"The Dating Game", episode 4 - "Minnie the Moocher"

To read episode 3, click here

   So a few years back, I decided to give the local phone chat lines a try, and I stared talking to this early 30s woman, very pleasant, employed (something you definitely have to ask on those lines), intelligent-sounding, and with whom I developed a mutual interest. After a few conversations, we decided to meet at a nearby restaurant (we lived failry close to each other) for dinner.
   When we met, I thought I had hit the jackpot! She was gorgeous, with flawless dark skin, and a petite, but very curvy build. She certainly looked like she could have been one of the models in the commercial for the phone dating service, as opposed to a couple of others I had brief encounters with that far, far, far from model material. And she was every bit as pleasant in person as on the phone. She was also particularly excited about getting to eat, as she couldn't have stressed any more than she did just how hungry she was.

   So we ordered our food: three appetizers (one for me, and two for her), and two very sizeable entrees. It was at this point that I became even more in awe of her than I already had been. When she said she was hungry, she wasn't kidding; this chick could EAT! After the appetizers, breadsticks, salad, and about half the entree, I was pretty much done. She, on the other hand, threw down on the appetizers and her entree, and when she saw I was slowing down, started picking at mine. Holy shit, I thought; how does that little body hold all that food? Did she starve herself to get ready for this date? Is she going to go into the bathroom and puke it all up when we're done?

 We finished eating, I paid the bill, and we started to leave. On the way out, I asked what she wanted to do next. "I could really go for some dessert!" she said. Dessert? You gotta be fucking kidding me! I'm ready for an alka seltzer and a nap, and you want dessert? So I followed her to the nearest Coldstone Creamery (which I had never been to), and we got ourselves some ridiculous orders of ice cream. She followed me back to my place, and wolfed down all of her ice cream (and some of mine) while we watched a couple of movies before she went home.

   A few days later, I make spaghetti, and as is often the case, I made way too much for me to eat without getting sick of it after having it 3 or 4 days in a row, so I give the fair lady a call to invite her to dinner.
"Ooooh, spaghetti",  she said "I love spaghetti. I'll be right over! I hope you can cook!"
20 minutes later, she was at my door, appetite in tow. She made sure I was not going to have to worry about 3 days of spaghetti for leftovers, that's for sure. And what's more, she topped it off by finishing the last of my Coldstone Creamery Ice Cream from our date a couple days before hand. As always, she was pleasant, charming, and beautiful, so I didn't mind her appetite one bit. However, I didn't realize at the time that I was setting a bad precedent.
  
   You know how they say you shouldn't feed a stray animal, because you won't be able to get rid of it? Well, the same applied to this chick. She was over a couple times a week, and occasionally all weekend, eating me out of house and home. Now on the one hand, I didn't mind. I like to cook, and eating alone isn't always that much fun;  besides, she was great company, and I certainly enjoyed every moment around her. On the other hand, she was beginning to blow my food budget to smithereens, while not contributing a thing to our dinner dates. I mean, you'd think she would bring some dessert or a bottle of wine or something, but nope, she managed to show up every time empty handed and empty stomached, eat like it was her last meal, while making some vague promises about cooking for me or taking me out, promises that never came to fruition.,.

   So one day when she was supposed to come over, I called and told her I was out of ice cream, and asked her to stop and pick up some. When she arrived, she had a bag in hand, and went to put it in the kitchen. As usual, we had our dinner, and headed to the living room to watch a couple of our favorite shows. At some point I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and she announced that she was going to get some ice cream. When I got back from the bathroom, she was back in the living room, with a pint of ice cream - and one spoon...
   "So where's mine?" I asked.
   "Oh, did you want some?"
   "Well, you've been coming over here all these times eating my food and ice cream, you mean you couldn't bring ice cream for BOTH of us the one time I asked?"
So she reluctantly shared her ice cream with me, and from then on always stopped to get enough for us both. No meals from her still, but the ice cream was a start, I guess...

