Friday, September 16, 2005

 

I have very interesting friends

Okay, so this recent post by one of my CA friends had me rolling. She is much wittier than me even though she is considerably younger. Hopefully she won't mind me pulling out the text as a means of getting people to check it out.

"I met a very nice man on CollarMe, today. He's a 'gentleman farmer', his name is Ben, and he lives close enough to me that if I stood on my roof and chucked a rock, it would probably land in his swimming-pool. Okay, just joking. He lives three miles away, in the multi-million dollar ranches up on the hillside. He buys and builds suburban housing tracts, and flies renovated WWII fighter planes as a hobby. He has a spoiled old cattle-dog named Josie that he loves the way I love Sunshine. He seems very nice, non-creepy, and fun. He offered to take me to Oakland tomorrow, as he was going there to negotiate a real-estate deal and I had mentioned I love the Bay area. Unfortunately, I can't go, because it would entail waking up at 4 a.m, and I can't imagine explaining that to my parents.

Did I mention he's 54?

Aerin: "You know, I've always believed age was just a number. It's irrelevant, really, because a difference in age doesn't stop two minds from clicking, or people from getting along excellently, and-

Aerin's Brain: "What about ninety-five?"

Me: "Wha...?"

Aerin's Brain: "What if he was ninety-four?"

Me: "Oh, yuck!That's- that's totally gross!"

My Brain: "So, age is just a number until you hit ninety-four, and then age is just age?"

Me, turning on my CD player: "I'm not continuing this conversation."

My Brain: "What about 80? Do you dig guys in their eighties? Fixed income isn't so great, but there's always inheritance-"

Me, singing with the music, over the voice in my head: "What follows, is the whitest lace of lii-iiight, what swallows whole, just begs to be imbruuuued..."

My Brain: "70 would be a nice age to settle down with a sweet-young-thing. I hear Viagra is getting cheaper by the day, and there's nothing abnormal about-"

Me, cutting off the voice: "WHAT FOLLLLLOOOOWS, HAS LEAD ME TO THIS PLACE, WHERE I BEEE-LONG, WITH ALL ERAAAA-AASED!"

Brain Voice: "But you're probably right, stick with guys close to retirement, and drop 'em before social security runs thin! Right-o!"

Me: "You'll stop now, or I won't take you to see Peter Murphy!"

Brain, sulkily: "And just how old is Mr. Murphy, eh?"

Me: "That's quite enough from you. Shut up, or I'll- I'll- I'll watch 'Seventh Heaven', and rot you where you stand! I'll do it!"

Brain:"...Yes'm."



Do you want to know the worst part...I can feel myself getting creepier as I get older. An 18 year old I hit on at 3 a.m. at National Coney Island called me up the other night drunk and I could feel how creepy I was as I contemplated whether or not if I was with her she would have wanted to make out. Yeah...I'm the creepy old guy now...damnit.

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