Archive for the ‘walking’ Category

the british guy in the park

August 2, 2009

It all started with this tree to be honest….

British Men Like Trees by you.

I had just spent the last couple of hours with my mother.  I had dreaded the day. She was bringing back a cat, aka the Scourge from Hell, she had adopted from the humane society back in June. I had had to listen to the daily horror stories of broken dishes and lamps and bites to the head and how she was jumping on top of the refrigerator knocking things over as well as constantly running between her feet as she walked. Now my mom is 81 and not very stable as it is and I was literally waiting for the “witty (sob, sob), I just fell and broke my hip” call. As it was, she had already wrenched her back trying to avoid stepping on the cat in her bedroom a couple of weeks ago. So this last week, she finally wisely decided to take the cat back. Oh the guilt! But I told her, perhaps a little too snappishly, that this one was just too active for someone of her age.

So I brought Guardcat’s cat cage over to her house since the cardboard one they had given her back in June had only contained “Psycho”  for only about 1 minute and then she had escaped, as in she had jumped up on the dash board and was running around the vehicle at about 250 mph  in traffic. Its truly amazing my mom didn’t crash her car.

So the day was rough. My mom was crying…that is until we went to the humane society and she was able to play with about 45 cats in two large rooms for about an hour and a half. She kept saying she wanted “pretty cats” instead of  the “compatible” cats. Isn’t that what dudes say, Mom? Anyways, she eventually went home empty handed, but hopefully she’ll come to her senses and get one of the older cats who will sit and watch “American Idol” with her.

Anyways, after all the emotional turmoil in the afternoon with my mom and jumping over cats of every size and shape at the humane society (and yes, of course I totally love cats and played with lots of them), I really needed to take some time to regroup.

I’ve been very very very stressed out about losing my disability recently. “A”, after one appointment after a year on Tuesday, said I’m all better mentally evidently and said if asked by the government, he will tell them accordingly. If I lose my disability, I will also lose my health insurance and when you have cancer, or  at least the possibility of it and have to go get $3300 x-rays every 3 months (along with a myriad of other appointments), the thought of losing your insurance is pretty fucking  scary. So I’ve been crying ever since he sent me an e-mail to that effect Wednesday afternoon. Thanks “A”.  

So I went to our nearby lake for a walk. It was really busy because it was a beautiful summer day. Naturally I had my camera with me. Its like permanently attached to my hand, kinda like you yuppies and your cell phones.

Anyways, I saw this tree (see above). Recently when I was in my nekkid drawing class I had been bored drawing this certain model who was standing there with her arms raised above her head. Sometimes witty is naughty. She’ll do things like draw horns or spikes on models or write something like “I wonder if I have a spine” down the back of a male model. Anyways, with this particular model I had drawn her arms raised upwards and then started adding branches growing out of her body, kinda like a naked model tree!

And I wasn’t even stoned!

I actually liked the idea so much I’ve been thinking of doing a painting. Anyways this tree looked a lot like that particular drawing. The shape was almost identical. So I was standing there shooting the photo when suddenly I hear this male voice with an English accent say, “Why are you photographing a tree?” It startled me 1) because, as you know if you’ve read me for a while, I think that I’m invisible, so when somebody acknowledges that I’m there, I’m usually pretty startled 2) He was way closer than I realized, as in standing right next to me.  3) What a strange question to ask. I’m just photographing a tree.

And before I knew it, this tall British guy, who I had actually seen sitting on a bench when I sat down just five minutes earlier,  was standing RIGHT THERE and he was incredibly verbose, telling me he was a writer, and then breaking out into this  lengthy hilarious “Roses are read, violets are green…” poem about a shopkeeper breaking dishes and cats jumping over taxis. Who knows. He even managed to interject the word “genitalia” in there, although I can’t remember in what context. I was just standing there with my camera nervously clutched in my hand, looking at him, wondering what part I was playing in  all this. He then  wanted to guess what astrology sign I was and actually nailed it. Aquarius. WTF! I said I thought he was probably a Gemini because he talked so much. He said I was close He was on the cusp of Gemini and Cancer. He asked what I did. My stock answer now is “artist”. I don’t actually make my living at it, but its my vocation. And he asked about that. How can you make a living at art?

Pretty cheeky there, Brit Boy! How do you know I’m not like some famous woman tree photographer or Picasso’s great step-grand niece.