   After several more weeks of this, my birthday was approaching. Normally I don't make much of a deal about my birthday, but with this woman, I made it a point to stress that my birthday was coming up, because I wanted to see what this hussy would do about it, if anything. She suggested going out to dinner, since we hadn't gone out much once I started feeding her home cooked meals. So on my birthday, she came and picked me up, we went to dinner, had a great time, and ate well- and a lot- as was always the case with her. Then came the waiter with the bill, and I gave her a look that said, "hey it's my birthday, what you gonna do?" and she looked at me like "Negro, please, I know you don't think I'm paying!" So guess who paid?

   So fine, I paid (I was prepared for that likelihood anyway). We drove back to my place with me having a bit of an attitude, but I figured I'm gonna make up for this later...then we get home, she changes into something more comfortable, which took my mind off of paying for dinner real fast...but then:
"I have to ask you something."
"Okay"
"Can I borrow $100?"
"Say what? You trying to borrow money from me, on my BIRTHDAY???"
"Come on, baby, there's this dress I want to buy."
"You want money from me on my birthday to buy something for yourself?"
"Well, it would be for you too. It's a sexy dress, it's tight and low cut, and it shows off my boobs. You know how much you love the twins..." she shook them at me in her slinky negligee as she said this.
Yes, I certainly DO love those beautiful dark brown globes of perfection...I wonder how they would look in - no no no, snap out of it!
"Let me see if I got this straight," I finally said as I came to my senses. "You've been coming over here a  few days a week for a couple of month, eating me out of house and home for free, promising to take me out or cook for me sometimes but never keeping that promise, then on my birthday, we go out, and you don't offer to pay for dinner, don't give me so much as a damn card, and THEN ask me for money? You done lost your damn mind!"

Well, let's just say that ended up being much less than the best birthday I've ever had...

(TO BE CONTINUED)

  

  

You Know You're Getting Older When...

Episode 1:   "Where are my glasses?"
On this day after Thanksgiving, I am thankful for being alive on this earth for as long as I have (49 and a half years and counting), but sometimes that advancing age can lead to interesting predicaments. For instance, this morning, I took a shower, walked back to my bedroom, then remembered that I hadn't put on any lotion (a must for my dry ass skin), plodded back down to the bathroom, lotioned up, came back the bedroom, then started a ritual that happens to me from time to time: trying to figure out where I left my glasses...

Did I have them on when I went to the bathroom? I walked back to the bathroom; nope, not there...

Well, hell, they must be in the bedroom; I haven't gone downstairs yet (wait, have I? Hmmm, no I'm sure I haven't been downstairs yet). So I go back to the bedroom, and proceed to walk around in a crouched over position (walk softly in case the damned things are on the floor!) with eyes squinted so as to try to improve my bad vision enough to make this game of Where's Waldo a short one. I tell you what, trying to find your glasses is a motherfucker when you don't have your glasses on to help you...

And then, lightbulb time: hey, idiot, you DO have another pair of glasses. How's about we put THOSE on so we can find the missing ones...you at least know where THEY are...

The second pair was on my dresser in its case. Put them on, and voila, in no time, I found my missing pair sitting right on the bed where I left them. I guess since the glasses are close in color to my comforter, they blended in enough so that my old eyes couldn't see them.

I'm just glad the lotion was in the bathroom instead of the bedroom; I might have sat down on the bed to lotion myself and "found" those glasses in a much less pleasant way...

Life's "Special" Moments, episode 1

Like everyone else, I have had my share of interesting/embarassing moments and occurences. In "Life's 'Special' Moments", I will relive a few of these...

Episode 1: "Gettin' It In"

  It's the summer of 1982, and I'm home from college. My future babymama is over the house hanging out, when my moms and brother and sister head out to go shopping...hmmmm, house all to ourselves...well, you can imagine what happens next...
  I shared a bedroom with my brother. We had some old-school wooden bunkbeds, and I slept in the top one. So as not to leave any potential evidence of what we were about to do in my brother's bunk, we climbed up into my top one. Things proceeded from intimate to heated to, shall we say, rather vigorous in fairly short order...
   Well, at some point during the proceedings I thought I heard a cracking sound, but since I was otherwise occupied I didn't pay it any attention...well, I probably should have, because shortly thereafter, a couple of much louder cracks were heard as the slats underneath my bunk gave way under our weight and...umm...activities...
   Next thing you know, the two of us and my mattress gave way to the laws of gravity and came crashing down on my brother's bunk, with enough force to also break the slats on his bed and well...
   We picked ourselves up off the floor and determined that we were both okay...the beds, however, were another matter...then of course, was the bigger issue: how in the HELL to explain this to my mother...

