How Christians might smooch their way into ’05
At the risk of conducting some possible, er, blog perfidy, this entry was mostly drafted from an undisclosed location that reminds me of a Led Zep song ... by way of a laptop much healthier than mine. The owner even offered a little blog advice. He, for instance, suggests I should skip the now-abandoned date-with-Granny Blog Reader World Series prize nonsense and cut straight to the blogstress: a date with me. But I’m not sure what I think about that, much less my contestants, so it seems the best to offer a choice. Besides, Poster Boy recently made all these muddled mutterings about dating wagons and wolves ... so I’m convinced he’d be much better off with a six-pack of beer (also suggested as prize). However if Frasier wins — and is amenable — I think we could swing the date. I mean, after all, assuming that 50-percent chance works out and you do end up in my town within the next 25 years, that’s practically a ready-made date in itself, right? ;)
But if all those contingencies sound like so much silly babbling, another friend suggests I consider burning a special mix CD for the winner — a most appropriately High Fidelity-like suggestion. In fact, in the logic of that estimable film, one might conceivably ask which would be the more meaningful of the two options: a date with Anna Broadway ... or the Anna Broadway mix CD.
If kissing Christians kiss each other quickly...
What High Fidelity cannot provide insight on, however, is the theory of Christian kissing proposed by ... well, let’s call him my “blog consultant,” shall we? He claims that as long as the smooch only lasts one second it qualifies as chaste. I, of course, immediately latched onto the problem: How long do you hafta wait between kisses? His rule of tongue — I mean thumb — the same amount of time as the kiss. So, whereas the recommended avoidance-of-brain-freeze treatment might be slurp-breath-slurp-breath, the recommended kissing-Christian avoidance-of-unchastity treatment might be: kiss-one, breath-one, kiss-one, breath-one.
Or so he claims. I’ve never heard the likes of such hypotheses before, so the jury’s still out as far I’m concerned. Besides, I’ve never even kissed another Jesus freak before, thus I really cannot comment on our kissing customs* — crazy or chaste or otherwise.
Please advise!!!
What I’m hoping ya’ll might be willing to comment on, however, is a little fund-Anna’s-move scheme I’ve come up with. Yes, it’s only been 12 short days, but I’m already convinced that Sexless in the Suburbs is the next life stage for me. If all goes ahead as planned, you can expect me to return to my West Coast roots within the month. Now, truthfully, I haven’t quite come up with a job yet, but if I do say so myself I am a pretty darn employable office worker, not to mention an overflowing source of trivial drivel (as you all know well). And heck, at the rate I’ve attracted so many of ya’ll, I might even have a shot at marketing.
Still, finding work out here - from New York - seems a bit of a challenge. But from the cat-infested and nudie-pic adorned abode** that is my aunt’s sprawling Sunnyvale ranch-style (yes, she’s offered housing) I’m sure I could find a job in no time. Your part? Help me assess a certain, de-packrating-cum-fundraising scheme I’ve hit on. The key component: those 10 black-n-white, 5 color digital prints most of which were hung in November at a local Starbucks. I’ve sold prints in the past, but none of these were hits with Brooklynites (Note: image quality much better than these links suggest). So now I have 15 matted, framed, single-edition prints made from my own hands that I’ve gotta pack and move - or sell. Since selling ’em would both a) raise cash and b) reduce the poundage to ship (quite possibly by 50-100 pounds), I prefer to sell.
Question for you all to weigh in on: Do you think my New York friends would be offended if I offered them a chance to buy up my prints before I leave town? More importantly, d’ya think any-o’ them’d be takers? My thought is to do it by a no-minimum, donation-based scheme. Considering the Captain paid $100 for his print (probably on the low end for the New York art market), if I could unload all 15 that’s potentially most of my move expenses right there.
Finally, speaking of pictures, don’t forget to enter this week’s contest. Only Poster Boy and Frasier are up for the Blog Reader World Series, but I’m still handing out some swank second-place prizes to the non-BRWS entrants.
