(Three Women by Fernand Leger)
Thank you for all the nice things you said about my dancing debut on Citizen of the Month. I was frankly surprised by the positive reaction, especially from female bloggers. In fact, I’d like to talk about this response by the women… just with the men.
Privately.
Women — would you be kind enough to shut off you monitors for a few minutes so I can talk to the men alone. Thanks.
Men — did you see that response to me dancing? The babes were practically throwing themselves at my feet! Who knew that putting on an old suit has that effect? But isn’t it a little ironic that women are doing this at the EXACT moment when I’m making a romantic gesture to my wife? Where were they a month and a half ago? Why didn’t they do this when I was so horny I was writing pornographic children’s stories? Do you remember when Sophia first left town, I actually asked female bloggers to ease my pain by sending me photos of themselves topless.
Do you know how many tits I got to see? NONE!
Here I was back then — alone, and no one even swung their bra in the air for my amusement. But I do a little dance step FOR SOPHIA, and all of a sudden they’re throwing me their panties? Are they crazy? Or do women just like to torture us?
I don’t understand women. Do you?
Female bloggers — you can turn on your monitors now!
Back to the post —
Thank you again, ladies. Here’s a story I think you’ll enjoy. There’s food in the story, and I know you women LOOOOVE to eat.
One of my favorite local bloggers is Sarah from The Delicious Life and Slashfood. She’s one of the best food bloggers out there. I’ve been bugging her for weeks to let me come along and see her in action. On Thursday, she relented. She invited me to join her in checking out Mao’s Kitchen in Venice. We decided that I would pick her up and we’d drive together to the restaurant.
Although this wasn’t a date in a romantic sense, I was still having some pre-“date” jitters. After all, I was picking up a cute woman at her apartment and going to dinner with her, and I haven’t gone on ANY type of date since…. well, since… Sophia.
You know that cliched romantic comedy movie scene where a woman puts on five different outfits before she goes on her date?
On Thursday, that woman was me.
I changed shirts three times, then stared in the mirror at the awfulness of my hair. As much as I tried to brush it, it seemed as if the ghost of Donald Trump’s hair had decided to move in. I used some of Sophia’s mousse, and since I never use this gooey junk, it just made my hair look like a helmet. I ended up taking a second shower just to shampoo it out.
I decided to take Sophia’s SUV, thinking it was the most comfortable ride. I jumped in and was about to drive off, when I noticed that the windows were filthy. This was not acceptable for me to pick up some glamorous food blogger in a muddy car.
I stepped out of the car and decided to do a quick washing with the garden hose. I’m sure my face registered pleasure as the grime and dirt slid off the car, that is until I noticed that the passenger window was half open and I was spraying water from the hose INTO the car!
(DO NOT TELL SOPHIA ABOUT THIS)
Four towels and a quick drying later, I was off to my “date.”
Once Sarah and I met, we clicked instantly. We fought our way through traffic to make it to Mao’s Kitchen, buying a bottle of incredibly cheap wine on the way (it was BYOB). While Sarah liked the atmosphere of the restaurant, I thought it was pretentious. There was a “Mao’s Communist China” theme to the menu and all the dishes were creatively named after something from the period. For instance, the egg rolls were called “peasant rolls.” There was a “Gang of Four” fried rice. Call me overly-sensitive, but should you make Disneyland kitsch out of a regime where so many people were murdered?
But what do I know? The place was packed with trendy people. Maybe I should open up a trendy shish-kabob stand and sell young Hollywood types the Saddam Hussein Pita Sandwich.
As Sarah and I got drunk (actually, it was mostly me), the mood changed between the two of us. We stopped our joking and our gossiping about blogging. Our conversation became intimate, as it frequently does when a man and woman sit across from each other in a dimly-lit restaurant. Yes, you guessed it. I blabbed on and on about Sophia and she talked about her ex-boyfriend.
When I told Sarah that my wedding anniversary was the next day, she couldn’t understand why I didn’t go to New York to spend it together with Sophia. I explained that I asked Sophia SEVERAL TIMES if she wanted me to come to New York, and each time she said, “No.” Sophia told me that she was working long hours and didn’t want to get distracted by me, so I listened to her.
Sarah didn’t buy the story. She insisted that I SHOULD have gone anyway, despite what Sophia said.
“That makes no sense.” I said.
“To a woman it does,” she answered.
The next morning, I told Sophia about my conversation with Sarah.
“Sarah was right,” said Sophia. “You should have come to New York. We could have gone out for our anniversary.”
“But you told me explicitly NOT to come!” I cried. “I would think you would be pissed off at me if I just showed up.”
“I would be pissed off. Very pissed,” she answered. “But if I opened my door and you were there, holding flowers, I would be very impressed that you were there, despite what I said.”
“That makes no sense.” I said.
“To a woman it does,” Sophia answered.
Women — would you be kind enough to shut off you monitors for a second time so I can speak freely with the men? Thanks so much for you patience.
Men — WTF?! Do you hear that craziness?
I don’t understand women. Do you?
A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: My Class Action Suit
 
 