"The Dating Game", episode 3 - "Are They Your Pets?"

To read episode 2, click here.
To read episode 1, click here

   So I got invited to a female acquaintance's home to hang out and catch a Ravens game, just the two of us.When I came through the door, I could smell the aroma of a good meal wafting from the kitchen, and there were drinks and munchies on the living room table. "This is going to be good", I thought...
   I settled in, grabbed a drink and some chips and got myself nice and comfy. The living room was nice and neat; outdated furniture, but everything was well-kept. The dining room, however, at least from what I could see, was a junkyard. Boxes, toys, a couple of bicycles, broken chairs, two or three TVs on the floor...just junk all over the place. I shook my head and kind of shrugged it off at first glance...but now as we were chilling and watching the game, a sight from that junky dining room caught my eye: a mouse running around and jumping in and out of boxes. Now I'm not afraid of mice, but like most everyone else, I hate them pesky little motherfuckers with a passion, and the sight of this particular little motherfucker cavorting around this woman's dining room like it was his personal playground was distracting the hell out of me. I briefly thought about saying something, but then thought the  better of it, and instead just repositioned myself on the sofa to try to get the dining room out of my peripheral vision and to focus on the game.
   Apparently I became a litte too focused a little on the game and not enough on my hostess, because at some point she got off the sofa, walked in front of the television, and started to do what I could only assume was intended to be a seductive dance, except that it was so bad that it was far more funny than sexy. As I sat there watching her - partly pissed because she was  blocking my view of the game, and partly amused by this woman's spectactularly bad dancing - I was suddenly startled by a mouse zipping out of nowhere, zooming under the coffee table that was between the sofa where I was sitting and the TV in front of which the woman was standing.
   I jumped in surprise, which in turn startled the woman, who apparently didn't notice the mouse. When I explained what happened, she laughed at my being scared of a "lil ol' field mouse". Before I could protest, she came back to the sofa and said, "give me a massage." Sheeeshh, can I just watch the game?
   So she stretched out on the sofa, and  I straddled her and began to massage her neck and back, while keeping an eye on the game. But even with my attention divided between the game and the massage, something didn't feel quite right; I had a feeling like someone or something was watching me. But I kept massaging and watching the game. Then when there was a timeout, I took my eyes of the TV and looked straight ahead...and there it was: another mouse, sitting up on the arm rest of the sofa, looking dead at me...
   I jumped and yelled, the woman jumped and yelled in response, and mouse jumped and took off - where I don't know...
"What happened?" the woman asked.
"You didn't see that mouse up on the sofa with us?" I responded, as I was putting on my shoes.
"No, I didn't. What are you doing? Where are you going?"
"I got to get the hell out of here!"
"Awww come on, I can't believe a grown ass man is scared of some field mice."
"Shit, I ain't scared of them, but what the fuck? What are they, your pets?" I asked as I reached for my coat.
"Come on, don't leave," she pleaded "We haven't even eaten yet."
Those were the last words I heard as I walked out the front door...

Kenneth Cole

   So I have a couple pairs of Kenneth Cole slacks that I recently bought, and they are some very nice slacks indeed. I love the cut and fit, the material, everything - except for one thing: what in the hell is up with these short-ass zippers??? Taking a leak shouldn't have to be a friggin' adventure,  but I swear, when I'm wearing these pants, it's like a damned fishing expedition. The shortness of the zipper makes reaching my hand inside a chore, and the fact that it ends at too high a location on the crotch means that the Angry Nerd's happier, cooler partner has to go through some unnecessary contortions just to make it to daylight. I wanna know what kind of teeny weenies was Mr. Cole designing these pants for? You better not have to pee real bad in these things, there might be some unhappy consequences...
   I had never thought about zippers much (or at all) when I purchased pants before, but you can rest assured I will be testing zipper length out from now on. The slightest bit of excessive maneuvering to reach in and free my partner means the pants go back on the rack (give us FREE!). In the meantime, I'm going to keep wearing my Kenneth Coles with pride; short zippers notwithstanding, they're nice slacks. I'll just be sure to limit my fluid intake on those days...
  