He was talking so fast and fluidly and leaping from subject to subject, I was having a bit of a problem keeping up. There was a brief jaunt into psychotherapy. My quote: “Therapists are paid friends”. He didn’t agree. He wondered how hard it would be to find an illustrator for his children’s book.  Are you trying to pick me up, dude? I mean, professionally? And then we were talking about biorhythms. I wondered aloud why mine were always below the line instead of  above the line. He didn’t know.  And then he asked me what I was doing with my life.

Yikes? Do I even know? True I just got a letter which has given me a full grant for 2 classes a semester through Spring of 2010 towards my long awaited Bachelor’s degree in art. But instead I chose to remain mysterious. I told him I was walking. Just walking. I think he was perplexed. Or maybe that I was really deep or something. Or was possibly that I was just avoiding the real question since I didn’t know who the hell this British Guy was or why  he was asking me all these probing questions.

He then asked me to sit down. The blissful, we-just-met-and-this-is-going-well did slow down noticeably when we sat. In fact, there was like a full moment of silence. I could feel the breeze blowing off the lake through my hair. Fortunately he finally started chatting again about the boats out in the lake. I told him I liked kayaking. He said his kids “liked to fucking jet ski since it was better than talking to each other. ”

I then noticed he started patting the pocket in his shirt intermittently. I knew what that meant. Pat, pat, pat. We chatted a little more. Pat, pat, pat. And then he said, “Do you smoke?” and I said, “No.” and he said, “I better go.” A whole relationship played out in a matter of 15 minutes. The blush of first love. Intense interest in what each other has to say. Sitting down, as familiarity takes hold, talking like an old married couple. And then the one thing we always knew we never had in common, suddenly hits our “relationship” like a meteor and it was over!

He never even asked me my name.

In other news, I had some guy with a blue painted face come up to me at an art’s festival last weekend. He asked if I wanted to come paint a man in this certain art gallery. I know the gallery. The woman who runs it had actually expressed some interest in my work last November and was going to come to my house to look at my work but then I got the cancer and we never connected. Naturally I said yes. I always want to paint men. 🙂

So I went up to the gallery. Little did I know that I was going to…well you’ll see…

365.3/125 Man-paint Bokah 

actually paint a man.  See, if the damn British Guy had played his cards right….


Letting people from England sleep in your house

April 17, 2009

 I remember the first time I met somebody from blogdom, I was a wreck. Oh dear….what would they think of me? How could I possibly live up to the much more interesting and funny awittykitty? I couldn’t obviously. I’m a writer, not an interesting person. I mean, we all look better in print, don’t we? Cuter.  Wiser. More together. Or if we’re angsty, at least hopefully, funnier in my case.

My first meet, of course, was the lovely BlueMeany. We realized after reading each other’s blog that we lived in the same town, so on one of her trips home from Iraq, we met at a restaurant known for hotdogs. Conversation was easier than expected and despite the twenty some year difference in age, we hit it off well enough to meet on her subsequent visits home. I mean, I’ve been to her parents house. We went to see Bob Dylan. She’s been to my art class.  We even had lunch again last week.

 I’ve met other bloggers like Kathyesque and ArtGnome and Ann from Massachusetts, all of whom are pretty much like their blogs. Kindred spirits. Some bloggers have photos, some don’t, so its always a surprise when you meet the ones who don’t. I never told you this Kathy, but when I met you and your friend at the Finger Lakes I didn’t know which one you were for about the first 20 minutes. Gah! My fault. Short attention span during intros.

 Well, on Sunday, I took this meeting people from blogs one bold step further. Not only did I meet one of my blog people. I met someone from a blog AND a foreign country and then they stayed at my apartment for 3 days. Oh my frooking god! Can you believe it? Yeah, me neither. That was quite a leap of faith for a person afraid of lint. But somehow I knew it would work. It was the lovely Annanotbob who arrived this past Sunday night and we got along so famously, we may possibly have to adopt each other or have our cats become penpals or something.

 I figure its because we’re both artsy hippie types with cats, who like Scrabble and politics and who enjoy going for walks and taking photos.

 I didn’t want to tire Anna out too much, but I did want to show off yuppieville in all its Springtime-blooming glory. Fortunately she managed to catch a nice stretch of weather (it snowed last week, but was sunny and in the 60’s this week). We walked up around our local lake, hit the trail along the Erie, went to some funky shops down in the hippy part of town, drew a nekkid model at my drawing class and even spotted a banner down at the local university frat house advertising “The Penis Monologues”.  It was a reallllllly BIG banner, but you know how guys are.

