Thursday, February 01, 2007

Rabbit! Rabbit!

According to Hoss, if you say "Rabbit Rabbit" at the beginning of the month, you'll have good luck all month.

Then again, it is me we're talking about here...this may blow up in my cute li'l face. But I'm willing to take that chance.

So Rabbit Rabbit! (Dammit, dammit!)

Yep, it's the first day o' February, and life is running wild as usual. The National Weather Service has issued a Winter Weather Advisory for this area, with snow/freezing rain predicted starting this afternoon. Sigh...the thought of winter in DC is happy and frightening all at once. I've told you several times about the fact that many folks aren't as used to snow as us hardy midwesterners/Northerners, so we'll see how this weekend pans out. I'm not real confident about the weather.

What's more, Valentine's Day is rearing its head. I've always had mixed feelings about this holiday. I've had my share of romantic V-Days and craptastic ones. But it makes me think about the pursuit of love in general. And with that, I've just been thinking about weird things regarding the pursuit of love, and all that it entails.

For example, a teacher I know back in Iowa (who, unfortunately, is also in the Rogues' Gallery as far as previous bed buddies of mine go) had some unrequited love for a local girl named Joni.

See, for some reason, it was OK in his head to "roger me roundly" - which, BTW, is my favorite quote from the SNL skit "Fred Garvin, Male Prostitute". In his narrow li'l uptight short-guy mind, conversely, I was not one that he would consider having anything beyond mindless sex with. Not sure if it was a Protestant/Catholic thing, or trying to protect his reputation as an educator, or what...all I knew is that he wanted me for the "bouncy-bouncy" and not for long, heartfelt talks about the meaning of life. That's what this Joni chick was supposed to be for.

Anyway, I stopped by his house one day (oddly enough, NOT for bouncy-bouncy). We were talking and what-not, and I looked at his kitchen table. His house was usually cluttered, but this sight was one that I was a smidge surprised about.

Description: Round kitchen table, with 10 empty beer cans, a pistol, and a Polaroid picture of a blond-haired woman.

My little brain was concocting a scenario worthy of Ann Rule. I could just see the back of the paperback cover now..."he was quiet, kept to himself...but no-one knew that this bassoon-playing band director lured women to his bachelor pad for their imminent demise."

I looked at the table, then squeaked, "Uh...Tom?"

"Yeah?" He was in the other room looking for something.

" there something you wanna...tell me?" I asked, gesturing toward his incriminating kitchen table.

He looked at me like I had two heads, then said, "What?"

"Dude," I explained, "You've got ten empty beer cans, a pistol, and a picture of a WOMAN on your table. Is there something I should know? Like, if I have to testify in COURT or something?"

Defensively, he shot back, "It's just an AIR pistol."

"Oh, like THAT justifies it?" I parried.

He and I bickered anyway, but my God...apparently, he seemed to think that since the ammo only lodged under the skin instead of hurtling through the body cavity that he was perfectly OK.

I had to say, "I know that it's an air pistol, you know that it's an air pistol. However, if you bring some other lovely lady in here to do the bouncy bouncy with, is SHE going to be as skilled in weaponry identification? I think NOT. She's gonna see the pistol, freak, and call 911. I don't have enough bail money saved in the sock under my mattress."

(It's amazing how much speechifying you have to do just to get a simple little point across.)

We got together a few times after that "incriminating table" incident, but I kept checking the table just in case. The "Joni" thing kind of fell through too. I heard he's on his second marriage to the OTHER girl he used to moon over whilst rogering me roundly, and I'm wondering if she has to check the kitchen table. Let's hope...SO.

So anyway...more Sudiehistory for ya...take it for what it's worth.