F*ck this heat

While there are no libraries or bookstores in Las Vegas, gun stores and churches yes, book stores no, there are local LV classic rock stations that play all my childhood rock songs. (Sigh) I miss being 17 years old. I was queen of the world then. Royalty. We all were. 

Surfing the ‘net I found a photo that stopped my heart for at least five seconds. That’s my dad’s backyard. If it’s not than someone else has the exact same backyard as my dearly departed father. 

See that fence? We built that, and replaced the wood once every seven years because of rot due to rain, snow, bugs, etc. I had Lincoln Logs, as a kid. I knew how to construct a wooden fence very young in life. I had my first kiss on that fence. Michael Linderman, platinum blonde hair, big blue eyes, rich parents, lived in the biggest house on the block, three stories high, pastel yellow with white shutters. We were in fourth grade. Maybe fifth grade. We were sitting on that fence one beautiful summer afternoon drinking pops, barefoot, pant legs rolled up, watching wild bunnies romp around the yard, and then michael asked if he could please kiss me. It was sweet. We kissed once, then a few more times, little pecks on the mouth. At that moment he turned bright pink from being shy and nervous. We giggled, drank our pops, and enjoyed the rest of the sunny afternoon just being innocent kids. He was a very polite well raised boy. Sweet kid. Every girl should have a first kiss like this. Of course it’s been a complete train wreck ever since. 

There’s a scene in Steve Martin’s movie SHOPGIRL where Lisa is explaining to Maribelle how to catch a man using emotional abuse, neglect, and fellatio. To which Maribelle tells Lisa she could never do all that. When Lisa asks why not, Maribelle replies, “I’m from Vermont.” 

Yups. I can relate. 

Even in the most questionably arranged social settings, there’s protocol. There’s always protocol. And the more men neglect protocol, the more I insist on it and grudge men who don’t follow it. 

I just left the NYNY hotel/casino Starbucks because some guy didn’t know when to quit. I was charging my phone and enjoying a nice tall $9 Frap with a shot of espresso when some guy asked if he could borrow my charger for ten minutes to charge his dead phone. He said his charger was in his room at Wynn, and just wanted to call his buddy who was still in the room to tell him to bring his charger with him. Ok sure. No problem. I unplugged my phone, scooted over on the sofa so this guy could charge his phone long enough to make a call. BUT THEN this guy kept looking over at my phone repeatedly asking what I was doing. He asked where I lived, what my plans for the day was, and a million more questions while repeatedly staring into my phone to see what I was doing. He said, “I was just going to borrow your charger for ten minutes but I see you have plenty of battery so I’m going to charge my phone longer.” Uh. What?? No motherfucker. Rude! I grabbed my charger and left. Even if he had asked to borrow my charger for longer I would have said no because he was being irritating. And that’s just a phone charger. Prior to this idiot, some other guy sat across from me to charge his phone. Which is fine but there was a completely empty sofa and electric sockets right in front of us. I don’t go to Starbucks to meet men. I go there for the $9 Fraps espressos, and unwavering WiFi. 

Meeting people is utterly ridiculous these days. No accountability whatsoever. It takes more than three words and a dick pic to get my attention. Don’t be stupid. No? You insist on being stupid? Ok then. I’m going home to find Miso stray cat, crank on the AC and snuggle the cat, watch movies, draw. God bless my friends. If I had to rely on men I gave BJ’s to for good healthy companionship, I’d have violently murdered myself yeeeears ago. 

Vanilla dating can be hard for some. You might have to jump hoops for a kiss. But all men have to be to get a date in the vanilla world is gainfully employed and kinda smart, maybe funny. Not difficult. Lifestyle dating is much harder as it should be. You have to be James Bond, Shaft, and Bruce Lee, all rolled into one. Aka BONDSHAFTLEE. Now there’s a profile name. If you’re not Bondshaftlee, go back to vanilla dating. You absolutely cannot be the same dipshit moron you are at Starbucks, in the Lifestyle. Well no, I mean you can, but then PAY ME! 💰

Today I had a lot of time to meditate, reflect. Aside from my usual errands I had to go to three different redbox to return my movie THE FAVOURITE. Triple digit heat apparently knocked out the first two outdoor redboxes. Good movie. Funny. 

My long time friend EQ, the Q-Meister, King Q, the Quadruple Q, the Qtee, The Quintessential Q... we’re both considering moving back to LA soon and roommate up. Him and me and kitty makes three. God bless my friends.