Monday, November 28, 2005

Thank You, Thank You

I'm currently giving thanks that Thanksgiving wasn't just okay, it was downright enjoyable. Early Thursday morning I joined the millions of Americans who usher in the holiday season with a short giblet fishing trip in Turkey Ass Cove. Insert "plastic bags" in the number one spot on the list of things I'm thankful for. Parting a sea of turkey skin and inserting one's hand into a clammy body cavity would be exponentially worse if the fleshy prizes contained within were naked. Naked and slimy, and goosepimply and pale.

Like old men getting out of a pool.

I took care of getting the turkey into the oven, but Brad cooked the rest of the dishes we served to our family members later that afternoon. Besides the turkey, we ate potato soup, buttered corn, stuffing, and cheese biscuits, then brownies and pumpkin bread for dessert. I believe even a few chocolate turkeys were beheaded before my family rolled out the door.

Besides the trip the Walshes and I took to Duvet on Thanksgiving night for a little Larry Tee Distortion Disko action, I didn't leave the house much during the long weekend. Brad and I headed into Williamsburg one night to try on some jackets at the secret, subterranean thrift store and to eat some surprisingly cheap Thai food at a deceivingly upscale looking restaurant. Other than that I was mostly couchbound until a Sunday evening trip to Target for the weekly essentials--markers, honey, a glass jug, some Red Bull, lace tights, etc. Though I missed my chance to spend Black Friday on a Walmart floor clutching an X-Box to my bosom under a barrage of trampling feet, I just couldn't seem to get off the couch while there was still a hunk of leftover pumpkin bread to be eaten and another disc of Strangers With Candy to watch.

Behind plastic bags on the Thanksgiving list, I need to add Netflix, the Ikea "Varnamo," and an increasingly lax cultural definition of sloth.

Brad went out on Saturday night with a friend, which left me with an empty apartment while possessed by my twice-yearly conviction that the internet is a really great way to meet people. Specifically men people. Midway through the Weekend Update I was not only positive that, at one in the morning on a Saturday, Craigslist was crawling with wonderful, eligible, intelligent guys, I was absolutely sure that all I had to do was cast my inescapable verbal net to catch a whole buttload of them. I had an ad posted before "Showtime at the Apollo" began, and started checking my e-mail account obsessively thereafter.

I was right about one thing. Craigslist is crawling with men at one in the morning on a Saturday. The rest of it, though, I'm chalking up to some tryptophan-induced fantasy, heightened by the new, cute guy on SNL.

My ad talked about crossword puzzles and reading. It was so nerdy it nearly gave me hives. I got back the following:

hi, I am a cute, SWM, young, healthy and fit. Would love to get together, spread your ass cheeks, bury my face deep inside and slide my tongue up and down your crack and in and around your rim...while fingering your hot, wet pulsating pussy...and then wait for your explosive squirting juices to shoot all over my face. Send me your pic and let's play today! This can be as often as you like it to be. This is my body pic...send yours

Let it be said that the "body pic" included is a camera phone photo of an ass. Just an ass. I was actually so curious about this guy's methods that I e-mailed him back.

Okay, seriously: does that ever, ever work?

To which he responded a few minutes later:

Doesn't it sound appealling

To which I answered:

About as appealing as having your asshole licked by a stranger.

I went on to ask him if he answers every ad like that, and point out that he might have more luck landing his tongue in a butt by the end of the evening if he focused his efforts on the "casual encounters" message board. He has yet to respond.

The other e-mails I got weren't all as filthy, but the majority were creepy. And sometimes, like frosting on the socially awkward cake, they were creepy and full of weird lies to get me to send my picture:

I'll be in New York Monday night the 28th and would like the opportunity to help you with your expenses. I'd like to meet you around 9:30PM for drinks and maybe more if there's a mutual attraction.

Sorry, can't send a pic cause my job requires a security clearance and I can't risk my photo showing up somewhere it's not supposed to be. Not saying I can't trust you be better for me to be safe rather than sorry.


There was also the guy who opened his e-mail by saying he had been injured by a Dora the Explorer balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, HAHAHA J/K LOL--which would've been funny had a wheelchair-bound child not been hurt by a rogue M&M balloon not two days before. There were copy and paste e-mails galore. There was a sharp spike in my junk mail and two viruses. There was what I thought seemed to be a normal guy in the mix, but after I sent him to my Myspace profile he stopped writing back.

[Which means he's either an asshole or terribly offended by girls profess an interest in Nuts 4 Nuts peanuts. I'm gonna go Anne Frank and choose the latter.]

C'est la vie. At least I've purged myself of the internet dating bug for another six months. And, most importantly, I can add "the veil of anonymity" to my Thanksgiving list. Way, way high up there.

2 Comments:

Anonymous anonymousmom said...

yeah, so i was gonna hang around and help you with the dishes... but i didn't want to.

dishes all done yet? or did you hide them under your bed. oh yeah, you can't do that - hiding in plain sight.

are they under brad's bed?

thanks for a lovely holiday - i thoroughly enjoyed myself and loved hanging out with the rest your family.

back to work and the real, real world. dammit.

9:39 AM  
Blogger DMo said...

I was reading the latest post, got somewhere around the "squirting juices" when a co-worker leaned over my cube and called my name. I jumped about 6 inches.

Now I feel dirty. Thanks a lot, Kathy. Thanks for all the filth.

12:40 PM  

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