blog-courting today's self-examining "Bawdy Celibacy"
Tonight I'm supposed to be drawing a Charlie Chaplin/City Lights-style boxing match between anthropomorphized maps of Persia and Greece. Instead, I've spent the better part of the last two hours one-way flirting with this sassy chick, whose URL Katie mentioned today:
I haven't used any of my three free "FULL DISCLOSURE" passes on this blog yet, so let me clip and redeem one right now: I have a fake-real (in the A. Journalism sense) powerbook crush on Anna Broadway, aka "Sexless in the City." I met her in person once, but did I leave an impression?
"Anna" (whatever -- you'll figure out that her real name is Christi if you earnestly read her) and I met at the church/coffeeshop I attend and patronize with an overlubricated grip. She came to the Sunday service this past March, a couple weeks before Easter, taking a break from her normal spot up the block. With Katie beside me, I met Anna. Two things I remember are her lankiness and her making a blasé, semi-acerbic comment about "men." We didn't meet by saying "hi." I said something in response to her male-incompatible banter that drew her laugh. I think it was a real laugh. "The male perspective." She and I didn't directly address each other. I forgot her name until she ate pizza with Katie and some other people yesterday and I heard about it. Does she remember me? Does she know I'm glad my wife doesn't wear makeup? I hate the smell of makeup. Plus, makeup usually looks bad. Don't feel like all men expect makeup from you, Anna/Christi. Can you tell me some of the salacious "Corpus Christi (TX)" jokes aimed at you over the years?
Anyway I just did the information-superhighway equivalent of eating a full bag of Oreos in the light-carpeted bedroom of the boss's 11-year-old daughter, in secret, during a party, without a napkin or plate: I left about 13 comments on Anna's blog, with links right back to ground zero (here). That's kind of an anticlimax. (I've done so much revising, Anna, hoping to amuse or at least not offend you.)
Dear Anna: Why would you post that you want to run a dildo factory? I like your 84-yo grandpa's suggested title for your memoir: Marching Single File. I like how we're the same age (26). This fact makes me feel like your automatic friend. We're on the same age-team. I am eager to keep reading. How long will that provocative foot-on-the-ledge pic be on your homepage? We at Crude Futures might like to get in the habit of asking you a weekly love question. (Can our blogs date?)
Hey. I can't wait to sleep on this post and then get up and go to work. Here's the line from Sexless that hooked me: But the thing is, I’m sick of dates. If that’s all I wanted, I’d just get a palm tree or something. I want marriage.
While we're at it:
I haven't used any of my three free "FULL DISCLOSURE" passes on this blog yet, so let me clip and redeem one right now: I have a fake-real (in the A. Journalism sense) powerbook crush on Anna Broadway, aka "Sexless in the City." I met her in person once, but did I leave an impression?
"Anna" (whatever -- you'll figure out that her real name is Christi if you earnestly read her) and I met at the church/coffeeshop I attend and patronize with an overlubricated grip. She came to the Sunday service this past March, a couple weeks before Easter, taking a break from her normal spot up the block. With Katie beside me, I met Anna. Two things I remember are her lankiness and her making a blasé, semi-acerbic comment about "men." We didn't meet by saying "hi." I said something in response to her male-incompatible banter that drew her laugh. I think it was a real laugh. "The male perspective." She and I didn't directly address each other. I forgot her name until she ate pizza with Katie and some other people yesterday and I heard about it. Does she remember me? Does she know I'm glad my wife doesn't wear makeup? I hate the smell of makeup. Plus, makeup usually looks bad. Don't feel like all men expect makeup from you, Anna/Christi. Can you tell me some of the salacious "Corpus Christi (TX)" jokes aimed at you over the years?
Anyway I just did the information-superhighway equivalent of eating a full bag of Oreos in the light-carpeted bedroom of the boss's 11-year-old daughter, in secret, during a party, without a napkin or plate: I left about 13 comments on Anna's blog, with links right back to ground zero (here). That's kind of an anticlimax. (I've done so much revising, Anna, hoping to amuse or at least not offend you.)
Dear Anna: Why would you post that you want to run a dildo factory? I like your 84-yo grandpa's suggested title for your memoir: Marching Single File. I like how we're the same age (26). This fact makes me feel like your automatic friend. We're on the same age-team. I am eager to keep reading. How long will that provocative foot-on-the-ledge pic be on your homepage? We at Crude Futures might like to get in the habit of asking you a weekly love question. (Can our blogs date?)
Hey. I can't wait to sleep on this post and then get up and go to work. Here's the line from Sexless that hooked me: But the thing is, I’m sick of dates. If that’s all I wanted, I’d just get a palm tree or something. I want marriage.
While we're at it:
there are not 16 comentarios on her blog from you, though! how is katie taking the crush?
Publicado por: total bitch lipgloss | 26/04/05 at 7:46
Katie will find out when she reads the blog. "It's no big deal when there's a simple explanation."
Don't get mad, Katie. Last night I accidentally created a radical offshoot Anna/Christi in my mind, and her ghost and I hung out and rented a DVD. We didn't end up watching it because we got too busy talking. "Honey, I didn't even have fun." Nothing happened because I didn't want anything to happen.
Counterpoint: As Ray Hedin illustrates in Married to the Church, there's a lot more to cheating than sex. Sometimes all it takes is repeated visits to the Borders/B&N café, where we can share Lindor Lindt Hershey's Symphony Cacophony Cadbury Flake Crunchie decaf half-caf latte double tall skinny temporary riot tattoo ding-a-ling James Brown PULL AND PULL AND PULL THAT ONE CHAIN reprise "guerilla girls" reprise pronounce awesome "rawsome".
At this point it's pretty much seminary "dissertations" on the difference between courting and dating.
Publicado por: Ghirardelli deceit seeds | 26/04/05 at 8:14
speaking of MAKEUP--Brian, did Andy & I tell you that we ran into Nicole Kidman on the street last week [~70th & Madison], and she was WEARING TONS OF MAKEUP! HER CURVACEOUS, EXPANISVE FOREHEARD SPACKLED WITH FOUNDATION! do you put foundation on your forehead. NICOLE DOES!!! it must be really fun to be single after having had a husband as stupid as Tom Cruise for so long.
Publicado por: stevee | 26/04/05 at 12:54
doppelganger churches, doppelganger celibates, a dual-identity blogger, a "comentario" reference to an obscure memoir by a former priest-in-training... "people say / i'm obsessed" ... this post has it most
Publicado por: roland gift | 26/04/05 at 15:05