A not-so-fast recovery time
Light blogging again today. ’Fraid I’m still recuperating from an 11 a.m. interview and my week as conventioneer. I should be back this weekend, however, with the latest Spooning Fork (Tom Jones on the docket, at present).
Meanwhile, Bill Murky seems to be making a play for Stalker #3. Got yet another message from him today (this makes for what — 4?! — since meeting him Wednesday night). No regard for the unofficial 3-day rule in calling (thank God he hasn’t done that yet!), no wait-’n-see-if-she-responds ... nuthin’.
The stalker/stocking hairline
I mean, I have never been guilty of such enthusiastic feedback myself!
And if not, a great way to broaden my mind! Should I suddenly develop a great interest in South America, the one continent I know almost nothing about. Because — you know — a girl could suddenly wake up one day, in the middle of a cold winter, and be totally fascinated about an unknown continent. There could be lots of reasons she’d then devour a 500-page fiction-and-non-fiction work to ameliorate such ignorance.
But none of that would have anything to do with men.
And if it did, it would be nothing akin to the weirdo, turn-off behavior of Bill Murky. Not in the slightest.
What’s that you say about pot? I don’t smoke it, thanks, but won’t object if you do. Oh, you say you meant the kitchen kind? Um, well, I’m pretty sure I don’t resemble a pot that might sometimes allegedly quibble with the kettle ...
Instead, men often tell me I look like Hilary Swank. Or Alanis Morrisette (that’s recently, when wearing braids). And sometimes Nancy Kerrigan, but more often Liv Tyler. So, basically any semi-famous woman with brown hair and totally natural boobs. It’s only with blonds that one must become more sophisticated about celebrity resemblances ...
By far the most impressive celebrity tribute, however, came yesterday evening when I was my hot red pants — the very same red pants as shown in the Anna frontal photo at top right — on the way to hear the President. While he bicycled past, some man serenaded my briefly: “Pretty woman, walking down the street...” Sometimes I love New York City men (although I’m not so sure what to think about the garbage-truck driver who asked if he could take me home with him).
The one obsession I’ll admit to
... Is checking reader stats. I’m like a woman crazed (no conceivable reason for that, right? ;)). And my current reader mystery is a very faithful reader whom I’m guessing is DC-based. All I know that someone from the Henry L. Stimson center checks not just this blog but my other one on a fairly regular basis. I just can’t figure out who it is: an old friend, a fan from Craigslist or that rare and exciting thing, the random internet explorer who finds a site that strikes their fancy. Feel like helping me solve the mystery? ;)
Announcements
Don’t forget to enter this month’s contest. Since the bid to rename Spooning Fork went so badly, I’ve tried to improve the prizes. I’m tellin’ you, man, my cinnamon rolls are not to be passed up. And Funny Man will vouch for me (aww, I miss his voice just now). If nothing else, this could be your chance at blog fame: depending on the guesses, I’ll publish a list of the most-entertaining guesses (bonus points for justifying your answer).
But hey, if you’d rather try your hand at renaming Spooning Fork, by all means offer suggestions. I still think it needs some re-branding ...
By-the-Buy
Yes, I’m too damn lazy this week. But if you want to support this site, and you shop Barnes & Noble, use the link provided at right. Coming soon: every iTune you buy will mean a nickle for the coffers of Sexless. Surely that’s not too much to donate for the occasional entertainment I afford ...
Meanwhile, Bill Murky seems to be making a play for Stalker #3. Got yet another message from him today (this makes for what — 4?! — since meeting him Wednesday night). No regard for the unofficial 3-day rule in calling (thank God he hasn’t done that yet!), no wait-’n-see-if-she-responds ... nuthin’.
The stalker/stocking hairline
I mean, I have never been guilty of such enthusiastic feedback myself!
- I never send unsolicited emails to men
- never regularly query them with questions/emails/social invitations
- never email their photos and website URLs to my girlfriends
And if not, a great way to broaden my mind! Should I suddenly develop a great interest in South America, the one continent I know almost nothing about. Because — you know — a girl could suddenly wake up one day, in the middle of a cold winter, and be totally fascinated about an unknown continent. There could be lots of reasons she’d then devour a 500-page fiction-and-non-fiction work to ameliorate such ignorance.
But none of that would have anything to do with men.
And if it did, it would be nothing akin to the weirdo, turn-off behavior of Bill Murky. Not in the slightest.
What’s that you say about pot? I don’t smoke it, thanks, but won’t object if you do. Oh, you say you meant the kitchen kind? Um, well, I’m pretty sure I don’t resemble a pot that might sometimes allegedly quibble with the kettle ...
Instead, men often tell me I look like Hilary Swank. Or Alanis Morrisette (that’s recently, when wearing braids). And sometimes Nancy Kerrigan, but more often Liv Tyler. So, basically any semi-famous woman with brown hair and totally natural boobs. It’s only with blonds that one must become more sophisticated about celebrity resemblances ...
By far the most impressive celebrity tribute, however, came yesterday evening when I was my hot red pants — the very same red pants as shown in the Anna frontal photo at top right — on the way to hear the President. While he bicycled past, some man serenaded my briefly: “Pretty woman, walking down the street...” Sometimes I love New York City men (although I’m not so sure what to think about the garbage-truck driver who asked if he could take me home with him).
The one obsession I’ll admit to
... Is checking reader stats. I’m like a woman crazed (no conceivable reason for that, right? ;)). And my current reader mystery is a very faithful reader whom I’m guessing is DC-based. All I know that someone from the Henry L. Stimson center checks not just this blog but my other one on a fairly regular basis. I just can’t figure out who it is: an old friend, a fan from Craigslist or that rare and exciting thing, the random internet explorer who finds a site that strikes their fancy. Feel like helping me solve the mystery? ;)
Announcements
Don’t forget to enter this month’s contest. Since the bid to rename Spooning Fork went so badly, I’ve tried to improve the prizes. I’m tellin’ you, man, my cinnamon rolls are not to be passed up. And Funny Man will vouch for me (aww, I miss his voice just now). If nothing else, this could be your chance at blog fame: depending on the guesses, I’ll publish a list of the most-entertaining guesses (bonus points for justifying your answer).
But hey, if you’d rather try your hand at renaming Spooning Fork, by all means offer suggestions. I still think it needs some re-branding ...
By-the-Buy
Yes, I’m too damn lazy this week. But if you want to support this site, and you shop Barnes & Noble, use the link provided at right. Coming soon: every iTune you buy will mean a nickle for the coffers of Sexless. Surely that’s not too much to donate for the occasional entertainment I afford ...
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