"The Dating Game", episode 2 - "Nasty Girl"

To read episode 1, click here

    I was driving on my way home from work during a heavy downpour, and I saw a mid-to-late-20s lady standing out on a bus stop trying in vain to protect herself and her child from the wind and rain. So, good guy that I am, I pulled over and offered them a ride, which she gladly accepted. The two of us had a very nice conversation as I drove her home; it turned out that she lived in an apartment complex a couple of blocks from me. When I pulled up in front of her building, it was still raining pretty hard, so we sat and talked some more until it let up.
   Before getting out of the car, she asked me what I was doing later that night; when I said I had no plans, she said she had planned on going out, but her babysitting arrangement fell through, so she invited me to come and chill with her, maybe have a few drinks and watch some movies. Since I wasn't doing anything anyway, and we seemed to have a little chemistry between us, it was a no-brainer to accept the invitation.
   So later that night I showed up at her place, after having stopped to pick us up something to eat and drink. She opened the door to her apartment, and it was DARK inside. I mean, can't see a damned thing dark. The only light at all was coming from the TV. She invited me in and took the stuff I bought to the kitchen while I staggered like a blind man towards the direction she told me the sofa was located. I figured she was trying to create some romantic vibe, but instead, it came off as kind of spooky or creepy, for some reason.
   I found the sofa, and sat down, and she came in shortly after with our food and drinks and scooted next to me. We started watching whatever movie that was already in progress on cable, and settled in and ate and drank and enjoyed each other's company. When the movie ended, she excused herself to go and check on her son, and invited me to change the channel and find us something else to watch. I fumbled and groped around in the dark for the remote, then finally I said, "screw it", managed to find the switch to the table lamp, and turned on the lights...and then:

"Awwwww, SHIT! What the fuck???"

   There were roaches...EVERYWHERE! Not just an isolated one here and there, but these lil' bastards were scurrying all around the room! I thought I was going to puke right then and there.
   She comes rushing out to the living room to find me doing some contorted, twitching, spastic dance as I tried to figure out if anything was crawling on me. "Are you all right?" she asked.
   "Uh, you got yourself a roach problem."
   "Oh yeah, I know. I just had somebody come in and spray."

(Somebody already sprayed??? THEY ALREADY SPRAYED? Well, what the hell did it look like in here BEFORE the spraying? What are these, BEBE's roaches? -- "They don't die, they MULTIPLY!")

   Needless to say, I was out the door in very short order. I got back to my place, stripped down, threw the clothes in the washing machine, took a loooong shower, and tried to forget the image of that creepy, crawly living room scene...

Tune in again for another episode of "The Dating Game" on ANTV (Angry Nerd Television)...

Conversations I've Overheard, 2nd Edition

Two high school boys are having a loud gripe session about life in general, and their mothers specifically:

Boy #1: "I can't stand my mother. She get on my fuckin' nerves, always up in my business, and tryna make me do a bunch of dumb shit."

Boy #2: "I know, right? My mother the same way. I can't stand her ass sometimes."

After the two of them recited a laundry list of the usual teenaged complaints, boy #1 said, "That bitch made me so mad today, I cussed her ass the fuck out!"

Boy #2: "Damn, what she say?"

Boy #1: "She started cussing and fussing, but I just walked the fuck out, 'cause she make me wanna hit her ass sometimes! Why she think she can be telling me how to run my life?"

Boy #2: "So what you gonna do?"

Boy #1: "Ionna, I'm 'bout ta go back up in there now...I wish my father wasn't in jail, because if he was out, I wouldn't need my mother for shit!"