*Nor is tomorrow night likely to provide new insights. As of this date, my plans are either sitting it out with Samwise the devil-cat ... or boozing it up with un-Jesus-freaky Broadway relatives. Survey says: Anna watches her dehydration levels but does without kitty “love bites.” back
**There is a painting of an unclothed female in the living room. Just ask the Berkeley friends who crashed there once; five years later and it’s still their primary memory. back
But if all those contingencies sound like so much silly babbling, another friend suggests I consider burning a special mix CD for the winner — a most appropriately High Fidelity-like suggestion. In fact, in the logic of that estimable film, one might conceivably ask which would be the more meaningful of the two options: a date with Anna Broadway ... or the Anna Broadway mix CD.
If kissing Christians kiss each other quickly...
What High Fidelity cannot provide insight on, however, is the theory of Christian kissing proposed by ... well, let’s call him my “blog consultant,” shall we? He claims that as long as the smooch only lasts one second it qualifies as chaste. I, of course, immediately latched onto the problem: How long do you hafta wait between kisses? His rule of tongue — I mean thumb — the same amount of time as the kiss. So, whereas the recommended avoidance-of-brain-freeze treatment might be slurp-breath-slurp-breath, the recommended kissing-Christian avoidance-of-unchastity treatment might be: kiss-one, breath-one, kiss-one, breath-one.
Or so he claims. I’ve never heard the likes of such hypotheses before, so the jury’s still out as far I’m concerned. Besides, I’ve never even kissed another Jesus freak before, thus I really cannot comment on our kissing customs* — crazy or chaste or otherwise.
Please advise!!!
What I’m hoping ya’ll might be willing to comment on, however, is a little fund-Anna’s-move scheme I’ve come up with. Yes, it’s only been 12 short days, but I’m already convinced that Sexless in the Suburbs is the next life stage for me. If all goes ahead as planned, you can expect me to return to my West Coast roots within the month. Now, truthfully, I haven’t quite come up with a job yet, but if I do say so myself I am a pretty darn employable office worker, not to mention an overflowing source of trivial drivel (as you all know well). And heck, at the rate I’ve attracted so many of ya’ll, I might even have a shot at marketing.
Still, finding work out here - from New York - seems a bit of a challenge. But from the cat-infested and nudie-pic adorned abode** that is my aunt’s sprawling Sunnyvale ranch-style (yes, she’s offered housing) I’m sure I could find a job in no time. Your part? Help me assess a certain, de-packrating-cum-fundraising scheme I’ve hit on. The key component: those 10 black-n-white, 5 color digital prints most of which were hung in November at a local Starbucks. I’ve sold prints in the past, but none of these were hits with Brooklynites (Note: image quality much better than these links suggest). So now I have 15 matted, framed, single-edition prints made from my own hands that I’ve gotta pack and move - or sell. Since selling ’em would both a) raise cash and b) reduce the poundage to ship (quite possibly by 50-100 pounds), I prefer to sell.
Question for you all to weigh in on: Do you think my New York friends would be offended if I offered them a chance to buy up my prints before I leave town? More importantly, d’ya think any-o’ them’d be takers? My thought is to do it by a no-minimum, donation-based scheme. Considering the Captain paid $100 for his print (probably on the low end for the New York art market), if I could unload all 15 that’s potentially most of my move expenses right there.
Finally, speaking of pictures, don’t forget to enter this week’s contest. Only Poster Boy and Frasier are up for the Blog Reader World Series, but I’m still handing out some swank second-place prizes to the non-BRWS entrants.
*Nor is tomorrow night likely to provide new insights. As of this date, my plans are either sitting it out with Samwise the devil-cat ... or boozing it up with un-Jesus-freaky Broadway relatives. Survey says: Anna watches her dehydration levels but does without kitty “love bites.” back
**There is a painting of an unclothed female in the living room. Just ask the Berkeley friends who crashed there once; five years later and it’s still their primary memory. back
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