 Oh, and I’m sure the highlight ,as she has written, was meeting the ever-fluctuating supernova of effervescence Charlemagne, who definitely needed to be hit in the head  with a Buick the night of our art class. Why? Well, we can start with him arriving about 23 minutes late, as in about seven minutes before the class was due to start, leaving me in a high state of stress. How high? Well, as I was digging through my little book of phone numbers to call him and ask him where the hell he was, I accidentally called “A”s private cell phone number and got his answering machine. I didn’t even realize it was “A”s voice on the answering machine as I was snarling, “Its almost 7, WHERE ARE YOU???? ARE YOU SLEEPING????? YOU NEED TO GET DOWN HERE!!!!!!” Or something to that effect.

 And right then Charlemagne came pounding up the stairs in a mad sweat.  In the meantime, “A” called back on the guy’s cell phone I had borrowed, wondering who was calling…although I figure he probably recognized my voice and Charlemagne’s name. I didn’t talk to him though. The cell phone guy answered his own phone and told “A” he had the wrong number. Heh! Whoops.

But I think Anna really enjoyed the art class and I was really happy she got to meet all my art friends. They were all really fascinated with her lovely British accent. In fact, they all seemed to gather around her like she was Helen Mirren showing off her Oscar or something.

 There were some other wonky things going on during the three days, like I lost my brand new credit card and had to go to the bank and cancel it. My internet service went out and is still out. And Guardcat was like in a trance the entire three days, staring up at Anna like she was Norman Bates in “Psycho”. That was so rude, Guardcat. She loves kitties, and was so nice to you, scratching you on your chin and all.

I guess the biggest non-guest news since I last wrote  was that the devious and evil Garden Hacker Guy, who caused me so many problems about two years ago (stalking, slashing my tires twice, calling the police on me, etc.) got evicted from the Crazy Hilton this week.

Can we get a Thanka Jeeezus!?!?!

Oh man, hearing that news made my heart leap so high! He hadn’t been quite so obnoxious this last summer, but I had never been able to use my back porch with all the problems in the previous years and its a very pleasant porch (Anna will attest to this) and now, hopefully, I will be able to paint on it this summer, especially since I just got the news that I will have another one woman art show at the library across the street in 2010. 

Anyways, his official eviction was Wednesday, but what was weird was that I got to go into his creepy dungeon of doom apartment Tuesday morning. I heard this knock and my neighbor two doors down asked if I wanted to go get some free potted plants. I always want anything free, so I quickly got dressed and we went downstairs and I went into Garden Hacker Guy’s apartment (he’s, ummm, sorta, ummm, incapacitated –cough– right now, as in a SWAT team was last seen descending on our apartment complex last week with guns drawn. Eep!). 

Anyways, it was just as uber-serial killer creepy as imagined. All the windows had black plastic over them. Filthy carpet. Metal poles hanging by wires from the ceiling with huge plants hanging from them and potted plants all over the floor. Considering he was a garden hacker outside, the plants inside were in incredibly gorgeous shape.

Let’s just call this….the End of an Era and hope that no other wack-a-doo’s move in, mmm’kay?

I really had a blast with Anna! Thanks again for making, making new “Real Life” friends so darn easy, my dear. I may just try and do it again! Imagine!


(I didn’t have any photos of the two of us together….so this is Anna looking pretty in pink at our local funky clothes store)

the creepy guy on the trail and guardcat’s fall fashion debut

August 15, 2008

Talk about a full day this weekend. Okay, a full day for me, the person who generally sleeps until almost noon (except for the part where I get woken up every single frickin’ morning by my idiot neighbor Garden Hacker who thinks he’s at Starbucks and chats very loudly under my bedroom window at 7:45 a.m. to everyone going off to work). I’ll then barely climb out of bed and make a grill cheese at exactly 12:07 and watch the Noon News, already in progress. And then onto “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” (Me! Me!! Me!!!) and all the other mindless crap shows the rest of the day, sitting on the couch like an Irish Buddha, with my remote switching back and forth between Court TV, Oprah, Phil, Ellen (though briefly, because I’m not a big fan) and then its dinner, a walk, night time television and my one brief human interaction with my Mom at midnight on the phone and then bed. 
Isn’t that exciting? Don’t you just want to fly in from your location and trade lives with me? Of course there are those terribly exciting adventures I have on my walks. Like the other evening at dusk. Let’s call it “The Freak Who Nearly Scared the Pee Out of Witty.”

