hi. Hello. How you doin’?”

Happy ❤️❤️ Day everyone 

Work it hard

Like it’s your profession...

I finished binge watching all five seasons of ‘Grace and Frankie’ on Netflix, and saw my life/near future flash before my eyes. That’s been happening more and more as of late. The end is nigh. If I keep having menstrual cycles one can only hope sooner than later. I just can’t take it anymore. It’s like I’m going crazy every time it happens. Every 28 days for 37 years. Fuck. Enough! Although I did have three months of blissful menstrual peace prior to this month. What is the point of having periods at the age of 50? It’s not like we’re making babies at 50. Or at least that should NEVER be an option. 

I have a new downstairs neighbor. He makes his presence known. He’s one of those guys who absolutely must talk to you if he sees you. And he absolutely must tell you and everyone in the room that he’s a military vet, just for the attention. You know the type. 50 or 60 something, fat, disheveled, and who knows if he’s really a vet. I hate men who lie and say they are, when they’re not. That’s one of the biggest Vegas con jobs out here to get free stuff, scream you’re a military veteran with zero proof. Fuck that. I grew up with older brothers. I’ve mastered the art of avoidance. “Ok then have a nice day!” If that asshole messes with my kitty I’ll burn him to the ground. 

TV shows like NCIS where all the older military vets are hot, have ruined me for Las Vegas fake veterans. Every man so far in Vegas who’s loudly and proudly announced he’s a military vet with zero proof or knowledge of the military have all looked like a fat Sid Caesar, just before he died. You have Google. Look him up. 

Do we really need to hear anymore about Ellen Paige? She’s just another hysterical lesbian named Ellen. Chris Pratt is hot, and Paige thinks slamming him will get her some recognition and street cred with... 

Well I don’t know who with but she’s definitely on the brink of a Juliette Lewis style nervous breakdown. Go warm up your car cam, Ellen. We’ll wait. 

“You wanna live fancy? Live in a big mansion? Party in France? You better work bitch, you better work bitch... “

Let it go, Ellen Paige. Let it GO. You lost. Whackjob. 

I’ve been meaning to go a lot of places since moving to Vegas. One of those places was The Other Room, on the strip. When I finally made it down I discovered it had already closed. Too bad. The one on Abbot Kinney was a cool little hang. 

And

Why do security at Caesars Palace look like 1980’s Canadian Mounties?

Ok well...

I’m feeling it today. Back to Mandalay Bay? 

No thanks

Thy name is internet.

Why do people think it’s acceptable to walk into someone else’s house and open their refrigerator? Unless we’ve attended a total of at least 5 weddings, birthdays, concerts, and/or funerals together, get the fuck out of my fridge. RUDE.

Aaand another thing!

This morning Aramis and I vented

We are done with seeing fat people on scooters, flip flops, children, babies, and 40 year old men still dressing like their freshman year in high school, strolling through upscale casinos. I’m over it. He’s over it. Circus Circus is that way.

The type of relationship I want doesn’t exist. It’s too old fashion. I accept it. All good. But in lieu of my first choice, my second choice is perfectly fine, that being not having domestic responsibilities with anyone.

What do I mean by domestic responsibilities?

EXAMPLE: “I’m coming into town in three weeks. Wanna get together? Drinks? Dinner? Whatever we want?” And my reply is always the same. I tell that person to write me again when they’re actually in town. Hopefully the moon and stars will align. Let’s chat again then. And they always (always) get mad at my response. Stranger danger!

Truthfully I don’t like making plans with anyone three weeks in advance but I will if...

We’ve attended a total of at least 5 weddings, birthdays, concerts, and/or funerals together. 

One stranger on the internet who claimed to live in Vegas for 20 years actually had the nerve to ask me, “Where in the art district do you live?”

Are you kidding me? The art district is about a mile in circumference. If you lived in Vegas for a month you already know this, let alone living here for 20 years.  So I jokingly replied, “Why, are you mailing me a check?;)” 

Aaaand he never text back. 😂

Gee, why don’t I just give you my exact address, stranger on the internet I’ve never met before. Sure, just come by any time. I’ll leave the door open for ya. Feel free to go in my fridge.

I was at the bank today and while standing in line I watched an FB video a friend from MN posted. I had earbuds in. Played the video on my phone. Minding my own business. And then some obnoxious asshole standing behind me loudly commented about the video I was watching. He was watching the same video over my shoulder. WTF! Why are you looking over my shoulder? RUDE. And why are you telling me you’re looking over my shoulder? Creepy af! And then for no particular reason he told everyone in line to look at a picture of his wife. What? Why? What for? And he just would not stop talking. 

Dear stranger standing behind me in line at the bank, just mind your own damn business. This isn’t a club. We’re not here to be social. See these earbuds? I’m wearing them to shut society out. I’ve had very little sleep and right now I’m even more easily annoyed than normal. 

I’m old fashion. I like being out in a lounge, drinking a glass of wine with friends or by myself, then if I happen to see a guy who who catches my eye, try getting his attention, something very subtle to check his interest level, or being introduced to one another by mutual friends. I get why people date coworkers. It’s really the best place getting to know someone. 

I prefer meeting men the old fashion way because time after time, my experience meeting men online result with these stranger danger online men thinking they’re just as important to me as Aramis is.  

Um. No. Sorry buddy not even close.

Meeting stranger danger men on the internet always goes as follows

DAY ONE: text message each other with the enthusiasm of a new toy the cost of WiFi. 

DAY TWO: texting each other starts getting boring and enthusiasm fades because your new toy is only the cost of WiFi.

DAY THREE: Jesus Christ do you have to text me again? We just text two hours ago. Don’t you have a job or something?

DAY FOUR: I lost interest two days ago.

Internet

Looking for love in all the wrong places!

Unless we’ve attended a total of at least 5 weddings, birthdays, concerts, and/or funerals together, you’re still just some stranger danger from the internet. I’m more invested in the neighborhood cat. 

I’m an old woman. I stopped being enthusiastic over men just for being attractive back when I was thirteen years old. I’m 50 now. According to my dynamo Asian math that’s (going on) 37 years of perfecting cynicism and contempt. And some stranger on the internet thinks he can undo all that with a dick pic and a slew of text message?