Boy#2: "Word..."

Why did I get the feeling he and his father were going to be reunited soon - in one way or the other?

Baltimorons

Ah, Baltimore, my hometown: the history, the harbor, the neighborhoods, the RAVENS (and, ahem, the Orioles), the harbor, and...the CHARACTERS!

My hometown characters are a continual source of amusement. Some of my recent favorites:

1. The older gentleman in a wheelchair parked outside of Lexington Market directing drug traffic as he took user's money and directed them to the yo-boy around the corner. Meanwhile, folks are milling in and out of the market, and no one's paying any of this a  bit of mind (then again, at Lexington Market, so much other stuff is going on, it's hard to pick just one thing to be surprised, appalled, or amused by;
2. The crackhead-ish gentleman scurrying down Belair Road on a rainy afternoon using a giant umbrella from a patio furniture set to keep him dry. Now maybe it actually was his umbrella, but I'm suspecting some family was pissed that they were going to have to go and by another one;
3. The pretty young mother standing on a downtown corner on a beautiful late summer day, who had the top of her sun dress flipped down, with her infant snacking on one breast, while she covered the other with her hand (receiving blankets aren't that expensive, are they?), all the while carrying on a conversation like everything was everything;
4. The independent cigarette merchants on practically every corner selling "loose ones". Can you make a living off this?
5. The Patapsco Avenue hookers, with more teeth missing than present and accounted for. I'm guessing some of them have more crabs in them than in Curtis Bay. And not any amount of Old Bay would do anything for those crabs...

Just of few of my favorites; I'm sure I'll have  more to report later...

LMKIAs

"LMKIA" is my acronym for Loud Mouth Know It All. Everybody knows their (un)fair share of them. There are three types of LMKIAs:

1. Those who stick to pontification on selected subject(s) that they are very knowledgeable and/or passionate (and won't shut up) about;
2. Those whose intellectual curiosity has led them to acquire varying degrees of knowledge on an array of topics, and who will attempt to speak about any or all of them (regardless of actual level of knowledge) as if he/she was an expert (and who may also jump into discussions on topics about which they know nothing, yet try to speak as if they know everything); and...
3. Blithering idiots who don't realize it (or who DO realize it and try to compensate for it), and just have to be heard. About everything...

No matter the type of  LMKIA, they tend to exhibit many of the same behaviors:

• The LMKIA states his/her opinion(s) to any and everyone within earshot, in the manner of someone who is the ultimate authority on the subject (even if that subject is something he knows little to nothing about)
• The LMKIA tries to recruit people to his/her point of view, to be able to make the case that all those people can't be wrong (and an LMKIA with a particularly magnetic personality may already have a stable of friends ready to back his/her opinion on practically anything)...
• However, if the LMKIA can't recruit people to his side of a debate, then none of those people know what they are talking about... 
• The LMKIA loves to brag - after the fact - about having "predicted" or "called" certain events in the world of news, entertainment, or (especially) sports (regardless of whether anyone actually heard him/her do so)...
• The LMKIA loves to use terms that speak in absolutes (e.g., "real" or "true"or "best"). The only "real" or "true"or "best" entity that exists in an argument is the one which the LMKIA says is "real" or "true" or "best".
• Those who agree with the LMKIA "get it", and are good, intelligent people who are "being honest" with their thoughts. Those who don't: not so much...the idea that  decent, intelligent people can disagree agreeably is a foreign concept to the LMKIA. If you aren't on his/her side, then there is clearly something wrong with or about you... 
• The LMKIA deals with any dissenting opinion by becoming even louder, apparently with the belief that volume of voice = validity of opinions/comments...
• The LMKIA rarely lets little things like facts get in the way of sticking to a line of argument, if it is a topic about which he/she is especially passionate...
• The LMKIA is quick to fall back on abusive and/or circumstantial ad Hominem arguments, and perhaps even to straight out personal attacks, in the face of any invalid points being exposed...
• When proven to be right (and they often are), the LMKIA tends to be completely ungracious towards anyone who dared not go along with him/her right from the beginning...
• The LMKIA will not hesitate to offer unsolicited advice, even if the subject matter about which he/she is advising is a matter about which the LMKIA's own personal history and/or circumstances are more screwed up than the person's on the receiving end of the advice...

