names

A friend of mine recently named his son after another one of our friends. Cute? No. This is a divisive move. How many kids will he have to have before I get on the naming roster? Not enough, I fear. I'm going to have to do something devious. It came to me last night over dinner with a fellow evil genius. (Thanks SD)

A puppy called Greg.

I wait a couple of years, then give his family a cute little dog called Greg. It'll have been trained to respond only to Greg. His kids will fall in love with the dog and be shouting "Greg" "Greg" all over the parks and fields and streets of Dublin. "I love Greg", they'll be saying constantly. "I want to take Greg for a walk". One temptation is to make the dog a fairly gay looking one. Like a poodle or something like that. Two benefits 1) His sons are made look effeminate. 2) The kids will grow up and not be interested in the dog, but my friend will have to still take care of Greg the dog. Greg the dog will also be chosen for his predisposition for incontinence, moodiness and disagreeability. If it looks like a gay accessory, that'd be great. My friend will then have to take Greg the dog out for walks and look gay. His house stinking of dog pee. This is the most advanced planning I've ever had about any part of my life.

There is another possible dimension to this plan. That is every year give a new cute pet called Greg and give my other friends name to ugly pets. So it's "Greg the cute gerbil" and "**** the toad. "Greg the Goldfish", and "**** the snake". Bit cruel on the kid with my friends name, but the father should have thought of if before he went and started naming his kids after his friends.

Yeah ... he should have thought it through.

depth

Sometime ago it became clear to me that women were interested in men who are interesting...deep, if you will. I think I lacked it. I got desperate. In the end ... I faked my own depth.

timing

I don't know about you, but I've recently become aware of a behaviour that that to my attention because of its absence in a friend of mine. It's to do with drinking. When out drinking with someone, or several people, there appears to be a sort of unwritten rule of timing ones drinks so that you finish your pints at approximately the same time. It's a nice feeling of teamwork when a group of four or five people can work together, take turns talking, drinking, going to the toilet etc and still finish their drinks at the same time, without ever overtly discussing trying to do that.

It's analagous, I feel to sex where there is a perceived benefit to both parties 'finishing' at the same time. Or am I reading too much into it?

Adjectives and nouns.

I've mentioned the Police blotter in the Arcata Eye before. It's so great. Today he mentions an event.

"This skinny dude in a green cap shrieked through his inevitable beard at passersby for a time downtown for reasons known only to him, or maybe not."

Oh, the beauty of describing a beard as being "inevitable". What a way with language.

faking it

Fake tanning is incredibly popular in Dublin. I think that it is fair to say that it is universal in everything but its application.

Dublin is in fact the new O.C. Orange county.

close encounters

I am watching too much TV. It's a phase. I reckon. I'll populate my life with more interesting stuff in the immediate future. By 'stuff' I mean people, and by 'interesting', I mean anyone that will listen . I have too many channels, so that's a good thing. I happened to stumble (choked the urge to say "surfed") across a program about near death experiences. Thankfully I've never had one of those. I've never been in an operating theatre and felt myself floating above my body and drifting towards a bright light, seeing green fields and relatives. I have however had what I call, "near sex experiences". Well I say "near" but that might be the usual self delusion when it comes to "affaires de couer". Well "de knob", but anyway.
Yeah, "Near Sex Experiences". (I am capitalising this for dramatic, and potentially Copyright effect). These are those times when you think you are well in with a member of the opposite sex and you have this sensation of leaving your body. I can see myself from outside, looking at myself standing in a bar - pestering some woman. I am shouting down at myself witticisms that will aid my flirtation. But "I" can't hear them. All that comes out is drivel. Pure drivel. I've been possessed by a dribbling fool with no discernable personality. My "soul" knows what should be said, but the physical manifestation of myself, that clumsy oaf, can't act on this advice. I have driven my actual self out of my body with alcohol. I get possessed by another spirit that acts as a contraceptive for me. Safe sex through poor character. A chastity belt of the soul. Of course as soon as the lady leaves I re-enter my body and beat myself up for blowing it. Friends and unavailable women, like their wives, are then treated to witty banter of the most knicker dropping quality. It's just not fair. I will be seeking a cure. Perhaps old Indian potions or something.

couples

I feel sorry for some couples that can't get a date. You see some of them in restaurants ... sitting together just talking to one another. It just looks sad and lonely. I'm surprised that they don't feel self-conscious. Other couples out with another couple cast sympathetic glances over at them. I suppose it's nice that they have the confidence to go out like that on their own. Some just stay at home in front of the TV drinking wine or something. Sad really. They'll never meet anyone doing that.

It's worse when you see them in a bar. They just look like they want to get picked up or something. I'm sure it's hard to meet other couples, but you're not going to meet a couple that you're going to be serious about in a bar, now are you? Maybe something just for a night, but they're not getting any younger. It's time probably that they looked for a couple to settle down with. Make that committment to meet and do stuff together with.

not again...

Now it's the people downstairs.

I went to my room to have a little nap earlier but there were noises, initially vague from the apartment below. These noises became louder and lost any vague quality they had. More sex. My whole building is having sex apart from me. Darnit.

The guy downstairs was quite the talker. He was chatting away the entire time. I say chatting as I couldn't know for sure what he was saying. Lying on the floor with my ear to the ground didn't bring the clarity I would have liked. Too muffled. But I could hear the noise of him talking. Constantly. Constantly. What he could have been saying I don't know. I think I heard a couple of "Do you like that ... yeah ... yeah?" But being asked rhetorically. It was non-stop. I presume there was some repitition. There just isn't that much to talk about while having sex, as far as I can remember. Maybe it was kind of a running commentarylike you'd get in a sports event. The Derby horse race was on in England yesterday. They manage to talk through a lot of riding in that. Or maybe he was telling the lucky lady about his week at work or something. I've often thought about telling jokes just to keep a lady entertained while sex is happening. I'm pathetically eager to please I think. Perhaps a card trick. That'd be interesting. Or produce a unicycle from the bed and take a spin around the room, while juggling.

dear oh dear

It's Saturday afternoon. 5.00pm. I can hear the people upstairs having sex. Me? I'm ironing. Crap.