Now I’ve been walking along the canal for almost 12 years now. It is a beautiful location with lots of nature and birds and trees and of course the canal. I always feel safe there. I’ve walked there at all different times of the day (except early morning…are you paying attention? I get up at noon…remember??), all different seasons and with all different people. 
This last weekend we had some big thunderstorms. The clouds were stunning. I am an avid photographer. I always have my camera with me. So when the rain stopped, I decided to run over to the canal to photograph the big thunderheads against a natural backdrop. It was around dusk.
So I’m walking along the trail. La, la, la. I generally walk with my head down. I know. My bad. I did happen to look up just in time to see this scrabbly looking guy walking towards me. He had long stringy hair and was also walking with his head down, thus making his face hard to see. He was about 150 feet ahead of me on the trail. Suddenly he turned sideways and appeared to be taking a leak. RIGHT THERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING TRAIL. Like WTF? That was creepy. Naturally, I slowed down considerably since god forbid,  I should walk in, on his pee break in the middle of the fucking public nature trail.  


So he finally finished his business, I guess, since he turned and started walking towards me once again. We passed on the trail and I was glad to be past him. You know, as in Bye-bye, Mr. Pee-Right-In-Front-Of-Me-ON-the-TRAIL-You-Fucking-Perv.  So I started to walk a little faster, you know, to get AWAY from him and just hopefully enjoy the rest of my walk. 
I then did something I don’t normally do. I guess it was just the weird circumstances, perhaps. Because after walking about another 100 feet, I shot a glance over my shoulder, and  Pee-Boy who was still walking, suddenly and rather abruptly stopped and turned around and was now walking up behind me.
So I kept walking for a short time, totally aware of where he was, since I could hear the crunch of the rocks under his shoes. I then stopped and pretended to take a photo of some prehistoric turtles in the canal or some god damn thing. I don’t know. I was glued to the spot to be honest, since he was nearly upon me. Having been a victim of rape, once upon a time, I do tend to be a little hypersensitive about situations like this, especially when there are only two of us on the trail and he just seemingly peed in front of you…ya know.  So I finally just turned around and started to walk back towards HIM and the cars, just as he passed me.
See, two can play at this game. Although I felt like saying something like “Top of the evening, asshole” or “I’ve got pepper spray and you’re about 2 seconds away from getting a nostril full”, but I truly didn’t know how he’d react, especially since we were the only people on the trail.  So I once again passed him and nervously looked over my shoulder and guess what? Go ahead, guess! Yeah, Pee-Boy decided to make his THIRD directional change and was AGAIN walking up behind me.   

So did I walk fast? Let’s just say I would have definitely won the Gold Medal for the Chubby White Girls Walking Fast event.
I did finally get back to the old Subaru. Once there I took two quick photos of the cars in the parking lots and their license plates. How totally “MacGiver” of me, huh?  But I was scared he’d see me doing that and try to chase me down or something, so I didn’t look back that last time. My heart was pounding too hard. I just jumped into my car and tore out of that parking lot and went the long way home. Like through Canada. 

And people wonder why I don’t leave my house much.

In other news…better news, I was cleaning out my closet when I came across a binder from a “Women in Business” seminar I had attended last Spring. It really didn’t have anything I was interested in. Its not like I’ll ever be in business or anything. But as I was looking through it briefly a little tiny white tee-shirt fell out. And then I remembered that the woman who started the “Stuff a Stuffed Toy” stores had spoken at the seminar. So I held the shirt up and said, “Oh Guardcat….”

Okay, I’m fairly certain I’ve now cemented my place in Middle Aged Crazy Cat Ladydom, by what happened next. Yes, within seconds I had Guardcat in a total head lock (she’s not a real Hold Me-Give Me a Kiss type of cat). Once I got the shirt on her….AND IT WAS A PERFECT FIT TOO!!!…I had the longest most solid, 10 MINUTE  belly laugh I’ve had in probably 10 years. Why? Because there was Guardcat walking around on the kitchen counter like some surly Sumo Wrestler. Talk about pissed.  Eventually though, she finally got used to the tee-shirt and was soon prancing around the apartment like some uber feline pilate instructor. The only problem now is that she wants me to take her to Target for a new Fall wardrobe.

Cats in Shirts....its all the rage by you.

Does this pilate shirt make my head look too big?

the owl and the wittycat

August 5, 2007

If you’re going to have company visit from another part of the country, its always good to make arrangements for the worst possible weather possible so that when they leave they can say, “Gee honey, aren’t we glad we don’t live where witty lives, since it was hotter than Satan’s nipple.”

