I Trust You’re Happy With Yourselves

You know, you ladies out there?  Well, I just fail to understand why you and I are still not having sex.  Is it my poor fashion sense?  The rust on my car?  My lack of a seaside vacation home?  My sporadic gassiness?  The fact that I don’t buy into the “Okinawa Diet” fad?  Please help me to understand.  I thought we had something special here.

Oh, sure, I know what you’ll say:  We’ve never met, we don’t even live in the same state, we don’t even live in the same country, we don’t see eye to eye on everything, there’s a huge age difference, there’s the slight technicality that you’re already “taken” and even Liam Neeson can’t change that, you’re too busy masturbating to pictures of Jools Holland,  or you’ve outgrown the “physical contact with other people” phase of your life.

Details, mere details.  All can be surmounted with the right amount of alcohol, a quick divorce, a plane ticket, perhaps some more alcohol.  I have most of my teeth, I own my own trailer, I have an unabridged dictionary, a leather couch (no, I don’t sit naked on it eating cheetos and watching porn), a coffee maker, a great oatmeal/chocolate chip cookie recipe, and a mood-setting fake waterfall just off the back “mini-deck”.  I’m almost always polite to old people and kids, I keep the dishes clean, and I’ve never been tempted to wear a “Women Love Me/Fish Fear Me” t-shirt.

You can have the remote as long as you don’t make me watch “reality shows” or try to get me to listen to rap, hip-hop, “dubstep”, dance music, girl groups, boy groups, opera, mainstream country, or Neil Young playing that motherfucking kazoo or whatever the FUCK that phase was that he went through (well, to be truthful, no Neil Young after “Cortez the Killer”).  You can’t smoke in the house but I expect you to have vices.  You can go to church on Sunday as long as you don’t wake me while you’re getting ready.  You can pray for me if that turns you on but I don’t want to fucking hear about it.  No uncaged birds in the house or reptiles or vermin of any kind.  Not big on the whole monkey thing either.  Other than that I’m pretty tolerant.

I’m breathlessly awaiting your call.

Tonight’s soundtrack is from the great Grace, not my favorite song of hers, though it’s okay, but it’s so comical how incredibly tan she is here; she’s usually bone-white.  I guess you’d say she was “double-baked” the night she went on the Smothers Brothers show:

Grace, along with Paul Kantner got so hippy-dippy out there at the end of their time together, but she still had that voice, and she wrote this wonderful love song to her daughter China in that time:

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14 Responses to I Trust You’re Happy With Yourselves

  1. aubreys642 says:

    If you like Grace Slick you should check out the band Nico Vega, they’re like the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s meets Jefferson Airoplane meets Janis Joplin…. so preeettyy good. 😉


  2. babedarla says:

    wow, this weird ass lunar eclipse is affecting everybody!

  3. Averil Dean says:

    It’s your sporadic gassiness. Lay off the chili cheese dip and you’re in like Flynn.

  4. Pingback: Women: The Manual | butimbeautiful

    • Thanks for doing that, Rose. I am nothing at all if not really slooooooooow about everything these days, so I will, honestly, sometime soon, get over there and give it proper attention. I can’t seem to get excited about much more than coffee and cookies and tv these days.

  5. Anna says:

    This is a very compelling piece of literature… make sure you sleep with one eye open tonight, or you may be ambushed by hoomins of the female variety.

  6. Gregoryno6 says:

    In the words of Emo Philips: I’m a great lover… I’ll bet.

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