As I said, we all know our share of LMKIAs. How you choose to deal with them is up to you. If you choose to tangle with one who knows his/her stuff, just make sure you do too, because few things are more annoying than an LMKIA who is proven right in a debate. And if you are tempted to argue with an LMKIA who doesn't know what the heck he/she is talking about (and who is likely not to pay you any mind even if you do), then you have to decide whether you're wasting your time. Either way, keep the following quote in mind:

 "I learned a long time ago, never wrestle with a pig; you get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it." - George Bernard Shaw.

The question then is how much you feel like getting dirty at any particular time and place...

"The Dating Game", Episode 1 - "Lock Down"

   So I've been on my own for the last 10 years or so after over a decade and a half of "marital bliss" (I could take the time to calculate the percentage of blissful years versus the various stages of less-than-blissful, but I'm in a good mood today, so I don't feel like it). One thing I came to find out very early on was that the dating game these days is...whew, I don't even know what to call it...

So instead of trying to give it a name, I thought I'd occasionally pick one of my more "interesting" dating experiences and tell you about it...

Episode 1: "What had happened was..."

   So I connected with this woman through an online personal ad. After the preliminary phone chats and picture exchanges, we decided we would get together. I threw out a few ideas for places to go for a first date, but she insisted on just meeting me at her apartment and hanging out there.
  We met, talked, ate, listened to music, and had a great time, and over the next couple of weeks I came back several times to visit her and hang out. We never actually went out anywhere; we just spent time at her place, getting to know each other, and becoming more and more comfortable and cozy together.
   Then one evening, things progressed beyond cozy to hot and heavy, and soon she was leading me by the hand to the bedroom. There she did a slow striptease; off with her t-shirt, followed by her bra. My eyes then moved downward as  she slowly slid out of her pants, and then...wait - "what the hell is that???"
   "That" was a ankle monitor on her left ankle (and for those of you who thought the surprise was higher up on her body, I can only say that if that were the case, I would not be telling this story - EVER)...
   "Well, see what had happened was..." she started, and proceeded to tell a story of how her boyfriend was arrested for dealing drugs, and that because he had been using her car while doing some of his dirt, the car was seized and she was placed under house arrest.
   "Well at least now I know why you never wanted to go out," I said.
   "I know, I'm so sorry I didn't say anything before. Are you mad at me?"
   Well, let's see: I have a naked woman standing in front of me who wants me to join her. Plus, she's a cheap date, because she can't go out anywhere...
   "No, it's all right, I'm not mad."

   So for the next few months I made regular "visits" to go see my house arrest girl. Then one day she called me and uttered these fateful words: "My boyfriend is coming home from jail." Well now...
   Look, I'm not afraid of too many things, and I love a challenge, and I was certainly having fun with this woman, but did I like her enough to want to tangle with a newly released convict? Er...negative...Besides which, she referred to him as her "boyfriend", not an ex- or former boyfriend. and thinking back, she also called him "boyfriend" when she told me the whole story of how she ended up under house arrest. So basically I had just been um, filling in for him...

So we saw each other one last time, said our goodbyes, and off I rode into the sunset...

Tune in again for another episode of "The Dating Game" on ANTV (Angry Nerd Television)...
  

Angry Nerd's 7 Fashion Tips

1. If you have to keep adjusting your clothing, then you aren't wearing the right size...

2. Just because they make it in your size, doesn't mean you should go buy it...

3. Take an honest assessment of your body. Observe others with the same body type. If they look ridiculous wearing an outfit, it's almost certain you will too...

4. Remember your age...

5. It's called underwear for a reason...

6. Buying a "look" based on what a celebrity or TV/movie character is wearing? What are you, in high school?

7. Find yourself someone who won't be afraid to tell you when you're about to embarass  yourself by wearing something that makes you look like a damned fool...