Yeah, my friends finally got here from California. Tuesday? No. Wednesday? No. By then I was really starting to get worried and wrote her daughter an e-mail and asked her if she knew where they were, since 1) I was worried 2) I had canceled a Doctor’s appointment Tuesday afternoon in anticipation for their arrival 3) I had bought additional food for additional people.

I finally decided to just go to my art class Wednesday night since it seemed like they weren’t coming, but when I got home at 11 there were two messages on my machine. “Hi, we’re in Niagara Falls today. It was fun. We’ll be there sometime tomorrow” with “sometime” apparently being the operative word. 

Because then she called again the next morning at 9 a.m. and said they were just leaving Niagara Falls and would be there in 2-3 hours. 4:30 that afternoon I was still sitting in my apartment wondering if, in fact, they HAD fallen into some watery vortex and ended up in Newfoundland. She finally called around 5 and said they were close to where I lived and could I suggest a place they could eat. I politely asked if I was invited.

Hell, I didn’t know. 

She said of course I was. Of course I did have to drive across the city to meet them and that’s when I realized it was the hottest freaking day of the year. It was a 100 degrees with health and smog alert advisories.

So I found them in the restaurant….”S”, her idiot husband Bob, her grown son and his two kids, ages 2 and 5. They had already eaten by time I got there, but I wasn’t about to give up a free meal.

It was great seeing “S” though. We hugged. Bob kind of tilted his head down in apparent shame for badmouthing New York. And let me tell you…I let him have it every chance I got.

“So did you guys get car-jacked…you know, since you were driving through New York today?” Yeah, I was a total asshole. Yay me! 🙂

I did reiterate how small my apartment was, while I was eating, because I could just see 5 additional people jammed into my apartment and how nightmarish it would be. Especially with two pre-K kid running around banging on the piano and grabbing Guardcat’s tail. I already pay for one shrink bill. I don’t need another one for the cat.  

So the son took the kids to a hotel near the airport and then him, Bob the Goofball and I were off to K-Mart since his son’s luggage was already winging its way to SFO and he was without clothes, food, diapers or formula for the kids. (Long story. Boring)

And it was at that point I remembered why I never liked Bob. Ever. I mean ever. He probably was very good looking when he was young. He’s now 68 and still looks pretty good for an old guy, which apparently is his license to hit on every.YOUNG.breathing.woman he comes in contact with.

So we go to K-Mart, right? His son goes off in search of underwear and diapers and Bob, who was dressed like he was going to a Beach Boy’s reunion concert (Hawaiian shirt left open to show off his white wifebeater and khaki shorts) starts chatting with these two very young K-Mart employees. They had to still be teenagers. And he’s like “So, I just flew in from California (heh, heh). I’m going to be casting a movie I’m making (heh heh). Yeah, I make movies….rec-reational movies (wink, wink).”

I pretty much thought I was either going to have to kick him in the balls or kick him in the balls, since these were only very young girls and that’s all the kind of crap he used to say to me when I would go to their house in my early 20’s. He was always leering at me and winking and flexing his arm muscles and rubbing my back. Ick! I had been offered a chance to move in with them a few years ago, but being in the same house with Mr. Skeevy just never sounded doable. Fortunately the girls laughed and walked away. Naturally later the cashier, who wasn’t even 18 (he asked!), got a dose of Sleaze Bob Sponge Pants too. Poor girl.  I’ll just fast-forward through the rest of Bob in the car stuff and say I was glad to get back to the hotel room where my friend “S” was with her two rambunctious grandkids.

So we left her son and kids there and she went in my car with Bob following. Oh! So many opportunities to lose him as I drove through our thriving metropolis. He even honked once when I had the wrong directional on. The nerve! We finally got back here and they brought up so much luggage it looked like they were staying for a week. Guardcat, of course, immediately hid under my bed in stark terror.

Humans! In witty’s apartment? Wtf??

Fortunately after talking for about an hour, Bob trundled off to bed, making sure I saw him in his awesomely manly pajama bottoms and wifebeater. Woo! Then S and I could finally talk. It was nice catching up on our similarly dysfunctional family units.

I was also happy that she finally got to see my artwork. She hadn’t visited since I had started doing art. She said she was perplexed at how I could have so many talents…writing, art, photography and yet feel so unconfident. But her pep talk made me feel really good. And it also felt good to have a friend who I know loves me unconditionally. They did leave the next morning, but not before I put Mr Macho to work doing small menial tasks around my apartment like getting my living room window unstuck and replacing smoke alarm batteries. Heh!

