Bingo was mediocre last evening, so I did not go to the bookstore. In fact, I lolled around all day. Theresa and I had talked about going downtown to a symphony in the park but it started to rain. That is the one thing that keeps me off my bicycle, which is still the best way to get downtown from here.Sadly and expectedly, Hi did not call for our scheduled first music meeting. This is what you get in the music business. People only see the finished product as a priority. This pushes my new solo act, the one I’ve been planning for a year, back into center ring. While I can’t waste any more time, right now I don’t have the cash for the new equipment I need. I am finally admitting I have to sing myself, and find 30 songs I can sing regardless of whether I actually like any of those songs.
Pudding-Tat has been outside for a week. Theresa gave all the cats a flea treatment and Pudding totally dislikes that. She’s disappeared before, only this time it appears one of the neighbors is feeding two or three outdoor cats. I doubt they are feral in this area, but they do get to fighting early some mornings.
During the day, I had the TV on and watched a few programs. The number and quality of commercials has truly passed into the realm of disgusting. All time program lows must include “Axmen”, a series about fat lumberjacks, and “Deadliest Catch”, about fishermen in Alaska. Couple that with Andy Griffith, M*A*S*H, and Monster Quest, and it is no wonder the world sees America as mindless do-nothings. I cannot believe the number of talk shows with 30-something women talking about dates and relationships and generally behaving like teenagers. Worse, they obviously find men who put up with it.
Theresa made dinner, with chicken wings and mashed. I love home cooking, maybe a little too much. She reports one of her exes went from a 29 inch waist to 39 in eight years. Hell, if I ever settle down, I could do that in eight months.
JZ has been working a steady job now for six years, meaning he is happy with it. Great, I knew he’d find something. That also means as soon as my ship comes in, we’ll be carousing about again. He likes the big women, I like the skinny ones; I’m reminded of the days we used to attend those “Lock and Key” events. For you newcomers, it is a private party where the women wear a small lock on a chain as a necklace, and the guys all get some random keys. If you unlock the right woman, your names go in for a raffle.
Mind you, it is always somebody on the inside that wins the cruise, but what a great party. You see, over age 32, the women outnumber the men, and even better, the women pay something like $40 admission. (So if they don’t score, they learn what it is like to waste money trying, a lesson most of them desperately need in the first place, and they surely don’t like it.)
In theory, the men pay $20 but as soon as bachelors like JZ and I show up, they pull us in the door for free, even gave us free drink tickets. This is the party we had 19 women in a ring around our table begging us to dance (after I put on a show with the first one). JZ and I made a pact to look out for each other. That’s the same party one of the ladies we had earlier nicknamed “Yogi Bear” was trying to pull him into her hotel room. Thank goodness I weighed slightly more than her and grabbed his other arm. JZ is helpless around women.
[Author’s note: my standards may be higher than average, in that I expect all people (male or female) over 32 to have a job, a car and a career before they go looking for marriage. The reality is if there had been even one decent woman at any of those parties, we would be together today. The prettier the package, the poorer the product, and while the women at these outings were probably the best this town has to offer, I was horrified by the lack of quality and accomplishment.]
