September 25, 2012 § 1 Comment
I would like to take this opportunity to clear my good name with this blog post. Most of you may know me as, Mister Red. Others know me as the Chocolate Monster or Indoor Cat. Few know me as the guy who makes the title of this blog a misnomer.
September 18, 2012 § Leave a comment
We’ve had a heat wave in SoCal, and I say in the bitchiest most elitist way possible, “Why does it feel like the effing valley in Santa Monica? My skin is literally melting.” The problem with living on the breezy beach side of town with a usual constant temperature of PERFECT, is that most homes don’t have air conditioning. My windows have been wide open morning and night for the past month. We’re learning lots of fun things about our neighbors. I now know where the gamers live, the couple’s who fight about dishes, and when that dog next to us is sleeping… and when he’s not. We’re even getting ears on who’s getting lucky… lunch was ruined one day because of overheard afternoon delight. It sounded like she had a very good time.
We aren’t immune to it either. While visiting, my own mother got sushed 3 times over the course of 36 hours. One time was at 9am. On a weekday. Come on people, you should be up at 9am if you’re a self respecting human. And if you work nights, you know not to sush people who aren’t practicing nocturnals. Moments like this have me wishing for winter.
I guess that’s the price of living in the city. There are times I feel myself getting the bit by the Rear Window bug. Just a few days ago I heard my neighbor breaking up with the dude she was seeing over the phone. I heard every word, I even heard him on the other line. Patrick King, my heart goes out to you.
He was too in the friend zone, although he is a legend among her friends as the nicest guy ever. However, “you cant pick who you lust after.” This is the most awkward conversation ever… and yet I listened to the whole thing, and took notes. She asked if it was weird that she called instead of texted. Darling, no. If you aren’t going to provide some sort of alcohol for him to drown his sorrows over the moment you tell him you just don’t want to have sex with him, you must call. Never consider texting. It’s just rude. For Patrick and the purpose of this post, I’m glad you called.
She said “We are just two peas in different pods.” And this gem… “You are going to make me jealous because you are going to make some girl really happy one day.” Then she extends the olive branch, “I still want to hang out at the bar. It is football season. There is going to be a lot of drinking and a lot of bars in my future, maybe I’ll see you at one of them. We’ll party.”
Then she back peddles, too many excuses, “We’re just both funny, maybe thats the problem you can’t have two funny people.” Sweetheart, Patrick ain’t buying that line. For the future, both Mister Red and I are hilarious and it’s working great.
Then she tries to paint herself as an unattractive option, “I’m a big loser, that’s another thing. Also, I work all the time and am geographically undesirable.” I have to admit, nice word choice. This phone call is of course immediately followed by yelling to her roommate, “Ugggghhhhhhh, I just told Patrick King I wasn’t that into him.”
So if you or anyone you know knows this Patrick fellow, let’s ban together and try to find this dude a date! Because he’s a really nice guy, who’s funny… and he really took the whole conversation in stride. I mean, come on… I’m not going all Hitchcock and digging up some one’s yard, I’m just trying to the dude laid after he got caught in the friend zone.
September 4, 2012 § Leave a comment
Romantic relationships go at their own pace. What’s right for you might not be right for every other person you’re friends with on facebook getting married every other weekend from June until October. Personally, I’m treading lightly. I don’t want to put the cart before the horse, or the baby before the carriage, or the vows before the diamond. There was a time when just the sight of a wedding dress made me dizzy. In my defense, they are really really white, not exactly easy on the eyes. I’ve since gotten over that, but I won’t be auditioning bridesmaids anytime soon.
So here we are, me and Mister Red, living together a few months, toughing it out trying to keep things separate. His feet hang off my double bed in our bedroom, and his former futon of fun finds it’s place as a guest bed in the office. We go to the laundry mat separately, still a little creeped out about our underwear touching. We gingerly split the bill at the grocery store, mental addition holding up the line behind us at the checkout. It’s all very exhausting, a lover/roommate thing that is anything but gracious.
For the most part our collective decor is enough to fill the apartment, although I’m pushing most of his pieces of flare into the office, a room I have I have dubbed our “funny space.” Things like shark posters, weird album art, and pictures of Corvettes with his name on the license plate can make the cut in there. We are missing one big ticket item for a feature that drew us to sign the lease in the first place. A washer/dryer. We have a hook up inside the apartment, making it a luxury we have not enjoyed since living with our parents ten years ago. The procrastination on the purchase stems from our tip toe around sharing the appliance. Neither one of us has the cash flow to get the set, so we’d have to split it.
Heaven forbid in a fit of rage we move out, one of us with a washer and the other with a dryer, like lost socks or twins separated at birth. To elevate this predicament, his parents swing by with a washer/dryer set they are no longer using. Too bad they are Swedish and the hook up in the unit is definitely not Swedish. So we put the Swedish couple on craigslist and move to plan b. Brand new, Best Buy, bite the bullet.
We compare prices, look at several different combos, stackable, high efficiency, top loading, front loading, buttons galore. After 3 different department stores we finally find the one we like for the price we want and Mister Red throws his card down for both. He says, “I really love you, so I’m buying you the front loading stackable combo.”
Not quite a ring, but certainly marks security. He bought me a washer and dryer so things must be serious.