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dating ads, sexual rewards and other warped ideas

   i love singles' blurbs for dating services. "large hairy man seeks woman who isn't weird and might even be accused of making sense once or twice a week." hmmmm. cindy crawford isn't calling. let's try again. "man who appreciates a good meal and who saves tons of money on long underwear looking for woman who realizes it is abnormal for men to clean bathrooms without being reminded." here is a typical conversation with women i choose:
her: did you clean the bathroom?
me: i forgot.
her: how could you FORGET? don't you live here???
me: i forgot because it wasn't important. it is an indoor latrine, for crap sake.
her: you are disgusting.
me: guilty as charged.
   tuh duh. i have often thought how much more comfortable it would be to be gay. actually, it would be quite uncomfortable from many angles, but the comfortable part is that i think if i lived with another dude, i wouldn't get the silent treatment for leaving my socks hanging over the ceiling fan. they land where i throw them. okay, most gay folks i have hung with actually do clean. but i think if i said to a gay roommate, "if something bugs either one of us, let's take it upon ourselves to change it rather than silently seething for two weeks waiting for the other roommate to wake up," they would get it immediately. here's another beaut:
her: you always leave your clothes on the floor.
me: am i supposed to thumbtack them to the ceiling?
her: very funny smart guy. you get sex if i make it to the bed without stepping on your clothes.
me: no thanks. sex with my clothes on won't be any fun.
   at that point i begin super gluing clothes to every square inch of the floor. people who barter for sex are too sick to have sex with. i was dating a model whose family never used deodorant. the second time she visited, i introduced her to shower foreplay. she was good to walk next to in nature, cuz flocks of gnats fell dead within five feet of her pits. but one night she said, "for boys who behave, i have something special i surprise them with later." i said i would be back and she asked why. i explained that i was going to find her some good boys, cuz i wanted to watch johnny carson. my parents quit giving me cookies to pay for good behavior when i was five. her cupcakes weren't special enough to alter my behavior. face it. women have odd ideas about sex.
   i also had one girlfriend who was weird about elbows on the table. "it is rude to put your elbows on the table during meals." that's dumb. i eat rump roast. i eat butt steak. i have been forced, as a young boy, to eat liver. now, if you can put a butt and a liver on the dinner table, dang it, i can park my elbows there. my dad was born on a table. grandma was making her famous homemade noodles ON THAT TABLE when she told me that. her butt was on that table, and i have to assume dad came out all gooey like all other children, but my elbows are off limits? you'd think i had been walking on my elbows through many piles of worm snot.
   why do funeral directors always sound so dang gay? their commercials are always softly spoken, pointing out that they are concerned with the "well-being" of the family. well ... duh! the dead people are dead, for crap sake. the survivors have the money. if i am in business, i am gonna go after people with money to spend. one of the funeral homes in town says, "our parking lot is perfectly flat for your comfort." no. i know their building. they have a flat parking lot cuz the restaurant they bought to deal with dead people had a flat parking lot. they didn't build it. it is almost as sick to advertise happy funerals as it is to get sex as a reward.
   it is twelve minutes til dr. phil. i can make breakfast and go to the potty before he starts farm-boying the crap out of folks. thanks for stopping. have a nice day and watch those danged elbows.