Rocking my world
This weekend started out very strangely. The hot water tap in my bathtub has been leaking for some time and I had asked Michael to help me fix it. By “help” I mean I asked Michael if he could fix it while I watched… or possibly napped. He agreed to come over after work on Friday. After I returned home from work on Friday there was a knock on my door. I open it and there is a rather attractive man standing there and he says “Hi. I’m the plumber,” to which I stare dumbly at him. How can he be the plumber? I didn’t call for a plumber. Why is he here? Can he fix my hot water tap? Is he really a stripper? Is this kismet’s way of saying I’m supposed to marry him? Is that an earring? It turns out that a pipe burst in my downstairs neighbors’ apartment so he was repairing it, and in the meantime I couldn’t use my washroom sink or tub. No problem. So he (Dan) is up and down the stairs testing the pipe, testing the overflow thing in my tub, yadda yadda. I ask him if, since he is here and has actually laid hands on it several times, he could fix my leaky hot water tap. He says no, he is already late for another appointment but gives me his card. Super. Finally he leaves and Michael shows up and I relay the whole unfortunate series of events to which Michael, tools in hand, keeps asking “There was a plumber. Here? Just now. There was a plumber?”. I guess the only kismet was that Michael was truly supposed to fix my hot water tap. Which he did, so all is now aligned within the universe. Not.
The next day I met JupiterGirl for another enjoyable evening of Jazz at the Cellar. We decided the Cellar is a really cool place to go on a date. We decided it would be really cool if we could find dates. JupiterGirl had a scotch which I thought was grown up and sophisticated. I felt that perhaps the Shirley Temples that I had been drinking were a bit frivolous. We then decided go for a drink so we took a meander down Broadway. Last time we had gone to the Copper Tank and as we walked past there again it reminded me of Darby’s on UFC night: full of attractive young men. I balked. I couldn’t do it. We went to Calhoun’s where JupiterGirl yawned a lot and there were a lot of lone men on laptops. So much for trying to put on a confident front…
Sunday was good. Big D came over and I lugged my laptop over to Esquire’s with him. I told him that I had sent a smile to a guy on Friday and was dying to know if he had smiled back (Lavalife is both addicting and revolting). Of course he had not. Why would he? What the frick? As I lamented about the lack of attention (from young, hot men) I’m getting on LL, I get a smile from a 58 year old who wants me to ask him how he is going to rock my world and says he can’t wait to see my backstage pass. Big D looked concerned “What is he talking about: a backstage pass?”. I explained that no, this did not mean that he wanted to see my derriere, rather a backstage pass is the additional photos of you on your profile that you can allow someone to view. Then we made jokes about how this 58 year old was going to rock my world. He was going to rock it with: Viagra; Geritol; false teeth; a bad hip. He was going to rock it slowly and carefully. He would rock it after Matlock. And so on and so forth. Big D then told me about some of the come ons that he gets on his online chat rooms. I can’t repeat them here and I was a little bit scared.
Later that day I went to visit P and we went to an Indian restaurant for dinner where they played the Salami song over and over. It goes like this: “Hey… salami. Hey… salami”. I think it did pretty good on Z95’s top seven at seven. I wonder what they are like in concert. P confessed that she is addicted to watching Smallville and I was like “loser, you need to get a life” and then I looked at my watch to see how much time I could spend on Lavalife when I got home and still get a good night’s sleep. I told her that Smallville is taped in BC (Chilliwack, I believe) and asked her if she was recognizing any of the Canadian landmarks, like fundamentalist Christians and neo-Nazis.
When I got home I smelled like curry. I played around on Lavalife while watching Old School and wondered if I would come across a Luke Wilson look alike. Sadly, no. I ate a KitKat bar and went to bed. He could rock my world. After soup and before my nap…
The next day I met JupiterGirl for another enjoyable evening of Jazz at the Cellar. We decided the Cellar is a really cool place to go on a date. We decided it would be really cool if we could find dates. JupiterGirl had a scotch which I thought was grown up and sophisticated. I felt that perhaps the Shirley Temples that I had been drinking were a bit frivolous. We then decided go for a drink so we took a meander down Broadway. Last time we had gone to the Copper Tank and as we walked past there again it reminded me of Darby’s on UFC night: full of attractive young men. I balked. I couldn’t do it. We went to Calhoun’s where JupiterGirl yawned a lot and there were a lot of lone men on laptops. So much for trying to put on a confident front…
Sunday was good. Big D came over and I lugged my laptop over to Esquire’s with him. I told him that I had sent a smile to a guy on Friday and was dying to know if he had smiled back (Lavalife is both addicting and revolting). Of course he had not. Why would he? What the frick? As I lamented about the lack of attention (from young, hot men) I’m getting on LL, I get a smile from a 58 year old who wants me to ask him how he is going to rock my world and says he can’t wait to see my backstage pass. Big D looked concerned “What is he talking about: a backstage pass?”. I explained that no, this did not mean that he wanted to see my derriere, rather a backstage pass is the additional photos of you on your profile that you can allow someone to view. Then we made jokes about how this 58 year old was going to rock my world. He was going to rock it with: Viagra; Geritol; false teeth; a bad hip. He was going to rock it slowly and carefully. He would rock it after Matlock. And so on and so forth. Big D then told me about some of the come ons that he gets on his online chat rooms. I can’t repeat them here and I was a little bit scared.
Later that day I went to visit P and we went to an Indian restaurant for dinner where they played the Salami song over and over. It goes like this: “Hey… salami. Hey… salami”. I think it did pretty good on Z95’s top seven at seven. I wonder what they are like in concert. P confessed that she is addicted to watching Smallville and I was like “loser, you need to get a life” and then I looked at my watch to see how much time I could spend on Lavalife when I got home and still get a good night’s sleep. I told her that Smallville is taped in BC (Chilliwack, I believe) and asked her if she was recognizing any of the Canadian landmarks, like fundamentalist Christians and neo-Nazis.
When I got home I smelled like curry. I played around on Lavalife while watching Old School and wondered if I would come across a Luke Wilson look alike. Sadly, no. I ate a KitKat bar and went to bed. He could rock my world. After soup and before my nap…
posted by Duder at 10:26 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home