It finally cooled off today fortunately! I had a board meeting with my art group at a small funky coffee house down in the artsy hippie part of town. When I went in the unisex bathroom before the meeting, they had a small delicately crafted needlepoint up on the wall that said “Have a Nice Poop.” Pretty classy, huh?

And then I drove over to my favorite lake tonight for a hike after dinner. I hadn’t been over there in about a week and really wanted to take advantage of the nice evening. 

When I got there, I bumped into a guy from our art class board who wasn’t at our board meeting today. He had skipped out for a much higher cause….a meeting for a charity event. He made sure I knew that too. And then his wife asked me what kind of car I had. I said it was a Subaru and she put her hand on her hip and said, “Wow, that sure is old!”

She could have at least added “piece of crap” And then “And I can’t believe its still running” And then maybe finished up with “And I bet its contributing royally to global warming with that hole in its muffler!”

I didn’t really have an answer for her other than nodding silently with a striken look of shame. Yup. Its old all righty!

I finally got started on my hike and stopped when I saw a small group of people gathered looking up. Yeah, I always fall for that too. I finally asked what we were looking at and it was some big white owls in the trees. I told the woman I had never seen any owls before and I hiked there all the time. She said she was from Chicago and this was her first visit and those were her sons photographing the owls, etc. etc. And then this runner guy stopped and he was looking up there too and then we all were chatting a little.

I finally continued on but noticed I really had to pee. I mean REALLLLLLY!!!!!! As in I was walking along thinking…eeeeee…I wonder if I could wander off the trail and squat. Or maybe surreptitiously kick off my panties and just sort of trickle (I was wearing a sundress). Or maybe even just step into the lake and become one with the water. Because I was really starting to feel in-pain. And I was about a half mile from the bathrooms. Argh!

So I quickly turned around and headed back. When nobody was walking towards me, I’d even hold myself. Yeah, that’s how serious it was. Ow! And then I came upon that runner guy again. He was still standing in the same place, looking up at the owls. And gee, suddenly I was looking at him and he looked pretty damn delicious.

 Mid to late 40’s. Dark salt and pepper brown hair…tousled. Dark eyes. Gold rimmed glasses. Shorts.



So I stopped. Pee-pain notwithstanding and said, “So, is the owl still up there?” Knowing, of course, full well that Mr. Owl was still flying around making owl love calls or whatever-da-fuck because I could hear him. He said yes and then he looked over at me, apparently in my chestal area, and said, “I really like your necklace.”

Ok “A”, I was doing perfectly wonderfully until we switched from the subject of owls to the subject of my chestal area. Because then I stumbled. Totally. And he wasn’t be lascivious about it. Not like Sleaze Bob Square Pants. He just made a remark. But I was too nervous to look down and see if he had on a wedding band, because it might look like I was checking something else out. And if he WAS available, I would be all blushing and fumbling and speaking in tongues, but not in a cute way, but more in a “Uh oh, I think this woman is having a seizure I better call 911”  way.

So I think I curtly said, “Thank you” which spoke volumes, I’m afraid.  I didn’t mean to say it like that. It was just the pee-pain talking. Honest! And then suddenly I couldn’t think of anything else to say about those damn owls, like “Oh, they’re so cute.”(like for the 47th time in a row…think Tourettes Syndrome to the nth power) or “Gee, I hope my camera gets a good shot of those owls 7500 yards away. ”

He even gamely said, “I wish we had owls in the city to catch rats.” I looked at him and saw OUR whole life together flash before my eyes. Him and I lolling around in bed reading the New York Times together on Sunday morning. Driving up to the Adirondacks in the Fall. Going down to New York City to see a Broadway Show. And the sex!!! Oh my God, the sex!!! I figure runners are great in bed, since they have all that god damn stamina.

But then I was abruptly yanked back to reality by that damn squawking owl and was still standing there like a dork, trying to make conversation with this really good looking guy who was actually making an effort to make conversation with me, all while I was nearly passing out from a pee-induced coma.

nothing. I couldn’t think of anything else to say or any reason to be there other than he could be my ultimate soul mate who may own a Mercedes/yacht/mansion and love the fact that I am one of those “common people” that william shatner and joe jackson so lovingly sing about.  nothing.

I finally just said, “Enjoy” and walked away. After a short walk, I finally got to the bathroom. There was a line. I got in and there was no toilet paper, so I gathered up like two single sheets that were still gamely hanging off the end of the cardboard roll and tried to crumple them into a ball. crumple, crumple, crumple.  

As you can see, my life continues to go very well.